Chapter 6 #2
Shannon remembered the kindhearted woman Luis had been married to. She’d been wonderful, and they’d all loved her. Losing
her had been devastating.
“She told you that you did the right thing,” she said. “She told you that you were my mom and loving me was never wrong.”
Cindy smiled. “You’re right. She was always so supportive.” Her mouth began to tremble. “In some ways, she reminded me so much of Ava.”
“Oh, Mom. It’s okay.”
“It’s not. I hurt her. I can’t regret keeping you, but I do wish I’d at least talked to her. Thanked her for all she’d done.”
“I’m not sure she would have wanted to listen.” Shannon couldn’t imagine what the other woman had gone through, losing her
baby at very last minute. Especially as there’d been no warning.
“Probably not,” Cindy agreed. “But I could have at least tried. I was so wrong.”
“You were a kid.”
“That’s no excuse for breaking someone’s heart.”
“We have to talk,” Ava said when they got home.
Victoria ignored her and made her way to the elevator. She jabbed the button and waited, then hurried inside. For once, the
quick trip didn’t bother her. Honestly, she didn’t care if the damned thing got jammed. At least she would be alone.
Once she was in her room, she closed and locked the door before crossing to the bed and sitting down. She let her crutches
fall to the floor.
There’d been another baby. Another child. Cindy had to have been young—a teenager maybe. She would have been scared and pregnant.
Then she’d met Ava.
Victoria could imagine how it would have been. Her mother was the type to swoop in and take charge. She would have organized
things, been a supporting shoulder, done all the reading, answered all the questions. Which meant what? That she’d been a
part of the pregnancy? Had they been friends?
Victoria remembered her mother mentioning having seen pictures and then correcting herself. Not pictures. An ultrasound. Because she would have gone to every appointment, held Cindy’s hand through every difficult moment.
But at the last second, after the birth, Cindy had changed her mind. Victoria allowed herself a moment of compassion for her
mother, knowing she would have been devastated. To lose a child like that, to have her taken away and know there was nothing
to be done. All the months of hoping and planning and loving.
She felt oddly split in two. Part of her could see and imagine her mother’s crushing pain while at the same time she felt
her own sadness as the truth was revealed. They’d wanted Shannon, but they’d ended up with her.
She bent down and collected her crutches before going out of her room and down the hall and pausing at the half-open door.
When it had been time for her to graduate into her so-called big girl bed, rather than redecorate her room, her mother had
moved her across the hall. The room she had now was bigger, with more windows. The bathroom was nicer. She’d never much thought
about the move until now.
She pushed open the door and stepped inside. It remained as it had always been. A beautiful nursery for a happy baby girl.
The walls were the palest shade of gray, the drapes a gorgeous matte ivory silk. The furniture—the crib, a dresser and changing
table, an occasional table with a lamp and a rocking chair—were all done in ivory. A neutral backdrop for the gloriously over-the-top
mural on the far wall.
Fat, happy cherubs gazed down at wonderful animals grazing or resting on grass painted so realistically, she could practically
smell it. There were the usual cows and horses, but also zebras and a giraffe, two hippos and even a tiger relaxing under
a tree. Woven into all the patterns of their coats, into the tree bark and even the sashes the cherubs sported was her name.
Victoria played over and over, in leaves and even tiny blades of grass.
The floor-to-ceiling design had always been a favorite of hers. When she was sick, she would sit in the rocking chair and stare at the animals, smiling as she found yet another version of her name.
She crossed to it now, lightly tracing the letters in the tiger’s tail, searching for signs of the repainting that would have
happened when they’d lost the child they’d really wanted. She saw a few smudges and places where the name wasn’t as crisp.
As if the artist had been called back to make changes. After a few minutes, she turned away, brushing her hand across the
nearly life-size stuffed llama that stood in the corner of the room.
She’d always loved this room, had thought it was special and perfect and done just for her. When she’d been younger, she’d
always shown her friends her “baby room” and had thought her mom had kept it just like it had been for sentimental reasons.
She’d once asked her mother if there was going to be another baby. Ava had turned away, but not before Victoria had seen the
stark pain on her face. Pain she hadn’t understood. Ava had told her no—that they were happy to just have one child.
Now, as she sank to the floor and gave in to the tears, Victoria wondered about the more likely truth. There was no way her
parents would have wanted to risk the pain again. The pain of losing so unfairly with no recourse. In all her life, Ava was
in charge. She ran a foundation that she herself had funded. Her husband loved her so much he would do anything for her—agree
to any request. For a long time Victoria had prided herself in being the only thing her mother couldn’t control.
Only now, with hindsight, she realized that her rebellions, her acts of independence, had been nothing to her mother. Not
when compared with what she’d already gone through.
She wiped away tears and glanced around at the beautiful room. Had this ever really been hers? Or had it belonged to Shannon, only to be left empty when they’d lost the child they wanted? Had it simply been handed to her because it was ready and she was a baby, so why not?
From the hallway, she heard her father call her name. Before she could answer, he walked into the baby’s room and saw her.
Concern darkened his eyes.
“There you are,” he said, getting on the floor and drawing her close.
She let him because she didn’t have it in her to fight. “Mom called you.”
“She did, and I came right home.”
“How is she?”
He stroked her head. “She’s worried about you.”
She supposed that was true but didn’t know what to do with the information.
“You should have told me,” she said quietly, drawing back to look at him.
“Why? You were never to find out. What does it matter that there was another baby? You’re our daughter, and we love you so
much. You’re our world.”
“You’re each other’s world, Dad, and I’m okay with that.” She shifted away and looked around the room. “You did this for her,
didn’t you? The room, the mural. All of it. This was to be her room.”
“It was your room.”
She shook her head. “Don’t start lying to me now. You never have before.”
He stared at the floor for a second, then looked back at her. “Yes, it was intended to be her room.”
Something she’d guessed, but wow, the words still hit her like a fist.
“It’s why Mom and I don’t get along. It’s not that we’re different, it’s that she was supposed to get Shannon and she didn’t.
I was always the wrong baby.”
“You were exactly right. Yes, we were disappointed when Cindy changed her mind, but that made you even more of a miracle.”
“Oh, please. You know it wasn’t like that.” She thought about the chance meeting. “You should have seen them. Cindy and Shannon
and Mom. They look so much alike. Not just the tall, blonde thing, but all of it. Their build, the shape of their faces. They
look like family. I never looked like either of you.”
“We don’t care about that.” His tone pleaded. “Victoria, we love you. I wish you could hear me saying that.”
“I think you love me now, but I don’t think you wanted me back then. Not the way you wanted Shannon.”
She struggled to her feet. Her father stood and held out a hand to help her. When she was upright, he handed her the crutches.
“Do you want to go lie down?” he asked. “I could sit with you. Maybe read to you.”
She rolled her eyes. “I’m not five. I want to get one of the memory boxes.”
His expression turned wary. “Victoria, no. There’s no need to—”
She cut him off. “I’m going to do it, Dad. You can help me or you can let me struggle, but I’m getting my baby box.”
He seemed to fold in on himself for a second, then he straightened and nodded. “I’ll help.”
They made their way into the hallway, which was thankfully empty. She wasn’t ready to deal with her mother just yet. Her dad
opened one of the cupboard doors. Inside were stacks of fabric-covered boxes, all neatly labeled. Her mother could not only
organize the world, she could catalog it as well. Victoria scanned the labels until she saw the one marked Victoria’s First Year.
“That one,” she said, nodding at it.
Her father lifted it down and followed her into her room. He set the box on the desk, then lifted off the cover. She rested
her crutches against the bed before hopping over to the chair and sitting down.
There was a slim photo album, stacks of pictures, a tiny stuffed giraffe, baby booties and a lace cap. She ignored the clothing and the toy, instead reaching for the loose photographs and flipping through them.
They seemed to have been put away in reverse order. She was older in the top ones, getting younger and smaller as she went
down the pile. Finally she reached the ones of her mother holding an obviously newborn her, Milton at her side.
Victoria studied the picture, noting how awkwardly her mother held her, as if she weren’t used to holding a baby. Or was it
something else?
“She doesn’t look happy,” she murmured.
Her father glanced over her shoulder. “That’s the day you came home from the hospital. We were both terrified.”
Victoria wanted that to be the truth, but she had her doubts. “How long after you lost Shannon did my biological mother tell
you she was pregnant?”
“It was a while,” her father hedged.
She stared at him. He sighed.
“A few weeks.”
That soon? “How far along was she?”
“Nearly seven months.”
Victoria tried not to react. “So I was born what? Four months after Shannon?”
“About that.”
She’d never really been around anyone who died, but in middle school, one of her friends had lost her dad. Victoria remembered
it was weeks before Allie smiled again and well over a year until she was anywhere close to who she had been before.
For Ava it would have been worse than a death because the baby she’d loved and waited for and wanted with all her heart had
been alive and well—just out of reach. Forever gone. Not dead—death would have almost been a kindness. Death wouldn’t have
been a betrayal. But losing Shannon was.
“It was too soon,” she said quietly as she put the pictures back in the box.
“For both of you. You hadn’t gone looking for another baby, you were still mourning the one you lost. Then you found out about me.
” She blinked away tears. “On the surface, it was the perfect solution, but not in your hearts.”
“Why are you being like this? We love you. Yes, there was another baby, but we didn’t get her, and we did get you. We’re a
family.”
“But not the one you hoped and dreamed about. Do you think I don’t get how much I’ve disappointed her? I knew she wanted me
to be different, to be more like her, physically, personalitywise. We make each other crazy, Dad. I thought it was just one
of those things, but it’s more than that. I can never be the child she lost.”
“That isn’t your job. You’re her daughter, and that’s what matters.”
“You didn’t see her today. You didn’t see her staring at Shannon. She’s everything Mom wanted.” She put the lid on the box.
“You can put this back. I’m done.”
Her father hesitated. “I don’t know what to say to you.”
“I don’t know either. I guess I need some time to deal with everything.”
“How can I help?”
“You can’t.” She offered a fake smile. “I’ll be fine. Maybe I’ll try to lie down.”
“All right.” He bent down and kissed the top of her head. “I’ll check back on you later.”
He took the box and left. When the door closed behind him, she stared at the place where he’d been and wondered how she was
supposed to reconcile what she’d learned with what she’d thought was the truth.
She’d always been confused by the fact that someone as organized and detail-oriented as her mother would simply take some random baby as her own.
She’d never understood why Ava hadn’t done all the traditional things a childless family did.
Over the years, she’d been told everything from they were waiting until they were older to they were thinking of fostering children instead of adopting.
But none of those explanations had been the truth.
Her parents had done all the things, and they’d chosen Shannon.
The truth at last, she thought, limping to her bed and lying down. Only she didn’t have any idea what she was supposed to
do with it, or how she was ever going to get over the fact that she wasn’t the one they’d gone looking for. She wasn’t even
the backup kid. She was the baby they’d been stuck with.