Chapter 18 #2
She meant the comment teasingly, but Cindy’s eyes filled with tears. “I did and I do,” she whispered. “Oh, Ava, I’m so sorry for what I did. For hurting you. I was selfish. In some ways, the hard times really helped me. They made me feel like I was being punished for what I’d done.”
“I hope that’s not true,” Ava told her. “No one thought you should be punished. There’s no crime in loving your baby.”
“But you were devastated.”
“I was, and then I moved on.” She paused, thinking maybe she should be a little more honest. “But I did often think about
you and Shannon and wonder how you were.” She offered a faint smile. “Especially when Victoria was screaming at me for doing
too much.” Her smile turned wry. “I envy your closeness with your daughter. Victoria and I don’t have that. I rub her the
wrong way without even trying. It’s unfortunate.” A truth, because she had always wanted more for them.
“You made her strong,” Cindy said. “I wish I could have done that with Shannon.”
“I would love to take credit, but any strength Victoria has she built on her own. It wasn’t me.”
“You’re not giving yourself enough credit.”
“You’re giving me too much.”
They smiled at each other.
“Do you think,” Cindy began, then ducked her head for a second before straightening up. “Am I asking too much? Do you think
there’s any chance the two of us could be friends again?”
The request surprised her. Friends with Cindy? Could she let the past go and accept the woman as she was today?
“I’d like that,” she said, surprising herself and possibly the woman sitting across from her.
“Me, too.”
They stared at each other. Cindy shrugged.
“So do we plan dinner or something?” she asked.
“We could, but you know what I’d really like?
” Ava leaned toward her. “My kitchen desperately needs to be remodeled. I’ve hired a designer, and she’s come up with three different ideas.
I have counter and door samples, paint colors and appliance suggestions.
All I have to do is pick what I like. But I can’t seem to do that.
I’m overwhelmed. Shannon mentioned you used to oversee the housing remodels Luis did. Could you help me make some decisions?”
Cindy flushed. “I’m not a professional. I don’t have formal training.”
“No, but I’m guessing you have a good eye and you know a whole lot more than me.”
Cindy stared at her. “Are you sure you think I could help?”
“Absolutely.”
“Then yes, I’d love to be a part of the project.”
Victoria sat in her car, outside her parents’ house. As much as she’d been determined to ignore her mother indefinitely, Ava
had said she was getting tired of the game and that they had to talk. Either Victoria came to her or she would camp outside
her condo, which might cause trouble with the neighbors. Victoria wasn’t sure if her mom would actually follow through on
her threat, but she was leaning toward the fact that Ava just might, and wouldn’t that be awkward.
So here she was, in her car, staring at the wide double doors, telling herself to just suck it up and get out. Only she really
didn’t want to. Unfortunately, admitting that to herself made her remember Shannon’s assessment that she was an emotional
coward who tried not to feel anything while secretly wanting to connect with people. Crap, of course, but for some reason
it was crap she couldn’t seem to forget.
Her phone buzzed with a text.
Stop lurking in the driveway and come inside.
Victoria groaned, then shut off the engine and climbed out. She used her crutches to make her way to the front door, all the while thinking she really needed to call her orthopedist and tell him she would pay him double if he would just get in her in a walking cast. But that was for later.
Before she could knock, the door swung open and she was staring at her mother.
“Hello, Victoria.”
“Mom.”
She maneuvered herself inside. Ava motioned to the living room.
“I thought we could talk here. It’s less distance for you to traverse.”
It was also the room where all the scary conversations took place, including the time her mother had very calmly and clinically
explained where babies came from and how Victoria’s first period would probably show up much later for her than her friends
because of all her training with gymnastics and that she shouldn’t worry that she wasn’t normal. It was also the place where
she’d listened to her father explain that he’d had an X-ray, and they’d found a spot on his lung, and while they didn’t know
anything yet, there was a chance it was lung cancer. Fortunately that hadn’t happened. The spot had been some scarring from
a bout of pneumonia when he was young and nothing more, but the telling of the spot had happened here, whereas the good news
of no cancer had been delivered in the dining room.
While Victoria was fairly certain her mother wasn’t going to tell her she was sick or that she and her dad were getting a
divorce, she didn’t like living room talks. But she wasn’t going to say that because the need to not be vulnerable was always
there. Protecting herself was her number one priority—especially when it came to Ava.
She took a seat and told herself not to react to whatever was said. Once the talking was done, she would leave and pretend
this had never happened.
Ava sat across from her. With her hands in her lap and her gaze uncomfortably direct, she opened her mouth and said exactly the last thing Victoria expected to hear.
“I’m so sorry about what happened with Shannon and the memory box. I was completely in the wrong.”
Victoria replayed the words, looking for a different meaning, but there didn’t seem to be one beyond the obvious.
“Okay,” she said slowly, still wary, but less concerned than she had been.
“I shouldn’t have kept the memory box. I never thought you’d know about it, which was ridiculous on my part. Then I showed
it to Shannon, and I hurt you. I never wanted you to feel badly about any of this.”
“I’m fine,” she said automatically. “It’s nothing.”
“It wasn’t nothing. It was hurtful and insensitive on my part. I never want you to feel that you don’t matter.”
She didn’t know what to say to that. “Like I said, it’s fine.”
Ava nodded. “I understand you won’t admit your feelings to me. While that makes me sad, I suppose I can understand your reluctance.
We’ve never been especially close. I regret that as well. You’re my daughter, and I love you so much.”
The heartfelt words made her want to squirm. “I know you do,” she murmured, wishing they could change the subject.
Her mother drew in a breath. “It was never because Cindy looks like me,” she said.
“I know you think that’s the reason we wanted her baby, but it’s not.
We were actually considered by two other pregnant teenagers, but when we met, there was no connection.
I’m sure they were very sweet girls and everything could have been fine, but I wanted more.
Your father and I had always talked about an open adoption, if the birth mother wanted that.
We wanted to be friends with her, to understand her life and to have her understand ours.
” She offered a faint smile. “The second we met Cindy, we clicked. We became close very quickly. You know I’m an only child, and my mother died when I was born.
” She paused for a second, her expression tightening, as if she was remembering something difficult.
She shook her head and continued. “So when Cindy and I got along so well, it was like I suddenly had a sister. I wanted to help her in any way I could. Everything seemed perfect.”
“But it wasn’t,” Victoria said quietly. “She was having doubts.”
Her mother nodded. “In hindsight, of course we should have known it was a possibility, but she never said anything. She always
talked about when we took our child home, as if it was a foregone conclusion.” She pressed her lips together. “You know what happened next. Your father and I were
away on vacation. When we got back home, Cindy’s lawyer called us and explained that she’d gone into labor early and that
Shannon had already been born. I was in shock. How could we have missed the birth? Cindy had promised I could be in the room
with her. She said she needed me there or she wouldn’t get through it on her own.”
Against her will, Victoria felt a twinge of compassion for what her mother had endured.
“He told you Cindy had changed her mind.”
“Yes. At first I didn’t understand what he was talking about. The words made no sense until they did and I realized there
wasn’t going to be a baby—not for us. I begged to speak to her, but the lawyer said she didn’t want me to contact her, and
was that going to be a problem?” Ava looked stricken. “I knew what he meant. He was warning me not to make trouble. But how
could I? Legally it was her decision to make. She was the mother of the child—the decision had always been up to her.”
Victoria wondered how much her mother wasn’t telling her. About what she’d felt that day and the days that followed. The shock
of it, the loss. Intellectually she could get that her mother had suffered, but emotionally she had no idea.
“A few days later, Cindy’s father returned all the gifts we’d given her,” Ava continued, her voice heavy.
“There had been clothes and a television, a few other things.” She briefly closed her eyes.
“We never wanted anything back, but of course he wouldn’t listen.
I suppose she felt too guilty to keep those things, but they had never mattered. ”
Ava looked at her. “It wasn’t just the loss of Shannon, it was that I had considered Cindy to be almost a sister to me. We’d
done everything together, and then she was simply gone—as if she’d never been.”
Victoria had the thought that in all the telling, her mother hadn’t once slipped up on the name. She’d been saying Shannon all along, as if the baby had never been named anything else. She appreciated the care but wondered if her mother secretly
still thought of the lost child as Victoria or if time had eased that pain, as well.
“It was tough for you,” she said. “I get that, Mom.”
“But knowing about the memory box hurt you. I know you were feeling dismissed and unimportant, and then finding out that we
were going to name her Victoria . . .” Ava looked at her. “It’s a family name on your father’s side. If we had a girl, she
was always going to be Victoria. That was what your father wanted. It was never because we didn’t want you or couldn’t be
bothered.”
Victoria did her best not to flinch. She didn’t want to think about finding out that she had gotten someone else’s leftover
name. That particular wound was still a little too fresh to talk about.
“I get it,” she said, not sure if she was lying or telling the truth.
Ava didn’t look convinced, but she also didn’t push back on the topic. “Your father and I were both in shock and in mourning.
We’d lost our baby and didn’t know what to do. Starting over seemed impossible. Then your birth mother came to us and asked
if we’d like to adopt you. It was an unexpected moment of light in a time of total darkness.”
Victoria smiled. “You’re not usually so poetic, Mom. And you don’t have to lie. I know you weren’t ready to take on another child. I understand that you could have intellectually agreed while your heart was still broken. I get you didn’t love me for a while.”
She spoke carefully, keeping a barrier between herself and the words so she could say them without feeling them. It was the
only way to protect herself and be safe.
“Of course we loved you,” her mother protested. “We were so grateful to have you. You’ve been a blessing in our lives, and
you’ve made us happy.”
Victoria managed a smile. “Really? A blessing? Don’t you think that’s laying it on a little thick?”
“It’s true. We love you. I love you. I want you to know that.”
“I do, Mom. I know that you love me.”
Which was the truth. The problem was sometimes she only knew it in her head but couldn’t feel it in her heart.
“I’m sorry I hurt you.”
“Thank you. I’m okay.”
“Are you sure? Because it seems like you’re still dealing with a lot.” Ava hesitated. “I’m always here if you want to talk.”
Victoria held in a bark of laughter. “Ah, thanks for the offer. I appreciate it.”
Talk to her mother? Like that was ever going to happen.