Winnie
I knew in the first hours with her at the hospital as she latched to my breast and I felt the colostrum, then my milk, flow from my body into hers that I couldn’t keep her, and yet…I couldn’t give her up, either.
She reminded me too much of Lincoln, of all that I’d lost. The oozing, consuming love I felt for her was so intense, it felt like a death grip around my heart. I could not bear it.
And my heart ached for my sister, for the pain she’d been in since her miscarriage. My responsible, dedicated sister did not have this all-consuming love with her own child—when she was the one who deserved a child of her own, a perfect new life to give all of her love to.
There seemed to be only one answer.
“Are you sure?” Bernard asked me.
I nodded and wiped my tears and runny nose.
He helped me pack everything into his car, and we drove north to Napa.
It had been nearly a year since I’d seen Hartley, and nothing had changed.
It was still the stunningly beautiful place it had always been, even as fall crept toward winter and the leaves on the vines gilded and the oaks lost their leaves.
The redwoods still stood proud; the glimpses of nearby trellised hills and faraway shadowy mountains still took my breath away.
Phoebe cried when we were almost there, and I nursed her in the car for the last time.
Bernard parked in front of the house and said, “You sure you don’t want me to come in?”
I nodded. “Come back in an hour?”
“I will, and I’ll wait as long as I need to. If you get done sooner, I’ll just be parked at the clearing so you can walk down to me, okay?”
“Thank you so much,” I rasped.
He kissed me on the forehead and said, “I love you, too.”
On wobbly legs, with Phoebe asleep on my shoulder and the basket of diapers and things that Miranda had left for me dangling from the crook of my right arm, I marched up to the front door and rang the bell.
Had I ever rung that bell before?
It seemed a strange and also necessary thing to do at the front door to my own home. What had been my home.
Mom opened the door and immediately her eyes widened and her chin trembled. Another first. Mom had never let me see her come close to crying before.
She cleared her throat, then said, “Come in, come in.”
“Here, let me take that,” she said, and unburdened my arm of the basket, which she set on one of the kitchen chairs.
Then she held out her hands, clearly for the baby, and said, “May I?”
I nodded and handed Phoebe to her; the exchange was so tender, and the way my mother looked at her granddaughter was so loving, my heart throbbed.
“How is Miranda?” I asked.
Mom shrugged, not taking her eyes off Phoebe, whom she cooed at despite the fact that the infant was fast asleep. Then she added, “She’s the same.”
“I’m hoping this might help,” I said, eager to just get all the words out, “because I want her to be this baby’s mother.”
Mom’s head snapped up and her eyes locked with mine. Had I ever surprised her this much? “Are you sure? Winnie, this could be a whole new beginning for you, and Miranda will reco—”
“Stop,” I interrupted, and for once she listened to me. “My mind is made up. You and I both know I’m not a mother, and Miranda will be a great one.”
Mom and Phoebe and I stood in the quiet kitchen. A truce at last. “I’m going to talk to Miranda,” I said.
“I think maybe you should wait to bring the baby in,” Mom said. “I don’t know what seeing her would do, initially at least.”
“Where is she?”
“In her room.”
I climbed the stairs and the fourth one practically declared my arrival with that creak you could never prevent, no matter where you set your foot. My whole childhood, Miranda’s door was never fully shut, but it was that day. I knocked gently and said, “It’s Winnie. Can I come in?”
It took a few beats, but then she said in a sleepy voice, “Sure, come in.”
When she saw me, heavier than usual but obviously no longer pregnant, her eyes immediately welled with tears and she said, “Oh no, not you, too?”
I sat on the bed beside her legs and said, “No, no, no. I had the baby, and she’s downstairs with Mom. She’s perfect, Miranda. Healthy and hungry and strong.”
“Oh good,” Miranda said, and her relief for me in spite of her own pain broke my heart and strengthened my resolve.
She used a tissue to wipe her eyes and blow her nose.
It was close to lunchtime and she was still wearing a flannel nightgown.
“I don’t think I could have taken it if it had happened to both of us. ”
“So listen, I want to talk to you about the baby. I can’t…” I stopped and had to clear my throat. “I can’t keep her. I’ve thought about adoption, but I can’t bring myself to do that, either. What if…you are her mother?”
Miranda shook her head vehemently. “Winnie, you can’t mean that. I know it’s hard, but I’m sure you’ll change your mind….”
“I won’t,” I said firmly.
Miranda didn’t reply.
“You will be a better mother than I ever could be,” I said.
“I don’t know about that,” she said, her voice gravelly. She blew her nose again. “Look at me.” She gestured around to the mess in the room.
“This is not you, Miranda. This”—I made the same all-encompassing hand movements she just had—“is temporary for you. And I’m pretty sure that one look at…the baby downstairs will change all of this pretty quickly.”
Miranda looked toward the door, like she could see straight through the house to the infant downstairs.
I was so glad Phoebe wasn’t crying. How could I endure that on top of everything else?
My instinct to hold her would have been too strong.
And now that I’d handed her over, I could not touch her again.
My sister turned back to me and asked, “What will you be to her, then?”
“Her doting Aunt Winnie. Someday, when I’m ready.”
We looked at each other a long time, and it was like our long, shared history was vibrating between us; I could feel the energy of it buzzing in my chest.
“But…” Miranda seemed to be searching for the right words through her depressed haze.
“But why wouldn’t I raise her as her aunt?
People do that all the time, don’t they?
Raise grandchildren and nieces and nephews.
We could tell people…I don’t know, that you got sick and had to get better, or you got into graduate school in New York. ”
I shook my head resolutely. “I considered that long and hard, and I came back to the same problem every time. I don’t want Lincoln’s mother and stepfather to have a claim on her.
His stepfather is wealthy and powerful. He could take her if he decided to.
I saw how miserable his own half sister is, and I don’t want that for my girl, so it’s best if you raise her as your own.
I even put a false name for Mother on the birth certificate I was required to fill out at the hospital, and as a placeholder I put the name Jane for the baby.
Plus, I put ‘father unknown.’ I left all the paperwork for you to change Mother to your name and give the baby whatever name you want to give her.
The adoption agency said that the amended birth certificate would look brand new. ” It would be like I never existed.
“You thought of everything, didn’t you?”
“I had to.”
I drew in a deep breath. I needed to get out of there.
“Even though she isn’t technically yours,” I added, “and she could never truly replace the child you lost, I know how much love you have to give her. She’ll be happy and safe with you. And Tom. He’s a good guy.”
I held my breath. The beating of my wrecked heart was the only thing I could hear inside my own head.
The moment felt inevitable, and I knew Miranda could sense it, too.
Finally, she broke the silence. “Can I see her?”