Chapter 35
Lauren slogged through Christmas feeling numb. She was all set up in her new apartment, which was situated on the third floor
of a large brownstone. The neighborhood was charming, the house only two blocks from a nice park where she could walk Graham.
If the windows were a little thin, she could live with that. She would get used to the street noise and wail of sirens again.
The floors must’ve been well insulated because she couldn’t hear so much as a peep from her neighbors, whom she’d met only
in passing. It was so quiet she often turned on the TV for company.
New Year’s Eve passed with a fizzle. Sydney had tried to talk Lauren into going out with her and Jeff. She’d even offered
to find Lauren a date. But the thought of being a third wheel or trying to make conversation with a stranger sounded exhausting.
She begged off and spent the evening binge-watching Gilmore Girls and eating apple pie left over from Christmas.
New Year’s Day came with five inches of snow, but that was okay. She spent the time preparing for her first day at Glitter.
She steamed her outfit—a dove-gray Michael Kors suit that flattered her complexion and build. It projected a confident professional
appearance, which was exactly what she needed for her big first day.
On arrival at the office her heart shimmied in her chest as Olivia showed her around the twentieth floor of the skyscraper located in the Central Business District. The offices and lobby were sleek with glass and steel, and everyone was friendly enough, if not exactly warm.
But this wasn’t a family resort—it was a prestigious corporation.
The place was a hive of activity and Lauren was eager to get going. Her office was small, but if she leaned just right, she
could see Boston Commons, now covered with snow, and sidewalks where tiny people bustled to and fro.
Lauren sailed through her first day, keeping appointments and making certain the preparations for the upcoming parties Ella
had planned were all on track.
Before she knew it, Lauren had weathered her first three weeks and two events relatively unscathed. She loved engaging with
new clients—so far she’d scheduled a June fundraiser for Four Paws International, a corporate training event for Fidelity
Investments, and a retirement party for the CEO of City Sports. It was a good start and Olivia seemed pleased.
Each day she worked until her stomach growled for dinner—usually around seven—grabbed a quick bite on the way home, then worked
from her laptop until almost bedtime. She was determined to impress Olivia.
Staying busy also staved off thoughts of Jonah and the Landrys, who’d recently been buried under nine inches of snow. Because,
yes, she checked the resort’s social media regularly for Meg’s updates. It was Lauren’s one guilty pleasure.
But after seeing photos of the resort’s pine trees draped with snow and the frozen lake, hosting a smattering of ice shanties,
she felt so homesick she snapped her laptop shut. She dropped a tip on the table and left the restaurant.
All the way home her mind spun with thoughts of Jonah and the resort. What was he doing right now? How many cabins were booked?
How had the first booked event at the barn gone Saturday?
Once parked in front of her building, she pressed her palm to her chest where the ache still resided. How long would it take to forget? She almost wished someone could thump her on the head so she could lose all memory of him and the love that often felt like a vise around her heart.
No such luck.
She’d just get home and get back to work. If she was busy planning her future, she couldn’t focus on what she’d left behind.
She exited her car, huddled against the brittle wind, and made her way up the brownstone’s steps. The entry was warm and cozy,
even if it did have that musty, old-building smell. She went to the mailboxes, opened the box with her key, and grabbed the
bundle—it had been a few days since she’d checked.
When she shut the box one of the pieces fluttered to the ground. As she reached for the postcard advertisement, a sense of
déjà vu swept over her.
Then she froze. Because this wasn’t just an uncanny sensation that this had happened before. It was the flash of an actual
memory.
The late-August sun beat high overhead as Lauren approached the resort’s mailbox, a full day’s schedule on her mind. Graham
sniffed around the edges of the woods, tracking a squirrel or chipmunk. He’d filled out nicely in the month and a half since
she’d found him. He’d become her little sidekick, following her everywhere, gazing up at her with admiration.
She was smiling as she reached into the box and retrieved the mail. But as she slid the bundle out, a piece fluttered to the
ground. She stooped to pick it up, her gaze sweeping over the personal letter. It was addressed to her and had been forwarded
from her Boston address. Her eyes caught on the sender’s name, written in a familiar scrawl.
A cold chill swept down her spine. After twenty-one years of silence, her mother had written her a letter.
Lauren’s hand trembled as her focus locked on the envelope. The return address was Boston. Her mother lived in Boston again? The zip code was a district only fifteen minutes from her apartment.
Fifteen minutes!
The thought made her pulse pound in her temples. What could the woman have to say for herself after all these years? Did she
seek forgiveness? Did she think an apology would suffice?
Mentally whirling, Lauren started back down the drive, barely aware of Graham. Her legs wobbled beneath her.
Her mother had written her.
She couldn’t quite digest the thought. She wanted to tear up the letter, unread. Her mother didn’t deserve anything from her.
But the thought of that return address plagued her. Not only was her mother back in Boston, but she knew where Lauren had
lived.
She had to find out what the woman wanted. Lauren stopped in the middle of the driveway, ripped open the letter, and unfolded
sheets of notebook paper. The same familiar scrawl filled the pages.
Dear Lauren,
It’s taken me many months to get up the nerve to write this letter. I looked up your information last fall and have started
to write you so many times. I’ve even thought of knocking on your door. But I don’t have the right to enter your life that
way, and I realize you might not want to hear from me at all. I wouldn’t blame you.
I’m writing to tell you how sorry I am. I don’t expect your forgiveness. But I hope the deep regret and sorrow over my choices—
Lauren didn’t want to hear this! She tore her eyes from the page. Couldn’t get the letter out of her hands fast enough. She
wadded the sheets of paper into a tight ball and threw them into the woods. That boulder was back, sitting so heavily on her
chest, she could hardly breathe.
Her mother was in Boston. Her mother knew her former address—had considered knocking on her door!
Lauren’s childhood rushed at her like a tsunami, threatening to swallow her. The feeling of being abandoned by the person
who was supposed to love her most. The sensation of being moved like a chess piece in some cruel game where she always came
out the loser. The feeling of belonging nowhere, belonging to no one. The uncertainty that hung over her like a cloud. Never
feeling settled because her circumstances might change overnight, precipitating another move, another family, another school.
Her heart was like a jackhammer in her chest.
A terrible sense of dread crawled over her. She was having a heart attack. She would drop dead in the driveway and no one
would find her for hours. Sweat trickled down the back of her neck.
Graham was there suddenly, nudging her hand with his wet nose. She took hold of his fur like a lifeline.
She slowed her breaths. Breathed more deeply so she didn’t hyperventilate. Think about something else! She looked up and focused on the canopy of trees, their green leaves shimmering in the summer breeze. The squirrel nattering
on the limb. A robin fluttering to her nest.
Breathe.
Just breathe.
Long minutes later she emerged from the encroaching darkness. Her breaths came more easily and her galloping heart rate slowed
to a trot. Maybe she wouldn’t die after all.
On shaky legs she continued down the drive, her head spinning, the past casting a long shadow over her soul. The thought of
returning to Boston—where her mother now resided—seemed impossible. What if the woman came to see her? The sight of her would
break Lauren into a million pieces. She was sure of it.
All these years she’d buried the hurt and animosity down deep. But now it all shot to the surface. She couldn’t face her mother or even the fear that she might show up at any moment. Living so close, Lauren could run into her on the street. That was the last thing she wanted. But she had to return to Boston.
Didn’t she?
She loved the city. Had a dear friend and a wonderful job awaiting her. And she had Jonah. Jonah, who was willing to leave
his life, job, and family behind for her.
But why should he do that when the very thought of returning to Boston—to her mother—now made her feel sick inside?
If she stayed here, he wouldn’t have to leave everything behind. Couldn’t she stay and manage the barn venue instead? Perhaps
turn it into a full-scale operation, offering wedding packages, complete with planning services? It had been on her mind since
the beginning. She’d been sad at the thought of leaving it behind. Of leaving Pinehaven and the Landrys behind.
If she stayed, she could still have Jonah and a wonderful job that offered the independence she’d always sought. She could
have all of that—and never have to face the possibility of seeing her mother’s face again.
Darcy Wentworth would never find her in Pinehaven, New Hampshire.
All of this flashed through Lauren’s mind as she stood in the brownstone’s lobby, the mail quivering in her hands. So many
realizations all at once.
After all these years, her mother had written her.
Jonah had not cajoled her into giving up the job. She’d done it willingly. She’d done it out of fear. The letter from her
mother had shaken her to her core, and she’d chosen to run from all the feelings it stirred up.
Had she told Jonah about the letter? Surely it would’ve come up if she had. She recalled their conversation at the trapper’s
cabin. He’d said that Lauren had never heard from her mother after she’d left.
She couldn’t believe she’d made such a monumental decision about her future—about their future—without telling him the real reason why. She was running so hard from the past, she hadn’t bothered giving him all the facts. The man had been about to propose to her based on her half-truths.
These discoveries so captured her thoughts that it took a moment to see an obvious, important detail: after all these weeks,
a memory from the summer had finally resurfaced.
Perhaps more would follow. But she couldn’t even think about that right now. Since she’d lost her memory she’d been processing
everything all wrong. She hadn’t given up her job for a man as she’d assumed. All these weeks since the accident she’d been
so guarded, so afraid she’d lose herself in Jonah again and give up her dream.
But that wasn’t what had happened at all.
Back in September she could’ve died, falling from that ladder. If she had, she never would’ve had the chance to find out why
her mother had abandoned her. Never would’ve had the chance to confront the woman. Because she’d been too scared even to read
the rest of the letter. Too scared to face the woman who’d caused her deepest wound.
But she wasn’t too scared now. She wanted answers.
She jogged up the stairs, her thoughts spinning at these revelations.
She tried to remember more—like telling Jonah she wanted to stay in Pinehaven. But try as she might, she couldn’t budge the
cement wall that guarded the rest of her memories.
Moments later she let herself into her apartment. Graham ran to her greet her, happy and excited to have her home. She ruffled
his fur. “Hey, boy. How you doing, huh?” She was glad the dog-sitting service had let him out only two hours ago because now
she was in a big rush.
After giving him some affection and checking to make sure he had water, she strode to her bedroom. Once there she whipped open the closet door and grabbed her computer bag. The letter was just where she’d shoved it after she’d retrieved it from the woods—deep inside a pocket she never used. She perched on the bed and smoothed out the creases. Then she began reading where she’d left off two weeks before her accident.
I don’t know how much you remember about our life before I left. You were so young. When you were three I had an accident
at work involving a forklift. It resulted in a broken tibia and a lot of pain. And prescription pills.
Over the course of months I became terribly addicted to them, and before I knew it I was getting pills wherever I could. I
became a drug addict. I was a terrible wreck, Lauren. I don’t remember much of those years. I left you for a man who was little
more than a promise of my next high. And you, my sweet baby girl, deserved so much more.
By the time I finally got help, I was alone and you were twelve. According to Social Services, you were being cared for by
a nice couple that had children of their own. You had two parents and a brother and sister. You were attending a good school
and lived in a nice suburban neighborhood.
I wanted to demand you back. I wanted to show up at that undisclosed location and haul you out of there, beg your forgiveness,
and keep you with me forever. When I settled down I realized my foolishness. Instead I decided to start the long process of
going through the system to regain custody of you.
But one day I took a hard look in the mirror. When I was at my lowest, I abandoned you. Even as far as I’d climbed from that
pit, I only had a minimum-wage job at a car wash. I lived in an apartment in a rough area of town and had to have two roommates
to make that financially feasible. I had no degree and a criminal record associated with the drug use. What could I possibly
offer my darling girl?
For once it was time to think of what was best for you—and I was not it.
It ached to the marrow of my bones to realize that. To know you were better off with someone else. Better off without me in
your life. But I was determined to put you first this time.
And so I did.
I hope that was the right decision. Every day I pictured you growing up in that happy family. Having your first date. Getting
your driver’s license. Going to prom. While you celebrated all those firsts with your new family, I celebrated them from afar,
with tears in my eyes but hope in my heart that, for once, I’d done right by you.
I almost reached out on your eighteenth birthday. But I figured you probably didn’t even remember me by then. You were so
young. I didn’t second-guess that decision until last summer when a coworker of mine (I work at an insurance company now)
confided in me about the birth father who’d abandoned her. It had left her with insecurities and deeply rooted anger, and
for the first time I feared my decision to stay out of your life had been a mistake.
I pray my terrible choices haven’t caused you irreparable harm, Lauren. You don’t deserve that. You were always such a sweet,
open child with a warm, tender heart. I’m sorry for not loving you the way you deserved to be loved. I’m sorry for leaving
you. I’m so deeply sorry, my sweet girl.
I’m here if you ever need me for anything. Even if you only want to unleash some justified anger or ask me hard questions.
But I also understand completely if you want nothing to do with me at all. All I want is for you to be well and happy.
I love you,
Mom
Lauren didn’t realize tears were streaming down her face until she set the letter aside. She had a good cry, then dashed the tears away and went for the tissues in the bathroom.
The woman has no right to profess her love. Parents who love their children don’t abandon them. They don’t track them down
years later only to desert them again.
The family she’d described in the letter had been the Warrens, and yes, they were great. Lauren was happily ensconced in their
family for over a year. And then Greg Warren’s job had transferred him to California. At first Lauren thought she would go
with them. But apparently Social Services didn’t work that way. And the Warrens, for whatever reason, had never offered to
adopt her.
So Lauren had been moved into another home in a different part of town, a different school. New friends. New foster parents.
This one with a man who leered at her whenever his wife was absent.
She hadn’t had the happy childhood her so-called mom had imagined. And she wasn’t sure she could forgive the woman for the
choices she’d made and the repercussions they’d had on Lauren’s life.
She returned to her room, stuffed the letter back into her laptop case, the heavy weight of her past riding her shoulders
like a freight train.
She didn’t know what to do with all this new information. But she knew one thing. She was finished running from her past.