Chapter 39
K enyon quietly slipped into the house so she wouldn’t wake up her parents.
Even though exhaustion loomed over her body, her thoughts had become so innervated by all that had transpired she couldn’t sleep.
She made no effort to go upstairs to bed, instead going to the fridge and pulling out the milk to make hot chocolate.
While that heated on the stove, she rummaged through the liquor cabinet to find the Irish Creme.
If ever a time called for whiskey in one’s drink, this was it.
Hot mug in hand, she went out to the patio with Bitsy and Sally following behind. Sally hopped onto her lap as soon as she sat down at the patio table and Bitsy curled up at her feet. Instinctively or accidentally, they comforted her in her time of need.
She sipped her cocoa, marveling at the balmy night.
Frogs could be heard off in the distance sharing their bedtime stories.
The yard with its manicured flower beds, flowering bushes, and majestic hardwood trees slept peacefully in the moonlight.
The waning moon still demanded attention, a bright crescent in a clear, star-studded sky. It was a perfect Michigan summer night.
But soon nothing would be the same.
Of course, she didn’t know for certain that L. Robertson who had a baby on May 27, 1970, was her mom but something deep within her, all the way to the marrow of her bones, said it was. She jumped when the patio door opened.
Her mother, in a summer nightie, silky robe, and barefoot, somehow managing to look pretty even in the middle of the night, came out and sat down. “Honey,” she said, “what’s wrong.”
Kenyon studied her mother. Had she ever really known the woman? Like many kids, she’d selfishly assumed her parents’ lives didn’t start in earnest until their children arrived on the scene. What secrets did her mom hold close to her breast?
“Mom, I have something to tell you that is astounding. Nothing life-threatening. I’m not sick or anything. It’s not that. It’s what I discovered while tracking down information for a news article.”
“Oh my. Is it disturbing?”
“I, well, I don’t know. That will depend on you.”
Llayne hesitated. “Okay. What is it?”
“Dalia has been trying to find her biological parents. As you know, Mamie and her husband unofficially adopted her. The woman she thought was her biological mother died and told Dalia she wasn’t hers.
That was quite a shock. You know that part.
But the other day Dalia found a lockbox with a piece of paper that had a doctor’s name and town on it.
She thought if she went to that town, which is where her birth certificate is from, she might learn more. ”
“This sounds like one of those long-lost family stories I report on from time to time.”
“Yes, well, this won’t be like that. It’s a much bigger story. I went with her, with her permission to write a story. What we discovered is huge. It’ll be national headlines.”
Llayne sat back. “Really? What happened?”
“There’s more to the story – we met some terrific people along the way – but here’s the short version. We found an obstetrician, now dead, who stole and sold babies.”
Kenyon watched the pupils of her mother’s eyes dial open as she took in every word. “Yes?” was all she said.
“He did it for twelve years starting in 1965; we estimate about fifty a year. He specialized in unwed mothers, many college girls. He would either arrange to have their babies adopted or he’d steal them outright, telling the mother it was a stillbirth. He’d adopt them out for a hefty price.”
Kenyon already knew she needn’t ask her mother any more questions. The blood draining from her mother’s face, her transfixed glare, and the quiver of her lower lip said it all.
Her voice faltering, her mom whispered, “Where?”
“Amberton.”
Llayne nodded, making no effort at pretense.
“Mom, did you have a baby in May of 1970?”
“Yes. Yes! Are you saying my child might be alive?” Tears rushed down Llayne’s cheeks.
Kenyon started to cry, too, as she and her mom held hands. “Yes, mom. And I’m pretty sure we know her.”
Confusion mottled Llayne’s face until realization hit. “Are you saying …” she took a jagged breath “…are you saying it’s Dalia?”
“We can’t be sure, I suppose, but yes, that’s what I’m saying. May 27.”
“I’m sure,” Llayne said, squeezing her daughter’s hands so hard Kenyon let go.
Llayne swiped at her watery cheeks. “He told me she was born dead.” Her eyes veered off into the night, pulling up the horrific memory.
“But I couldn’t believe it. I’d felt her inside me, kicking and healthy, right up to the end.
Nothing had gone wrong. And I thought, oh my god I thought I heard a cackle before the nurse took her away.
” She reached out as if trying to retrieve the baby.
Her gaze returned to Kenyon as her face crumpled at remembering.
“Then they gave me a shot to knock me out. I never even got to see her.”
“Oh Mom, we heard another story just like that. A man we met said the very same thing happened to his niece.”
“Oh that poor woman. How many of us are there out here thinking our babies died? It was so horrible. My heart was shattered. A part of me had vanished and I had no control, no power to do anything about it. I was humiliated and embarrassed at my stupidity in getting pregnant, so I kept it a secret.”
Kenyon took her mom’s hand again. “Mom, does Dad know?”
“Oh yes. We have no secrets.”
“Who was the father? You didn’t know my biological dad or Dad yet, right?”
“Right. It was a professor, thirteen years older.” Llayne’s voice filled with venom. “He was a rake, and I was so young and stupid I thought it was real love. If I’m Dalia’s mother, he’s her father. But I have no idea where he is now.”
“I know.”
They were surprised to find Mack standing in the open doorway.
“Honey.” Llayne reached for her husband. He sat down beside her and stretched over to take her in his arms.
He explained, “A year after being kicked out of CMU for his philandering with female students, he was suspended from another teaching job. After that, his reputation was ruined. No university would hire him. I saw to that. He left academia and became a factory worker, last I knew.”
“Mack, you never told me. What did you do?”
“I made sure the appropriate authorities knew, without divulging any students’ names, of course. I also paid him a little visit. It’s possible I physically threatened him. I didn’t think you needed to know all that.”
“I had no idea.”
“So much for no secrets,” Kenyon couldn’t help but state the obvious.
“I heard most of what you said,” Mack told Kenyon. “I think the proof is in those old photos of your mom at Dalia’s age. They look just alike.”
“Oh yeah. Mom, without the poofy helmet hair and chintzy crown and glimmery blue eye shadow and stuff, you and Dalia do look alike.”
With that bit of lightness, Llayne smiled. “We do, don’t we. But now we need to think of what this means to our families. What about Mamie? How will she feel? Good god, how does Dalia feel? How about you, dear?”
Kenyon decided it was time for nothing but the truth. “I am aware of the fact that I’ve lived the very privileged life that Dalia should have had. On the other hand, she loves Mamie with all her heart, of that I’m certain.”
“You know you won’t ever need to feel displaced,” her dad said. “No one will ever take your place in this family.”
“I know.” Kenyon hoped that was true but as she heard the words come out of her own mouth, she wasn’t sure. “It’s just that I don’t know where this all leads.”
“I suggest that, for now, we let it lead us to bed. Sweetheart,” Mack addressed his wife, “are you still planning on going to work tomorrow?”
“No. No, I don’t think I will.”
“Hallelujah. You never call in sick. You more than deserve a day off.”
They stood up and lingered over a long group hug and multiple “I love you”s. Then, like the three bears, they plodded upstairs, Bitsy and Sally in tow.
But Kenyon lay in her bed with eyes wide open, having no idea how she felt about this. She liked Dalia immensely. Dalia had become a new best friend. But a sister? She’d never wanted a sister, enjoying the princess-daughter-sister spotlight all to herself in the family.
It struck again, that awareness that her princess days were over. Grown-up behavior was required here. She snuggled into her blankie, cuddled up to her kitty, and shut that troubling thought out of her mind as she went nighty-night.