Beach Winds by Grace Greene Page B

fact.” She added, “I never knew her.”
    Laurel was pale. Tiny beads of perspiration showed around the edges of her hair.
    “ But you knew about her.”
    “ Of course, I did. After all, there was you.”

     
     
     
    Chapter Nine
     
     
    Laurel opened the door wider.
    Frannie entered. The flowered chairs were a cozy invitation and the lace panels that cascaded from ceiling to floor softened the light that filtered in. She tried to be patient, tried to hide the pain. Her lungs were on fire and her heart was in her throat, choking her, but she’d had lots of practice at hiding her feelings and she’d do it this time, too, because if she pushed too hard, Laurel might refuse to talk. So, she sat, but Laurel didn’t. She paced back and forth between the fireplace and the chairs.
    “ Why did the two of you let me believe that you were my mother?”
    Laurel flushed a bright red. “Excuse me, I am your mother. Who raised you? Who cared for you when you were sick, comforted you when you were unhappy?”
    Laurel had never been a fount of comfort , but Frannie figured she’d done the best she could, so she didn’t object, and instead, moved on, “You know what I mean.”
    “ It was your father’s decision. I abided by it.” She smoothed the front of her sweater and arranged a cuff. “You were so young. Barely three when your father and I married. You’d been with sitters a lot before that. You accepted me, and before long it was as if I’d always been there, at least as far as you were concerned.”
    “ You weren’t worried that she might show up one day?”
    Laurel shook her head and Frannie gasped.
    “Is she dead?”
    “ Yes.”
    Disappointment . Silly ridiculous disappointment. She tried to shake it off. This was her chance to ask questions.
    “ So you adopted me.”
    “ Yes. Then we moved here. No one really knew us. Everyone just assumed.”
    “ Tell me what you know about her.”
    Laurel stared at Frannie as if trying to read her mind. “Are you sure you want to know?”
    “ Yes. Why not?”
    “ Things, once told, can’t be untold. Your father never made a decision about you that wasn’t wrapped in love. Shouldn’t you respect his wishes? He isn’t here to defend himself, or his choices.”
    “ If father was still alive, he’d tell me the truth now.”
    Laurel shrugged. “So be it, then.” She sank into the chair and focused on the large windows that overlooked the woodlands out back. “I never met Frances. She and your father met in college and married in haste with lots of time for regret later. You were born shortly before their first anniversary. Your grandparents didn’t approve and cut off his allowance. He told me it was a hard time when you were born. Not because of you, but because Frances was never right after.”
    “ Not right? Don’t stop there.”
    “ Unstable emotionally.”
    “ Like postpartum depression?”
    “ I don’t know. There were some drug issues, too, as I understood it. At least, the mental issues, regardless of cause, never went away. She’d get better, then bad again. It was terrible for your father. He didn’t like to talk about it.” She looked down at her hands and rubbed them together as if they were cold. “As I understand it, you weren’t even a year old the first time she ran away.”
    “ Why? Where did she go?”
    “ I don’t know. She took you with her. Your father searched high and low. She came back briefly, but then it happened all over again. They would reconcile, things would settle down, and then all of a sudden, she’d take off again. The last time, she was missing for almost a year. On and off, she wanted a divorce, but your father wouldn’t agree. Finally, he had to, for your sake if for no other reason. He agreed to give her a divorce if she gave up her rights to you.”
    “ And then?”
    “ She left and he never saw her again. A few years ago I heard she’d died.”
    “ A few years ago. Only a few years ago and I never knew?