The Memory Keeper's Daughter by Kim Edwards Page A

in any clinic in town. And what else, after all, had she been doing here all these years but waiting?
    She tried to silence her thoughts. Surely there was another, less dramatic way. That’s what her mother would have said, shaking her head, telling her not to play Sarah Bernhardt. Caroline hadn’t known for years who Sarah Bernhardt was, but she knew well enough her mother’s meaning: any excess of emotion was a bad thing, disruptive to the calm order of their days. So Caroline had checked all her emotions, as one would check a coat. She had put them aside and imagined that she’d retrieve them later, but of course she never had, not until she had taken the baby from Dr. Henry’s arms. So something had begun, and now she could not stop it. Twin threads ran through her: fear and excitement. She could leave this place today. She could start a new life somewhere else. She would have to do that, anyway, no matter what she decided to do about the baby. This was a small town; she couldn’t go to the grocery store without running into an acquaintance. She imagined Lucy Martin’s eyes growing wide, the secret pleasure as she relayed Caroline’s lies, her affection for this discarded baby. Poor old spinster, people would say of her, longing so desperately for a baby of her own.
    I’ll leave it in your hands, Caroline. His face aged, clenched like a walnut.
     
    The next morning, Caroline woke early. It was a beautiful day and she opened the windows, letting in the fresh air and the scent of spring. Phoebe had woken twice in the night, and while she slept Caroline had packed and carried her things to the car in the darkness. She had very little, as it turned out, just a few suitcases that would fit easily in the trunk and the backseat of the Fairlane. Really, she could have left for China or Burma or Korea at a moment’s notice. This pleased her. She was pleased with her own efficiency, too. By noon yesterday she had made all the arrangements: Goodwill would take the furniture; a cleaning service would handle the apartment. She had stopped the utilities and the newspaper, and she had written letters to close her bank accounts.
    Caroline waited, drinking coffee, until she heard the door slam downstairs and Lucy’s car roar into life. Quickly, then, she picked Phoebe up and stood for a moment in the doorway of the apartment where she had spent so many hopeful years, years that seemed as ephemeral now as if they had never happened. Then she shut the door firmly and went down the stairs.
    She put Phoebe in her box on the backseat and drove into town, passing the clinic with its turquoise walls and orange roof, passing the bank and dry cleaners and her favorite gas station. When she reached the church she parked on the street and left Phoebe asleep in the car. The group gathered in the courtyard was larger than she’d expected, and she paused at its outside edge, close enough to see the back of David Henry’s neck, flushed pink from the cold, and Norah Henry’s blond hair swept up in a formal twist. No one noticed Caroline. Her heels sank into the mud at the edge of the sidewalk. She eased her weight to her toes, remembering the stale smells of the institution Dr. Henry had sent her to last week. Remembering the woman in her slip, her dark hair falling to the floor.
    Words drifted on the still morning air.
    The night is as clear as day; the darkness and light are to thee both alike.
    Caroline had woken at all hours. She’d stood eating crackers at the kitchen window in the middle of the night. Her days and nights had become indistinguishable, the comforting patterns of her life shattered once and for all.
    Norah Henry wiped at her eyes with a lace handkerchief. Caroline remembered her grip as she pushed one baby out and then the other, and the tears in her eyes, then, too. This would destroy her, David Henry had declared. And what would it do if Caroline stepped forward now with the lost baby in her arms? If she interrupted