Dear Tabitha (17 page)

Present

Age 24

W
HEN THE
door slams behind Alex, my legs give out and I fall to the floor. My lungs beg for desperately needed oxygen. The pressure threatens to crush me until finally, I gasp for air. Realization sets in that I’m alone. Truly and utterly alone.

He’s gone.

Again.

I can’t believe Alex finally knows everything. No more lies. No more secrets. I sob into my hands and let the tears flow freely.

I can’t bring myself to believe that it’s officially time for both of us to move on. I’ve finally purged these sins, these secrets I’ve been hiding for so long. I’m relieved but so devastatingly sad. Now, he knows the truth, and it’s up to him to decide how he’s going to process it all. He just learned that he
might
have a daughter, and it’s going to take some time to comprehend all that that means. He needs time to grieve, to feel the anger that’s going to consume him. Will he be able to heal from this? To move on? I expect the worst and fear that he will never forgive me.

I’ve been able to come to terms with my decision to give up Emily. I have already forgiven myself for everything that I’ve done. He knows the truth. Now it’s up to him to choose what path to take next. If he can choose understanding and forgiveness at some point, then I’m going to be here waiting. But somehow I doubt that he’ll ever walk through my door again. I am truly alone.

But I can handle it.

I take a deep, cleansing breath as I scan the bare room. I need Emily’s pictures back out in the open where they belong. I never should have hidden them. I spot the photo that Alex threw. Shit, I hope it’s not broken.

I crawl toward the picture, and what I see beneath the end table stops me in my tracks. The crumpled letter from Marta. With all that has been going on, I completely forgot about it. I pull it out, lean against the wall, and attempt to smooth out the wrinkles. The time has come to read this letter, to exorcise all of the demons in my life.

Please, God, don’t let her tell me that Tony is coming after me
. If Marta is warning me, then this time, I’m finally ready to fight. I’m not scared of him anymore or afraid of what he can do to me. Yes, he’s hulking and creepy. Yes, he’s a criminal. But I’m stronger now and can handle anything he tries to throw at me. I won’t take any shit from him ever again. He can no longer control me. I’m free and have been for quite a few years.

I close my eyes, and breathe deeply, preparing myself to make it to the end of the letter this time. I start over from the beginning.

Dear Tabitha,

I don’t even know if you are going to read this. I hope that I sent this letter to the right address. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. Please forgive the intrusion into your life, but I need to tell you that I had a private detective looking for you for the past seven years. I sent this to the address that he finally found. He tracked down one of your employers, Kirsten Holden, and found out that you are still employed at her bookstore. So I’m sending this letter there in the hopes that it finds you. I’m sorry that I couldn’t find you sooner.

But he wouldn’t let me.

Oh my God, I hope I’m doing the right thing.

I’m sure you remember me, Marta, Tony’s mother.

I have so much to tell you and not a lot of time to do it. First, you need to know that Tony is dead. He was murdered in prison. I won’t go into details, but he was convicted of many horrendous things. Things that he deserved to go to jail over. But he didn’t deserve to die the way that he did. I hope you can say a prayer and forgive him in your heart for some of the things that he did to you. He was ruthless and caused you great pain, but he was my son and I miss him dearly.

The next thing I have to tell you will cause you great distress, sadness, anger, and possibly even joy. I beg you to forgive me before you read what’s next. I have so much that I need to explain to you, so please contact me when you have read this letter.

Your daughter, Sara is with me. She’s been living with me since her birth. Tony lied to you when he told you that he didn’t want the baby. He just didn’t want
you
to have her. He wanted to give me a granddaughter that I could raise as my own child. He wanted me to have the larger family that I always dreamed of having. He falsified documents, making you believe that you were signing adoption papers. They weren’t real. I didn’t adopt her. I raised her and she is perfect. Beautiful. She looks just like you, cara, exactly like you.

I need you to understand all of the reasons behind the decisions that Tony and I made about Sara. But that will come. I need to speak with you urgently. I need to make arrangements for you to take Sara from me. She is your daughter and there is nothing standing in the way for you now to raise her yourself.

To be her mother.

I have told her all about you. She knows what a wonderful and strong woman you are. She can’t wait to meet you and to come live with you. She is ready and is as prepared as any seven-year-old child can be given the circumstances.

Please contact me at the number on the back of this letter immediately. Then you will understand why this is so urgent.

With love and begging forgiveness,

Marta

My hands shake as I read this letter two more times. Then a third. Oh my God! Sara. My baby! She has her. She wants to give her back to me? I can’t even begin to process what I’m reading. What I’m feeling. This is all so crazy and surreal. My child wasn’t given to some nameless, faceless family. Marta has had her this whole time? Living in the family compound outside of Portland? Growing up with Tony and his mother?

Rage builds up in my chest. I reach for a cushion, and press my tear streaked face in it to muffle my incoherent screams. Screams for all the years
they
stole from me. Screams for time with my precious daughter ripped from my arms at birth. Screams for the years that Tony had with her as her
father.
I pray she never witnessed the side of him that I knew all too well. I’m so angry that he’s dead. That I can’t lace into him for what he did to me all of those years ago. That I didn’t get to kill him myself for stealing my daughter, for raping me, violating me in ways that I refuse to remember.

I mourn the lost years and all of the choices I’ve had to make since.

I flip the letter over, but my hands shake so badly that I struggle to read her number. I need to calm down before I make this phone call. I need…

“Yoo-hoo. Is anyone home?” Kirsten says from outside my door, sounding chipper as usual. Thank God, she’s here. I need her. She opens the door and sees me on the floor. “Oh, no! Honey, what happened?” She drops her purse and rushes toward me.

“No. I’m fine. This isn’t what it looks like.” I swipe the tears from my cheeks.

“Then what is it?” She cups my cheeks and examines my face. “Tell me. Because this doesn’t look good. You’re on the floor, your face is puffy, you’ve obviously been crying. A lot. I know that you came back here to tell Alex about Emily. So tell me please, what is going on?”

“This has nothing to do with Alex. Nothing at all.”

She helps me to a standing position, kisses my forehead, and brings me over to the couch.

“Then, what happened with Alex?”

I need to tell her what happened, but I also need to tell her about Sara. Where do I begin?

“He knows. He knows everything. All of it. He’s angry and confused, and I can’t blame him. He’s livid that I didn’t try to reach him and that I had his parental rights terminated without his knowledge. I’m sure he hates me, and I need to come to terms and deal with that. I don’t blame him at all for his feelings, but he needs time to process what I told him and decide what he’s going to do next.” I take a deep breath, and clench the letter in my hands.

“What was his reaction? Will he fight for Emily? Will he demand a paternity test? What do you think he will do?” Kirsten fires off questions, clearly worried.

I shake my head. “No, I don’t think he’ll do any of that. He isn’t that type of person, regardless of what I did to him. He just needs time. Time to process and time to mourn. He needs to go through all of the stages of grief just like I did.”

“Then what?” Kirsten asks, grabbing onto my hand.

“Who knows. He left me, again. I’m not sure he’ll ever get over any of this. I’ve just caused so much damage. It’s over. I can feel it in my heart.” I feel empty. The void in my chest tells me so much. It’s my personal barometer and I know that the words I’m speaking are true. It’s been over for a long time, but now, it’s official.

“It can’t be over! He’s proud of you, remember? He admitted that he really likes the strong, independent woman that you’ve become. It can’t be over!” Kirsten is clearly upset and I don’t know what to do about it. She sounds desperate. “Tristan told me last night that Alex is still in love with you. He told Dax, and well, Dax told everyone. He
loves
you, Tabby. You need to be there for him. Help him get through his feelings and his loss of Emily. He loves you. Don’t you see? You two aren’t good without each other. And he needs you now more than ever.”

He told Dax he still loves me? What? I don’t think I’m in the right frame of mind to even process this right now.

“Kirsten, I was good for a long time without him. That’s how I became stronger, healthier. I learned to love myself, threw away the jealousy a long time ago, and I didn’t need him to do it. I did it all on my own. We don’t need each other. We’re stronger apart.” There, I said it. I
think
I believe it. But I’m still feeling this void, and I’m not sure what it signifies.

She gasps. “No. I don’t believe you. Not one bit. He needs you to get through all of this and you can’t turn your back on him. Don’t perpetuate this cycle that the two of you have been going through for years. It stops now. Let him know that you’re here if he needs you. Extend the branch. He might just grab ahold of it.”

This is crazy talk. How can Kirsten honestly believe that Alex is going to need
me
to help him through all of this? I’m the one that caused his pain. I can’t possibly help him get past it. Can I?

“I don’t know. Really. It’s probably not a good idea. He left here so angry. He said goodbye and I felt it. It was final.”

“Just please, tell me you’ll try to reach out to him. I’m serious. Please?” She begs me.

I’ll humor her, but I really don’t have any intention to follow through. The ball is in his court right now, and I can’t see him suddenly coming to me for help in dealing with his feelings about his
potential
daughter. “Okay. I’ll try. But I have something more important to deal with right now.” I lift the letter in my shaking hand. “Read this, and you’ll understand what you walked in on.”

She takes it and raises her eyebrows. “Okay?” Confusion fills her voice, but instead of asking questions, she lifts the note and reads. Kirsten only knows the partial story of what happened in Portland. She knows that I had a baby that I was forced to give up for adoption. She doesn’t know about all of the horrors that I lived through at the hands of Tony.

After a few minutes, she reaches out to grab my hand. By the time she finishes, we both are sobbing messes.

“God, Tabby. Oh my God! What are you–I mean… When are you–.” She stammers, crying and laughing at the same time. “Holy shit!! Sara! She’s in Portland. Your daughter is in Portland.” She’s squealing now. “Did you call her yet? I mean Marta. Did you call her?”

“No. I just finished reading the letter when you came in. So I haven’t had the chance yet.” I’m afraid to call her. I don’t know if I can handle any more news. I need to prepare myself. I have a daughter! One that actually knows who I am. One that I may be able to meet someday. To hold.

“Honey, you have to. She’s giving your daughter back to you. You need to call her right away!” Kirsten claps her hands together while she squeals.

I quietly reflect for a moment. It’s been seven years. Sara has known Marta as her ‘mother’ for seven years. How can I take a child and break that bond? Does Sara really know everything about me? What has Marta told her? What did Tony tell her? Will she think I’m a monster for leaving her? Hell, does she even want to come live with me?

“I can see your brain spinning right now. What are you thinking?” Kirsten asks.

I can’t possibly answer all or any of these questions in my head.

“I’m scared. I’m also worried about this sudden decision that Marta has made. I’m thinking about the possibilities and the consequences. But I’m also wondering how I could consider taking her away from the only home she has ever known. Marta is rich. Filthy rich. Sara has been living in the lap of luxury these past seven years. How can I give her the life that she’s been used to?”

I pause and take a deep breath. “Kirsten, how can this be happening? I’m just so overwhelmed by all of this.” I worry about the damage that I could unintentionally do to this little girl. My daughter.

“It’s happening! So get ready, because your daughter is about to come home,” Kirsten sings.

“Sara’s home is in Portland, Kirsten! Don’t you understand? That’s her home. I don’t know if I can rip her from the only place she knows.” She doesn’t get it. I’m going to be the bad guy in this situation, any way that I look at it. Sara isn’t going to want to leave her family, her friends.

“You need to talk to Marta. Immediately. Honey, let’s not forget that Tony is dead. I hope he doesn’t rest in peace. That sick motherfucker. Do you understand what this means? You are free. One thousand percent free! You never have to look over your shoulder ever again. Because he won’t be lurking, waiting for you.”