Authors: Mary Alice Monroe
The Four Seasons (16 page)
“I know, I know. I knew it then, but it didn't stop the hurt.” Jilly turned her head to look out at the garden in the moonlight. “You know what I was doing when you knocked on the door? I was looking out there remembering what it was like when I was about thirteen.” She rested her chin back on her knees. “One of my favorite things in the summer was to lie up here in front of the window and just feel the breeze against my skin and watch the bats swoop down to skim the water in the pool. It was so peaceful. Used to make me sleepy. Birdie was right. Those were great days. Whenever I think of them I feel a longing that aches right here.” She pointed to her chest. “I was so⦔ She searched for the word. “Content. That's the last time I can remember feeling that way. After that summer I went a little wild, you know?” She turned to face her sister. Rose
was listening without speaking. Jilly liked that about her. She knew when to be quiet.
“Maybe not a little. A lot wild.” She turned away again. “I ruined it, you know? I ruined it for everyone.”
“That's a lot of blame to take on your own shoulders.”
“Yep.”
“You just told me that you don't blame us. Jilly, you have to stop blaming yourself. It was a long time ago. You were so young. Let it go.”
“How can I when you want me to go on this search and dig it all up again? I've been thinking and thinking about it and I don't think I should find her. I'll only mess up her life like I've messed up my own. Besides, she's lucky I gave her up. I'm not the mother type. I'm not responsible. I'm not dependable. I'm notâ”
“Stop beating yourself up! Yes, you put your child up for adoption but you did it for all the right reasons. You say yourself you didn't have the support you needed. What choice did you have? You were a child making an adult's decision. You did the best that you could. But now you deserve to forgive yourself.”
“Maybe she hasn't forgiven me.”
“Maybe she doesn't think there's anything to forgive.”
To Jilly's surprise, her eyes filled with tears that overflowed and trickled down her cheeks. Alone with Rose, in the dark, she allowed them to fall unchecked. Her sister sat beside her, silent. “I'm afraid, Rose,” she confessed. “When I think of having to contact this childâthis womanâI feel a huge, gaping gulf of fear that I just can't get past. I'm terrified of going back there.”
“If you don't go back and clean up the issues you left unresolved, you'll be stuck dealing with the past forever.”
Jilly took a shuddering breath. “What should I do, Rose?”
Rose took her hand and offered a reassuring smile. “What do you want to do?”
“I want to come home.” The words slipped out without thought.
“Oh, Jilly.” Rose leaned forward then and put her arms around her.
Jilly hadn't realized how much she needed to feel that just now. She felt safe. She wanted to feel again the blissful, innocent peace of that sweet summer when she was content with the world and who she was in it. To feel that way again would be worth all it took, and it was going to take a lot.
Jilly saw that gulf of fear and denial spread out before her and knew she had to go through her past to get over it. She grabbed Rose's hand, closed her eyes, took a breath and, feeling like she was jumping off the cliff, exhaled her answer.
“Yes.”
D
ear DannyBoy,
So much has happened in the past twenty-four hours. I don't know where to begin. I suppose what's most important is that my sisters and I are beginning to talk, really talk. It's like the Walls of Jericho are tumbling down! After one pretty tough session, we all agreed to search for my sister's child that was given up for adoption. It was my late sister Merry's last request. We're beginning the search as soon as we get organized and pack up.
The other decision we have to make concerns the sale of this house. I know my sisters are being cautious so as not to hurt my feelings. I appreciate that more than I can say.
I'm so torn about the house. I've lived in it all my life. I hate leaving it. You see, I stayed home from college to take care of my mother who was ill and my sister who suffered brain damage as a child. Someone had toâand I wanted to. Anyway, I never asked for the house, but to be totally honest, I wanted it. I deserved it. After all, my stay
ing home freed my older sisters to go off and forge lives of their own. Jilly, my oldest sister, was a high-fashion model in Europe. She was even in a spaghetti western with Clint Eastwood. (Not one of his famous ones, but still pretty exciting.) Birdie went to medical school, got married and started a family of her own.
No one asked me to stay home, but who else was there? I couldn't put my sister in an institution. I couldn't live with myself if I did.
I don't know why, but I can admit the truth to you. In retrospect I see that another reason I stayed was because I slipped into the decision. It wasn't something I weighed or considered, or even really wanted. But now I have the choice to change my life. I can decide what to do next. And oddly enough, I don't want the house. It's too big, too old, too expensive, too laden with memories, both good and bad. I feel the need to start fresh.
But I'm afraid. I don't really have anywhere to go to. I don't have any particular skills. I suppose I could hire myself out as a companion. I certainly have a lot of experience with that! Honestly? I don't know what I want to do yet. That's what's so scary.
Anyway, it feels better just writing all this to you. Thanks for being there,
Rosebud
Dear Rosebud,
Sure sounds like a lot's going on all right. Be careful to take things slow. My mama always used to tell me that haste makes waste. Or something like that. But I do believe this is true. I see what you mean about how the house should rightfully go to you. But life isn't always about what's right
or wrong. Sometimes it's just what it is and it's best to go along with it as best we can. Let me tell you about my Grandma Sue's ring. She didn't have much to leave behind when she died. She rented her apartment, there were bits of furniture that got passed around, a few dishes, but like I said, nothing much. Except for her diamond ring. It was a fancy thing, a spray of itty-bitty diamonds swirling around a bigger one. I think it's called a cocktail ring. Truth is, I don't think it was worth all that much money, but Grandpa Hank gave it to her and she wore it as proud as could be to every wedding, funeral and party in between. So when she died, everyone wanted it. She had three daughters and two sons, my mama being one of them. Well, let me tell you, there was squabbling for that ring. Grandma Sue should have left it to someone, but I guess she couldn't bear to part with it even in her mind.
One day, the ring just disappeared. Nobody could find it. Of course, the finger-pointing started, everyone was blaming everyone. That was almost ten years ago and my mama still hasn't talked to her one sister yet.
We'll never know what happened to Grandma Sue's ring, but my guess is Grandpa Hank pawned it. He did love to bet the trifecta at the races. But we'll never know for sure. I only hope the race came in for him, God rest his soul. We often talk about Grandma Sue's ring, usually after a few beers when we get to feeling loose in the tongue. Most everyone agrees the sisters should have just sold the ring, even if they each only got ten dollars apiece for it. Fact is, no one really wanted the ring. It was an ugly thing, big and gaudy. Everyone only wanted it because it was something Grandma Sue loved, and after she was gone, they needed something to know that she loved them back. I
know my mama misses her mama. But she misses her sister that she doesn't talk to even more. So go on and sell that house! Share the money with your sisters and start that new life you're dreaming of. You don't want to be a companion againâthough if you're serious, this truck gets pretty lonely. Come on and join me on the road for a while!
Remember what my Grandma Sue said. “I'm taking the ring with me.” Ha, ha. No, what she really said, and I think she even stitched it on some pillow, was A House Is Not A Home. Corny, but true.
Let me know what you decide.
Your friend,
DannyBoy
The following morning, Birdie telephoned Mr. Collins to let him know Jilly's decision.
“This is wonderful news,” he said, his usually hushed voice effusive. “Mrs. Collins and I both hoped she would reach this decision. Let me assure you once again that, though the letter would hardly be held legally binding if any one of you chose to contest it, I feel certain she's making the right decision.”
“Thank you, Mr. Collins, for all your help, and for your kindness to Merry. It took a bit of talking and rehashing, but I believe you're right. Merry's request deserves to be honored.”
“Jillian is quite brave.”
“Yes, she is. But she won't be alone. Rose and I've decided to go with her.”
“Is that so? That's wonderful. She'll need all your support. Have Jillian give me a call,” he advised before signing off. “I may be able to help.”
Â
Jilly dressed in a smart navy pantsuit, pulled her hair back into a severe chignon, then walked down the block to see Mr.
Collins. She was greeted warmly by Mrs. Collins, a pretty, blue-eyed elderly woman dressed in expensive yet understated clothes. She knew why Jilly had come and didn't delay her. After a few moments of polite chitchat, Jilly was ushered into Mr. Collins's office.
He rose when she entered, extending his hand. Even in his home, he wore a suit and tie. Taking her hand, he led her into his large, dark-paneled office. There were heavy velvet drapes on the windows and an impressive desk. Definitely the room of the successful lawyer that he was, Jillian thought as she took the comfortable leather seat beside the desk.
Sensing her tension, he smiled and began to chat about everyday pleasantries. Gradually, however, they moved on to the subject uppermost in their minds.
“A search such as this is not only complex, but emotional. You will likely encounter any number of people who will complicate your search by lying or by sending you off on a fool's errand. Or there are those who may tell you outright that you have no right to search at all. They'll offer all sorts of reasons. âYou'll ruin the child's life' is probably the most common. Don't you listen to them or let them interfere. In no state, county or province has searching for one's adopted child been made illegal. However, there are obstacles and dead ends. As the lawyer who represented you and your parents in the adoption, I hope to eliminate a number of these obstacles.”
“Mr. Collins, I don't have any idea where to begin. I thought I'd start with trying to get the adoption records.”
“Unfortunately, it's most likely that the adoption file is sealed. If you were to petition for it, it could be denied outright and you would receive nothing. Or the judge could appoint an intermediary.” He smiled kindly at her distress. “But not to worry. Here is where I hope to help. I can call a friend of mine
who's a judge up in Wisconsin to petition for a direct release. However, I am not licensed in Wisconsin where the adoption took place. The adoptive parents will likely have hired their own lawyer as well. So it's best for you to travel north and do a little investigating on your own. Go first to Marian House and see what files they still have, then the hospital where you gave birth.”
“Go to Marian House?” Her stomach tightened and she felt another sharp pain.
“The convent is still there, I believe, but I don't know if the home for unwed mothers still exists.”
“I hate that name. It always made me feel like a criminal.”
Mr. Collins looked at his hands. “I'm sorry you felt that.”
“I'll go. If I must.” She paused. “Aren't there agencies I can contact who will do all this searching for me?”
“Yes, there are paid searchers, but the key again is to find someone reputable. You'll need to check references thoroughly. And it can be costly.”
“My financial situation is, shall we say, desperate.”
“Ah.” He paused. She saw a deep sympathy in his eyes. “Searching by yourself may be more difficult, but you might discover many personal rewards along the way. You may even find it therapeutic. And remember, Jillian, you won't be alone. You'll have your sisters with you. And I'll work here on my end to do what I can to open doors. As a matter of fact, I've already been in contact with someone I know at the Adoption Information Exchange. She has her own resources, rather underground, and though I'm not at liberty to discuss her means of operation, I'm sure she can get me a list of names and at least narrow the field.”
When she looked at him, confused, he added, “One of those names will be your daughter's.”
Jilly sat back in her chair, stunned.
Her name
.
“It will take time, of course. And you'll have to narrow that list down. Once we obtain the adoption files, however, things will move along more quickly. Also, I advise that you file a waiver of confidentiality at the adoption agency as soon as possible. That way, if and when your daughter contacts the agency or court seeking information about you, identifying information will be immediately released to her so that she can contact you directly. Do you have a cell phone?”
“I'm sure Birdie has one.”
“Make certain it connects across state lines.” He folded his hands on his desk. “We'll need to keep in close touch. I suggest you leave my number with the agency and allow me to act as intermediary.”
“How long do you think it will take?”
“It's hard to say. Each search is unique. For some it may take only a few days. For others, as long as a year or more. So much depends on what information is available, and if your daughter has initiated a search herself.”
Jilly sat back in her chair. “My God, I hadn't considered that.”
“There are many reasons why a child seeks her birth mother. Let's see, your daughter would be how old now?”
“Almost twenty-six.”
His brows rose. “So old? It's hard to believe. Well then, I'd say the likelihood is good. At eighteen, she could legally make contact without her parents' approval. Then there are medical reasons she might search for you. If she has children of her own, she'd want medical histories. Or she might just want to make contact. Who knows?”
“What do I do first?”
“First, you should begin a journal. Write down all you remember, then all you learn as you go along. Include every
detail, no matter how trivial it might seem. It's like a puzzle. You never know which piece is pivotal.” He smiled benevolently. “The search is made up of many steps. Just take the first and the rest will follow.”
She took her cue and unclasped her hands. She didn't realize she had been holding them so tightly. “I don't think I ever thanked you for your help back then.”
“There was no need.”
She laughed. “To be honest, I wasn't really grateful. I was angry. I think I hated you because you helped sign my baby away.”
He seemed pained. “I'm sorry you felt that way.”
“I was young. I never wanted to give the baby away. Did you know that?”
His brows furrowed and he shook his head.
“Well, it doesn't matter anymore, does it?” Her smile was quick and perfunctory. Then more soberly she said, “I only pray my child went to kind parents and she had a wonderful childhood andâ” Jilly's throat constricted and she pressed her fingers against her trembling lips lest she cry. “Why did they make me give up the baby?” she blurted out with a strained voice that hurt her throat. “Would it have been so horrible for me to raise the baby on my own? Mom and Dad wouldn't even consider that choice.”
“Those were different times,” he reminded her gently. “There were fewer choices.”
Another pat answer, she thought, dismissing it. Jillian sniffed into the handkerchief he offered, dabbed her eyes and returned it as she rose to leave. “Well, thank you now, Mr. Collins,” she said politely. “Twenty-six years late.”
He rose to take her hand, but didn't release her immediately. “If you don't mind me sounding a bit like a fatherâ¦I think Bill might want me to.”
The mention of her father's name, in this setting, sealed her determination to find her child. She no longer blamed him, but there was still alive in her the will to
show
him she would find her baby.
