The Seventh Mother (21 page)

The sisters began talking among themselves again. Jenny and I finished our soup and bread, and rose.

“Thank you all so much,” I said. “It was delicious.”

“You’re very welcome,” one of them said. They all smiled at us.

“Well, good night.”

We walked back down the hallway and up the stairs to our room. It was just starting to get dark outside.

Jenny sat down on a bed and stared at the floor. She said nothing for a long time, then rose and pulled her laptop from her backpack. She turned it on and waited, finally looking up in frustration.

“We don’t have Internet,” she said.

“It’s okay,” I said. “You can go one night without the Internet.”

She sighed. “I was going to show you the article about Briana. And maybe Google Ami and see if there’s anything about her.”

I put my hand on her shoulder.

“We’ll find someplace with Internet access tomorrow. It can wait until then.”

Jenny turned the computer off and shoved it back into her backpack.

“Wait,” she said. “You didn’t see this yet.”

She pulled out a manila folder and held it out to me.

I took a deep breath before I opened the folder. I didn’t think I could take much more.

I scanned the papers inside.

“Your dad had a sister?” I looked up at Jenny. “Did you know that?”

She shook her head.

“Well, apparently he loved her, because he named you after her.”

She shrugged.

I put the papers back into the folder and began pacing the room.

“Okay, let’s see. We know he had a sister, and we know her name. Maybe we should try to find her. Maybe she can tell us something about his childhood, something that might explain . . .” I paused and swallowed hard.

“How would we find her?”

“We’ve got the address for the adoption service. We could drive up to Indianapolis and just go there and ask questions.”

“Emma?” Jenny was watching me, her eyes wide. “We have another address.”

She pulled out the letter from Hailey’s mother.

“Do you think she still lives in Indianapolis?”

“Maybe,” I said. “There’s only one way to find out.”

“So we’re going to Indianapolis?”

“I guess so.”

“Are we going tomorrow?”

“I don’t think so,” I said. “I think the first thing we need to do is find someplace with Internet access and do some research. Besides”—I dropped onto a bed—“I’m exhausted. I think I need a day to just regroup.”

“There’s a lake out front.” Jenny stood staring out the window at the gathering dusk. “We could take a walk in the morning.”

“That sounds good.”

“Emma?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Oh, Jenny, you don’t have anything to be sorry for.”

“But if I hadn’t gone up in the attic, then we wouldn’t know about . . . everything. And we could still be at home and a family.”

She dropped beside me on the little bed and I scooted to one side to make room for her.

“I know it’s hard,” I said, putting my arm around her. “But it’s better to know.”

“I guess so.”

We lay there a long time. At last, Jenny fell into a fitful sleep, and I felt my eyes beginning to droop. So I rose carefully, covered her with a blanket, and climbed into another bed.

As I let myself drift to sleep, I prayed for the hundredth time that day:
Dear God, please take care of us. Please help us do what we need to do. And please protect us from . . . from anything bad
.

I
squeezed my eyes shut against the sunlight. I was so tired I just wanted to sleep a few more minutes. I must have forgotten to close the curtains the night before.

Then I heard it, someone else breathing in my room.

I opened my eyes and sat up, staring around me at the huge, unfamiliar room. Where was I?

The clock beside the bed said it was a quarter till seven.

I turned toward the breathing sound and saw Emma asleep in the bed next to mine. She was still wearing her clothes. I looked down. So was I.

Images of the day before came flooding back—sitting on the bed in Lashaundra’s room, cutting open the boxes in the attic, showing Emma the lockets and the driver’s licenses. I wasn’t at home, in my own room. I was in a room on the third floor of a convent. Emma and I were hiding from Daddy.

I sat up and closed my eyes. When I opened them, I would be at home. The whole thing would just be a nightmare.
Please, God, let it be a nightmare.

But of course, it wasn’t just a nightmare. It was real. I had ruined everything.

I stared at Emma while she slept. I felt tears sting my eyes. Emma was the closest thing to a mother I’d ever remembered having. She was pregnant with my little sister. I loved her. I had done what I had to do to protect her.

I had to pee.

I rose quietly and tiptoed to the door, pulling it open, praying it wouldn’t squeak. Then I stepped into the hallway and padded barefoot toward the bathroom and relief.

I was washing my hands when the woman with the short blond hair walked in.

“Good morning!” she said, smiling.

“Hey,” I mumbled.

“I hope you slept well?”

“Yeah, I slept okay.”

“Did we keep you up last night?”

“Um, no. We went to bed early.”

“Oh, good,” she said, splashing water on her face. “We got a little tipsy and I was worried we were too loud.”

“It’s all good.” I walked toward the door.

“Is your mom up?”

I stopped. My mom? She meant Emma, of course.

“She was still asleep when I got up.”

“Well, breakfast is at seven,” she said. “So if you guys want to eat, she should get up.”

“Okay, thanks.”

I walked back to our bedroom wondering if I should wake Emma or not. She was pregnant. She needed to eat. But she needed to sleep, too. And as long as she was asleep, she didn’t have to remember why we were here.

“Good morning,” she said when I opened the door.

“Hey,” I said.

“Did you sleep okay?”

“Yeah. Did you?”

“Actually, yeah. I slept well. I’m kind of surprised I did. I was just so tired.”

She was sitting up in bed, stretching.

“The lady we saw last night, the one with the blond hair who’s not a nun, she said breakfast is ready at seven.”

Emma looked at the clock. “Well, we’re just in time then. Wait for me, okay? I have to go to the bathroom.”

After she left, I made up the bed I’d slept in. Then I made the bed she’d slept in, too. When she got back, we both changed our clothes. Then we walked out into the hall, and there was the blond woman again.

“Good morning!” she chirped. “Are you-all going to breakfast?”

“I guess so,” Emma said.

“Good. We can go together.”

She led the way down the stairs, talking the whole time about Loretto, its history, the nuns. She talked fast and she walked fast. Emma and I had to hurry to keep up.

“I’ve been coming for almost twelve years,” she said as we reached the first floor. “Honestly, I don’t know what I’d do without this place. It’s my spiritual home, and I’m not even Catholic. I mean, when my marriage ended, I was here more than I was home. And the sisters just let me be however I needed to be.”

“When did your marriage end?” Emma asked. We were walking down yet another long hallway.

“Five years ago,” the woman said. “I’m Lorelei, by the way. I don’t remember if I told you that last night.”

“I’m Emma, and this is Jenny.”

“Are you-all from around here?”

Emma looked at me and I looked back at her.

“No,” she said. “We’re just passing through.”

“So how did you hear about it?”

“Um . . . a friend of mine stayed here once. It was a long time ago.”

Lorelei opened a door into a large, empty room. We followed her to another door on the other side. I was glad we weren’t trying to find our way around on our own.

“So, when are you due?” she asked, glancing at Emma’s stomach.

“September,” Emma said.

“That’s so exciting. I always wanted a baby but . . . well, maybe next time, right?”

She pushed open yet another door to another hallway. It really was like a maze.

“We were trying to get pregnant,” she continued. “But it didn’t happen. And then . . . well, then he decided to try with someone else.”

“I’m sorry,” Emma said softly.

“Oh, well.” Lorelei just kept walking. “I’m glad I found out before I got pregnant, anyway.”

I looked at Emma and wondered what she must be thinking.

“Here we are.” Lorelei opened yet another door and we were standing in a huge dining room filled with women, mostly old women. Some of them even wore the hats I thought all nuns were supposed to wear.

“There’s cereal and juice,” she said, “and sometimes boiled eggs. The biggest meal is at lunch. Don’t miss that. Then for dinner, it’s usually soup and leftovers from lunch. It’s not exactly gourmet cuisine, but hey, it’s here and it’s ready and you don’t have to cook it.”

We went through the line cafeteria-style. I got some Cheerios and a carton of milk and a roll. Emma filled a plate with fruit, a boiled egg, and a biscuit. Then we followed Lorelei to a table and sat down. She never stopped talking the entire time.

“This is Sarah,” she said, nodding to another woman at the table. “She’s from Louisville. And Pat’s from Columbus.” She nodded to another woman.

“This is Emma and Jenny,” she said, pointing to us now.

“Hello,” each of them said, smiling at us.

Lorelei chattered nonstop while we ate. When she paused to take a breath, Emma asked, “Is there any place close by where we can get Internet access?”

“Sure,” Lorelei said. “There’s a room just off of this one where you can get it. I’ll show you after breakfast.”

I ate my cereal and tried hard to block out the chatter around me. I wondered what Daddy was doing right now. Was he eating breakfast, too? Was he worrying about where we were? Had he discovered that things were missing from his boxes in the attic?

Finally, Emma stood up. “Where should we take our trays?” she asked.

“I’ll show you.” Lorelei rose and picked up her tray, then led us to the back of the room.

“Now, let me show you the Internet room.”

She led us to a smaller room that looked like it had been a kitchen once.

“You can get on the Internet in here. They keep saying they’re going to get it at the main house, but that hasn’t happened yet. And you know what? I’m kind of glad. It’s nice to be completely disconnected from the world, you know?”

She led us back to the building where our room was and sprinted up the stairs ahead of us.

Emma looked at me, winked, and smiled as we climbed the stairs.

“So, do you want me to take you back to the Internet room? Or do you think you can find it on your own?”

“I think we’ll be fine,” Emma said. “But thank you for showing us the way.”

“No problem.”

Lorelei stood a moment, just smiling at us.

“I know it’s confusing at first, but you’ll get the hang of it,” she said. “This really is the best place in the world.”

Then she turned and walked quickly down the hall to her room. “She talks a lot,” I said to Emma once we were inside our own room.

“Yes, she does.”

We sat down on our beds for a minute, just relishing the quiet. Then Emma rose.

“So,” she said. “Get your laptop and let’s go see what we can see.”

We got lost only once on our way back toward the dining room, ending up in a large chapel with wooden pews. But a nice older lady pointed us in the right direction, and we finally found the little room where Lorelei had said we could get on the Internet.

Two other women were already there, each in front of a laptop. Both of them smiled when we entered.

“Here,” I said, sitting at an empty table.

I turned the computer on and waited, then connected it and us to the Internet.

“Can I check my e-mail first?”

Emma nodded.

There was only one message, and it was from Lashaundra.

Hey, where are you?
it read.
Your dad was here last night asking if we knew where you and Emma were. He was really mad. And, I hope you won’t be too mad at me, but after he left I told Mama and Daddy about the driver’s licenses and what we found online. They kind of freaked out, and I know they are worried about you. So e-mail me and let me know you’re okay.

I showed the e-mail to Emma. Her brow furrowed as she read it.

“Damn,” she said softly. “I didn’t want to get them involved.”

“It’s okay,” I said. “They won’t tell Daddy anything. Not now that they know what . . . what we found.”

She still looked worried.

“Can I e-mail her back?” I asked. I hated to think of Lashaundra worrying about me. And Mr. and Mrs. Johnson, too.

“I don’t know,” Emma said.

“It’ll be okay,” I said. “I’ll just tell them that we’re safe. That’s all. Please, Emma?”

“Okay,” she said, finally. “But don’t say anything about where we are or where we’re going.”

I clicked reply and typed:
Hi Lashaundra. Don’t worry. Emma and I are fine. We are safe. I miss you.

“Is that okay?”

Emma read what I’d written and nodded. I pushed send and breathed deeply. At least they would know we were okay.

Then I pulled the stack of driver’s licenses from my pocket, went to Google, typed in Cara’s name and city, and scrolled through the missing people till we came to her spot. Emma read it, her face pale.

I typed in Briana’s name and pulled up the newspaper article. Emma read that, too. She looked like she might throw up.

“Are you okay?” I whispered.

She nodded, but didn’t say anything.

I found Ami’s license and typed,
Ami Gordon, Fort Worth, Texas.

Several items popped up, and I clicked on the first one.

Emma was reading the story over my shoulder. I felt her hand shaking on my arm.

“Look,” I said, pointing to the bottom of the screen. “There’s a reward for any information.”

“Look at her mother.” Emma’s voice was shaking, too.

I stared at a picture of an older woman sitting on a couch holding a photo of Ami. A man sat next to her on the couch, his arm around her.

“I can’t even imagine what they are going through,” Emma said. She had one arm wrapped across her stomach, like she was shielding the baby from the computer screen.

I said nothing, just clicked the back button and scanned through more entries on Ami’s disappearance. She’d left home the spring before Daddy and I came to Texas. She’d lived with us a few months there and stayed with us when we moved to Tennessee. After she left, Cara had moved in with us.

“What about this one?” Emma held out a driver’s license and I took it from her.

Laura Parker, Cincinnati, Ohio,
I typed into the search engine. I clicked on the first entry that came on the screen, a newspaper article from the
Cincinnati Enquirer
.

“Missing Woman’s Remains Found in Florida,” the headline read.

I read quickly. The article was a lot like the one about Briana. Human remains in Florida had been identified as Laura Parker, missing for three years from Cincinnati. The article was dated 2007.

I stared at the picture on the screen, trying hard to remember the face. But no memory surfaced. I’d been so little then, and it was right after my mother died.

My mother . . .

I typed furiously in the Google search bar:
Hailey Bohner, Greenfield, Indiana.

Nothing.

Hailey Bohner, Indianapolis, Indiana.

Still nothing.

Hailey Bohner, Cincinnati, Ohio.

I stared at nothing on the screen.

“What was her maiden name?” Emma whispered, her hands on my shoulders.

Hailey Wright, Indianapolis, Indiana.

Finally, a hit. I clicked on the link.