Unwanted Stars (33 page)

"Baby?" she asked. "What's going on?"

I tried to speak, but all I could do was sob. Tears streamed down my face. She was there to rescue me. And I desperately needed to be rescued. As hard as I tried to be independent, to take care of myself, stand up for myself, I needed my mother.

She crouched next to me, her face strong yet pained, her arms wrapping around me, clutching my shoulders.

"I'm here," she said. I sank into her embrace. "I'm here, baby. I'm here. I'm not leaving you. I'm here."

My sobbing continued for quite a while. With mascara and tears smeared across the front of her sundress, Charlotte Kelly held me, rocking me back and forth, smoothing my hair and humming lullabies softly into my ear. It took some time, but eventually my breathing calmed, my brain slowed down, and the heat of the room started to dissipate.

"What happened?" I asked, clutching my mother tight, feeling the dampness of the fabric that clung to her skin.

"You had a panic attack, sweetheart," she said.

"Oh." I guessed that made sense, but I'd never experienced one before so I wasn't entirely convinced.

"I'm not sure why, though. Can you tell me what happened?"

"I...I got my period."

"Okaaay," she said. "Were you not expecting it?"

"I don't know," I said, my words choked up.

"It's okay, shhhhh. Can you tell me more?"

"I...I'm late."

"Oh. Were you hoping to be...?"

"No," I said, shaking my head, looking into her eyes. "Of course not."

"So then...are you relieved?"

"I-I think so. I don't know. I just...I don't know what happened. The walls started to close in."

She kissed me on the top of my head. "Let's get you out of this room, okay? We can talk more when you're ready."

She helped me to my feet, guiding me to the counter. I still felt dizzy, but the room wasn't spinning anymore. I felt like I was actually going to be okay. I wasn't dying, I wasn't pregnant. But I was terribly embarrassed. Thank God Campbell wasn't there. Or Jason. I didn't hear either of their voices beyond the bathroom door.

"I'm going to splash some water on my face. Can you meet me in our room?"

"Of course. Are you sure you can do it yourself?"

I could tell she felt silly asking her twenty-three-year-old daughter if she was able to handle such a basic task. But, right then, I wasn't a grown up to her. I was her baby. And I finally realized that I always would be. No matter how much I fought it.

"Yeah, I'll be out in a minute."

"I'll be right outside."

"Thanks, Mom."

"Music to my ears," she whispered.

"What?"

"You calling me Mom. It's...it's been a while."

"I'm still pissed at you," I said, letting her know my guard wasn't completely down. Not yet.

"I know." She nodded, one hand on the bathroom door.

"But I don't hate you. I don't."

"Thank you. That means more to me than you could ever know."

I nodded and she kissed me one more time on the top of my head.

"I'll be right outside. We'll talk."

"Okay, I'll be out in a minute."

"Don't rush. Take your time."

"Okay."

Once I was calm, clean, and my face was no longer covered in black streaks of tear soaked makeup, my mother and I walked slowly to the guest room. She closed the door behind us.

"Let's sit down for a minute. Hadley called Jason and asked him to pick up some bagels and bialys across town. They won't be back for a while," Mom said, quickly making the bed.

"Oh good," I said, sitting down on the duvet cover.

We sat in silence until I finally asked the question that had been bothering me for weeks.

"Why didn't you name me?"

"What?"

"My name. Tabitha said
she
named me."

"That's not entirely true."

"Okay then,
tell
me the truth. I love my name. I thought it
meant
something to you. For her to say that, it killed me."

"When we met with Tabitha and agreed to the terms of adoption, she asked to name you. Your father and I had concerns about that. Jason and Maya were both named after poets. We wanted the same for you. We wanted all of our children to have that common tie. So, we told her she had to name you after a poet."

"Okay, but...I always thought I was named after that poem. About the clocks."

"In a way, you
were
. They'd read that poem at your birth father's funeral. It stuck with Tabitha, so she named you Auden."

"What did
you
want to name me?"

"Emily," she said, "after Emily Dickinson. You know how much I love her. So, we compromised."

"Auden Emily..." I repeated my name, connecting the dots for the first time.

"I wanted you to know some of the real reason behind your name, which is why I told you about the poem.
Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in your soul.
You perched in my soul, Auden. And you'll never leave. I'll always have hope and
you
will always have my love. I know, deep within my heart, that I was meant to be your mother, whether you choose to see that or not. I can't force you, but I'll also never give up. I'll never give up on you."

"Thank you," I said, tears welling again as I stared into her eyes. She looked like she'd aged years since I saw her in Spain. The distance I'd placed between us was torturing her. I wanted so badly to end that for her, but I didn't really know how.

"Now, talk to me about what just happened."

"I don't know."

"Try." She wasn't going to back down, but I felt protected and safe. I felt like I could search my brain, search my heart to figure it out.

"My period was almost two weeks late."

"Does Campbell know?"

"No. I couldn't tell him. There was so much going on...everything with you, with the wedding, with Tabitha. I just couldn't. It was easier to ignore it."

"Are you going to tell him?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. Should I?"

"I can't answer that, sweetheart."

I nodded. "I'll have to think on it, I guess. It's safe to tell him now, since, ya know, I'm
not
."

"True. It's your decision no matter what."

"I love you, Mom," I whispered.

My mother pressed her lips together, holding back the tears that were welling in her eyes. She pulled me to her, sobbing into my shoulder, holding the back of my head with her hand. She cried as she clutched me.

"I never thought I'd hear that again. Oh, my sweet baby girl. Please forgive me. Please, please..."

"I will, Mom. I will. Just give it time."

The library was stunning, just as Hadley had hoped. When we arrived this afternoon, we stood and watched in awe as the wedding planner directed employees carrying flowers and chairs to make the ceremony perfect.

"Do you think Jason will like it?" she asked.

"He's going to love it," I said, taking her hand in mine. "But he'd also marry you on a street corner. You're all he wants. You and Marty."

"I know, I just...it feels good to do this for him. He does so much for me, for us, every single day."

"He's not doing you any favors, Had. He loves you."

"Oh, I know," she said, shaking her head. "I just...he's so romantic, ya know? And I'm just not. Not really. But this," she said, pointing around the room, "this I could do. For him."

"And he'll be ecstatic," I said, "I'm impressed that he still doesn't know."

"He promised not to look for any spare copies of the invitation. And I asked everyone close to us to keep it out of plain sight, just in case."

"You're a smart woman. I'm impressed you pulled it off."

"I just wish I could see his face when the car brings him here. I won't get to see his expression until later."

"Dad's going to get it on his phone, don't worry." It was difficult to still say the name, "Dad." Despite my moment with my mother the day before, I hadn't yet spoken to Stanford Kelly. I avoided him last night at the rehearsal dinner. Any time he approached me, I found a reason to walk the other way. I knew it was immature, but I just couldn't handle it. My mom and I had always had a bond, close in our own way, even though I knew she wanted me to let her in more than I did. But my Dad? I'd always had a quiet reverence for him. Right now, though, it was gone. And it bothered me. More than I had expected it to.

"Aud, you okay?" Hadley asked, pulling me from my daze.

"Yeah, I'm good."

"We're early. They have a conference room for us to change in. The stylist will be here soon. So will Kate."

"She agreed to do your wedding, huh?" I asked, knowing that Kate Maxwell was not a fan of wedding photography. She was more of an artist who liked to take stylistic shots when inspired, but she and Hadley had become good friends in the past year and she made an exception.

"Yes! I'm so excited," Hadley said. "Come on. Let's drop this stuff off. Our moms will be here in a half hour."

"Got it," I said, carrying garment bags in my arms and a backpack full of supplies on my back. I was glad to have this time, just the two of us. Once the rest of the bridal party arrived, there'd be too much chaos, too much commotion to have any sort of real conversation. She'd asked about yesterday morning, and I explained that I had a panic attack. She knew there was more to it though. The thing about Hadley is that she doesn't push. She knew I wasn't ready to talk about it, and she could feel me withdrawing from her. So she got a little bit of info from me and would figure out the time to get the rest later. And that's why I loved her.

We entered the conference room and there was a gift box on the table. When Hadley saw the post-it note on the top of the box, she panicked.

"Don't worry," I said, "that was delivered for him. He still has no idea where the wedding will be."

"Oh, thank God."

She stood admiring the box, holding the post-it to her chest.

"What are you waiting for? Open it," I said, eager for her to see the wedding gift Jason had made for her.

She opened it, gasping when she saw it.

"He didn't," she said.

"Yep, he did," I said, watching her stare at the book in awe. "It comes out next week. His fans will be excited."

Last year, Jason had created an adorable picture book for Marty for his first birthday, expressing his love for the little guy. It was called
Marty My Smarty
. In Hadley's arms was the second book in the series. He'd kept it a secret from her, but had given me a heads up a few months back, wanting to surprise her today. And it worked.

"
Marty in the Wedding Party?
" Hadley asked with a laugh. On the cover of the book was a hand drawn picture of Marty in a suit, holding a ring bearer pillow. A diamond ring sat on top of the pillow, tied with a ribbon. The little boy on the cover looked just like my nephew: floppy chocolate colored hair, big hazel eyes, and pale skin. Whoever Jason hired to illustrate these books deserved a freaking award. The illustrations were perfection.

She paged through the book, both of us oohing and ahhing with each turn of the page. We saw Hadley as a bride, holding his hand, Marty carrying the pillow as he walked down the aisle, and Jason giving him a high-five and a big hug before Grandma carried him to his seat. The final page showed Marty holding hands with his mom and dad, all smiling at one another.

The page read:

Marty my Smarty

You bring your Mom and me

So much joy.

Now and forever,

Marty My Smarty,

I am proud to call you

My little boy.