Her mother turned and walked out. Shannon sank onto her chair and covered her face with her hands. As the tears flowed, she knew it was going to be a very long time until her world righted itself. Assuming it ever did.
Ava stared at the mural in the baby’s room. Even after all these years the colors were bright and vibrant, the animal expressions kind and welcoming. The artist had worked so hard to make it all perfect.
Victoria had loved it. When she was four, she’d decided to name all the animals. She’d just been learning to read and write, and Ava had helped her make a list of the names. There had been fourPenelopes. Ava had tried to talk her out of that, but ofcourse Victoria had insisted that every cadre of forest creatures would have fourPenelopes.
Still smiling at the memory, she carefully moved the roller back and forth in the pan, then pressed it against the wall. The bright white primer instantly covered the artwork.
It took less than an hour to paint the wall. She was cutting in the edges when Milton walked in.
“There you are. I’ve been—” His breath caught. “Are you sure?”
She carefully went down the stepladder and smiled at him. “It’s a little too late to be asking that now, don’t you think?”
“I’m surprised.”
“In a good way, I hope.” She looked at the bright white wall. “It was past time. I should have done it years ago. I should have done a lot of things.”
Milton pulled her close and kissed her. “I love you.”
“And I love you.” She stepped back. “Let me clean up the roller and the brushes, then I’ll meet you in the kitchen and you can tell me about your day.”
A few minutes later, she walked into the kitchen where she found her beloved husband making them old-fashioneds, using the rye she liked rather than bourbon. Because he was always thoughtful that way.
She took the drink he offered. “Thank you for forgiving me for what I did to Victoria. You didn’t have to.”
“Yes, I did. You’re my wife.”
“And she’s your daughter.” She shook her head. “Isn’t it strange how one chance meeting changed so much, and yet nothing is different? It’s confusing.”
They walked into the family room and took their usual seats.
“I reached out to Cindy today,” she said. “I still don’t know if I did the right thing.”
“She had the right to know about the engagement.”
“I agree, but still, I hurt her.”
“You didn’t. Shannon did that. She was going to find out eventually.”
“The look on her face. She was devastated. I feel awful about that, and there’s a very good chance I was wrong to mention it.” She sipped her drink. “Nothing turned out how I expected. I knew Cindy would struggle with having a baby on her own, but I never thought she wouldn’t marry and have more children. Of course, I thought Victoria and I would be close and we’re not.”
Once again she wondered how much of that was on her. She was the mother, after all. She’d loved and cared for her child, and yet she’d failed her in so many ways.
“Part of the problem is you’re too alike.”
She stared at Milton. “We’re nothing alike. She’s always going and doing. The gymnastics, the cheering. She’s a stuntperson. I would never do any of those things.”
“You’re both strong and independent.” He offered her a teasing smile. “A little prickly.”
“Catch me on the right day and I can be a lot prickly.” She sighed. “I wish I’d had more time before we adopted her. I wish I could have been further along in the grieving process. But losing Shannon devastated me.”
“Part of it was the shock,” Milton said. “One minute we were blissfully waiting to have our daughter, and the next she was gone. There’s no way to prepare for that.”
He was right, she thought sadly. Oh, she’d always known that in any adoption there was a possibility the birth mother would change her mind, but she and Cindy had been so close. It hadn’t occurred to her that there was any risk. Not for them.
She remembered collapsing after getting the phone call. She and Milton had clung to each other, struggling to understand the lawyer’s words. The loss had been instant and irrevocable, and in some ways worse than if there’d been an accident and Cindy had lost the baby. Because while they’d been forced toprocess that they wouldn’t be getting the precious baby they’d dreamed about for years, the child herself grew and thrived just a few short miles away. Every moment of every day, Ava had been able to imagine what she was like, what she was doing. She’d wondered if the infant—the one she’d then thought of as little Victoria—was eating well, was sleeping. Was she able to focus on her mother’s face, gazing up at her as she nursed? How many nights had she left her bed only to sit in the baby’s room, rocking in the chair, her arms and heart empty and cold?
Milton reached for her hand. “I nearly lost you. I regret what we had to go through, but the thought that you could have been gone, too, terrifies me.”
