Ava leaned back in her chair. “I don’t know what I would have said or thought,” she admitted. “Obviously I would have been concerned about your doubts.”Terrifiedwas more like it, and she very well might have tried to talk Cindy into going forward with the adoption. “I like to think I would have been understanding, but so much was on the line.” She offered a smile. “I’m sorry you worried about us getting a lawyer. We wouldn’t have. Cindy, the baby was always yours. You’re the mother. You got to decide. Not us.”
Cindy twisted the tissue in her hands. “My head understands, but my heart was so afraid. I knew what I was doing was wrong and—”
Ava frowned. “What do you mean you were wrong?”
“Keeping Shannon. I’d promised you could have her.”
“We’re not talking about a favorite sweater. She’s your child. She was growing inside of you. The two of you have a bond no one can break. Wanting to keep her and raise her was never wrong.”
Cindy’s eyes filled again. “But I hurt you and Milton. I was such a coward.”
“You were, as you already pointed out, barely eighteen.”
“I started to feel like her mother,” she admitted, sounding ashamed. “I would feel her kicking when I was in bed, and she was so real to me. I would imagine what it would be like to hold her and raise her, and then I couldn’t stop thinking about it.” She wiped her cheeks. “I’m so sorry. I should have said something.”
“I don’t think you could have. You were feeling guilty and confused. Sometimes it’s easier to pretend everything is fine.”
Like now, Ava thought, holding in the pain. Because Cindy’s words about holding her baby brought back so much of the past. How many times had she herself thought about holding little Shannon? In her mind, she’d pictured her and Milton at the hospital, the tiny child in their arms. She’d imagined the slow drive home, the first time she put Shannon in her perfect nursery. Feeding her, changing her, the first smile, the first laugh, tracking all her progress in the baby book she’d bought. She remembered the fierce love she’d already felt for the baby that had never been hers.
“I didn’t want to lose you,” Cindy whispered, drawing Ava back to the present. “I missed my mom so much, and you were there for me.” She sniffed. “It was never about the things you bought me. I hope you know that. It was always about how you were there for me. You were the only friend I had. You took care of me, and I repaid you by keeping my baby.”
Ava recalled that Cindy had lost her mother the year before she got pregnant. She’d talked about her constantly through the pregnancy, missing her and wishing she was there with her. Ava had envied the relationship. Her own mother had died in childbirth. Ava had never known what it was like to have a mother in her life. She’d vowed that she and her daughter would be as close as Cindy and her mom had been. Something that hadn’t happened with Victoria, she thought with a sigh.
“You have to let that go,” Ava told her. “It was a long time ago. Milton and I have moved on. You need to do the same.”
“But you were so good to me.” Cindy leaned toward her. “You listened while I complained, you read all the pregnancy books with me, you took me to my doctor’s appointments. I couldn’t have gotten through my pregnancy without you.” She wiped her face again. “I wasn’t trying to hurt you, I swear. The friendship was real to me, and after I kept Shannon I missed you so much.”
“I missed you, too,” Ava told her. “We’d talked about an openadoption and you being part of the baby’s life. I meant that. I hope you believe me.”
“I do. You were there when I needed you most, and I’ll always be grateful, and I am so sorry for all the pain and how I just disappeared. That’s what I came to say. I wanted you to know you were wonderful and that I’ve always regretted my behavior.”
She unexpectedly stood. “Thank you for listening. I appreciate it so much. Goodbye, Ava.”
She walked out before Ava could decide if she wanted to stop her or not. In the end, she sat there in her office, thinking about all Cindy had said. It was the closure Milton had talked about. She had it now. She knew what had happened and why. Cindy felt badly about what she’d put them through. It was all good.
She walked back to her desk and sat down, then opened her Excel program. But she found it difficult to concentrate. Not only had Cindy’s visit brought old memories to the surface, it had reignited the longing she’d felt all those years ago. The ache for a child and how she’d given her heart to a baby she would never have. But what surprised her the most was the realization that after Cindy had changed her mind, she hadn’t just mourned the loss of her daughter. She had also missed someone she’d come to think of as a friend.
Victoria used her crutches as she hop-stepped into the community center classroom. The desks had already been pushed into a large circle, and several people had claimed their space. But as soon as everyone saw her, the room went silent. Ollie, one of her writing friends, rushed to greet her.
“You look terrible. What happened? I know you texted you were hurt, but you never said you were on crutches!” Ollie, a thirtysomething who’d never come out of her Goth era, pressed her dark lips together. “Oh, and hi. It’s good to see you again.”
Victoria felt a rush of affection and annoyance—a combinationthat reminded her too much of the emotions she dealt with when she was around her mother. When she’d been getting ready, she’d been pleased by how good she looked. The black eyes were completely gone, and she was steadier on the crutches. Apparently all that didn’t translate to Ollie or the rest of the world. It was always tough to see herself one way and find out everyone else saw her differently.
“I’m happy to be here,” Victoria said lightly. “I feel fine. Much better than I did.”
She maneuvered to one of the desks and lowered herself into the seat before sliding the crutches underneath the desk. She shrugged out of her backpack and set it on the floor next to her, then waved at the other people in the room.
“Hi, all.”
Ollie sat next to her. “I wish you’d told me how bad you were hurt. I could have helped by getting food in your place or keeping you company.”
The sweet offer surprised her and made her feel badly about being annoyed. “Thank you,” she said as graciously as she could. “I promise the next time I’m hurt in a stunt, I’ll text the details.”
Freddy walked into the room and smiled when he spotted her. “Hey, kid. You’re back.” The smile faded as he saw her cast. “Did you break your leg?”
“I have an incomplete fracture of the fibula.”
He grinned as he took the desk next to hers. “So you couldn’t even break your leg right? You got an incomplete?”
