My mother grabbed me by the wrist and took me back to the living room.
“I don’t know how, and I don’t know why, Olive!” she said in an urgent whisper. “I don’t know why she would do such a thing. It was wrong of her. She lived like a hermit, and that is no way to raise achild, and she knew we had made a specific plan. A specific plan!” she said, hitting her fist into the open palm of her other hand. “I told her back then that she shouldn’t have done it. She said she couldn’t stand to let some stranger take a newborn baby away.”
“Wait a second, you spoke to her about this? You knew?”
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, exasperated by my persistence. “Yes, Olive, I knew. She told me a few weeks after she brought Adeline home.”
“What?” I yelled this time. “You knew about her the whole time, and you didn’t tell me? How could you not tell me?”
My mother looked at me, furious. “First of all, lower your voice or I’m going to have to ask you to leave. Your father doesn’t know about any of this, and I don’t want him to find out. And secondly, why would I tell you? You didn’t want that baby—you made that very clear.”
“I was nineteen, Mother! I didn’t know what I wanted. You made that decision for me! I was scared. All this time I’ve been thinking about her, wondering if she’s okay, if she’s loved, wondering where she is. And you didn’t think I ought to know?”
“I’ve seen what you’ve been up to, drinking, and dancing, and out all night. I hardly think you’ve been losing any sleep over this poor child. Anyway, there’s no point raking all that up now, what’s done is done, and Aunt May is gone.” She narrowed her eyes and glared at me. Was she suggesting that this was my fault? Had the whole plan to involve Aunt May in my pregnancy secret been too much for her heart?
“We’re going to bring the child to Brooklyn, and your father and I will raise her. We’ll tell everyone that May had adopted a child and,following her untimely death, it makes sense that her only sister will bear that burden.”
I sat on the arm of the chair, weak. I felt as if I’d been punched in the stomach, repeatedly. A thousand questions ran through my head. Why hadn’t Aunt May told me, would I have tried to stop her? Was this her plan all along? Was she doing this to fulfill her own desires to become a mother? I had so many questions that would never be answered.
I slid into the chair and put my head back.
“Oh God, are you going to faint?” my mother asked, irritated. “If your father sees you, he’s going to wonder what’s going on.”
“I’m in shock, Mother,” I said. This onslaught of information left me weak. I felt my mother lift my limp arms and hoist me up.
“Come on, Olive,” she said, her voice softening. “Let’s get you upstairs.”
“I’m okay,” I said. “Just let me be.” But she’d already pulled me up to standing and was walking me to the narrow staircase.
Holding on to the banister, I made my way upstairs, my mother following, and sat down on the edge of the small bed that I’d slept in when I was staying with Aunt May. When I looked around the room, I realized that it was Addie’s room now. There were building blocks stacked in the corner, knitted dolls lined up on the windowsill. Squeals of laughter rose up from the backyard.
“I need to see her,” I said.
“You need to get some rest and pull yourself together.” My mother sighed, shaking her head, and left the room.
Addie was running, arms out in front of her, chasing the birds.She seemed so happy. I couldn’t believe she was mine. I opened the window so I could hear her better.
“Look, look,” she was saying to the woman who was outside with her, urging her to look at the birds, too. “Birdies,” she said, then more squeals as she chased after them again.
I picked up one of the knitted dolls. It was a cream-colored bear wearing a hat and gloves and dark green pants. Someone had knitted this for her, and I felt so incredibly thankful. She had been loved. Aunt May had given her a start in life. And whether she meant to or not, Aunt May had given me a gift, too, one beyond what I could have imagined. This was an absolute miracle.
Once I’d taken some time to collect my thoughts, I drank down the water my mother had left by the bed and went back downstairs. Outside, I sat on the ledge of a low wall in the backyard near Addie and the neighbor.
“What are you playing?” I asked.
“Birdies,” she said, pointing at them as I’d seen her do from the window.
“Big birdies,” I said. “They look like they might be crows.”
She clapped her hands together.
“I’m Maria,” the woman said, “I live next door. You must be Olive. I was a friend of your aunt’s.”
“It’s nice to meet you.” I remembered her now. I’d seen her a few times when I stayed with Aunt May, but I didn’t think we’d ever spoken. I had been hiding myself back then, while Aunt Maypurposefully avoided people, saying it was too hard to meet new people after her husband died.
“I have two girls, they’re seven and nine. They love playing with Addie. And we all adored May. She was such a kind, quiet lady.”
I nodded. “She really was. I can’t believe she’s gone.”
