look like today. He’d be a man. Older even than David had been when …
How could she tell Jess that 1968 had been the biggest regret of her life? How could she tell this woman she no longer knew that she felt the decisions she’d made then had led her in a direction that had no definition, no purpose? Mark was the only reason Susan carried on in whatever type of normalcy she could call this existence. But years ago Susan had accepted one important thing: She couldn’t go back.
“Why do you want to do this?”
Jess looked across the table at Susan. “Because it’s time,” she said.
Susan hesitated before asking the next question. “What do you want from me?”
Jess set down her mug and began twisting the ring again. “Haven’t you ever wondered? About your baby?”
Only a million times. Only every night when I go to bed. Only every day as I’ve watched Mark grow and blossom. Only every time I see a boy who is the same age
.
“What are you suggesting?”
“I’m planning a reunion. With our children. I’ve seenMiss Taylor, and she’s agreed to help. She knows where they all are.”
“
All
of them?”
“Yours. Mine. P.J.’s and Ginny’s. I’m going to contact everyone, even the kids. Whoever shows up, shows up. Whoever doesn’t, doesn’t. It’s a chance we’ll all be taking, but we’ll be doing it together.
Together
. The way we got through it in the first place.”
The words hit Susan like a rapid fire of a BB gun at a carnival. She stood and walked across the room. She straightened the stack of laundry. “I think you’re out of your mind,” she said.
“We decided on October sixteenth. That’s a Saturday. At Larchwood.”
“Larchwood? God. Is that place still standing?”
“It really was a beautiful old house, Susan. Actually, it’s a halfway house for drug addicts now.”
“Great. And will they be part of your reunion?”
“Of course not. They’ve agreed to make themselves scarce for the afternoon. The plan is, we women will meet at two o’clock. Our children can come at three.”
“If they want to,” Susan said.
“If they want to,” Jess echoed.
Susan moved to the sink. She looked at the window-sill. On it sat a plaster sign Mark had made for her many Mother’s Days ago. I LOVE YOU, MOM , it read, in childlike printing, decorated with out-of-balance pink and yellow flower petals.
“I’m not interested,” Susan said, surprised that her usually deep voice sounded even deeper.
“I’m not asking you to decide now,” Jess said. “Only to think about it. Saturday, October sixteenth. Two o’clock. At Larchwood Hall.”
“You can’t talk me into it.”
“I won’t try to. I only know it’s time I put my own past to rest, and I thought all of you might feel the same way.”
Susan laughed. “Even Ginny?”
There was silence a moment. “Well,” Jess said, “she should be given the chance too.”
“I think you’re out of your mind,” Susan repeated, but this time it came out sounding softer.
Behind her Susan heard the wood chair scrape the linoleum. She turned as Jess stood up. “Maybe I am,” she said, “but, nonetheless, I’m going through with this. I’d love it if you were a part of it. And unless I’m mistaken, so would your son.”
Susan raised her eyebrows.
“Your
other
son,” Jess concluded. “Your
older
son.”
“I’d like some time to think about this.”
“You have it,” Jess said. “You have a month.”
“And if I don’t show up?”
Jess reached over and touched Susan’s arm. “Listen,” she said, “I’m doing this as much for our children as for us. I think they have a right to know their birth mothers, don’t you?”
CHAPTER 3
Friday, September 17
P.J
.
P.J. Davies gathered up the layouts for the new Joubert Jeans TV spot and stuffed them into the job envelope.
“Kill it and bill it!” She laughed and brushed the heavy auburn hair from her perfectly contoured face. She tossed the job envelope into the
How could she tell Jess that 1968 had been the biggest regret of her life? How could she tell this woman she no longer knew that she felt the decisions she’d made then had led her in a direction that had no definition, no purpose? Mark was the only reason Susan carried on in whatever type of normalcy she could call this existence. But years ago Susan had accepted one important thing: She couldn’t go back.
“Why do you want to do this?”
Jess looked across the table at Susan. “Because it’s time,” she said.
Susan hesitated before asking the next question. “What do you want from me?”
Jess set down her mug and began twisting the ring again. “Haven’t you ever wondered? About your baby?”
Only a million times. Only every night when I go to bed. Only every day as I’ve watched Mark grow and blossom. Only every time I see a boy who is the same age
.
“What are you suggesting?”
“I’m planning a reunion. With our children. I’ve seenMiss Taylor, and she’s agreed to help. She knows where they all are.”
“
All
of them?”
“Yours. Mine. P.J.’s and Ginny’s. I’m going to contact everyone, even the kids. Whoever shows up, shows up. Whoever doesn’t, doesn’t. It’s a chance we’ll all be taking, but we’ll be doing it together.
Together
. The way we got through it in the first place.”
The words hit Susan like a rapid fire of a BB gun at a carnival. She stood and walked across the room. She straightened the stack of laundry. “I think you’re out of your mind,” she said.
“We decided on October sixteenth. That’s a Saturday. At Larchwood.”
“Larchwood? God. Is that place still standing?”
“It really was a beautiful old house, Susan. Actually, it’s a halfway house for drug addicts now.”
“Great. And will they be part of your reunion?”
“Of course not. They’ve agreed to make themselves scarce for the afternoon. The plan is, we women will meet at two o’clock. Our children can come at three.”
“If they want to,” Susan said.
“If they want to,” Jess echoed.
Susan moved to the sink. She looked at the window-sill. On it sat a plaster sign Mark had made for her many Mother’s Days ago. I LOVE YOU, MOM , it read, in childlike printing, decorated with out-of-balance pink and yellow flower petals.
“I’m not interested,” Susan said, surprised that her usually deep voice sounded even deeper.
“I’m not asking you to decide now,” Jess said. “Only to think about it. Saturday, October sixteenth. Two o’clock. At Larchwood Hall.”
“You can’t talk me into it.”
“I won’t try to. I only know it’s time I put my own past to rest, and I thought all of you might feel the same way.”
Susan laughed. “Even Ginny?”
There was silence a moment. “Well,” Jess said, “she should be given the chance too.”
“I think you’re out of your mind,” Susan repeated, but this time it came out sounding softer.
Behind her Susan heard the wood chair scrape the linoleum. She turned as Jess stood up. “Maybe I am,” she said, “but, nonetheless, I’m going through with this. I’d love it if you were a part of it. And unless I’m mistaken, so would your son.”
Susan raised her eyebrows.
“Your
other
son,” Jess concluded. “Your
older
son.”
“I’d like some time to think about this.”
“You have it,” Jess said. “You have a month.”
“And if I don’t show up?”
Jess reached over and touched Susan’s arm. “Listen,” she said, “I’m doing this as much for our children as for us. I think they have a right to know their birth mothers, don’t you?”
CHAPTER 3
Friday, September 17
P.J
.
P.J. Davies gathered up the layouts for the new Joubert Jeans TV spot and stuffed them into the job envelope.
“Kill it and bill it!” She laughed and brushed the heavy auburn hair from her perfectly contoured face. She tossed the job envelope into the
Similar Books
