A Child Changes Everything. Stella MacLean

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СКАЧАТЬ and slipped her arms out of her jacket.

      As she’d done for the past two weeks, she checked for messages, and this time there was one—from Mason. He was in Florida and wanted her to call him on his cell.

      Barely able to contain her excitement, she dialed the number. Mason answered on the first ring. “Thanks for getting back to me,” he said.

      She clutched the phone. “You found my mother.”

      “I did. Carolyn Lewis is in a nursing home outside Melbourne.”

      Carolyn Lewis. Her mother. Despite all the times she’d imagined meeting her, she was suddenly over come with dread at the prospect.

      “Is she okay? What did she say when you told her I was looking for her?”

      There was a long pause.

      “What’s wrong? Mason, please, if there’s a problem, I need to know. Is she okay?” Then a thought struck her. “Is my mother ill?”

      “No, she seems all right, Lisa. But I didn’t talk to her. That’s up to you. How soon can you get down here?”

      If she could trade a couple of shifts… “I’ll be there the day after tomorrow. Where exactly are you?”

      “Have you got a pen handy?”

      She searched the kitchen drawer, unearthing a pen and pad of paper from under the material the real estate agent had left her. “Go ahead.”

      He gave her the address of Carolyn’s nursing home and the hotel where he was staying.

      “I’ll call you as soon as I’ve made arrangements with the hospital,” she said. It might mean asking for more time off, but whatever it took, she’d be on the road the day after tomorrow. “Mason, one last thing—”

      “You’d like to know if you have any other family. I can’t answer that, but if it’ll help, I’ll go with you when you visit her.”

      Had he discovered something in Melbourne that he didn’t want to tell her over the phone? He’d warned her that she might not like what she found out, hadn’t he? She held the phone even tighter.

      Could she face this on her own? When her father had died she’d had her mother, and when her mother had become ill and then passed away, she’d had her mother’s caregiver and her friends. But now she felt very much alone and unequipped to deal with everything.

      Mason was the only person she knew in Florida. Having him with her would make it easier.

      “I’d appreciate it if you’d go with me,” she said, taking a deep breath.

      “You got it. I’ll be waiting for you,” he said, his reassuring voice comforting her.

      TWO DAYS LATER, Lisa stood beside Mason outside the Palmetto Bayside Nursing Home, her hands clammy as she tried to quell her anxiety. She’d driven most of the night to get from North Carolina to Florida. During the long hours, she’d been consumed by one idea—what if her mother hadn’t contacted her in all these years because she didn’t want to see her?

      But how could she not want to see her daughter? Lisa didn’t say the words out loud. Mason already felt sorry for her; it had been in his eyes, which was more than enough reason not to confide in him. “How do I tell her who I am?”

      “Lisa, you just got into town thirty minutes ago. Why don’t we come back a little later after you’ve had a chance to relax and think about how you want to handle this?” Mason’s gentle tone was in stark contrast to his assessing gaze.

      She’d thought of nothing else in the final hours before she turned off I-95. “No, it has to be now.” Before I lose my nerve.

      A frown formed on Mason’s face. “Okay, here’s what we’ll do. I’ll wait outside the room while you go in. If you need me, come to the door.”

      “Thank you.” She was aware of the tremor in her voice as she spoke.

      “You’ll be okay,” he said encouragingly, placing his hand on the small of her back as they walked to the main entrance together.

      After they checked in at the reception desk, the aide assigned to her mother led them down the corridor to Carolyn Lewis’s room. The hallway was narrow and cluttered with wheelchairs and walkers. The paint on the walls was chipped and marked, and a faint scent of baby powder and stale urine hung in the air.

      At the door, the aide entered and Mason stepped back, allowing Lisa to follow. “I’ll be right here,” he whispered.

      Apprehension rushed through her. She turned her face up to his. “Wish me luck.”

      He winked at her. “Good luck.”

      Clasping her purse with both hands, she walked in. At first, she wasn’t sure which of the two people was her mother. One woman sat in a wheelchair by the window, while the other lay on her bed, muttering to herself as she read the paper. Lisa hesitated.

      “Mrs. Lewis, you’ve got a visitor,” the aide said, moving toward the woman in the wheelchair.

      Lisa inched forward, her heart thudding. The woman shifted in her chair, pain skidding across her face at the movement. Her gaze was direct as she looked up at Lisa. “Who are you?”

      “I’m Lisa.”

      “No… It can’t be. Lisa, is that really you?” Carolyn extended her hands, her long, bony fingers quivering. “Tell me I’m not dreaming.”

      Lisa’s mouth was suddenly dry. “You’re not. I’m Lisa, your daughter.”

      Joy lit her mother’s expression, her face trans formed by a smile as Carolyn Lewis’s eyes roved slowly over Lisa. “You look so much like your father,” she murmured.

      Relieved that her mother recognized her, Lisa slid into the chair beside her. “I look like my dad,” she whispered. Happiness brought a smile to her face as she took her mother’s hand. She wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. Moving closer, she kissed her mother’s cheek.

      “Yes, there’s so much of your father in you. He had high cheekbones, too—very aristocratic. You have his blue eyes and blond hair.”

      Gently she touched Lisa’s hair. “Oh, my darling daughter, I’ve wanted to meet you for so long. You have no idea what it’s like to live in hope that one day you’ll see your little girl again,” she said, a smile trembling on her lips.

      Words abandoned Lisa as she met her mother’s eager gaze.

      Carolyn appeared much older than Lisa had envisioned. With her gray-streaked hair pulled up in a bun and her face devoid of any makeup, she looked aged, worn-out. As much as she hated herself for doing it, Lisa couldn’t help comparing Carolyn with her immaculately groomed adoptive mother, who had never missed a hair or manicure appointment.

      Yet as she sat there, studying this woman who held her past, the words slipped out. “Why didn’t you come for me? Why did you leave me alone all these years? I needed you—”

      Carolyn СКАЧАТЬ