The Secret Sin. Darlene Gardner

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       A NNIE had never held the baby she delivered.

      After a lengthy, tough labor, she’d heard a lusty cry and felt like weeping herself. The nurse had brought the infant close enough for Annie to see her, but she’d only gotten a brief look.

      She’d been awed that she had helped create someone so tiny and perfect, but she’d tried to pay attention to the baby’s red, wrinkled skin. Anything to take her mind off the enormity of what she was giving up.

      Even though her heart was aching, she hadn’t protested when the nurse claimed it was best for the separation to be immediate. From her experience with her own mother, who’d popped in and out of her life before finally disappearing for good, Annie knew the nurse was right.

      The nurse had whisked the baby away, and Annie had fully expected never to see her again.

      “You’re staring at me,” Lindsey accused.

      Annie blinked, and the snack counter at the back of Abe’s General Store came into focus. They were sitting on red vinyl stools, their reflections bouncing back at them from the stainless steel of the old-fashioned soda machine. She smelled grease from the grill and the hot dogs on the rotating rack.

      Annie had been taking a mental snapshot of Lindsey that she could call to mind in the years to come. It wouldn’t be difficult. The shape of Lindsey’s face, the spacing of her eyes, the arch of her eyebrows and the even whiteness of her smile were all reminiscent of Ryan.

      Ryan, who brought out the nervous, insecure teenager in her that she’d desperately wanted to believe was gone forever.

      She fought the feeling that she’d been unfair in not revealing who Lindsey was. It was better this way. If Ryan never knew Lindsey was the baby they’d given up for adoption, he wouldn’t have to lose her all over again.

      The way Annie was going to.

      “I can’t eat when you’re looking at me like that,” Lindsey complained.

      They’d swung by the snack counter after leaving the pediatrician’s office. Annie had given Lindsey a ten-dollar bill, then stepped outside to phone the girl’s parents, nervously wondering whether they’d recognize her as Lindsey’s birth mother. The call had gone straight to voice mail.

      “I’m sorry,” Annie said. “I didn’t realize I was staring.”

      “Well, you were.” Lindsey set her nibbled-on sandwich back down on her bare plate.

      Annie worried that the girl should have ordered something more substantial than turkey on rye bread and a Diet Coke. If the woman who’d prepared the food hadn’t left the counter, Annie would ask her to throw in potato salad or at least a bag of chips.

      “You should finish that.” Annie nodded at the sandwich.

      “It’s not very good.”

      Of course it wasn’t. It contained no cheese, no pickle, no lettuce, no tomato and probably no condiments. Annie pursed her lips, unsure of what to do or say next. Uncertain how to get a teenager to do anything at all.

      “Dr. Whitmore would tell you to eat your food,” Annie said, dismayed that she’d resorted to using his name.

      Lindsey’s mouth twisted, but she picked up her sandwich and took a bite.

      Was there already an invisible connection between Ryan and Lindsey? Is that how he’d succeeded in getting the girl’s phone number when Annie had failed?

      How would he react if he knew the truth? Surely he’d noticed how edgy Annie was, so why hadn’t he guessed? A reason occurred to her.

      “How old did you tell Dr. Whitmore you were?” she asked.

      Lindsey didn’t look up from her food. “Fifteen.”

      Now that Annie knew the truth, it was easy to see through the lie. “Is fifteen how old you need to be to travel alone on the train?”

      “I don’t know,” Lindsey mumbled.

      “I think you do know,” Annie said. “That’s why you said you were fifteen when you’re only thirteen.”

      Lindsey’s head jerked up. “How do you know I’m thirteen?”

      “My father told me.”

      Lindsey swiped strands of her long hair out of her face and sat up straighter, an eager light in her eyes. “Is Uncle Frank back? Did you ask him if I could stay?”

      Annie’s fingers clenched into fists. How could her father not have told her about Lindsey? She’d confided in him when she got pregnant and trusted him to handle the adoption arrangements. Her faith in him had been so absolute that she’d signed the papers severing her parental rights without reading them. She’d never dreamed he’d give her baby to someone Annie might possibly know.

      “I talked to him on the phone,” Annie said. “He’ll be in Poland for at least another month.”

      Lindsey’s СКАЧАТЬ