Hidden in the Heart (8 page)

“I went to Hartford a couple of weeks ago.” Claire hunched in her chair, drew her knees up to her chest and stared at the empty fireplace. “I don’t know why I didn’t tell you.” Exhaustion cloaked her.

She’d fallen asleep on the couch sometime that Friday night, found Melanie in the room when she woke. “It’s like I’m not even a real person, Mel. Like I don’t exist. Never existed. S’not fair.”

“How much have you had to drink?”

Melanie had a knack for asking stupid questions.

“Not enough.” Claire made a push to get up but Melanie’s fierce expression forced her back down. She slumped in her chair again. “Do you know that I can’t even get my original birth certificate?”

“You told me. Several times.” Melanie poured steaming liquid from a blue ceramic teapot and handed Claire a cup. “Here, have some tea. When did you last eat?”

“I don’t remember.” Claire shifted in her chair and took the tea. Her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. She sipped and they sat in silence. Things started to come back into focus.

“Where’s your dad?”

“He went to a show and spent the night in New York. Nice, huh? He gets back…what time is it?” She vaguely remembered seeing Melanie heading down the hall to the kitchen some time ago but couldn’t recall letting her in the house. Hours and days molded together.

Melanie glanced at her watch and sighed. “It’s after midnight.”

“Oh.” Claire rubbed her eyes. “Saturday. He gets back later today I guess. What are you doing here anyway, Mel?”

“Don’t you remember calling me?”

“I called you?”

“About two hours ago. I couldn’t understand what you were saying and told you to go to bed. You kept calling. When Steve put the answering machine on, I guess you tried James. Then he called me. Said you were frantic. I figured I wasn’t going to sleep anyway, worrying, so I might as well come here and make sure you didn’t do anything stupid.”

“James didn’t come?”

“Nope. Dropped me off, gave me his key to get in and told me to call him later.”

“Oh.” Of course he wouldn’t have come. She’d chased him out of her life.

Maybe for good this time.

“I’m so tired.” Claire blinked, her eyes stinging. The past few days were a blur. Time stopped with the phone call from the DCF. She’d been surprised when they called after just two weeks. But then the caseworker gave her the news. “I can’t believe she refused to release the information. It’s not like I’m asking for blood, or a kidney even. I just…want…to know where I came from. I want answers.”

Melanie sat in the chair opposite her and stared, tears shimmering in her eyes. She cradled her belly and shook her head. “I don’t know why she wouldn’t allow them to give you anything, Claire. I’m sure she has her reasons.”

“I’m sure she’s just being a—”

“Claire.”

“What?” She let go a deep sigh and shrank under Melanie’s sorrowful gaze. “Shouldn’t you be in the hospital by now? When’s that baby due?”

Melanie smiled. “Any day now, I hope. He or she is taking their own sweet time, that’s for sure. I’ll be induced on Monday if nothing happens before then.”

Claire sat forward and put her head in her hands. The buzz was wearing off, sobriety kicking in. That was the day after tomorrow. Her throat grew thick.

“Claire?”

“I’m okay.”

The baby would be here soon. She’d have to see it, see how happy Melanie and Steve were…then she’d have to face James and deal with her own inability to find it in her heart to even think about giving their marriage another try.

“I’m sorry you didn’t get the news you wanted, Claire, but I wish…”

“I know. It’s okay.” Claire raised her head and waited for her nausea to pass. “I’ll survive.”

“You were doing so well.” Melanie bit her lip and nodded, as though she’d made up her mind. “I’m really worried about you. We all are. Will you please get some help? I know you think you can do it on your own, but…”

“No.” Claire put down her cup, drew her legs up under her and sighed. “I
can
quit on my own. You know I can. You just said I was doing really well.”

“You were.
Were,
being the operative word. Claire, you were passed out when I got here and you don’t remember calling me.”

“A setback.”

“Claire...” Melanie’s voice quavered. “Please. Let us help you. You don’t have to do this alone. You know that, right?”

Claire closed her eyes again.

After her mother died, she’d had trouble sleeping. She hadn’t taken anything because of her pregnancy. But then a week after the funeral, she started bleeding. It was over. No
more pregnancy.

The doctor gave her a prescription then, to help her rest. Each day got harder and eventually she found it easier to stay in bed. One drink led to another, blocked out the pain of a loss she couldn’t begin to comprehend.

Claire took a deep breath and secured the locks around her heart. “I know you mean well, but you can’t help me, Mel. Nobody can help me.”

“I wish I could.” Melanie’s eyes sparkled too brightly, her cheeks getting red.

“I know you do. But you don’t know how this feels.” Claire stared at her feet and wondered how to explain something she didn’t understand. “I don’t want to do anything, go anywhere, talk to anyone. This…ache…my chest feels tight all the time. I just want to curl up in bed and cry. Every day. Sometimes I think…” She stopped, waited, listened to the dogs pacing up and down the hall. She wouldn’t go that far. Melanie would make James have her committed for sure.

“Claire?” Melanie’s voice was gentle, no hint of judgment. “You’ll get through this.”

She raised her head and put on a smile. “Of course I will.” Or die trying.

Claire watched the grandfather clock on the far side of the room. “I’ll try again, Mel. Okay? It’s just…nice to not feel anything, you know?”

Melanie narrowed her eyes. “If you block out the pain, you’ll never accept it, never be able to deal with it. If you continue on the way you’re going…I don’t want to think about what might happen. I don’t want to lose you, Claire.”

“Who are you, Dr. Laura now?” Claire laughed but deep down she knew Mel was right. Just one pill too many or another day thinking she was sober enough to drive. Fear crept over her, teasing, taunting, and whispering incomprehensible thoughts into her ear. “I’m going to find her, Mel. I have to.”

Sudden understanding flooded Melanie’s face. “I wish you’d stop blaming yourself. If
you think finding your medical history will somehow explain…”

“And what if it did?” Claire leaned forward. “You don’t understand. I have to know! I have to know that I’m not responsible…or I am. And aside from that, I…I’m curious. I won’t lie.”

“Has it really bothered you, not knowing where you came from?” Melanie grabbed a chocolate chip cookie and handed the bag to Claire.

Claire took one, the smell too impossible to resist. She wasn’t sure she could stomach it, but wouldn’t risk Mel shoving it down her throat. “I guess if I’m honest, yes, it has bothered me. Each time I’d look in the mirror, I’d wonder. My parents and I look so different.” Laughter crept out of her, unbidden. “Remember when I tried to dye my hair the same color as my mom’s? She just about had a fit laughing when she tried to explain that hers came out of a bottle too.”

Melanie smiled. “You’ve never really been able to talk to your dad about your adoption.”

Claire shrugged and nibbled on the cookie. So far so good. She took another bite and that stayed down too. “I’ll have to. He’s the only way I’ll get answers now. If I petition the court to get them to release my information, he’ll find out anyway.”

“He’s not going to like it.”

“I know. But what choice do I have?”

Melanie rubbed her nose with the tip of her finger, her freckles blending together in a frown. “Do you really want to do it, Claire? You don’t know what you might be walking into. You don’t know who they are, why they gave you up. It may not be a pretty story.”

Claire sat back, her throat tight. “I can’t stop thinking about it. I know what you’re going to say. Dr. Kay said the same thing. Finding them won’t fix things. But I…” Claire paused, waiting for Melanie to interrupt. She raised an eyebrow. “You’re not stopping me.
Don’t you want to try to talk me out of it?”

Melanie shook her head. “Claire, you’re one of the smartest women I know. I don’t think you really believe that finding out your medical history or even connecting with your birth family will change a thing. But if it’s something you need to do, for yourself, to help you get through this time in your life, then I think you should.”

“Thanks.” Claire enjoyed the little victory. It had been a long time since Melanie had taken her side over anything. “I never thought I’d actually get to the point where I’d search. I didn’t really know I could.”

“How did you even know where to start?”

Claire stifled a yawn. “I ran into Amanda…something or other, before Christmas. Remember her from school? Anyway, she found her birth mother. She told me to check with Social Services. I have the right to request my non-identifying information. I went to the DCF offices in Hartford and filled out the paperwork.”

“And that’s when they contacted your birth mother?”

“Yeah. Whoever she is.” Claire leaned her head against the chair and closed her eyes. Another hangover was tapping at her temples. Of course the alternative was getting drunk and passing out again. Gaining a few more pain free hours.

But sooner or later the anguish would return.

“I’m sorry, Claire.” Melanie’s sincerity hung on the words.

Claire pulled at a strand of her hair and studied the fire. She’d brought Mel out here in the middle of the night, in her condition, and her friend was still on her side. What kind of person was she becoming? Guilt and remorse picked up placards and picketed around her heart. “Thanks, Mel. And thanks for coming over. I…I’m really sorry I called you.” Claire shrugged. “I thought…I guess I figured this would go differently. I never realized there was no hope of ever getting answers.”

“It doesn’t seem fair.”

Claire nodded, but the reality of the situation drove the point home. “I guess it’s perfectly fair if you’re on the other side of the fence. And I have to admit, I never considered that.”

“Never considered what?”

“That she wouldn’t want to be found.”

Chapter Seven

Claire shielded her eyes against the Sunday afternoon sun and looked toward the stables. The dogs bounded across the lush green lawn, happy to be outside after intermittent thunderstorms. Spring had firmly settled across the state in splendor, cloaked the grounds in crocuses, daffodils and tulips. Her sneakers crunched on the gravel path as she walked, rehearsing what she needed to say.

Her father had returned late the previous evening. She’d pretended to be asleep. But she couldn’t put this off any longer. She walked past the stalls and breathed in the scent of hay and horses. It had been a long time since she’d come down here. Forever since she’d actually ridden. They’d sold her own horse a long time ago.

Dad stood behind Mojo, his favorite stallion. Hesitation crossed his face as he looked up and saw her watching him. He gave the horse’s rump a pat and moved out of the stall. “Claire. You all right?”

Claire shrugged. “Sure.” Melanie still hadn’t delivered and would be induced tomorrow. She and Dad shared a quiet breakfast earlier, with few words. Claire fiddled with the chain around her neck, nerves muddling her thoughts. “Dad, I was wondering if I could talk to you about something.”

He came to where she stood, questions in his eyes. “Well, that’s interesting. I have something I need to talk to you about as well.”

“Okay. You go first then.” Claire slipped her arm through his and they took the gravel path around the pond. The grounds of the estate buzzed with activity as the landscapers mowed lawns and tended to the flowerbeds. He probably wanted to have her committed. Or sent off to Europe—indefinitely.

That wouldn’t be so bad. They had Starbucks there too.

They sat together on the old wooden bench beside the pond. The smell of freshly cut grass hung in the air. Claire inhaled and allowed herself a smile. But the ache in her heart soon returned and shrouded her day in darkness once again.

“I’ve met somebody, Claire.”

She jerked her head around. Despite his serious expression, there was an unmistakable twinkle in his eye. “You what?” Dad’s sense of humor was beginning to worry her.

“Her name is Eleanor Jones. We met at a horse show a few months ago—through a mutual friend. She’s a widow. We’ve seen a lot of each other lately. We have a lot of things in common. It’s quite remarkable.”

“You’re not serious.” Claire breathed out. “Why haven’t you said anything?”

His face paled, as though he hadn’t realized what this would mean to her. Then he straightened. “I’m sorry, honey. But I’m going away again tomorrow, and I thought you should know.”

Claire couldn’t respond. Maybe he’d take the words back, say something else instead. But his agitated expression told her otherwise.

“I’d like to ask her to marry me.”

“What?” Claire gripped the bench so she wouldn’t fall off it. Sweat formed on her brow. She couldn’t speak. She tried to, oh—she wanted to—but the words wouldn’t come.

A faint tinge of annoyance crept into Dad’s eyes and Claire turned away. She
clenched her hands on the tops of her knees and tried to breathe.

“I don’t expect you to like the idea at first, Claire. I know it’s kind of fast—it’s a shock—for me too. But don’t overreact. I loved your mother very much. I always will.”

Like the idea? Overreact? Claire’s pulse accelerated with every word. The image of her father with another woman galled her. The idea of actually pitching herself down onto the grass and letting go with a full-blown temper tantrum worthy of a two year-old held some merit.

She rubbed her hands on her shorts and drew in a deep breath. “How long have you been seeing her?”

“Not too long. I wasn’t sure how to tell you to be honest.” His eyes grew sad, his handsome face getting older by the second. “I wasn’t looking for this, Claire. It just happened.”

“And now you want to get married? Just like that?”