Not My Mother Miranda Smith (chromebook ebook reader .TXT) 📖

take me on vacation. Or why there aren’t any pictures of us before we moved here. Why I don’t have any extended family, or a clear idea of what Eileen’s childhood was even like.”

Each lie plants a seed for a future one, sprouting another, then another. I’m caught in a wilderness of deception Mom created, and there’s no one able to fetch me out of it.

Amelia puts her hand over mine. “What Eileen did wasn’t fair. To either of us.”

“And she’s still lying to me. Her doctor told me she has been undergoing chemotherapy for months. She told our business partner, Des. She told my best friend. But she’s still lying to me!”

Amelia sits back and crosses her arms. She looks out the window. The sun is shining in, making each crevice and imperfection of her skin more apparent, but she looks kind. Beautiful.

“I’m sorry this is how it is between you. You deserve so much more.”

There’s more she wants to say but won’t. She must be considering the type of relationship she’d wished to have had with me, one built on honesty and respect.

“I don’t know why I’m telling you any of this. I’m upset with my friends right now and just needed to vent. I needed—”

“You needed a mother,” she says, her eyes back on me.

She finished the sentence more perfectly than I could. I still love Mom, but there’s a hardness in me now I’m not sure will ever go away. She lied to me—continues to lie. Not to mention all the other hurt she inflicted. At least Amelia is willing to hear my honesty. She’s what I need right now.

“It must be so hard for you being here. Having to relive all of this.”

“I’ve relived it every day from the moment you were taken. It’s hurtful, yes, thinking of Bruce and the way things could have been. The knowledge you’re okay makes up for a big part of that hurt. I understand your anxiety stems from knowing so little. I can tell you stories about my life, about what your life might have been, but I can’t give you any insight as to why Eileen took you from me. Only she can do that.”

“I know, which is what makes the idea of losing her now so difficult. All I want is a conversation. The opportunity to ask her why and how. And now that she’s in the hospital, the case against her is on hold. It’s like I’m stuck without answers and don’t know when I’ll get them.”

“We could always take things into our own hands.”

“What do you mean?”

“This case is more than three decades in the making, but law enforcement’s only had the last week or so to start building their case. That means they’re going to take their time doing everything by the book. If you want confirmation, we could always do our own DNA test. No more sitting around waiting for answers.”

The suggestion releases an immediate jolt of endorphins, the idea that at least part of this could be proven. But I remember what Carmen said. Tests will come. Wait for them. A DNA test would seal Mom’s fate, at least on the kidnapping charges. As angry as I am with her, as bitter as I am, I still don’t want to deliberately hurt her cause. Not when my hand will be forced eventually.

“Carmen says not to do anything like that. The police will organize their own test.”

“My lawyers say the same thing. They want to do everything by the book. They don’t understand what it’s like to wait for answers. I wouldn’t be doing it for them. Not for the police. Just for us. So we can know, and can move on. All I need is a cheek swab and I can sort everything out.”

I open my mouth, then close it. I feel like a hypocrite, because as much as I’ve been begging for answers, a bigger part of me is afraid to know.

Amelia must read the unrest on my face. She holds up her hands. “It was only a suggestion. The last thing I want to do is put you under more pressure. You’ve got enough to deal with.”

“Thank you,” I say.

I can tell it goes against her desires, but at least she’s willing to wait for me. She’s putting my needs before her own, like all great mothers do.

22 MarionNow

As much as I’d like to avoid Carmen, she’s still Mom’s lawyer. After I dodged countless phone calls, she finally sent a text:

Updates in the case. I’m coming over at 5. Be there.

I can’t stay mad at her forever, but it feels like every person in my life is lying to me. Everyone except Amelia, that is. Our visit this morning wasn’t very long because I wanted her to leave before Ava woke up. Selfishly, I don’t want to share Ava with her yet. And maybe I don’t want to share Amelia, either. Amelia is everything a person aspires to be. Educated, classy, witty. She comes from a privileged background, but she doesn’t use her upbringing as a crutch, like so many people in her position might. She’s tried to make the world a better place. It’s nice to be distracted from the world I know, to be transported to a completely different one, a life that could have been—should have been—mine.

Carmen arrives a little later. She’s alone, which already makes this meeting feel more intimate. There’s no Rick waiting in the corner, listening to our every word.

“What’s the update?” I ask. I’m seated in front of the high chair, spooning food into Ava’s mouth.

“We’ll get to that in a second,” she says, putting her satchel on the counter. “First, I need you to talk to me about the cancer diagnosis.”

Typical Carmen. There might not even be an update, but she’s determined to force a conversation. She doesn’t like being ignored. I put down the spoon, wipe my hands and turn to face her.

“Less than a week ago, I watched