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

Burano, even took a day trip to Verona. All these experiences would be impossible for me to give you, and yet, in a way, I had. Because I’d given you to Amelia, and she could compensate for everything I lacked.

One of the pictures was of a group of people standing in front of a building. The fine print indicated it was taken at Phillips Academy. Students and teachers crowded the steps. I spotted Bruce standing on the back row, wearing the same kind of navy vest as his co-workers.

Then, out of nowhere, something familiar. A face. A face I’d missed so much, it hurt to suddenly be confronted by it again. Jamie. She was standing in the second row, sandwiched in with the other disinterested pupils.

My mouth felt dry, and that lump in my throat returned, but this time, instead of sadness, I felt sick. Jamie. I scanned the years written at the bottom. This was her high school. Phillips Academy. That’s why it had sounded familiar when Bruce mentioned it. It wasn’t Cliff’s story I’d remembered, but Jamie’s. In the photograph, she stared back at me with those sad eyes. And there, only a few rows away, was Bruce, beaming at the camera.

“Are you a wine drinker?”

I jumped, realizing he’d re-entered the room. The frame was still in my hand, and I clutched it tighter. “What?”

“I’ve been dying to try this new red wine. You should have a glass.”

“No.” I turned quickly, putting the frame back in its place. Before I could step away, I felt the heat of someone standing behind me. “I’m really not a big drinker.”

“That was my last year at Phillips,” he said, staring at the picture before us. “I taught there for ten years.”

“Why’d you quit?” I asked, trying to ignore the warmth of his breath on my neck.

“I started working for Amelia’s father. Longer hours, but a bit more flexibility than the academy offered. Better pay, too. I quit right around the time we started trying for a baby, but, well, you know how that turned out.”

I did. Amelia had detailed every false positive, every heartbreaking loss. I turned to face him, and could see he was looking down, no doubt thinking over the same awful history. Then he looked at me.

“Of course, thanks to you, we finally have the family we always wanted. You’ll never know how much this has meant to us.” He smiled. For the first time, I noticed the faint gray line on his gums.

Fuzzy Sweater Gray Gums.

I took a step back. “Do you have a restroom I could use?”

“Sure.”

His brow furrowed. He’d picked up on my sudden change in attitude. He pointed me toward the hallway. I walked quickly, gently closing the door and locking it behind me.

Think, think, I chanted to myself. This idea had struck me from nowhere, but it would be too coincidental, wouldn’t it? What were the odds Jamie’s attacker would be your adoptive father? Amelia’s husband?

I tried to remember everything Jamie had ever told me about what happened at her school. She didn’t talk about it often, and it had been well over a year since the topic had been mentioned. I closed my eyes, trying to remember her exact words.

He had a reputation at the school, I remembered her saying. He’d gotten away with it with other girls. He followed me into the bathroom, but I fought him off. Left a nice scar on his forearm.

Bruce had said that picture was taken his last year at Phillips Academy. And he, I realized with a twisting sickness, fit Jamie’s juvenile description. Fuzzy Sweater Gray Gums. That was the name girls around school had called him. He had the scar on his arm. But could it be true?

Maybe I was simply tricking myself into thinking these things. Maybe this was a last-ditch effort to convince myself not to leave you behind. It was the hardest thing I’d ever done, giving you away. I did it for your benefit. If Bruce Parker was the man who attacked Jamie, I wouldn’t be leaving you in loving hands. I’d be leaving you in danger.

“Everything okay in there?” Bruce asked from the other side of the door.

“Be out in a sec.”

I took a deep breath, staring at my own reflection in the mirror. I wished, more than anything, I could reach out to Jamie and ask her the name of the person who attacked her. What I would have given for the mundane ease of sending a text message or making a direct call, but it was the late eighties, and no such luxury existed. I took a deep breath, and exited the bathroom, determined not to leave New Hutton until I knew the truth for myself.

37 MarionNow

I haven’t gone to the address written on that slip of paper, mainly because I haven’t had the time. I’m not willing to take Ava anywhere with me, for fear there could be a sinister reason the person was calling. And I don’t want to tell Carmen and Des I received a phone call while at the hospital. I’m not sure why, but something inside begs me to keep quiet.

“She’s going to be fine,” Des says, sliding a cardboard pizza box across the counter toward me. “Try not to worry about it.”

“I know,” I say, my hands grazing the box’s smooth surface. I’m trying to stay focused, but that’s difficult. Des is right. Mom is on my mind, but ever since I left the hospital last night, I’ve been thinking more about that phone call.

“Have you heard anything? From the hospital, I mean.”

Des puts on a better front, but she is anxious, too. Mom has been her best friend for years, and I know she must miss having her around.

“No. They said they’d call when she wakes up again, but she hasn’t yet.”

Des nods and unloads another large pizza into a takeout box. This is my first day back at the restaurant. It’s not been busy, but there have been