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

“I’ll be right back,” she said, squeezing my hand. She walked to the patio door and stepped outside.

When I arrived at their house, I believed I was making peace before my departure. Now, in the light of what I had uncovered about Amelia’s husband, I had a new purpose. If Bruce was dangerous, I couldn’t allow you to grow up under the same roof. He’d done it to other girls, Jamie’s voice rang in my ears. I paced through the living room, nibbling at my nails. The patio door opened, and I stopped, eager to hear what Amelia would say.

But it wasn’t Amelia. Bruce walked inside, locking the door behind him.

“Sarah, I think we should talk.”

A hot flame of fear climbed my spine. For a few seconds, I stood there, mouth open, unable to speak.

“Amelia seems to think you have me confused with someone else,” he said.

“Why did you leave Phillips Academy?” I asked, wanting to focus on the few facts I knew.

Bruce stiffened. “I told you. I started working for my father-in-law—”

“Why did you really leave?”

“That’s the truth,” he said, a bit too breathy.

“What if I told you I know how you got that scar on your arm? And it wasn’t from a camping trip.”

“That’s a lie,” he said.

Wouldn’t a normal person ask questions, want to know more? An innocent person wouldn’t immediately dismiss the threat. He took a step back and an ugly cloud shadowed his features.

“What is this? Some kind of a shakedown? Do you want money? A free ride to college isn’t enough for you, eh?”

He raised his hand. In one forceful push, I was down on the couch.

“What’s this about?” Bruce asked, standing over me. “Why are you really here?”

“I’m here to see Caroline,” I said, scooting farther away from him, trying to create distance. “I’m calling the police.”

I rolled my body, trying to squirm to the other end of the couch. Bruce grabbed my arm, his grip leaving white indentations on my arm, and pulled me back. He climbed on top of me, straddling me.

“I can’t let you do that.”

“Let go of me.”

But he squeezed harder. I tried to wriggle away, but his weight was too much. Horror pulsed throughout my body, my mind conjuring sickening images of what he might do next. Of what he’d already done before. In this moment, there was no doubt in my mind he was the same predator who had traumatized Jamie all those years ago.

“Stop moving,” Bruce yelled, his voice a deep roar. Gone was the polite socialite, and in his place was a monster.

I kneed his groin. The jolt delivered enough pain to make him hunch forward, sinking more of his weight on top of me. My hand, now free, reached aimlessly for the side table. I felt the heavy stem of a lamp. With what little strength I had, I whacked him over the head with it. It was enough to get him off me. Now standing, I hit him again, waiting another second to make sure he wouldn’t move.

I raced to the front door, but when I jiggled the handle, it wouldn’t budge. The door was locked. My breath quickened and I could feel a cool line of sweat developing on the back of my neck as I debated what to do. I still didn’t want to leave you, and I was unsure how to get out.

I ran through the living room, making sure Bruce was still passed out on the floor. I opened the back door, clicking the lock behind me in case Bruce regained consciousness and came after me.

A bean-shaped pool sat in the center of the concrete, and beyond that, was a perfect view of the setting sun. How wonderful it must be to spend long afternoons like this, relaxing as the day turned to night. I imagined you one day having holidays and parties at this very spot. I imagined you taking swimming lessons in this very pool. It all felt so useless now, an expensive varnish with no durability.

“Bruce?” I heard Amelia’s voice before I saw her. “What happened? Did you get her to—”

Amelia came around the corner. She froze when she saw me instead of her husband.

“Sarah, where is Bruce?”

“You said you were going to make him leave. I told you he was dangerous.”

“I think what you’re doing right now is projecting. You have this story about Phillips Academy in your head, and now you’re using that to make yourself feel less guilty about leaving Caroline behind. You’re trying to make yourself feel better.”

“No, that’s not what I’m doing. I really did come here to say goodbye. But I can’t just leave her—”

“What do you mean you can’t leave her?”

“I can’t leave her around a man like that. And you! You let him go back inside. You waited out here so he could attack me.”

“I know my husband. What you are alleging is ridiculous.” But something in the way she said it made me wonder if she really thought that. She didn’t seem offended, the way I would be if someone were to make such a suggestion about Cliff, or someone else in my life. She seemed nervous.

“Amelia, I’m sorry. This has all been a horrible mistake. I’m leaving and taking her with me. She’s my daughter.”

“Caroline is my daughter,” Amelia corrected me. Her eyebrows arched. “There’s no evidence you ever gave birth to her. Her birth certificate lists me as her mother.”

“But the hospital—”

“New Hutton delivers dozens of babies a day. I’d be willing to bet they won’t be able to remember you.”

“People know you didn’t give birth—”

“People know I left the center for maternity leave. They know I had a private physician. They believe Caroline was born at home.”

“But the adoption—”

“That’s what I’m trying to tell you,” she said, calmly. “There is no adoption. On paper, Caroline is our daughter. You’re nothing to her. And you sure as hell aren’t