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

back then. Most importantly, that you are not my mother. And really, I’m not convinced you were ever a victim in any of this. You need to leave.”

“I didn’t ask for this, Caroline. All I ever wanted was a child. I wanted you. And Sarah promised she’d do right by you, do right by me—”

“You didn’t help her! You weren’t forthcoming about anything, especially Bruce.”

“All we ever wanted was a child.” She looks down the hallway leading toward Ava’s room. “You’re a mother now, too. How can you not understand? Is there anything you wouldn’t do to protect your child?”

“You weren’t trying to protect me, Amelia. You tried to take me. There’s a difference.”

“Sarah is the one who took you. She’s the one who promised you a better life and stole it away. Gave herself a little pat on the back for making a responsible decision once in her miserable life, only to change her mind.”

“She did that because she realized you were a liar. That your husband was a pervert who attacked her friend. He attacked other students.”

“Children lie, don’t you understand? Women lie. They wanted a pay day, a little attention.”

“Do you seriously believe that?”

It’s hard to read her reaction. After all these years, she must have at least considered that Bruce was guilty. Mom wouldn’t have fought so hard to take me otherwise.

“Bruce was a good man, and Sarah murdered him right in front of me.” Her voice trembles.

“I know my mother. She wouldn’t have acted violently unless she felt a need to protect herself or me.”

“I am your mother!”

She stomps forward, stopping just inches in front of my body. She slaps me hard across the face. I step back, slamming into the door and pushing it shut. A trickle of terror climbs my spine. I need to run away, but I can’t do that with Ava sleeping in the next room. I realize I’m in real danger. Ava is in real danger. The anger I have toward Amelia halts, and I try to focus all my energy into keeping her calm.

“I’m sorry,” I say. “You’re right. I shouldn’t pass judgment without hearing your side of the story.”

These words are a complete lie. Amelia has had over a week to tell me her version of what happened all those years ago. Instead, she tried to keep up the charade she has created for the police and press all these years. That she’s a victim.

“I’ve told you my side,” she says, without hesitation. “Sarah was in trouble. She had no business raising a child. Me? I was ready. I had every resource available and then some. It was supposed to be the answer to both our problems. I would have you, and she’d have the opportunity to stop screwing up her life.”

Her words anger me. She was convinced Mom would be an inadequate parent, but she’s wrong. I’m the living proof. Who is she to deem who is worthy and who is not? No one’s ever completely ready to become a parent, but you adapt. You don’t try to take control of another person. I try not to let my emotions cloud my thinking. I need to find a way to get Amelia on my side.

“Why didn’t you just move on? Try to adopt another child? Why continue to support this lie for so long?”

“Because it was never a lie. You are my child. I couldn’t replace you like some lost item. And even if I’d wanted to, Bruce was dead. And the media, everything else… there weren’t as many options back then. You were my one shot, and then you were gone.” She covers her mouth with a palm, her voice trembling. “But things are different now. You have Ava. We could still have a future together, the three of us. And I could give her everything I never had the opportunity to give you.”

The idea of this woman being around my child leaves a twisting knot in my stomach, but I need to be careful. “That’s very kind of you.”

“It’s meant to be, isn’t it? You don’t have a husband. Ava doesn’t have a father. Between the three of us, she doesn’t need one. We can be a family.”

She takes a step toward the hallway leading to Ava’s room. I step forward, blocking her.

“Ava is sleeping, Amelia. It’s the middle of the night, and there’s a storm. It’s not safe to take her out in this.”

“She’ll be fine.” Amelia looks down, frisking her hands against her clothes. “If we leave now, we can be in New Hutton by sunrise.”

New Hutton? In what world would this woman think I’d be willing to take my child anywhere with her? Just as Mom described in her letters, her selfishness is frightening. All I want is to make her leave my house.

“It’s not safe.” I deepen my voice and take a step forward, forcing her to walk back toward the kitchen. She must see that I’m serious. We’re not leaving.

“Fine.” She looks at me blankly. “I’ll get her.”

On the bureau to her right, rests the baton Rick gave me. She picks it up in one quick movement, swinging it in my direction. I take a step back, but trip, landing hard on my hip just by the front door. I raise my hand to block her next blow, but I’m too late.

The baton lands hard on the top of my head. I close my eyes, seeing nothing but bright blasts of light. I feel another hit, then…

“Just close your eyes,” Amelia whispers.

I do, and the world turns black.

48 AmeliaNow

Many years had passed since that cool summer evening when Caroline was taken, but Amelia could remember each moment with total clarity. Finding Bruce’s body. Finding the empty crib.

What happened after.

The press seemed to stalk her from that moment forward. Amelia had to be careful about what she said. She had to know who she could trust. She believed her own story would be more credible than Sarah’s, which is why