Page 2 of State of Grace

Blake vaguely remembered when Isla had built matching chests for Blake and her younger sister, Mason. The three of them had painted them together all afternoon until they were all covered in as much paint as the chests. Her mother had told them it was a safe place for all their belongings and Blake remembered how she used to put her favorite books and toys in the chest every night before bed. She wondered if any of them were still tucked away inside.

The cedar chest had a lock on it, but it gave way with one swift tug. She carefully opened the lid, hinges creaking in protest. A large quilt lay on top, and Blake slowly sat on the dusty wooden floor as she delicately pulled it out. Blake instantly recognized it; she saw the baby clothes hand-stitched together by her mother and thought of the way her mother would tuck her in under it every night.

Holding it up to her nose, Blake took in a deep breath and took in the faintest smell of her mother. It was a mix of jasmine and lavender that took Blake straight back to her childhood. She couldn’t remember much of her mother anymore. The memories she’d had as a young girl had long faded into the recesses of her brain. Blake had barely been five when her parents divorced, and her father moved her across the country to pursue her career. She’d never gotten the chance to say goodbye to her mother or her younger sister. Her father had pulled Blake from her slumber one night, packed the car in silence, and it seemed he had never looked back. Neither had Blake, but each for their own reasons.

Spreading the blanket out over her lap, Blake peeked back into the chest and furrowed her brow at the stacks of letters haphazardly tossed inside it. They were all addressed to her, but none were open. She picked one up as she absentmindedly ran her hand over the name in the corner.

Isla Mackenzie.

“Mom,” Blake’s voice caught in her throat as she ripped open the letter. Her eyes couldn’t read it fast enough, and as soon as she finished one, she quickly grabbed another, then another, and another. They all said the same things. Her mom loved her, was so proud of her, and wanted to be a part of her life. Included in some envelopes were pictures of Mason, and of three more kids who were Blake’s half-siblings and a gorgeous blonde who was her mother’s wife.

Hours had passed before Blake read every letter and studied every photo. She’d barely noticed the tears that had streamed down her face until they began to spot the letters and photographs spread around her. Her entire life had been a lie. Her father had told her that her mother had been unfit to raise her, that she wasn’t mentally stable enough to love her the way she needed to be loved.

And Blake had believed him.

She’d never had any reason not to.

Until now.

The letters told a side to the story that Blake never knew. It was a story of how her mother hadn’t wanted Blake to be pushed into the spotlight so young. It was a story of how her mother had tried to protect her so she could have an everyday life and how her father hadn’t wanted that. They told of how her father had taken Isla to court, where he fought for full custody of Blake, leaving her sister Mason entirely out of the arrangement. Several letters from Vera, Isla’s wife, begged Blake to have a relationship with her mother because she missed her so much. She cried for her all the time, every birthday, every holiday.

“Why would he do this?” Blake asked the empty attic as she angrily threw the letter in her hand down on the ground along with the others. Anger had quickly replaced sadness as she thought about everything her father had robbed her of because of his selfishness. Sure, he’d helped her build a career that made her millions, but he never gave her what she always wanted. Had she ever really stopped to think about what she really wanted?

A family.

A mother.

A sister.

A normal life.

Blake had never once questioned what her father had told her about her mother. He was her father; Blake had naïvely hoped he would always do what was best for her. But the letters littered around her told her an entirely different narrative, and Blake needed answers. She needed the truth about her mother.

Pulling her phone out of the pocket of her hoodie, she googled the latest address on the envelopes. 1897 River Crest Way, Moonflower Cove, Maine. Moonflower Cove was a speck on the map outside of Portland. Before Blake could overthink anything, she booked a one-way ticket to Maine, leaving later that day out of Vancouver.

“Blake, you still here?” She could hear Salem’s muffled voice as she reentered the house.

“Up here.”

Blake could hear her walking up the creaky stairs, and she didn’t bother to move or hide the letters or the blanket or even to wipe the tears from her eyes. When Salem saw her, her face drained of all color. She walked slowly to Blake as she appeared to process the scene in front of her.

“Blake, what’s wrong?”

“I found all these letters from my mom.”

“From your…whoa.” Salem sat on the rickety floor beside her and picked up one of the letters. Her green eyes quickly scanned the letter before running her hand over the photographs lying around Blake’s legs. “Holy shit.”

“Why would he do this?”

“I…I don’t know.” She seemed as genuinely shocked as Blake was. Blake might not like it, but Salem knew more about her than anyone. Salem knew how badly Blake wanted to find her mother and when the two were together, Salem had even helped her look for her. Their searching had always come back empty, and Blake realized now it was because Isla had gone back to her maiden name, a name Blake didn’t know. “What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know.” Running her hand through her hair, Blake let out a frustrated sigh. She wiped the tears from her eyes as she moved the envelopes and photographs into a pile. “I may be crazy, but I want to go see her.”

“Maybe that will be good for you.”

“I don’t know. What do you think?”

“You’re asking for my opinion?” Salem’s surprise was genuine. It’d been two years since they’d been together, and since then, their relationship had been primarily professional. Blake nodded, and Salem took in a long, deep breath. “Well, you’ve wanted to find your mom for a while, and now that you’ve found her, especially since you don’t have any pressing filming schedule, I say, do it.”

---