Page 4 of Twisted Fate

Regret and envy threatened to rise in my chest, but I shoved it down. All I could see was everything I couldn’t have. Despite knowing I made the right decision, those feelings wouldn’t stay buried. It was best if I just left them all alone.

Now Sarah was gone, and I couldn’t tell her how wonderful I thought she was. I couldn’t tell her I appreciated her taking my newborn daughter, no questions asked, and giving her the life I couldn’t. There was no time left to tell her that she’d been my saving grace that stormy summer night as she held my hand and wiped the sweat from my brow while I pushed and pushed and pushed. She cheered me on, letting me squeeze her fingers until they turned white, then offered gentle words of praise as little wails filled the room.

I cried when I held her the first time. It was the first moment I had any doubts about placing her for adoption. When I saw Sarah’s eyes light up as they took in the tiny baby swaddled in my arms, that doubt withered away. It was for the best. Sarah would make a better mother. She could give my baby girl the life that I couldn’t. She promised to love her and care for and assured me I’d always have a place in her life if I wanted it.

Melancholy washed over me as I signed the last paper two days later, finalizing the adoption. Sarah’s husband Vance watched me with gratitude filling his eyes, before turning an adoring gaze to his beautiful wife. They were perfect. They would make wonderful parents.

Those memories dissolved when we pulled up to the funeral home. My cousin was gone, lost to an internal threat that had gone undetected. The brain aneurysm ruptured one day while she was home alone. By the time she was found, it was too late.

I squeezed my eyes closed against the onslaught of tears as we entered the foyer. A few people milled about, but it was mostly empty. Everyone must’ve already been in the main room, waiting to pay their respects.

A guest book stood open at a podium just inside the main entrance. As I signed my name, the sound of scurrying feet approached.

“Mommy!” a tiny voice declared excitedly. There was a tug at my skirt, and I turned to find a tiny blue-eyed beauty standing wide eyed and expectant as she gazed up at me. I knew instantly who she was.

My daughter.

No, that wasn’t right. She was Sarah’s daughter.Charlotte.She was the little girl whose world had just shattered into a million pieces with the loss of the only mother she’d ever known.

Her smile fell as she took me in. “You’re not my mommy,” she crowed, and her chin wobbled. Pain speared through my chest, and I gulped down my hurt.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, unsure what I was apologizing for: giving her up or her mother being taken away suddenly and tragically. Maybe both.

“There you are,” a woman I didn’t know called, stepping into the hallway. She bent forward and placed her hands on the little girl’s arms so she’d face her. “What did I tell you about running off like that?” she questioned, worry lacing her tone. She looked up at me and startled as though she’d seen a ghost.

She gasped and pressed a hand to her chest as she stood. “You must be Delilah,” she said breathlessly, clearly unsettled by seeing me. I scanned her features, searching for recognition. She looked vaguely familiar, and it took me a moment to register who she was: Vance’s mother, Vivian. I had seen her in some of the photos Sarah sent me and the few times I was brave enough to look at her social media.

“I am,” I confirmed. “I’m sorry we had to meet under these circumstances.”

“Me too,” she intoned. It was clear she was in mourning along with the rest of us. Her eyes were puffy, dark circles rimming the sunken orbits, and her shoulders slumped with exhaustion. I remembered Sarah saying they were close, that Vivian treated her like one of her own.

“Who dis lady?” Charlie’s sweet voice called up to us. “She wooks wike my mommy.” Vivian eyed me warily, unsure how to respond.

“I’m your mommy’s cousin. Do you know what that means?” I asked, and she shook her head, causing her chestnut curls to bounce in their ponytail. “That means my mommy and your grandma, Darla, are sisters.” Her mouth formed a surprised “o.”

“I didn’t know dat,” she said, causing a smile to curve my lips.

“Come on, sweetheart. Your daddy is probably wondering where we went,” Vivian said, placing a hand on her shoulder.

“Okay,” she acquiesced, and my heart constricted at her forlorn expression. I watched her retreating form as longing settled into my chest. She was perfect. A beautiful, vibrant child. And I’d given her up.

My mother's eyes brimmed with unshed tears as she watched the woman usher the little girl away. In that moment, I felt like I’d taken something away from her too. She’d never gotten the chance to be a grandmother. I wanted to apologize, but I couldn’t seem to find my voice. Her gaze found mine, and she squeezed my hand reassuringly as though she could read my thoughts. She didn’t blame me for my decisions, but the guilt still lurked in the farthest, darkest corner of my heart.

We walked into the parlor where the casket was displayed. Aunt Darla stood off to the side, greeting family and friends, and I could see she was barely holding it together. Uncle Jim stood next to her, an arm wrapped around her small frame as though he was the only thing keeping her on her feet. My cousin Emily stood next to her, an arm looped around her elbow, her eyes red rimmed and misty. As soon as Darla’s gaze landed on us, that finely held composure dissolved. My mom pulled her into a hug, and she cried into her shoulder. Once Darla collected herself, she embraced me, holding onto me so tightly I could barely draw a breath. I didn’t say a word, though. If this was what she needed to make it through the day, I’d gladly absorb some of her pain.

Tears coursed down Emily’s face as I pulled her into me next. Guilt ripped through me as I held her, and she sobbed. We were close once, but after the adoption and my subsequent spiral, I stopped returning her calls and messages. She finally gave up, and I’d done nothing to bridge the gap, just like with Sarah. Regret stole my breath as I absorbed her pain, and I vowed to make amends for shutting her out of my life.

After a long moment, I released Emily and my mother and stepped away to find a seat. Once we were settled, I scanned the crowd for Charlie. I longed to see her again, the child I birthed three and a half years ago. Somehow, despite the years that passed since I last saw her, I felt more connected to her now. Perhaps it was the trauma I had been dealing with at the time of her birth that prevented me from bonding with her, or the fact that I’d given her to Sarah almost immediately, but time had only increased my desire to get to know her.

Now wasn’t the time. She might not have understood what was happening, but eventually, she would realize her mother was gone and she wasn’t coming back. She’d need time to grieve, time to come to terms with her new reality. I wouldn’t bring any more turmoil into her life.

I spotted her up front sitting next to a tall man in a suit, his shoulders hunched and head hung low in despair.Vance.I couldn’t imagine what he was going through. He was head over heels for Sarah. They were so happy. Then it was all ripped away from him in the cruelest way possible. He didn't even get a chance to say goodbye. He left one morning with a young, healthy wife and when he returned, she was gone.

His mother sank into the chair next to him and rubbed his back. His shoulders shook, and he turned into her as she wrapped her arms around him. Slipping his glasses from his face, he wiped at his eyes. Tears dampened my cheeks, and I rubbed the back of my hand across my nose. It broke my heart to see that poor man suffering like he was.

When the time came to pay my respects, I approached the casket on shaky legs. My mother gripped my hand to steady herself, and I worried we’d both collapse under the weight of our grief. A sob broke free, and I covered my mouth to muffle the sound. If I didn’t know any better, I would’ve thought she was sleeping. She looked so peaceful with her hands folded over her stomach, her pink cheeks belying her mortality. Whoever did her makeup had done their best to make her look just like she had in life. If it wasn’t for the stillness of her chest, I wouldn’t have believed she was gone.

I turned to walk to my seat, stopping in my tracks when my gaze landed on Sarah’s husband. His expression was unreadable, a flurry of emotions flashing over his face. Within the same breath, he appeared hopeful then horrified. I hurried down the aisle toward my seat in a rush to get away from his scrutinizing glare.

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