Page 104 of This Heart Of Mine (Chicago Stars 5)

“I won’t apologize for giving you up!”

“Why am I not surprised?”

“Sneer all you want, but have you once asked yourself where you’d be today if I’d kept you? What chance do you think you’d have had living in a roach-infested apartment with an immature teenager who had big dreams and no idea how to make them come true?”

“No chance at all,” he said stonily. “You did the right thing.”

“You’re damn right I did. I made sure you had two parents who doted on you from the day you were born. I made sure you lived in a nice house where there was plenty to eat and a backyard to play in.”

He gazed out at the lake, looking bored. “I’m not arguing. Are you about done with this, because I have things to do.”

“Don’t you understand? I couldn’t come to see you!”

“It’s not important.”

She started to move closer, then stopped herself. “Yes, it is. And I know that’s why you hate me so much. Not because I gave you away, but because I never answered your letters begging me to come to see you.”

“I hardly remember. I was—what—six years old? You think something like that is still bothering me?” His air of studied indifference developed a bitter edge. “I don’t hate you, Lilly. I don’t care that much.”

“I still have those letters. Every one you wrote. And they’re soaked with more tears than you can imagine.”

“You’re breakin’ my heart.”

“Don’t you understand? There was nothing I wanted to do more, but it wasn’t allowed.”

“This I’ve got to hear.”

She finally had his attention. He came closer and stopped near the base of an old gnarled oak.

“You weren’t six. The letters started when you were seven. The first was printed in block letters on yellow lined paper. I still have it.” She’d read it so many times the paper had grown limp.

Dear Ant Lilly,

I know your my real mom and I love you very much. Could you come see me. I have a cat. His name is Spike. He is 7 to.

Love,

Kevin

Please don’t tell my mom I wrote this leter. She mite cry.

“You wrote me eighteen letters over four years.”

“I really don’t remember.”

She risked taking a few steps toward him. “Maida and I had an agreement.”

“What kind of agreement?”

“I didn’t give you to them casually. You can’t believe that. We talked everything through. And I made long lists.” She realized she was twisting her hands, and she let them fall to her sides. “They had to promise never to spank you, not that they would have anyway. I told them they couldn’t criticize your music when you got to be a teenager, and they had to let you wear your hair however you wanted. Remember, I’d just turned eighteen.” She gave him a rueful smile. “I even tried to make them promise to buy you a red convertible for your sixteenth birthday, but they wisely refused.”

For the first time he smiled back at her. The movement was small, the slightest twitch at the corner of his mouth, but at least it was there.

She blinked, determined to get through this without shedding a tear. “One thing I didn’t back down on, though—I made them promise to always let you follow your dreams, even if they weren’t the same dreams they had for you.”

He cocked his head, all pretense of indifference gone.

“They hated letting you play football. They were so terrified that you’d get hurt. But I held them to their promise, and they never tried to stop you.” She could no longer meet his eyes. “All I had to do was give them one thing in exchange…”

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