Читаем Journey полностью

“Did you ever?” The girl's lips were trembling and her eyes were already beginning to fill with disappointment. For her, this had been a three-year search for her mother, and she sensed that she was about to hit a dead end again. She had already had several. “Did you ever have a baby? My name is Elizabeth Turner, I'm nineteen years old, my birthday is May fifteenth, and I was born in Gatlinburg, Tennessee, in the Smoky Mountains. I think my mother was from Chattanooga. I've talked to everyone I can, and all I know is that she was fifteen when I was born. I think her name was Madeleine Beaumont, but I'm not sure of that. And one person I talked to said I look a lot like her.” Maddy was staring at her in disbelief, as her hand moved slowly off the panic button and onto her desk.

“What makes you think I'm that person?” Her tone gave away nothing.

“I don't know, I know you're from Tennessee. I read that in an interview one time, and your name is Maddy and … I don't know … I sort of think I look like you a little bit, and … I know this sounds crazy.” There were tears running down her cheeks now from the sheer stress of approaching her, and the fear of yet another disappointment. “Maybe I just wanted you to be the right person. I've watched you a lot on TV, and I really like you.” There was a long, deafening silence in the room, while Maddy weighed the situation, and tried to figure out what to do about it. Her eyes never left the girl's, and as she looked at her, she slowly felt walls dissolving within her, surrounding places she hadn't touched in years, and thought she would never allow herself to feel again. She didn't want this to be happening, but it was, and there was nothing she could do now to change it. She could end it easily. She could tell her that she wasn't the same Madeleine Beaumont, that Tennessee was full of them, even though Beaumont was her maiden name. She could say she had never been to Gatlinburg, and that she was sorry, and wish her luck. She could say everything she needed to, to get rid of her, and never see her again, but as she looked at her, she knew she couldn't do that to this girl.

Without a word, she got up and closed the door to her office, and then stood looking at the girl, who claimed to be the baby she had given up at fifteen, and thought she'd never see again. The baby she had cried for and mourned for years, and whom she no longer allowed herself to think of. The child she had never told Jack about. All he knew about were the abortions.

“How do I know that's who you are?” Maddy asked in a voice that was rough with grief and fear and the remembered pain of giving up her baby. She had never seen her after the delivery, and only held her once. But this girl could have been anyone, the child of a nurse who'd been there, a neighbor's child who wanted to blackmail her and make some money. There were damn few people who knew, and Maddy had been grateful that none of them had ever surfaced. She had worried about it for years.

“I have my birth certificate,” the girl said awkwardly, pulling a folded piece of paper from her purse. It was dog-eared and folded into a tiny wad, as she handed it to Maddy. And she handed her a tiny baby picture with it, as Maddy stared at it in silent agony. It was the same one they had given her, taken at the hospital, red-faced and brand new, wrapped in a pink blanket. Maddy had kept it in her wallet for years, and finally threw it away, for fear that Jack would find it. Bobby Joe knew, but he had never cared much about it. Lots of girls they knew got pregnant and gave up babies for adoption. Some girls had them a lot younger than she had. But in the years since, it had become her darkest secret.

“This could be any baby,” Maddy said coldly, “or you could have gotten this picture from someone else, from the hospital even. It doesn't prove anything.”

“We could have blood tests, if you thought maybe I could be your daughter,” the girl said sensibly, and Maddy's heart went out to her. She had done a brave thing, and Maddy wasn't making it easy for her. But what this girl was volunteering to do was destroy her life, and make her face something that she had finally put away, and didn't dare touch now. And how could she tell Jack?

Перейти на страницу:

Похожие книги

Соль этого лета
Соль этого лета

Марат Тарханов — самбист, упёртый и горячий парень.Алёна Ростовская — молодой физиолог престижной спортивной школы.Наглец и его Неприступная крепость. Кто падёт первым?***— Просто отдай мне мою одежду!— Просто — не могу, — кусаю губы, теряя тормоза от еë близости. — Номер телефона давай.— Ты совсем страх потерял, Тарханов?— Я и не находил, Алёна Максимовна.— Я уши тебе откручу, понял, мальчик? — прищуривается гневно.— Давай… начинай… — подаюсь вперёд к её губам.Тормозит, упираясь ладонями мне в грудь.— Я Бесу пожалуюсь! — жалобно вздрагивает еë голос.— Ябеда… — провокационно улыбаюсь ей, делая шаг назад и раскрывая рубашку. — Прошу.Зло выдергивает у меня из рук. И быстренько надев, трясущимися пальцами застёгивает нижнюю пуговицу.— Я бы на твоём месте начал с верхней, — разглядываю трепещущую грудь.— А что здесь происходит? — отодвигая рукой куст выходит к нам директор смены.Как не вовремя!Удивленно смотрит на то, как Алёна пытается быстро одеться.— Алëна Максимовна… — стягивает в шоке с носа очки, с осуждением окидывая нас взглядом. — Ну как можно?!— Гадёныш… — в чувствах лупит мне по плечу Ростовская.Гордо задрав подбородок и ничего не объясняя, уходит, запахнув рубашку.Черт… Подстава вышла!

Эля Пылаева , Янка Рам

Современные любовные романы