Betrayed: A Rosato & DiNunzio Novel (Rosato & Associates Book 13) (28 page)

“No, of course not.” Judy tried to think of a good lie, fast. “I stopped short in the car because I thought something ran across my path, and I hit my mouth on the steering wheel.”

“Didn’t you have your seat belt on?” Her mother scrutinized the wound. “You’re going to need to put some Neosporin on that.”

“No, I had just started the car, so I didn’t have it on yet.” Judy set the wet rag on the sink, went into the medicine cabinet, and found a tube of Neosporin.

“You should put your seat belt on
before
you start the car. You know that. Here, let me help.” Suddenly her mother stepped forward to grab the tube of Neosporin, startling Judy, who cringed reflexively, her body remembering what her brain wanted to forget. Her mother’s mouth dropped open and her forehead wrinkled with confusion. “Honey, what’s the matter with you? I’m not going to hurt you.”

“I know, let me do it.” Judy took back the tube, but her hand shook, and she and her mother saw it at the same time.

“Judy, somebody hit you.”

“No they didn’t.”

“Yes, they did. I wasn’t born yesterday.” Her mother pursed her lips, blinking. “Why can’t you tell me?”

“There’s nothing to tell.”

“Why can’t you be honest with me?” her mother asked, wounded. Her blue eyes filmed with tears that seemed to come out of nowhere, and her gaze held Judy’s for a moment of naked pain, unlike any Judy had ever seen in her.

“Mom,” Judy started to say, but her mother turned away and walked down the hall. Judy went after her, following her into the bedroom to find her mother slumping at the edge of the bed, wiping tears away. She looked so out of place, a forlorn figure against the sunny yellow walls of the bedroom, filled with Judy’s vivid, colorful oils. “I’m sorry, Mom. Please don’t be upset.”

Her mother stifled a sob, covering her mouth with her hand, and Judy felt surprised and guilty at making her mother cry. She didn’t know where it had come from, and the only time she’d ever seen her mother cry was at Judy’s grandfather’s funeral.

“I’m really sorry, Mom.” Judy sat down beside her and put an arm around her mother’s shoulders, while Penny jumped onto the bed and flopped down on the comforter behind them.

“It’s just hard, that’s all. It’s very hard.” Her mother shook her head, but didn’t look over.

“I know, there’s a lot going on right now, with Aunt Barb and everything. It’s just all catching up with you.” Judy hugged her shoulders gently. “Why don’t I make us some tea, some chamomile, and then we can go to bed?”

Her mother kept shaking her head. “It’s not that. It’s not Barb. It’s us. It’s me. We’re not close, we can’t even talk about anything.”

“What do you mean, Mom?” Judy felt terrible that her mother was so upset, but there was no way she could tell her about the barracks.

“It’s just so hard, to be a mother, there’s so many things I didn’t understand.” Her mother’s tone softened, pained. “It’s like you have a window of time, and it’s a small window. It’s not much time, really. They say life is short, but the truth is, motherhood is short.”

Judy didn’t understand. “Motherhood is forever, Mom. A girl always needs her mom.”

“No, it’s like you have one shot to be a good mother. The window is until your child’s twelve or thirteen, and by then, I knew I had blown it with you. I just had blown it. What I did with the boys didn’t work with you.”

“You didn’t blow it, Mom.” Judy had never seen her mother like this, so vulnerable, and they’d never talked about their relationship, so directly. “You were a great mother, and you still are. You’re a great mother.”

“No, honestly, I’m not, I’m a terrible mother to you. I don’t know what I did wrong. I failed.” Her mother’s shoulders shuddered with a new sob, and Judy held her tighter.

“That’s not true, I love you. We love each other.”

“No, I love you, but I’ve done a terrible job. I’ve made a mess of it. I failed
you.
” Her mother heaved another sob, trying to strangle it in her throat but not succeeding, and Judy’s heart broke at the sound.

“Mom, now, this isn’t true. You’ve always been there for me, I know that.”

“How do you know that?” Her mother looked up at her abruptly, her eyes brimming and bloodshot. “I’m asking you a question. How do you know that? How do you know I’m there for you, if you never tell me anything? Never call upon me? Never even
call me
?”

Judy thought a minute, seeing from her mother’s questioning gaze that she wouldn’t get away with less than the absolute truth. “You know how I know, Mom? You really want to know how I know?”

“Yes.” Her mother nodded, sniffling.

“Wait.” Judy put her hand in her blazer pocket and withdrew the palm-size canister of Mace, which happened to be hot pink. “Do you recognize this? This looks like something Barbie would have, but this is the Mace you gave me last Christmas, which replaced the Mace that you gave me the year before that, in case it expired. I carry it with me in my purse, all the time, because you have drilled that propaganda into my head. Every time I see it in my purse, I think to myself, my mother loves me. This is Exhibit A.” Judy felt her own chest tighten, but didn’t want to cry now, because she needed her mother to hear her. “And the same thing happens every time I see that dopey red fire extinguisher that you bought me for the kitchen, in case there’s a grease fire. I think to myself, my mother loves me. My mother cares about me. My mother is always there for me, no matter what, in any emergency.”

“Really?” Her mother half-smiled, though her lips trembled.

“
Really.
” Judy sniffled, feeling her heart ache, which she hadn’t even known was possible. “And I’m not going to get into it, because I don’t want to upset you more than I already have, but tonight, this Mace saved my ass. Even though you weren’t there and you’re
never
going to find out what happened, you saved me. You saved me from harm. You might have even saved my life. That’s how there for me you are. It doesn’t get better than that, Mom. It just doesn’t.” Judy felt her mouth twist with sobs she was holding back, perhaps a lifetime’s worth of them. “I love you, Mom. I really do.”

“I love you, too, sweetie.” Her mother seemed to collapse into her arms, and Judy held her tight.

“And we’ll make things better, starting now. I’ll be a better daughter, I promise. I’ll call you more, I will.”

“It’s not you, it was me. I held back, I guess. I see that now. But now it’s too late.” Her mother burst into tears in her embrace. “It’s too … late.”

“No, it isn’t,” Judy said, meaning it. “You’ll see, you won’t even be able to get me off the phone. As long as we’re both alive, it’s not too late. It’s never too late.”

“Yes … it is.” Her mother began to cry in earnest, hiccupping sobs racking her frame. “You’re all … grown-up. I’m … out of … time.”

“No, you’re not.” Judy felt so much love for her then, though she couldn’t understand why her mother wasn’t coming around, but seemed to be hurting even more. “Mom, it’s okay. Everything’s going to be all right. I’m not grown-up yet, God knows. As long as we’re mother and daughter, we’re all right.”

“No, no … no. That’s … the … problem.”

“What is?”

Her mother looked up from her arms, her bloodshot eyes agonized and her expression stricken. “Honey, I’m … not your … mother.”

Chapter Thirty-three

“What did you say?” Judy asked, thinking she must’ve heard wrong.

“I’m not … your mother.” Her mother looked at her directly, focusing on Judy through pooling tears.

“Is this a joke?”

“No, it’s the truth, the absolute truth.” Her mother wiped her eyes, leaving a pinkish streak, then heaved a final sob, trying to stop crying. “I’m not your mother. I’m not your real mother.”

Judy recoiled, not understanding. “What are you talking about? Are you saying I’m adopted?”

“In a way, yes.” Her mother nodded, wiping her runny nose on her sleeve.

“What the hell?” Judy’s mouth went dry. “What’s going on? Is this for real?”

“Yes, it is.”

“I’m
adopted
?”

“Not exactly. Your mother is Aunt Barb.”

“
What?
” Judy felt thunderstruck. “What are you talking about?”

“I can explain—”

“Are you
serious
?”

“Yes, we were going to tell you later in the week, when she came home from the hospital and felt better—”

“Are you
kidding me right now
?” Judy jumped to her feet without knowing why. “What are you talking about, you were going to tell me?”

“Please, sit down, honey.” Her mother gestured her back, but Judy wasn’t having any.

“I don’t want to sit down. Tell me what’s going on. What are you talking about?”

“Please don’t be angry. I can explain—”

“I’m not angry,” Judy said, though she had no idea what emotion she was feeling, because she was feeling so many at once. Disbelief, shock, complete and utter bewilderment. “I don’t understand. I’m just trying to understand. If this is real, then explain it to me.”

“Okay, well, Aunt Barb had you, she’s the one who gave birth to you, when she was sixteen—”

“Are you
kidding me
?” Judy interrupted, knowing she was repeating herself but not being able to help it.

“This is the truth. The way it happened was that she was in high school and she fell in love, puppy love, and got pregnant by one of the enlisted men on the base. In Pensacola.”

“Aunt Barb’s really my mother?” Judy asked, like a nightmare echo chamber.

“Yes. Our father, your grandfather, you know the general, he was not about to have any of that. Neither was my mother. Appearances mattered to them, too much.”

Judy tried to listen, but all of the words got tangled up, a bewildering bolus of father, mother, grandfather, grandmother.

“I was twenty-four years old and already married, and your brother Tom was only one…”

Judy lost track when she thought about Tom, her older brother who was no longer her real brother.

“… and my parents, your grandparents, decided that the only way to solve the problem was to have me take the baby and raise her as my own. It worked out because we were doing so well and we were about to move to another base, Frankfurt, so nobody knew…”

Judy kept trying to follow, realizing that the baby her mother was talking about was Judy herself.

“… Barb took a year off from high school, then she gave birth and went back to school.” Her mother paused, pursing her lips. “Barb didn’t want to give you up, but our parents gave her no options, except have you adopted by strangers, so she went along with it. She always loved you, even from the beginning, and we all agreed that when you got older, when the time was right, we would tell you.”

Judy couldn’t believe her ears, but she knew from her mother’s anguished words that it was all true. “This is unreal.”

“I know, I’m sorry.”

“You’re telling me this,
now
?”

“Yes.”

“So what makes this time right? Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“We were going to, but we just couldn’t find the right time, and to be fair, we avoided it. We knew how hurt you would be, and I knew that I would lose you then, and that when we told you, that would be … the end of my time with you.” Her mother’s voice broke, but she didn’t stop talking, as if the words were coming out with a force of their own. “We were going to tell you after college, but then you were so busy, and in law school you were working so hard, then when you moved to Philadelphia, you were on one coast and I was on the other. That’s why Barb moved here to be near you.”

Judy thought back, remembering. “She said it was because there were better doctors here, for Uncle Steve.”

“That wasn’t the real reason. He was sick a long time, but she moved to be where you were. She wanted to be close to you, to watch out for you. She loves you with all her heart, as do I.”

Judy felt tears come to her eyes, but she shook them off. She hadn’t seen this coming, in a million years, but things began to fall into place, like the way her mother seemed jealous of Aunt Barb. “So why didn’t you tell me then, after I came here?”

“We both thought you were having so many ups and downs in your new job. It just didn’t seem like the right time, and we didn’t want to add to your load, and Uncle Steve got sicker.”

“Did he know?”

“Yes, he did.”

Judy felt struck by a revelation she should’ve had before. “Then who’s my father? You mean Dad isn’t—”

“He’s not your father.”

Judy didn’t know what to say for a moment, rocked to her foundations. “He knows about this, too?”

“Yes, of course.”

Judy gasped. She’d never been close to her father, but she never doubted that he was her father. In a weird way, finally learning the truth explained a lot about her childhood. Her mind raced to consider the implications. “What’s the guy’s name, the enlisted guy? My father.”

“John Ward.”

“Where is he?”

“He was killed in action in Bosnia.”

“
Bosnia?
” Judy’s mouth fell open. She had written a paper about the Bosnian conflict for her American history class, never thinking that her own father died there. “Did he know, like, what happened to me?”

“Yes.” Her mother sighed heavily. “Honey, this is a lot to digest—”

“Ya
think
?” Judy shot back, with an abrupt, mirthless laugh. Her mother sat crestfallen on the bed, her strong shoulders collapsed and her head tilted down, and behind her, Judy caught a glimpse of the framed photographs on her dresser, smiling happy pictures of herself with people who weren’t who she’d thought they were—Aunt Barb, her brothers, her mother and father, all of them skiing, climbing rock faces, and celebrating each other’s birthdays. She looked away, because it killed her to think that none of it was true, or real, not from day one.

“I’m sorry, I’m so very sorry. We tried to solve the problem the best way we could—”

“Mom”—Judy caught herself—“or whatever I’m supposed to call you, please stop saying
the problem
.
I was
the problem. The problem was a person. The problem is standing right in front of you, trying to figure out what the hell is going on.”