Descension (5 page)

Layla wiped her eyes and blew her nose, thinking she’d never make it through five pages of emotional upheaval, but she had to try.

Having said that, I must reveal the true purpose of this letter and convey my deepest apologies. I’ve lied to you, Layla, over and over again.

This caught Layla completely off guard.

I’ll tell you the story as I know it and pray you’ll understand. So, here it goes. As you know, my parents died when I was seventeen, leaving me without a family. But what I’m about to tell you is something I’ve never discussed with you, and for good reason. It’s horrible, and I’m so sorry I’m writing it down for your eyes. I wouldn’t do it if I didn’t feel you deserve a solid explanation. So brace yourself, and please forgive me for what you must read.

After my parents died, I lived on my own in a tiny apartment in Seattle. For three years I would walk to a plastics factory, work a ten hour shift, walk home, eat, sleep then do it all over again. I had no friends, no goals and no ambition. My life was empty and my routine was dragging me down.

The woman Layla was reading about sounded nothing like the mother she knew.

One night, on my way home from work, I was feeling careless. I wanted to do something different, something exciting, so I slipped into a bar off an alley. Stupid, I know, and as soon as I did it, I regretted it. There were only four patrons, all men, and one glance told me they were bad news.

Layla’s heart thumped harder and faster.

When they saw me, smiles lit up their drunk faces, and I knew I was in trouble. I was on my way out the door when the first one caught my arm, and the next thing I know, I was in the air, held by all four of them. The bartender came around the counter, and I begged him to help me, but he just laughed and locked the door.

No! Tears blurred the words, burning Layla’s eyes as panic churned her stomach and twisted her heart, like she was there, in that grungy bar, watching it all.

I’ll spare you the details. No one should have to hear them, least of all you. Once they finished with me, they threw me in a dumpster, thinking I’d be dead before sunrise.

Layla chocked back a sob, trying to shake the image of her mom’s battered body lying in a dirty dumpster.

I thought I
was dead. I thought I was in hell, but I managed to live long enough for a garbage collector to find me. I was a critical care patient for three days, and when all was said and done, I had a new nose, a new jaw, permanently damaged vision, a few broken bones, and a barren uterus.

Layla went back, read that last sentence again… then again, head spinning. A barren uterus? Did this mean she was adopted? Was that why she never knew her father? Katherine claimed he didn’t want children, so she’d let him off the hook. Well, that would still ring true if she was adopted.

Layla was a mess—confused, shocked, heartbroken over her mom’s horrifying experience. She couldn’t put anything into perspective, so she got up and refilled her coffee. She tapped her toes on the linoleum and drummed her fingernails on the counter, scared to keep reading, but she couldn’t rest until it was over, so she sat and grabbed a tissue.

I can’t imagine how you must feel, so I have no words of wisdom. I guess I’ll just get on with my explanation.

Because I lived to testify, the five men were sent to prison…

Good! But they should have been severely beaten, castrated and locked in a dumpster.

…and I ran from city life, ending up in Ketchum, Idaho, a small town I remembered from childhood ski trips. I lucked into a secretarial position at an accounting firm, but outside of my job, I was a hermit, guarded against the world. I fell into a mundane routine, which suited me just fine. I’d learned what happens when you go looking for trouble. You find it.

But as the years crept by, I yearned for the one thing I couldn’t have. For ten years I thought of nothing but the baby I’d never be able to carry. Finally, when I turned thirty, I decided to adopt. I didn’t have the thousands of dollars it would cost, and they frowned on single parenthood, but I had nothing but lonely time on my hands and couldn’t be deterred.

Of course she couldn’t. When Katherine went for something, a little discouragement never stopped her. Layla loved that about her. Layla loved everything about her.

I’d finally found a purpose, something to work toward, something I wanted more than anything, so I began saving money for adoption and lawyer fees, and I researched every aspect of being a mom and a dad.

To help finance my goal, I put the garage apartment behind my house up for rent, but Ketchum’s a small town, and for eight months the apartment stayed empty. Finally, in the summer of ’88, a woman knocked on my door to inquire about my rental. And I have to tell you, Layla, she was beautiful, the most perfect looking woman I’d ever seen. Hair like an obsidian waterfall and flawless, olive toned skin. It was one of the hottest days of summer, and she was on foot, yet there wasn’t a drop of sweat on her. I was struck dumb as she spoke to me, like I was meeting a movie star.

She told me her son and daughter-in-law were newlyweds expecting a baby, and she wanted to rent the apartment for them. I hesitated, concerned about being a landlady to people I hadn’t met. Then she offered me two years rent money up front and I couldn’t refuse. The money was enough to hire a lawyer, which was the first step in having a baby of my own. Once the deal was made and she had the key, she told me they would be arriving late that night and insisted I not wait up for them. I was intrigued, and the next day, when I met them, I was amazed.

Their names were Sarah and Chris, and they were so beautiful and so in love. My bitter past had led me to form an unkind opinion of the male population as a whole, but Chris changed that. He was unlike any man I’d been around. He treated Sarah and their unborn child like they were more precious than the air he breathed, and not a minute went by where he wasn’t anticipating Sarah’s needs.

I must admit, I was jealous.

Of course she was, Layla sympathized. Sarah had everything Katherine wanted and lost.

But it didn’t stay that way for long, because Sarah’s heart was as golden as Chris’. She was so kind, gentle and soft spoken, and they both treated me like family, something I’d been missing for years. I found myself dipping into my adoption fund to buy Sarah and her unborn baby gifts, and I did it without any regret at all, because I loved them.

When Sarah was around four months pregnant, she fell ill, and things took a sad turn. At first she and Chris didn’t tell me what was going on, and I didn’t ask. Even though I was closer to them than I’d been with anyone in fourteen years, sometimes they still felt like strangers, like they lived in a different world than the rest of us. But as the months went by, Sarah got worse, and they finally told me she suffered from a rare heart condition that had no cure. Of course I had questions, but again, I didn’t voice them. I just watched from the sidelines as Sarah’s illness destroyed her. It destroyed Chris, too. They both waned physically, and it wasn’t uncommon to find them crying.

When Sarah was around eight months pregnant, her and Chris’ parents visited, and everyone’s mood was grim in a time that should have yielded great joy. They never said it, but their expressions told me Sarah wasn’t going to live. I prayed nightly for her and the baby in her belly, but only half my prayers were answered. A week after their parents’ arrival, Sarah died giving birth to a healthy baby girl.

Layla’s mouth fell open. Was she the baby girl? Was this woman, Sarah, her birth mother?

Chris’ and Sarah’s parents left with the body, but he and the baby stayed. What happened next changed my life in so many ways.

Chris confessed that he and Sarah hadn’t been completely honest about their lives, revealing the real reason they moved to Ketchum. He explained, vaguely, that they’d been hiding from a dangerous group of people who wanted to take their baby away. He assured me it had nothing to do with government authorities, but he couldn’t go into detail about the situation. I had to believe him, Layla. I couldn’t mistrust someone who held such an intense love and devotion for his wife and child. It was obvious how much he cared for them, always, so I didn’t press for more information.

He told me he had something important to do, something absolutely necessary, and he didn’t think he’d be able to come back. That’s when he made me the sweetest offer I’d ever been made. He wanted me to adopt his baby. He wanted me to take her and keep her as my own.

I couldn’t believe it, Layla.

Neither could she.

My own precious child. My dreams were finally within reach, literally. But I had to think about the baby’s well being, so I tried to talk him into staying. I offered to help with the obstacles of being a single father, but that wasn’t why he was leaving. It was killing him, all of it. Sarah’s death and his decision to leave crushed him. His pain and regret were obvious.

Then why? Why would he leave his newborn with someone he’d known less than a year?

So I agreed. I adopted a beautiful baby girl with soft tan skin, shiny black curls, and emerald green eyes. I became your mother that day.

Yep, that was her all right. So she was adopted. Her whole life had been a lie. She wasn’t sure how to feel about that.

Your dad was adamant about your safety. He asked me to change my last name—at the time it was Moore—and leave Idaho without telling anyone where I was going.

This was getting weirder and weirder.

I agreed. It was the least I could do. I was getting so much in return. He provided me with birth certificates, social security cards, and enough money to live on for years. And he provided you with even more.

So that’s where the mysterious money came from. Her… she had a hard time thinking the word
dad
… had left the money before leaving her.

He wanted you to have the opportunity to meet your family someday, but he asked me to wait until you’re grown before revealing the truth. He wanted you to be a normal kid and graduate high school without carrying this burden around, and he feared your safety would be greatly compromised if you searched for your birth family as a child. Because of that danger, he couldn’t be specific about how to locate them, and I’m sure you’ll find the clues as cryptic as I found them. But he insisted too much information could lead to unsafe circumstances, so I didn’t object.

Why? Why was it so unsafe for her? What could possibly pose such a threat?

This is so hard to explain in a letter, Layla. I plan on telling you this myself someday. This is just a precaution, in case I don’t get the chance.

She hadn’t gotten the chance. The tears returned.

I love you so much, honey, and since you’re reading this letter, I know you’re without a family right now. But you do have one out there somewhere, and I promise they love you very much. I saw the love in their hearts every second I was around them, and I firmly believe your safety was their top priority. Giving you up was a desperate attempt to shield you from a dangerous and sad situation, so I know your family misses you and wants you back. I’m sure they’ll understand if you can’t or don’t want to find them, but I urge you, Layla, take what little information I can give you and at least try.

So she had a family out there, somewhere, waiting for her to find them? The absurd idea sank in slowly, very slowly.

Here’s what I know. Your parents and grandparents admittedly gave me false names, but remember them anyway, because your grandparents will. Their names, as I knew them, were Chris Callaway (your father), Sarah Callaway (your mother), Jack and Susan Callaway (your dad’s parents), and Paul and Dianne Klein (your mother’s parents).

(I chose the name Callaway as our new surname when I adopted you. I thought it fitting and fair, and your father wholeheartedly agreed.)

Chris never told me where his parents lived, but he admitted that Sarah’s parents lived somewhere near Portland, Oregon. He and Sarah had a home in the area before moving to Ketchum. Portland was where he wanted you to start your search.

“That’s not much to go on,” Layla huffed.

I know, cryptic, but according to your dad, necessary.

There’s a picture included with this letter. The two in the photo are your mom and dad on their wedding day.

Layla reached into the envelope with a shaky hand, slowly pulling out a four-by-six photograph.

The man was muscular and statuesque. His pitch black hair hung straight, shiny and smooth, and his square jaw matched his angular nose. His emerald eyes seemed to smile, and his olive toned skin was darkened further by a summer tan. He was the epitome of tall, dark and handsome.

The woman was petite yet toned, with thick spirals of glossy, golden hair cascading to her hips. Her soft pink lips and cheeks contrasted beautifully with her flawless, ivory skin, and her round eyes were bright aqua blue. She had both arms around her husband’s waist, her body turned toward him, and he had one arm around her shoulders, the opposite hand holding her forearm. They both smiled beautifully at the camera, like it was a loving relative looking back at them, like it had said something sweet and entertaining.