Somewhere Between Luck and Trust (17 page)

Cristy nodded. “I think he’s right. Ruby is the birthstone for July, and there’s a crab near it, for the horoscope sign Cancer. So I think it’s a pretty safe bet the owner was born in July. But it’s also worth pointing out that while the bracelet and the charms are good quality, a cut above the usual, they aren’t diamond-studded. They could be. I saw a diamond-studded charm in a shop window once for hundreds of dollars.”

As soon as she said it, she wondered if Georgia realized this was the same shop where she’d been accused of shoplifting.

If she did, Georgia said nothing. “I’m not sure charms as expensive as that were common when this bracelet was put together, but I think you’re right, that the charms could be more expensive than these, even back then. So it might indicate something about her background.”

“There’s a lot more.”

“We’ve figured out she probably went to the University of Georgia. The bulldog is the mascot.”

“Which matches up to the sweatshirt you were wrapped in,” Cristy said carefully, not sure how painful the subject was for Georgia.

“It’s more evidence they’re connected. We think she was a cheerleader.” Georgia pointed out the megaphone.

“I think she had a sister named Dottie.” Cristy pointed to a charm that said “Little Sis” on one side and “Dottie” on the other.

“Or she was in a sorority and had a little sister in the sorority.”

“Didn’t think of that,” Cristy said. “I don’t know a lot about sororities. But here’s one I can’t figure out a bit.” She held up a round charm about one inch in diameter. “And it has writing on it. Not what I do best.”

“Don’t feel bad. Unless you read Latin, you wouldn’t be able to decipher the words in the middle anyway. Lucas said he had to get a magnifying glass. It reads
Nisi Dominus Frustra.
My own Latin’s pretty awful, but he looked it up. Basically it means, ‘without the Lord, all is in vain.’”

“And around it?”

“
Teenage Volunteer.
And there’s a
J
and a
G
inscribed on the back, and a date.”

“I guess those could be her initials.” Cristy moved on since there was little else to say about that one. “It has a lot of music charms.”

“I know. Maybe she played in the school band. This looks like a French horn.”

“She probably took ballet as a girl.” Cristy fingered a ballet slipper.

“Like every little girl from every middle-class family in America.” Georgia held up the next one. “This charm is from a place in Florida called Cypress Gardens. I found it on the internet. It’s gone now, but in the days before Disney World it used to be a big tourist attraction. And here’s a palm tree,” she found another and turned it up for Cristy to see, “which could indicate more time in Florida. Maybe she even lived there.”

“But there’s a peanut, and that’s more Georgia than Florida.”

“You barely looked at this, and you already have these charms nearly memorized.”

Cristy felt the praise warm her. “I guess when you can’t fall back on books or the internet to look things up, you have to pay a lot of attention to everything else.”

“One more, then I’ll leave you alone. What do you think about this one?” Georgia found a charm and held it up for Cristy to examine. It was a Bible.

“That’s easy. She was a Christian, and if she didn’t choose it for herself somebody took religion seriously enough to give it to her. Maybe her family, or a Sunday-school teacher.” Cristy flipped it open to reveal tiny print and held it up for Georgia to see. “What passage is this?”

“It’s the Lord’s Prayer.”

Cristy wondered how a minister’s daughter could fail to recognize something so basic and important, despite not being able to read.

Georgia reached over as if to take the bracelet, but instead she squeezed Cristy’s hand, as if she understood her thoughts. “What about the date on the back? Vacation Bible camp maybe?”

At least Cristy knew the answer to that. “No, it’s the day she was saved, the day she found Jesus. Somebody thought that was so important they engraved it on the charm for her to keep forever. I’ve seen it before. I had friends who wore bracelets with their own dates and a Bible saying.”

Georgia sat back and nodded. “I didn’t think of that, and neither did Lucas.”

“But you know what?” Cristy reconsidered her next words, but decided to go ahead. “If she really took that moment seriously, if it really changed her life, would she slap the charm on a bracelet between a high school diploma and a basketball?”

“If she was as young as we think she was,” Georgia said, “maybe she would have.”

Cristy wondered if the woman who had left Georgia in a sink had simply been young or something more disturbing. Because even though she was young herself, she could not imagine abandoning an infant.

Then she realized that in her own way, she had done exactly that.

Chapter Nineteen

SAMANTHA WAS GLAD
to see Cristy on the porch, and she wondered if she was still working on the reading lesson she and Georgia had finished earlier. Samantha had nearly passed her mother on the way, and they had stopped beside a field to talk, while Edna and Maddie, who were with her, had hopped out to collect plant material to make arrangements like Cristy’s.

Samantha had been so young herself when her own reading problems had surfaced that the only thing she remembered—besides having to do eye exercises when she would have preferred to be outside running wild—was a sense of shame that other children could do what she couldn’t. It was a small insight into Cristy’s feelings, but any insight helped.

By the time they got near the porch, Cristy had put away her things and was waiting on the steps. She looked glad to see them, which reassured Samantha.

She hadn’t called to announce her plans. Cristy wasn’t the Goddess House hostess, and the trustees had decided it was better to continue coming and going whenever they could, just as they always had. That way Cristy wasn’t in the position of feeling she needed to entertain them when they arrived.

“Isn’t this a glorious day?” Cristy asked.

She looked as if she meant it, which pleased Samantha. Depression was common during transitions like the one Cristy was going through, and isolation could compound that. Samantha was glad the girl had agreed to have Georgia tutor her, and also that she’d found a job. She was still very much alone out here, but at least she had places to go and things to do.

“Can we work in the garden?” Edna asked Cristy. “In the little plot you said we could have?”

“Of course you can.” Cristy beamed at them. “I’ve been working and working on pulling weeds, but the more you pull, the better. You know where the tools are.”

“Watch out for snakes,” Samantha said, a reflex more than an actual concern. Copperheads and rattlers were always possibilities here, but she suspected that, between them, the girls would make enough noise to scare away a raging bull.

Samantha watched the pair run up the incline to the garden, Edna going slower than she might have so Maddie could keep up. Edna’s hair was wild, flying behind her like streamers twirling in the wind. Maddie’s soft brown hair was shorter than it had been last year, layered and collar-length now, to blend into the area that had been shaved for surgery. So far the girl had not experienced another seizure since she had come out of the anesthesia, although she had experienced numbness at the surgical site, and for a while an inability to lift one eyebrow. But that and very natural fatigue had passed, and she was back in school after an absence of months. She had kept up with her class at home, and seemed to be adjusting.

“She seems like any other child,” Cristy said, watching the girls. “Taylor must be so glad she had the surgery.”

“Taylor resisted it hard enough that nobody who knew her thought she would ever give in.”

“Not even knowing it could cure her?”

“Well, we don’t know it did. Not yet. Maddie will be on seizure meds for another year, probably two, before they try to wean her off. But it really does look like she’s going to be much, much better.”

“Why did Taylor fight it so hard?”

“She’s like the rest of us. She was afraid of what she didn’t know and couldn’t reliably predict. You know how that is. The higher the stakes, the harder the decision.” Samantha found Cristy’s gaze and held it. “I think you know that better than most people.”

Cristy looked at the ground. “I guess.”

Samantha and Georgia had chatted about this at the stopover. Now she took a chance. “How’s Michael doing?”

Cristy didn’t seem surprised at the transition. “Berdine says he’s doing great. I talked to her last night. She has the number here now. And I told her to give it to my sister, too, so I guess that’s what you call ‘reaching out to family.’”

“I’m glad to hear it, Cristy. It’s too easy to draw into yourself after everything you’ve been through. But you’re trying hard not to.”

“I haven’t seen him yet.” Cristy looked up, a little defiant. “I guess that makes me a bad mother.”

“I don’t think so.” Samantha let that speak for itself.

“I don’t know how you
can’t.
He’s my son, and I don’t want to be near him.”

“Do you know why?”

Cristy answered by crossing to the glider and sitting down, or rather, Samantha thought, sinking down, because suddenly she seemed to be weighted by the conversation. Samantha joined her and they rocked silently for a while.

Cristy answered at last. “I’ve gotten in the car twice and pulled out of the driveway to make the trip. The third time I actually got a couple of miles down the road before I turned around. But I had to sit there first for a good fifteen minutes, until I stopped shaking. I’m afraid to see him.”

Samantha just waited, confident Cristy would continue, and she did.

“He’s Jackson’s son. I saw him in the hospital the day he was born, and I saw right away that he looks like his daddy. All I could think about was that. Jackson made me pregnant, then he fixed things so I would be arrested and sent to prison. And there I was after nine horrible, horrible months, this little baby staring up at me out of his father’s eyes.”

Samantha heard the tears in Cristy’s voice. She knew she was taking a chance, but she put her arm around her and pulled her close. “Go ahead and cry,” she said softly. “It’s not going to hurt anybody.”

“I’m a terrible person!”

“No.”

“That morning I handed him back to the nurse and told her to take him away. I know she thought I was just doing it because I thought it would be more painful if I waited and did it later. But the truth? I wanted him
gone.
I didn’t want...to hold Jackson’s son!” She began to cry.

Samantha stroked her hair. “Well, nobody’s blaming you for that. After what you went through? Of course you were angry. Of course you were confused. It’s natural.”

“It’s not natural...to not love your own child.”

“It
is
natural if the way you brought that child into the world was as dark and miserable as what you went through.”

“He’s a little baby. Nothing that happened is his fault.”

“Of course not, but you’re trying to be logical, and the heart never is.”

“Every time Berdine talks about him? I see Jackson in my mind. I can’t imagine Michael’s just a baby. I just imagine Jackson, laughing at me, at what he did to me, and the way I played right into his hands the day he had me arrested. What if Michael’s like his father? It’s got to be a sickness, needing power over people, being willing to do anything, anything at
all,
to people who love you. And I’m not the only person Jackson hurt. He’s a dangerous man. I know for a fact that he’s a—” She stopped.

Samantha wasn’t sure whether to follow up on that, but she thought perhaps not. This conversation wasn’t really about Jackson. This conversation was about Cristy and her baby son.

“We don’t know for sure why some people turn out the way he did,” Samantha said. “Some people think they’re born that way, but I think how you turn out is more about the way you’re raised, about the people who love you and guide you. And Michael is your child every bit as much as he’s Jackson’s. There’s no reason to think he’ll turn out to be anything like his father. Did you turn out like either of your parents?”

“No!”

“Well, I’m still hoping I turn out to be as strong and filled with purpose as my mother, but if I do, it’ll be because she was such a great role model. And it seems to me you’ve given Michael good role models to follow already. People who pitch in when they’re needed. People who love children and take good care of them.”

“All of you...” Cristy wiped her eyes on the hem of her T-shirt. “Look at you. You’re raising Edna without a father, and Taylor’s raising Maddie—”

“Both Taylor and I had support from our families.”

“Well, what about Harmony? She’s the mommy model of the year.”

Samantha smiled, because it was, in its own way, true. She moved away just far enough to open her purse and find a pack of tissues to give Cristy.

“Harmony had
Charlotte.
Charlotte took her in and helped her figure out what made sense for her. But Charlotte never told her what she thought. Harmony had to decide for herself. And let’s face it, she’s had support ever since. If she needs help, somebody’s right there, mostly the Reynoldses. Of course she helps them just as much, but Marilla, especially, keeps her eye on things, just to be sure Harmony’s doing okay with Lottie. And she is, no question. But she’s
not
doing it alone.”

“Did Harmony have to think and think about whether she wanted Lottie?” Cristy asked, clearly expecting Samantha to say no, so that she could point out how different they were.

“She did, as a matter of fact. She considered abortion, checked it out—an option you never really had, I know, since the government won’t pay for inmates. Then she looked into adoption as a possibility. She even considered marrying the baby’s father—almost did, in fact, even though she knew he wouldn’t be the right kind of father and husband. When she had Lottie, she’d already gone through all those decisions and found the right one. But it’s the right one for her, not for everybody else. You’re still checking. That’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“I didn’t have choices. My choices were taken away.”

Samantha couldn’t let that stand. “You did, Cristy. You could have put the baby up for adoption immediately. And you could have taken custody again right after you got out of prison, and you chose not to. You’ve chosen to consider this carefully. In the long run, that’s always a good decision. Michael’s in a great home for now, while you work your way toward knowing what’s right for both of you.”

“I still have to see him. And...I’m afraid to.”

“Okay, that’s being honest, and that’s important. You’re scared. Scared he’ll still remind you of Jackson?”

Cristy gave a short nod.

“Scared you won’t love him?”

She gave another.

“Well, what if both things turn out to be true? What if you really can’t love Michael? Giving him up would be a lot better than telling yourself a lie. Because then you would have to live with that for the rest of your life, and generally when we do that, we don’t behave the way we should.”

“I could try to love him.”

“You could. You might even succeed. It might take a while, but eventually you might wake up one morning and realize he’s a wonderful boy and you’re lucky to have him.”

“Do you think that would happen?”

“I don’t think there are any percentages. Michael’s going to feel like a stranger to you for a long time. You’ve been away from him when most mothers are bonding with their children. And on top of that, you have all that awful baggage it’s going to be hard to get rid of.”

“But I might.”

“Of course, but no matter what, I think there’s good news here. You have time. Once you decide you’re ready to see him, you can go to your cousin’s knowing you don’t have to make another decision. Just deciding to see him is enough for a while. Then you can take it slowly. Go back. Stay longer. See how you feel.”

“It’s not really fair to him. He’ll be older. It’ll be harder for a family to love him.”

Samantha considered her words carefully. “Does your cousin want to adopt him?”

Cristy didn’t answer, and Samantha was sorry she had asked. This might be more than the girl needed to think about.

“I don’t know,” Cristy said at last. “Berdine has never said anything like that.”

Samantha didn’t push. “For now, I think you just have to go slowly, no matter what you think that might do to Michael. He’s still an infant. Do you know how many people would sell their soul for a healthy baby to love? Right now you just have to think about yourself, and whether you can be the mother you want to be. That’s enough, don’t you think?”

“I feel like I’m only a tiny piece of the person I want to be.” Cristy wiped her nose, then she blew it for good measure.

“I know what you mean.”

“How can you feel that way? You do everything exactly right.”

“You might be surprised. Someday I’ll tell you about all the things I’ve done wrong. And here I am, still putting one foot in front of the other. Which is where you’ll be next year and the year after and when you’re ninety. Because that’s what we have to do.”

“Yeah, but isn’t putting one foot in front of the other supposed to get you somewhere?”

Samantha laughed, then she gave Cristy another quick hug. “It is, but nobody ever said we’re allowed to see
where
we’re going until we get there.”