LITMIR.BIZ

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led them down the corridor to Carolyn Lewis’s room. The hallway was narrow and cluttered with wheelchairs and walkers. The paint on the walls was chipped and marked, and a faint scent of baby powder and stale urine hung in the air.

      At the door, the aide entered and Mason stepped back, allowing Lisa to follow. “I’ll be right here,” he whispered.

      Apprehension rushed through her. She turned her face up to his. “Wish me luck.”

      He winked at her. “Good luck.”

      Clasping her purse with both hands, she walked in. At first, she wasn’t sure which of the two people was her mother. One woman sat in a wheelchair by the window, while the other lay on her bed, muttering to herself as she read the paper. Lisa hesitated.

      “Mrs. Lewis, you’ve got a visitor,” the aide said, moving toward the woman in the wheelchair.

      Lisa inched forward, her heart thudding. The woman shifted in her chair, pain skidding across her face at the movement. Her gaze was direct as she looked up at Lisa. “Who are you?”

      “I’m Lisa.”

      “No… It can’t be. Lisa, is that really you?” Carolyn extended her hands, her long, bony fingers quivering. “Tell me I’m not dreaming.”

      Lisa’s mouth was suddenly dry. “You’re not. I’m Lisa, your daughter.”

      Joy lit her mother’s expression, her face trans formed by a smile as Carolyn Lewis’s eyes roved slowly over Lisa. “You look so much like your father,” she murmured.

      Relieved that her mother recognized her, Lisa slid into the chair beside her. “I look like my dad,” she whispered. Happiness brought a smile to her face as she took her mother’s hand. She wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. Moving closer, she kissed her mother’s cheek.

      “Yes, there’s so much of your father in you. He had high cheekbones, too—very aristocratic. You have his blue eyes and blond hair.”

      Gently she touched Lisa’s hair. “Oh, my darling daughter, I’ve wanted to meet you for so long. You have no idea what it’s like to live in hope that one day you’ll see your little girl again,” she said, a smile trembling on her lips.

      Words abandoned Lisa as she met her mother’s eager gaze.

      Carolyn appeared much older than Lisa had envisioned. With her gray-streaked hair pulled up in a bun and her face devoid of any makeup, she looked aged, worn-out. As much as she hated herself for doing it, Lisa couldn’t help comparing Carolyn with her immaculately groomed adoptive mother, who had never missed a hair or manicure appointment.

      Yet as she sat there, studying this woman who held her past, the words slipped out. “Why didn’t you come for me? Why did you leave me alone all these years? I needed you—”

      Carolyn softly stroked Lisa’s cheek, her eyes alight with love and caring. “I couldn’t. I promised your parents I wouldn’t try to contact you if they’d provide a good life for you.”

      “But why did you give me up? Surely you had family to turn to after my dad died.”

      “I had no brothers or sisters, and my parents were gone. My sister-in-law, your aunt Helen—God rest her soul—did what she could to help me.”

      Her mother pulled Lisa’s hands into her lap. “Let me explain. I was four months pregnant when we had the accident. Your father died after a week in the hospital, and I nearly lost you from the trauma. Then I spent months trying to regain the use of my legs.”

      “I’m so sorry,” Lisa said, squeezing her mother’s fingers.

      “They were expensive months, and not only that, I suffered permanent physical damage. I couldn’t pay the hospital bills or put bread on the table. Even with insurance there were still extra medical bills to pay, plus funeral expenses, and we had very little in savings. I would’ve found a way to keep you if I’d been able to work, but it wasn’t possible.”

      Overcome with a sense of regret, Lisa glanced away, her eyes coming to rest on several photographs that stood on the windowsill behind her mother. “Do I have…family?”

      “You have an older sister, Anne Marie.” Her mother reached for a framed photo on the window ledge and passed it to Lisa. Smiling at the camera was a tall woman with short brown hair and glasses, wearing a yellow tank top and shorts.

      A sister. I have a sister. Delight tugged at her as she picked up the photo, searching for clues about her sister. “What’s she like? Where does she live? What kind of music does she listen to? Does she play sports? I’m hopeless at anything but tennis,” she admitted, eager to learn everything she could about her sister.

      “Anne Marie played basketball in high school.”

      Lisa held the picture in unsteady hands, fighting back hurt that her mother had somehow managed to keep in touch with Anne Marie and not her. “What happened to Anne Marie? Where did she live after the accident?”

      “Anne Marie was five when your father died. I was afraid that if I approached an agency, they’d take her from me because I couldn’t care for her, and I’d never see her again. I couldn’t lose both my children—” She choked on the words.

      “If your aunt Helen hadn’t taken Anne Marie, I don’t know what I would’ve done. As it turned out, I got word that a lawyer in Tampa who knew Mrs. Clarke had found a home for you. The lawyer told me that your parents couldn’t have children and they wanted to adopt a baby girl. With no money coming in except social security—which didn’t even cover the cost of my medical bills—I had to believe you’d be better off with a couple with the money to give you what you needed. I wouldn’t have let you go with them if I’d had any choice.”

      “Why couldn’t Aunt Helen raise me?” Lisa asked, unwilling to think that giving her up had been that simple.

      “She was divorced with very little income, and she had two toddlers of her own. Besides, if you had the chance to have every advantage in life, at least I could give you that opportunity,” her mother said, voice shaking. “I wanted you to have what I’d never be able to provide for you. The doctors told me my legs would never be right again, which meant I couldn’t earn a living. Anne Marie was about to start kindergarten when Grant died. I was afraid she would be traumatized by being taken away from her mother, her home. You were just a baby, you wouldn’t remember any other life but the one you had with the Clarkes. If I could have kept you both, I would have. But look around you, what kind of life would you have had here with me?”

      “Did you ever try to contact me, to see if I was doing okay? You didn’t just let me go, did you? How could you do that?” Lisa asked, holding her loneliness at bay. “I wanted you. I needed to know who you were, who I was.”

      Tears pooled in Carolyn’s eyes as her voice sputtered. “I… It—it was a long time ago, and I made a promise to your parents. For the most part, I kept that promise so I wouldn’t cause trouble for you.”

      Lisa bit back a sharp retort. What good would it do to take out her anger on this woman who was convinced she’d done the right thing? “I wish—”

      “Look here,” Carolyn said, her face suddenly suffused with excitement. “I have something to show you.” She turned her wheelchair to the window and picked up a black-and-while photo in a silver frame. “Do you remember this?”

      Lisa took the photo, staring at it in disbelief. It was a picture of her standing with a girl she had met that unforgettable day in front of Smiley’s hot-dog stand. “We were vacationing in Myrtle Beach. I was eight. My mother didn’t want me near the water. She was afraid I’d drown. But Dad let me go, and I met this girl on the beach. We played together most of the afternoon.”

      She smiled at the memory. “I was so pleased that someone older was willing to play with me and treated me like a big kid. We had a great time in the water. I’ll always remember that day. Her name was Mary. How did you get this?”

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