Chapter 14 - The Mother Who Never Stopped Looking
Julia Bennett was fifty-two years old and lived in a modest house outside Pittsburgh.
She worked at a public library.
She had married once, divorced nine years later, and never had another child.
When Elena first contacted her, Julia refused to speak.
Then she called back.
"Did you say the young woman's name was Tessa?"
"Yes."
A long silence followed.
"Does she have a small scar beneath her left eyebrow?"
Elena didn't know.
She asked Tessa.
Tessa touched the thin white mark.
She'd had it for as long as she could remember.
"Yes."
When Elena relayed the answer, Julia began sobbing.
Two days later, Tessa agreed to meet her.
The meeting took place in a private conference room at Elena's office.
Damian offered to accompany Tessa.
She considered it.
Then said, "I need to do this myself."
He nodded.
"I understand."
Tessa looked at him.
"Will you be here afterward?"
"Yes."
She studied his face.
"Not because you have to."
"I know."
Julia arrived carrying a worn leather purse.
She was smaller than Tessa expected.
Her hair was dark, threaded with gray.
Her eyes were green.
The same shade as Tessa's.
For several seconds, neither woman moved.
Then Julia whispered, "Oh."
Tessa swallowed.
"Hello."
Julia pressed a hand against her mouth.
"I don't know what to say."
"Neither do I."
They sat across from each other.
A box of tissues rested between them.
Julia stared at Tessa's hands.
"You have my mother's fingers."
Tessa looked down.
She wanted to feel something immediate.
Recognition.
Love.
Certainty.
Instead, she felt frightened.
"Did you give me away?"
Julia's expression crumpled.
"No."
Tessa gripped the edge of the table.
"Then what happened?"
Julia began speaking slowly.
She'd been twenty-five.
Unmarried.
Working two jobs.
Her pregnancy had been difficult, and she had been referred to Saint Agnes through a charitable medical program.
After delivery, she suffered complications and remained heavily medicated during recovery.
A social worker told her the baby needed specialized observation.
Then another person told her the child had been placed in temporary care.
Julia demanded information.
She was told she'd signed papers.
She insisted she hadn't knowingly agreed to adoption.
For months, she tried to locate her daughter.
Lawyers were expensive.
Records were sealed.
The clinic closed amid controversy.
And every office sent her somewhere else.
"I wrote letters," Julia whispered. "Hundreds of them."
Tessa's eyes filled.
"To who?"
"Anyone who might know where you were."
Julia opened her purse.
Inside was a small bundle of faded envelopes.
Copies.
Returned mail.
Notes from agencies.
And photographs.
One showed a newborn wrapped in a pale pink blanket.
Julia touched the image.
"That's you."
Tessa stared.
There was no dramatic flash of memory.
No miraculous sense of reunion.
Only a tiny face she'd never seen before.
Her own.
"Why didn't you find me?"
Julia began crying.
"I tried."
Tessa looked at her.
"For how long?"
Julia wiped her cheeks.
"Until I couldn't afford another lawyer. Then I kept writing letters every year on your birthday."
She handed over a small notebook.
Twenty-six entries.
One for every September since Tessa's birth, including the recent birthday.
Tessa opened to the first page.
Dear baby girl,
Today you are one year old. I hope whoever is holding you knows that you like being rocked while somebody sings.
Tessa closed the notebook.
She couldn't breathe.
Julia reached toward her.
Then stopped.
"May I?"
Tessa looked at her hand.
She shook her head.
"Not yet."
Julia withdrew immediately.
"Of course."
That simple acceptance broke something open.
For the first time since the investigation began, Tessa felt that the truth might not require her to surrender control over her own life.
They talked for another hour.
Tessa learned that Julia liked gardening, hated mayonnaise, and had worked in libraries for nearly twenty years.
Julia learned about Emily.
About Margaret.
About the diner.
About Tessa's love of old paperback mysteries.
When she heard Emily had died, Julia wept.
"I'm so sorry you lost your sister."
Tessa's voice shook.
"She was my family."
Julia nodded.
"Then she always will be."
Those words mattered more than anything else Julia could have said.
The meeting ended without an embrace.
But Tessa accepted Julia's phone number.
Outside, Damian was waiting beside his car.
He didn't approach until she saw him.
Tessa walked toward him.
He studied her face.
"How was it?"
She tried to answer.
Instead, she began crying.
Damian opened his arms slightly.
An invitation.
Not a demand.
Tessa stepped into them.
He held her while she wept.
He didn't tell her everything was going to be okay.
He didn't promise to solve anything.
He simply stayed.
Later, as he drove her home, Tessa said, "She didn't abandon me."
Damian nodded.
"No."
"Margaret didn't steal me, either. At least, I don't think she did."
"We're still learning what happened."
Tessa stared out the window.
"I spent my whole life thinking I had one mother."
"And now?"
She wiped her eyes.
"Now I think I had two women who tried to protect me. And maybe another who wanted to."
Damian knew she meant Beatrice.
For a moment, he couldn't speak.
Then Tessa asked, "What happens when Salvatore realizes we know?"
Damian's face darkened.
"He already knows we're investigating."
"Is he going to hurt us?"
Damian looked at her.
"I can't promise he won't try."
Tessa nodded slowly.
"Then promise me something else."
"What?"
"Don't become your father trying to protect me."
Damian gripped the steering wheel.
It was the most difficult promise anyone had ever asked him to make.
May you like
"All right," he said.
And this time, he intended to keep it.
