ADELINE

 

BARBARA TAKES ME to her home in the outskirts of Brooklyn.  It's an older English cottage style house, and there's a lovely scent of apples and cinnamon the moment we enter the front door.  The entire place has a homey type feeling that instantly puts me at ease.

After helping me sit on a comfy chair at the round, oak kitchen table in the small dining room, Barbara sets off to the kitchen to make us lunch.  When she first mentioned food on the way here, my stomach rumbled so loud it was embarrassing.  I honestly can't remember the last time I ate.  My father's been keeping me locked up in my room, probably hoping I'll starve to death.  Or hoping something bad will happen to the baby, I think to myself sadly.

When Barbara sets a grilled cheese and tomato sandwich and a glass of cold water in front of me, I sigh in relief and almost begin to cry at her kindheartedness.  "Thank you," I tell her, blinking back my tears.

She sits down and reaches over to pat my hand.  "You're welcome, dear."

As we eat, Barbara tells me about her childhood growing up in Brooklyn.  She was raised by her mother and father, who are both now deceased.  She was married to her high school sweetheart, but her husband also passed recently to cancer.  She confesses to me that she just turned fifty-five, and she doesn't feel old enough to be a widow.

And then she tells me about the worst day of her life.

"I was sixteen.  I had been walking home from school when it happened."  She takes a long sip of coffee before she continues.  "He was older, maybe in his forties at the time.  A police artist sketch of his face had been all over the news.  He'd been kidnapping and raping young girls for a while back then.  All the girls in school had been told to use the buddy system, never walk home alone, but I never thought it could happen to me."  She shakes her head sadly.  "No…you never think anything bad can happen when you're that young."  Sighing, she sets down her coffee mug.  "Anyway, you can guess what happened next.  A few months later I found out I was pregnant."

Tears form in my eyes as I listen to her story.  It's hard to imagine a woman this kind ever saw that kind of evil when she was just a girl.

"I was scared to tell anyone, even my parents.  But eventually my mom figured it out.  Motherly intuition and all that," she tells me with a wink.  "Does your mother know about…?" she asks, her voice trailing off and eyes falling to my flat stomach.

"My mother died shortly after I was born," I tell her on a whisper.

"Oh, dear," she says, her face falling.  She pats my hand again in reassurance.  "I'm so sorry to hear that."

I give her a small smile.  "It's okay.  I don't remember her."  And then I add, "It's probably better that way."

Barbara clears her throat.  "So anyway, my parents took me to the police station to report the crime.  I gave such a good description that they actually caught the guy within a week.  He had been wearing his work jacket that night, had forgotten to take it off, and I remembered the logo on the chest pocket."  She shakes her head as if to clear herself of the terrible memory.  "I had a choice to make.  Keep the baby or not.  And when a baby is forced into a situation the way my rapist had forced me…I felt like I had no other choice.  I went to a clinic…just as you did.  I went into a room…just as you did.  And then I left without going through with it…just like you did."

She stands and goes to a shelf on the wall to gather two picture frames.  She sets them down in front of me with a big smile on her face that could light up the whole world.  Her finger points to a small boy on the left picture.  "This is James.  He came into this world on June 8th, 1978."  Then she points to the next photo frame.  "And this is a family portrait we had taken before my husband passed."

My eyes widen at the big family full of kids and grandkids.  "Wow," I whisper.

"Yeah," she says with a laugh.  "Paul, my husband, and I were high school sweethearts.  After everything happened…he was there for me.  Paul didn't blame me for any of it.  And he raised James as his own….along with our other five boys."

"Six boys total?" I ask in surprise.  Sounds like my family except my mother gave birth to seven girls.

She nods with a grin on her face.  "Yeah, we started early, and we both came from big families, so…it just sort of happened," she says with a shrug.  "I ended up with six ornery boys and never did get the girl I always wanted to try to even out the odds of being in a house full of men.  Not that Paul and I didn't try…and not that he ever minded all that trying," she says with a chuckle.

I laugh right along with her, and it feels so good to experience some other emotion other than sadness for once.

After a while, our laughter ceases, and Barbara's expression grows serious.  "When I saw you walking into the clinic, I knew you felt alone.  I knew you felt like you had no one on your side."

I swallow hard at her words and nod.

"I knew exactly how you felt, because at one point I felt the exact same way.  And that's why I spend a few days a week standing in front of clinics.  Some girls aren't lucky enough to have anyone in their corner.  I was fortunate to have a great support system once I asked for help, and it kept me from making the biggest regret of my life."  She smiles adoringly down at the photos in her hands.  "We all have choices to make on this earth, and sometimes just one person reminding us of that fact and just being there for us can change everything."

Barbara sets the photo frames down and takes her seat once again at the table.  "Now that I've told you my story, what do you say you tell me yours?"

 

* * * * * * *

I TELL BARBARA everything, leaving almost nothing out.  She stays quiet through most of the story, sometimes dabbing her eyes with a tissue or shaking her head sadly.

"I knew I couldn't go through with it."  I move my hand to my stomach.  "This is the only thing I have left of Lucien."  Tears fill my eyes, and I can't stop them from spilling over this time.  "He would have taken care of us.  I know that.  He was troubled, but he was getting so much better.  I was making him better."

Barbara offers me a tissue, and I take it.  "It sounds like you made the right choice leaving your father.  But what are you going to do now, dear?"

I stare at the table, tracing the ingrain of the dark wood with my eyes.  "I don't know."  I glance at my duffle bag by the front door.  "Right about now my father is probably figuring out that I stole from him and disappeared."  Releasing a shaky breath, I whisper, "They're probably searching for me."

I think back to the hours before he made me go to the clinic.  While the house was quiet and my father out for the evening, I snuck into his private office and opened his safe.  I had the combination memorized since I had seen him lock and unlock it so many times over the years. 

My father trusted me to never betray him.  That was a mistake.

His other mistake was making the code easy to remember — my mother's birthday.

What I wasn't expecting to see inside the safe on the top shelf among precious coins and jewelry was…the watch Lucien had given me.

My father had kept it and hadn't destroyed it like I'd assumed.  Maybe he was going to try to see if he could track Lucien down somehow with it.  Who knows.

Just seeing the rose gold band had given me more strength and confidence than I had had in the previous days.  I'd gently tucked the watch into the inside zippered pouch of the duffle before putting stack after stack of hundred dollar bills into the bottom of the bag.

Then, later on, in the safety of my room, I'd piled clothes and other personal items I thought I would need on top of the money.  If my father had asked to see inside the bag, I was hoping all he would see was the clothing and believe the lie that I had been rehearsing in my head over and over again.  "The clinic told me to pack some extra clothes," I had planned on saying.

That was a tense moment when my father met me at the door before I left…not knowing if he would check the bag or not…if he would believe my lies or not.

He'd questioned the bag, but he believed my lie…wholeheartedly.  And why?  Because I was his perfect daughter, and I had never given him a reason not to trust me in the past.

I bet he's regretting not checking my bag now.

Knotting my fingers in my lap, I tell Barbara, "I need to hide.  As soon as I can figure out a place to go, I'll get out of your hair and —."

She puts her hand up to stop me.  "If I threw a poor pregnant girl out on the street with nowhere to go, I could never live with myself.  My mind was made up the moment I helped you into my car, Adeline."  She slowly stands.  "You can stay here for as long as you like.  This neighborhood is quiet, secluded.  And there is a doctor right down the street who can look at your ankle.  He owes me a favor since I saved his rose bush last year from a bad frost," she adds with a wink.

Her offer is extremely generous, but could I really accept it?  This woman doesn't even know me besides the little bits and pieces about my life that I confessed to her.  She could be in danger.  "I couldn't impose," I tell her hurriedly.

"You're not imposing.  I'm insisting," she says, smiling at me.

I smile back at her.  "Well…maybe for a few days."

She nods.  "It's settled then.  A few days."  And as she walks into the kitchen, I swear I hear her say, "Maybe a little longer."