“It was devastating, and I probably wasn’t thinking as clearly as I should have been. I’d miscarried before, you see, a couple of times, but early, when I was only a few weeks along. I read up on multiple miscarriages, saw that the doctors were starting to recommend baby aspirin, took it for a couple of months, and voilà, got pregnant again. That time, it stuck.
“Then Kyle was a shithead, and I lost the baby, and this doctor was so kind, and she made it so clear I couldn’t have another. She said she had a patient, a teenager, who was going to have a baby right when mine had been due, who wanted to put it up for adoption. A little girl, just like mine.
“She set everything up for us. It was a closed adoption. The mother didn’t ever want to be contacted. I suspect she had been raped or something because she was so adamant about giving up the baby and moving on. I met her once, two days later. She was pretty. Haggard, too haggard to be that young. She took one look at me and hugged me, said, ‘Thank you, take care of her,’ and then I didn’t hear or see anything until the baby was born. The doctor called, I went to the hospital, and took her home.”
Juliet is shaking her head.
“But your party, your stomach... I mean, I saw you in the last couple of months. You weren’t huge, but you looked pregnant. You never said you weren’t pregnant.”
“I was ashamed. Miscarriage wasn’t as out in the open as it is now. I didn’t want to talk to anyone about it. And I knew this was going to be a perfect solution. I wanted the baby. She was mine, and we agreed, and the doctor helped everything go smoothly, I didn’t see any reason to say anything.”
Juliet steers the truck off I-70 onto the Dillon exit.
“You’ve been lying for more than seventeen years,” she says, turning into the parking lot of the restaurant.
“I haven’t. Mindy is my daughter. She has been since before she was born.”
“It’s still a lie of omission. My God, Lauren.”
“You don’t get to judge me, Juliet. You don’t know the things I’ve been through. You don’t know me at all. You were just a child. What was I supposed to do, confide in you? You were worried about school, a science fair if I recall. This was way above your pay grade.”
“I’m not judging. I’m just saying, I’m family. You could have told me. Did Mom know?”
“No one knew.”
Juliet puts the truck into Park, turns in her seat. The light is dim in the car; they are parked in the shadow of the restaurant, and though the sun is glowing on the frozen lake, this small corner of the lot is steeped in shadows.
“Tell me the rest, Lauren. Why am I not supposed to talk to Jasper?” Juliet asks, her teeth clenched.
Lauren blows out a breath. “Because he doesn’t know. I’ve never told him I’m not Mindy’s biological mother.”
19
The silence in the truck is overwhelming. The enormity of what Lauren has just confided hits Juliet, hard. Lauren closes her eyes as if she realizes it’s too late; she can’t take it back. That everything is going to come out now, and she is powerless against it. She begins to worry at her stained sleeve. Juliet lays her hand on Lauren’s, and she stills.
Juliet starts to speak and stops a few times. She has to admit, the relief she feels is overwhelming. The idea of a baby switched at birth was almost too much to bear. This—adoption—will tear Mindy apart, but at least she’ll know she was raised with Lauren and Jasper because she was wanted, not because of a fluke mistake. And another family won’t be dragged into the judicial morass, either.
When she finally finds words, her tone is curious, detached. Not at all the judgmental little sister, but the rational scientist solving a puzzle.
“How could you not tell Jasper?”
“Because he didn’t care. When I met him, Mindy was a tiny, squalling, milk-sucking beastie. That’s all he knew. He was madly in love with her from day one, bless him. What did it matter?”
“I don’t know—he might think differently about her, about you?”
“She wasn’t his, and he loved her anyway. It wouldn’t have made a difference to him if he’d known I adopted her. He wouldn’t have cared. It didn’t matter,” she emphasizes again. “She’s mine. She is mine.”
“I understand how you feel. No one could have been a better mother to Mindy, Lauren. You’re an incredible mother. But she’s not biologically yours. And she’s sick. And we need to find a donor. Which means you need to ’fess up, big sister, to all of it, so we can go find Mindy’s birth mother and get her tested, right away.”
Lauren shakes her head. “It’s impossible.”
“I work for the CBI. Trust me when I say nothing is impossible.”
“But this is. I don’t know who the biological mother is. I don’t have an address. I don’t even remember the girl’s name, if I ever knew her real one, which I seriously doubt. She was a sweet, mixed-up Hispanic teenager who barely spoke English and was thrilled to be rid of the baby. Trust me, I doubt she’s ever looked back. I know I haven’t.”
“You paid her money. There will be a record—”
“Cash. Up front. No receipt. All that paperwork made me feel like I was buying a child, so I—we—agreed not to have any. There are no records to find.”
“Give me the doctor’s name, then.”
“I don’t have it.”
“Now you’re being stubborn.”
Lauren slams her fist into the dashboard. “You don’t understand.”
“I do understand. You’re trying to save your own skin because you’re worried Jasper is going to boot you out the door when he finds out you’ve been lying to him all these years.”
“No, you don’t understand. It’s impossible. The doctor has absolutely no information on the girl, no records, nothing. It was a closed, private adoption, with legal guarantees that I will never try to contact the birth mother.”
“In other words, it was an illegal adoption.”
“No. Not...illegal. I guaranteed I would never try to find her, that’s all.”
“Well, now you’re going to break that vow.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Yes, you are. Because if you don’t, I will.”
Lauren stares at her little sister. “What do you mean, you will? You will do nothing of the sort. This is my family, my decision. You don’t have a say.”
“I don’t have a say? She’s my niece. And I won’t let her die if there’s a way to save her life. You can’t possibly think you’re going to be able to keep this secret, do you? The doctors know she’s not your biological child. How long will it be before they slip in front of Jasper? He’s not stupid. He knows something’s wrong.”
“That’s not true.”
“You really do have blinders on, big sister. Everyone knows something’s up with you. Look at you. You’re disintegrating before our eyes. Look at your arm.”
Lauren glances down. She is bleeding again, has been clawing at her skin while Juliet confronts her. Juliet feels a strange recognition with this gesture, something long hidden rearing up. A fragment from the past, barely even a memory. Lauren across from her at the big round wooden table, the red checked tablecloth—it was Colorado, we got that at Target—playing with a bandage on her arm, fraying the edges, and their mother smacking Lauren’s hand away, yelling, “Stop doing that!”
Juliet doesn’t recall seeing Lauren do it ever again. Until now.
“Juliet, if Mindy dies—”
“If she dies, then you’ll tell? You think that will make this all right? This lie? This epic, world-changing lie?”
“Stop screaming at me. This is my life. My choice. I won’t break the rules that I set out for myself.”
“The rules you set out for yourself? Fuck yourself. This is Mindy’s life. Who cares what you think about the way things ought to have been done? This is what has to happen. And trust me, if you don’t step up, I will do it without you.”
“Do that, and I will never speak to you again, Juliet Ryder. I swear it.”
“Empty threats. You don’t speak to me now, Lauren. What difference would it make?”
The bitter words hang in the air between them.
“I’m not hungry anymore,” Lauren says, looking out the window.
“Neither am I,” Juliet replies. “This whole charade makes me sick. But we’re going to go inside and eat a proper meal because you are out of your mind, and maybe some food will help you think with clarity.”