Unintended Consequences - By Marti Green

Epilogue





Two Months Later


Sunny and Dani sat at American Airlines’ Gate 39 at LaGuardia Airport, waiting to board their flight to Pittsburgh. She’d called Dani two days ago and told her she was finally ready to meet George and Sallie.

“What made you change your mind?” Dani asked.

“I’ve been seeing a counselor. She’s helped me sort through what I’m feeling.”

“And?”

“And I guess I’m a little clearer now. It was all so jumbled before. I had these wild swings between anger and guilt. Anger at them for abandoning me. Guilt for what they suffered. Everyone told me I wasn’t responsible for what happened, but those feelings wouldn’t go away.”

“What changed?”

“The counselor helped me understand that some of my guilt came from not having any feelings at all for them, for the Calhouns. I mean, after all, they gave birth to me. I thought I should have felt more gratitude for what they sacrificed. But they’re strangers to me. I don’t remember them at all. So instead I felt guilty. And angry. Now I want to get to know them. And I want them to be part of Rachel’s life. I’m ready for that.”

“I’m glad.”

They sat quietly reading, Sunny a Nicolas Sparks novel, Dani a newspaper.

“Sunny?”

She looked up from her book. “You have to keep your expectations low with Sallie,” Dani reminded her.

Sunny nodded. Dani had told her of Sallie’s belief that she had murdered Angelina by leaving her sick and alone at the Mayo Clinic. And how, during the two years before the police came knocking on her door, that belief had worn away at her tenuous hold on reality. Sunny could understand. She would go crazy if she were faced with that Hobson’s choice for Rachel. Thankfully, with Rachel’s father being a doctor, that would never happen.

Sunny had been told that Sallie had made strides at the halfway house. George visited her regularly, but it remained uncertain whether they’d reunite as husband and wife. She hoped they did. She wanted them to salvage some happiness after the misery they’d endured. If becoming part of their lives helped that to come about, she would do it even though they were strangers to her. It would be a minuscule sacrifice on her part.


Traffic moved at a snail’s pace as they made their way in the rental car from Pittsburgh International Airport to Sharpsburg. The overhead signs warned them of construction two miles ahead. Sunny had barely spoken a word on the flight, and she was no more talkative now. Dani fiddled with the radio dial, found a classic rock station and settled in for the ride.

They were a half-hour late by the time they arrived at George’s home. A small woman leaning on a cane, her gray hair falling softly to her chin, greeted them at the door. The smell of freshly baked pie wafted from the kitchen.

“I’m Margaret,” the woman said, “George’s mother.” She took Sunny’s hands in her own and squeezed them. “They’re in the living room, dear,” she said as she pointed to the right. “They’ve been so nervous waiting for you.” She looked Sunny up and down. “My, my, you’ve become such a beautiful woman. I never thought I’d see this day. Go, go ahead inside.”

Sunny’s eyes were glued to the ground. She felt a wave of fear. She remained rooted in place, and Dani took her hand and brought her into the living room. It was a small space that looked as if it hadn’t been redecorated in forty years, yet it had a hominess that reminded Sunny of her childhood home in Byron. Even with her eyes fixed on the floor, she could see two pairs of feet, George’s and Sallie’s, side by side.

“Hello, Sunny,” Sallie said.

At the sound of her voice, Sunny looked up. Sallie, a wide smile on her face, wore a summery frock. Her hair looked freshly washed and her cheeks were pink. With Sunny’s first glimpse of the man and woman standing across the room, a spark of recognition flashed before her. They looked different, older, more worn, but snippets of images returned to her. She saw her mother combing Sunny’s long, blond hair, telling her how pretty she was. More pictures. Of her and her mother planting marigolds in the garden, Sunny covered with dirt. Of her father sneaking her a cookie and warning her to not tell her mother. And then she remembered sitting on the bench in the strange hospital, too terrified to cry, hearing her parents tell her how much they loved her, how much they would always love her, begging her forgiveness and then walking away. Sunny strode to her parents and embraced them.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” she said. “Please, let’s sit down. There’s so much I want to ask you. I know you must want to learn about me, too.”

“Just let us look at you first,” George said, his voice choked. “We have plenty of time for talking. We didn’t think we would, but now we have all the time in the world.”

Sunny sat between George and Sallie on the couch and held hands with both of them. She wasn’t an orphan anymore. She had a mother and father.


—The End—





ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS



My thanks must begin with my husband, Lenny, my sons, Jason and Andy, and my daughters-in-law, Jackie and Amanda, whose love and support mean so much to me.

I have benefitted enormously from the guidance of editors Caroline Tolley and Doug Wagner. I am also grateful for those readers who willingly gave their time and constructive advice to early drafts: MaryLouise Wilson, Frank Ridge, Erika Callahan, Alice and Henri Gaudette, Dave Barnes and last, but certainly not least, my sister, Judith Greenfield. In addition, members of the Creative Writing Group of the Villages gave me continuous feedback as the story took shape for which I’m very appreciative. Julian Schreibman helped me avoid some legal mistakes, and those that remain are solely my doing. Thanks also to Derek Murphy for his fantastic cover design. Finally, I wish to thank the people at The Editorial Department who helped make the publication of this book a reality: Morgana Gallaway, Beth Jusino, Chris Fisher and Jane Ryder.