Jude remains silent as he stands to leave. He pauses to lean down and kiss my forehead. I watch my heart walk out the door without another word. Max’s thin arms lock around my thigh, and I look down into his wide, fearful eyes. Grief pools in the blue oceans of his irises. How can they stay so clear and bright and still reflect so much sadness?
Pain jabs into my chest like a knife, and I drop to my knees and stare into my little boy’s eyes. I have never seen him in this much pain, but somehow I have seen this pain in these eyes before. I’ve stared into these eyes in a different face.
I know now that I’ve been blind. Because no matter what I tell myself, this is her son and those are Jude’s eyes.
I have taken the ability to breathe for granted my whole life. I know, because I can’t breathe as I knock frantically on Amie’s door. It flies open. She’s only half-dressed and I don’t care.
“What’s wrong?” she asks as I push my way into the room.
I’m not entirely sure where to begin. That doesn’t stop me from flopping down on her bed and letting the whole story spill out. Amie doesn’t speak as I confess. She just grabs a pillow and listens. When I finish her face is blank. I can’t tell what she’s thinking.
“So, let me get this straight,” she begins slowly as she processes through everything I’ve just revealed. “You kidnapped your sister’s child.”
I open my mouth but she shakes her head.
“I’m not judging. I just can’t think of a better term,” she adds quickly. “You took him to protect him because she was on drugs.”
“Yes,” I admit. The weight that usually rests on my chest feels a little lighter. It doesn’t sound so terrible coming from her.
“And she never came looking for him?” Amie asks.
“No. She sent Jude that postcard so she must have known we were here.” It’s the part of the story I can’t figure out either. The postcard is proof that Faith knew where I had taken Max, but she never came for him. Somehow the police had known to deliver news of her death to my grandmother. I’d spent the last four years waiting for her to show up on my doorstep wanting another chance, dreading that inevitability the whole time.
“It sounds like she was as selfish as you thought she was,” Amie adds.
“But maybe she wasn’t,” I say, recalling a macabre proverb. “Maybe it’s like in the Bible, when the two women bring the baby to Solomon.”
Amie blows a stream of air from pursed lips. “I don’t think I know that one.”
“He tells them that since he doesn’t know which one is lying, he’ll be fair and cut the baby in half. Then they can each have him.”
“Don’t,” Amie stops me. “Do not make her a martyr now.”
I ignore her. “The true mother let the baby go. That’s how he knew.”
“That didn’t mean she was his birth mother, honey. The true mother loved the child more than herself. She was going to sacrifice everything to be certain he was safe,” she corrects me.
“So you don’t think I’m crazy?” I whisper.
“Oh, I know you’re crazy,” Amie teases, but we both know it will take a lot more than a joke to lighten the mood. “Maybe I’m crazy for not thinking you’re crazy. You know what, we need to stop using the word crazy. You did what you had to do. Anyone could see that, Jude included.”
I grab a pillow and bury my face into it for a minute to ward off the panic attack his name elicits.
“He lied to me,” I remind her when I finally reemerge.
“And you lied to him. I’m not saying you two don’t need serious couple’s counseling, but anyone can see that man loves you and Max.”
“How do I tell him?” I ask her. Amie might have faith that we can work things out but I’m not so stupid. Our sins bind us together. They don’t set us free.
“You just tell him.”
“He has a legal right to him and I don’t. What if he takes him away?” There’s other doubts creeping in, too. I keep them to myself. Like what if he’s in love with her and I’m a stand-in? What if I’m a cheap replacement for girl he lost?
Amie rolls her eyes and tosses the pillow she’s been clutching at my head. “He’s not going to do that. You know him better than to think that.”
“Do I? Because as it turns out, I don’t really know anything about him,” I say.
“You know, the important stuff. Don’t try to convince yourself otherwise.”
Chapter 25
Jude keeps his distance which gives me the space I need to focus on coming to terms with my grief and my guilt. At Amie’s insistence I agree to go to a therapist where I learn how to say words that scare me.
Co-dependence.
Rape.
Grace.
I wasted years trying to accept Faith’s past. Now I need to accept my own and reclaim my life.