My mom spares a tight smile. “Is there anything else you two are keeping from me? Do you have a sixth toe or an evil twin I should know about, Chris?”

“Well, Mom, I didn’t want to tell you this, but… I’m pregnant.”

Once again, Claire smacks my arm.

“Shit! Take it easy on the arm. I need that to perform.”

“Are you pregnant, Claire?”

“No!” Claire shrieks. “You see what you started?”

Claire ignores me all the way to the airport. After we park the car and check our baggage, we get in line for the security check and I can’t help but smile when she takes off her shoes and puts them in a plastic tray to be scanned.

“Why are you smiling?” she asks as we push our trays down the steel table toward the conveyor belt.

“No reason.”

“You’re such a jerk.”

I laugh as she slides her tray onto the conveyor and gets in line to be scanned. “You’re so fucking adorable when you’re pissed.”

My mom slides her tray after mine and gets in line behind me. “Stop antagonizing her,” she warns me. “She doesn’t need you to be cute; she needs you to be supportive.”

Once we get on the plane, I try to switch seats with my mom so she can sit next to Claire, but she insists on sitting alone so she can read. After takeoff, Claire orders a bottle of water and I consider asking for a Capri-Sun, just to see if I can get a smile out of her, but I have a feeling it would just annoy her right now, so I settle for water.

“I’m sorry for the comment about being pregnant. I think I’m just nervous about this trip and I’m deflecting.”

She glances at me then stares at the water bottle on her tray table. “I know you didn’t mean anything by it, and it was kind of funny, but I’m still upset. And I know it’s stupid to be upset about not being pregnant, but I think I’m just stressed about the trip and I’m probably PMS-ing. I’m sorry if I’m being a bitch. I just feel so… angry today. I’m afraid of what I’m going to say when I see my father.”

“You don’t have to be afraid. Anything you say to him will only be a reflection of how you feel. You deserve to speak those words. He wasn’t there for you.”

Suddenly, I feel angry, too. I’m angry for Claire and for myself. I never talk about my dad because, as far as I’m concerned, he’s dead. I don’t want to know what kind of man abandons his own child. I think of the lengths I would have gone to for Abigail, if I knew it were in her best interest, and it makes me want to kill any one who would willingly make their child feel unwanted. And Claire and I have always felt that way.

Everyone thinks about how lucky Claire was to find us when she did. No one ever thinks about how lucky we were to find her. Claire filled a gaping hole in our hearts. I’m not surprised my mom wanted to be with us today.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Jackie

No matter how hard you try, you can’t shelter your children from suffering. And the suffering is what allows them to experience true bliss, so maybe I shouldn’t be so upset that Claire and Chris were going to visit Claire’s father without me. But I feel as if they’re slipping from my grasp, and so quickly. I don’t know what to do other than be there for them.

Chris’s plan to have a surprise wedding for Claire is beautiful. When Claire came to me and told me she wanted to propose to Chris, I couldn’t believe how alike they are and yet they’re still able to surprise each other. As happy as I am to see them preparing to spend the rest of their lives together, I really wanted to have the experience of helping them plan their wedding. I should be happy for them, but it’s hard to be happy when you realize your children no longer depend on you.

After we take our luggage to our hotel rooms, we meet in the hotel lobby and the color is drained from Claire’s cheeks. She clutches Chris’s hand as she stares at the hotel entrance with a faraway look in her eyes and it breaks my heart.

“I’m going to pick up the car,” Chris says. “You two can stay here. It’s cold outside.”

He kisses her cheek before he sets off across the lobby toward the hotel entrance. Claire squeezes her hand into a fist then wiggles her fingers, like she’s grasping for a phantom limb.

I grab her hand and look her in the eye. “Honey, you let me do the worrying. You’re going to go in there and tell him everything that’s on your mind and demand the answers you deserve. And don’t you worry about how it will all turn out. Because no matter what happens, you are loved. You are cherished.”

She throws her arms around my waist and I hold her tightly as I think of the day that her caseworker, Carol, called me to ask if I could take in a fifteen-year-old girl. Carol gave me a complete rundown on Claire’s past.

Her mother had died of a heroin overdose when she was seven. She was kicked out of her first four foster homes for locking herself in the bathroom for hours at a time. They didn’t know why she was doing this, but it doesn’t take a degree in psychology to know she was afraid. After that, she got thrown out of a few more homes for physical altercations with the males in each of those foster homes. She ran away from the foster home she was in before she came to us. She lived behind a grocery store for eight days before she was discovered and taken to the police station, which was when they called me.

Every fiber of my being told me to say no to Carol, but a tiny shred of guilt wouldn’t allow me to turn her away. I feared what this teenage runaway would do to Chris. Would she introduce him to drugs or sex? Would she assault me or my son? I had the normal prejudiced thoughts that most people recognize as survival instincts. But looking back now, I realize I was prejudging her. Claire didn’t bring the turmoil I thought she would bring. And I wasn’t the one who got through to her; it was Chris. Through his music, he opened her heart and calmed her spirit.

I honestly believe that Chris and Claire may have known each other in a former life. I couldn’t imagine two people more perfectly suited for one another. So I will hug her and comfort her and I will assist him in keeping his surprise wedding a secret. I will do anything for these two to find the happiness they are destined for.

I give her one last squeeze before I let her go and this puts a smile on her face. “Chris and I will be right there waiting to knock some sense into this man if he so much as looks at you wrong.” I lock my arm in hers and we head outside to meet Chris. “Don’t forget that I was a cheerleader in high school. I won’t hesitate to give him a swift cartwheel-kick in the face.”

Chris asks me to drive the rental car so he can sit in the back with Claire, and I’m happy to do it, but I’m not happy with Chris sitting in the backseat and barking directions at me. And the way these people drive in California makes me want to never get behind the wheel again.

“Get off on Washington and make a right,” Chris says.

“My hands are going numb,” Claire whispers.

“Take deep breaths, babe,” Chris replies.

The sound of her panicked breathing makes me nervous. I take the turn onto Washington Street too fast and the tires skid a little.

“I don’t feel good,” Claire says. “Please pull over.”

Before I can even pull into the Bank of America parking lot, the sounds of her retches make me cringe. I pull into a parking space and she throws the door open to vomit onto the asphalt. I jump out of the car and hold her hair back as she finishes spitting out the last remnants of the cookie she ate on the plane.

“Chris, go into that nail salon and get something to clean up the backseat and some water for her to drink.”

I help her sit back down in the driver’s seat where it’s clean and she leans forward as she wipes the tears from her face. “I’m sorry. I’m just so nervous about meeting him. I felt like my heart was about to pop out of my chest.”

“Are you feeling better now?”

“A little.”

“It’s not too late to change your mind, Claire.”

I don’t tell her that I think seeing her father is a mistake. I don’t tell her this because I could be wrong. But my experience with Michael leaving Chris and me has taught me that you can’t make someone love you.

“I’m not here for myself,” she says as she looks up at me.

Something about her face looks different and I don’t think it’s the flush in her skin from vomiting.

“Are you sure you’re feeling okay? We can go back to the hotel so you can rest and we’ll all come back here after the wedding.”

She shakes her head. “No, I don’t want to go back. I want to get this over with.”

I take a deep breath as I prepare to reveal a secret I’ve been keeping from Claire for many years. “Claire, do you remember the day you came to me and asked if your caseworker had told me anything about your mother or father?”

She looks confused for a moment, then, “Yeah. That was a couple of days after you found out about me and Chris.”

“Yes, after the big fight. You asked me that question and I told you I didn’t know anything more than you knew, but that wasn’t the truth.”

She frowns as she anticipates what I’m about to tell her. “What do you mean?”

“When you came to us in April, your caseworker, Carol, told me that you didn’t know your father and your mother had died of a drug overdose when you were seven. Months later, when I found out you and Chris were dating, I called Carol to dig a little further into your history.”

“Why?”

“You have to understand that you had lived with us for just over six months at that point. I wanted to protect both you and Chris.”

“Protect us from what?”

“I was afraid that you may have been sexually assaulted in a previous foster home and I wanted Chris to take things slow with you. I knew you’d had problems with some of the men and boys in your other homes. I wasn’t sure about the details. I didn’t want you or Chris to get hurt.”

“And what did you find?”

“I found that you had done an excellent job of keeping yourself safe in the foster care system.” For some reason, these words make her cry. I can only imagine it’s the years of loneliness that she’s recalling. “Claire, Carol also told me something about your mother. She told me that your father and mother carried on a brief, but consensual, relationship when she was sixteen and he was twenty.”

She shakes her head in disbelief. “That doesn’t make sense. Why would the neighbor know all this? Why would Henry tell me she was raped?”

“Claire, honey, you remember your neighbor, the one you used to call Grandma?”

“I remember, but why would my mother tell Henry that she was raped?” As soon as she asks the question, her face falls as she realizes she already knows the answer to this question. “Henry was in love with my mother?”

“Henry helped your mother set up the trust fund for you. Your mother was sick, but she did everything she could to ensure you would be taken care of after she passed.”

“You mean, after she killed herself.”

“What’s going on?” Chris asks when he arrives with a bottle of water and sees Claire crying.

The concern in his voice both worries me and comforts me. I know Chris would take on all of Claire’s pain if he could.

“Do you still want to go? Or do you need some more time to think?” I ask Claire and Chris looks confused.

“I don’t know,” she says, wiping her face as she stands from the driver’s seat. “I think I need a minute.” Chris hands her the bottle of water and she takes a few small sips. “Can you walk with me?” she asks him and they set off through the parking lot toward Washington Street.