Page 113 of A Whim and a Prayer

As had Charity.

“Thank you, God,” she’d whispered over and over as she flew down the staircase into the kitchen to call Alex and Gabe, asking them to come for moral and emotional support—when they broke the news to Winnie.

Hanging up the phone, she gave a little skip and a cheer as she ran to the living room where her new best friend awaited. The woman who had not only given the gift of life to the daughter of Charity’s heart, but the gift of freedom to an abandoned little girl who never thought she deserved to be loved.

Now, staring at Joan Cullen, Charity’s heart bled for the young girl who had given Winnie life in such a tragic way.

“Mama,” Winnie said again, giving Charity’s arm a nervous shake, “Please tell me what’s going on!”

Laying her hand over Winnie’s, Charity gave her a tearful smile. “I’m afraid that’s Mrs. Cullen’s story to tell, darling, so shall we give her the floor?”

Chapter Seventy-Seven

Winnie turned to her teacher. “Mrs. C—what is going on?”

Shifting on the sofa, Mrs. C faced Winnie head-on, the tears blotching Winnie’s face obviously catching because Mama and Mrs. C had them too. “Winnie,” Mrs. C said, wringing her hands as she offered a shaky smile. “What I have to tell you may shock you, but I want you to know that I love you and I always have.”

Winnie blinked before her heart clutched in her chest, the tears in her teacher’s eyes and haggard look on her face scaring her all the more. “Wait, Mrs. C,” she said with a quiver of her hand as she grabbed her mentor’s arm, “are you … are you trying to tell me you’re … dying?”

More tears slipped down Mrs. C’s face when she shook her head with a hoarse chuckle, tentatively laying her hand on top of Winnie’s. “No, sweetheart,” she whispered with a cautious look in her eyes, “I’m trying to tell you … I’m your mother.”

Winnie’s body flashed hot and then cold as she stared open-mouthed, vaguely aware of Mama behind her, hand on her shoulder. Her body went numb and her breathing thinned as she slowly shook her head, unable to make sense of what she just heard. “No … no you can’t be. My mama’s dead … she died of an overdose …”

Mrs. C’s hold tightened. “No, Winnie, that’s not true. Who told you that?”

Winnie jerked her hand free, inching back toward Mama. “Mary Lou Lambert—her older sister worked in the office at the orphanage and she saw my file. She said my mother was a prostitute who dumped me on the steps of the orphanage when I was two because I was an ugly freak with crossed eyes.”

“Oh, that girl!” Charity hissed under her breath as her hand tightened on Winnie’s shoulder, “I’m almost glad Winnie beat her up in the sixth grade.”

“What?” Mrs. C stared at Mama.

Mama huffed out a loud blast of air that fluttered Winnie’s curls. “An orphan at The Boston Society for the Care of Girls, just like Winnie, who spread those nasty rumors about her at Holy Trinity in the sixth grade, forcing us to switch schools.”

“And the primary cause of Winnie’s stutter,” Daddy added with a grind to his voice.

“Oh, Winnie … I’m so sorry!” Mrs. C reached out to touch her, but Winnie backed away. “But none of it is true, sweetheart, I swear, and I have the proof.” She reached for her purse to pull papers out.

Winnie’s brows dug low. “You didn’t dump me on the orphanage steps at the age of two?”

Mrs. C hesitated, papers in hand as a lump bobbed in her throat. “Yes, yes I did, so that much is true, but everything else is a lie, Winnie, I swear!”

“Then why did you abandon me?” Winnie whispered on a heave, more tears spilling as she backed closer to Mama, immediately feeling the protection of her mother’s arms bracing from behind.

“Oh, sweetheart, I didn’t abandon you …” Mrs. C clasped her hands to her chest, papers crumpled within and brows sloped in pain. A tear slid down her cheek. “I saved you, Winnie.”

“Saved me?” Mama’s hold tightened on Winnie’s back, as if to protect her from what she might hear. “From what?”

Mrs. C slumped back on the sofa, shoulders stooped and gaze lagging into a faraway stare etched with shame. “From my mother’s abusive boyfriend,” she whispered, her glassy and desolate gaze telling Winnie the past had her by the throat. With a shiver of her body, she locked eyes with Winnie once more. “So, you need to know, Winnie—you weren’t abandoned because you weren’t wanted. You were saved because you were greatly loved.”

Winnie shook her head. “I don’t understand, Mrs. C.”

“I know, sweetheart, but you will. You see, my own father died when I was eleven”—tears brimmed on her lashes—“and dear God, how Mama and I loved him!”

Gabe rose to offer Mrs. C several tissues, and she nodded her thanks, laying the papers aside to dab at her nose. “Life was hard after that. Mama raised me on her own, holding down two jobs just to put food on the table.”

A lump hitched in her throat as she continued with head bowed. “I was only thirteen when she met Richard, and it looked as if things were turning around. He seemed like a nice man, good-looking, hardworking. But after they got engaged, his true colors came out. More often than not, he drank too much and then he’d get abusive—both to Mama and to me. But Mama was too scared to break it off because he’d become violent if she tried, threatening us even more.”

Her hands dropped limp to her lap with palms up and still holding the tissues while she stared lifelessly at them. “I was a good girl, Winnie, but when Richard would get drunk, I stayed away as much as I could, running with friends most nights, which Mama understood.” She shifted on the couch as if uncomfortable before she finally looked up at Winnie with a plea in her eyes. “I was only fourteen when I got pregnant, Winnie, and Richard was so irate, he told Mama I should get an abortion, but Mama stood up to him on that at least, thank God.”