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La Jarra was paradise. I was leaving you in the most beautiful place I’d ever seen. It was the only gift I could give you.
My story isn’t pretty. I wasn’t a good person. But now you know.
Chapter 32
GABE
Our coffee grows cold. Tillie has scooted close, her leg pressed against mine.
“So where is Donahue now?” My voice sounds like it’s scraping over wood.
The creases around Anita’s eyes have deepened since she told her story. “I don’t know. He never got on Facebook. He doesn’t turn up in searches. I never saw him again. Maybe if you do the DNA test, you can find more family on his side. But he never knew you existed.”
“You didn’t hire someone to track him down?”
“I was totally broke when I came back to Georgia. I couldn’t have done that then, and by the time I did have my life somewhat in order, too much time had passed for it to have made any difference.”
“Did you look me up?”
“There wasn’t the internet then.”
“There is now.” I don’t really mean to grill her, but I want the answers, and I’m not sure how much longer I can sit here. I feel on fire, like her words are acid flung at my open skin. Everything everyone said about her is true. This is where I came from.
If we drink our coffee the same way, how much else do we have in common?
And even if I take after Donahue, he’s no better. Worse, actually.
Coming here was a mistake. Now they are both the devil I know.
Anita’s gaze flicks between me and Tillie. I’m not sure what she’s looking for, but if it’s absolution, I doubt either one of us has it. “I have occasionally put the name ‘Gabriel Clemens’ into a search. There’s a famous dart player. But he’s certainly not you.”
My voice is hard and sharp, like a rock sharpening a knife. “I never had Clemens as a name. Mom told the social worker with my case that she was next of kin, a cousin far removed. She was the only one who claimed to know you, and they didn’t have a placement for me, so they gave me to her. I got lucky.”
Anita sits forward, her eyes bright for the first time since she started her story. “Was she the one who sat with me? What is her name?”
“Taralyn,” I say.
“Yes! Taralyn! It is beyond my brightest hope that she would have taken you. She was there when you took your first breath.”
I bite back a retort that it could have been anyone. Or no one. That she had left a mess for others.
But I don’t. There’s no point in it. My anger now wouldn’t change who she used to be or what she did.
“Do I have any brothers or sisters?”
Anita shakes her head. “No. I never married. I met a few nice men along the way, but they never felt like enough. And the reckless ones I wanted to go after ...” She runs her finger over the rim of the cup. “I learned my lesson on that.”
It’s quiet a moment, and then Tillie asks, “So what do you do now?”
Anita smiles. “I’m a librarian.” She flips over the magazine to show the cover toLibrarian Today. “I like working with the microfilm, the crumbling old books, and the research wing. No one knows my history. I’ve never told a soul. But I preserve history for others.”
“So, you got on your feet?” I ask.
“It took some doing. My belly didn’t go back to normal after you, so I couldn’t strip. No one would take me. Probably a good thing. Igot a job in a gift shop with a used-book section. The elderly woman who ran it was probably the first real mother figure I ever had. She got me hooked on reading and eventually helped me apply to go to junior college. She was so proud I got my MLA and found a job with books. She felt like she left her mark on the world. With me. Imagine that.”
Her eyes brim with tears. “I know I don’t have the right to ask, but how are you? You’re twenty-eight. What is your life like aside from this lovely young woman?”
I don’t want to answer. I don’t want to tell her anything. But Tillie squeezes my hand, and I remember I’m not doing this for Anita. I’m doing it for her. And me. For us.
