Finding Ashley - Danielle Steel Page 0,63
I love my house and where I live. I love working with my hands. And now I have Michaela, my daughter.” And Norm, but she didn’t say it.
“I’m glad you called. Stay in touch, Mel, and congratulations on finding your daughter.” He remembered how devastated she had been when she found out the records had been destroyed, and knew she’d never see her again, and now she had. “And give Hattie my love.”
“I will,” she promised.
“Are you still mad at her?”
“Not anymore. Not after what she did. I was foolish about that too. The convent suits her.”
“Yes, it does.” They both had a warm feeling after they hung up, and she was glad she’d called him. It was time to stop running away and shutting everyone out, and being angry at them. She had wanted to make peace with him. It wasn’t his fault Robbie had died. No one was to blame for that. It had taken six-and-a-half years to begin to heal. Hattie had been a part of it, and Michaela, and now Norm, and Melissa herself. It was a long, painful process.
* * *
—
The day after she called Carson, she got the results of the DNA test. It was conclusive, which they knew it would be. Michaela was her daughter. It was comforting to know. She’d had the test before she went to New York. She sent a text to Hattie, and emailed the results to Michaela, and signed it “Love, Mom.”
* * *
—
Melissa’s and Michaela’s lives had improved exponentially as a result of Hattie finding Michaela. The one whose life had been negatively impacted was Hattie, Sister Mary Joseph. The unraveling of her religious life had begun when she went to Saint Blaise’s, saw the prison where Melissa had been, and her faith in the religious life began to spiral down faster when she met with Fiona Eckles. What she had seen and done there had driven her out of the Church, and Hattie was beginning to think it would have the same effect on her. She could no longer respect a church that had sold babies for profit, no matter how well intended their motives. It had only been a fluke, or a miracle, that she had found Michaela. The others weren’t as lucky, and they would never find their mothers. And the mothers who wanted to would never see their children again. It seemed a cruel turn of fate for all concerned. And women like Fiona had been injured too. Hattie couldn’t seem to recover from it.
Mother Elizabeth had seen what it was doing to her, and so far hadn’t been able to help her. She had offered to send her on a retreat, or for therapy, and Hattie had refused both.
“What would that change?”
“Even those of us in religious orders are human, Sister Mary Joe,” she reminded her. “We make mistakes. They made a big one when they destroyed the records. They thought they were protecting everyone involved.”
“They were protecting the Church, not the people in it. And so many people got hurt as a result. My sister was almost one of them.”
“You did a wonderful thing for her, and for your niece, but you can’t lose your vocation because of it. That’s too high a price for you to pay.”
“And what if my vocation was motivated by the wrong things from the beginning? Maybe that’s what’s coming to the surface.”
“There’s nothing wrong with your vocation, my child.” But there was so much she didn’t know that Hattie didn’t believe her. “You’ve been here for eighteen years. If there was a flaw in your vocation, you’d have discovered it a long time ago.” But Hattie knew that Fiona Eckles had been even older when she asked to be released from her vows. She couldn’t forgive herself for her part in what she had done. Hattie had other things on her conscience.
“I’d like to go back to Africa one day,” she said wistfully. “I was happy there, and serving a useful purpose.”
“I can sign you up for service there again, but you need to find your footing first. When you feel your vocation is secure, I’ll see what I can do to recommend that.”
“I’d like that,” Hattie said, her eyes brightening. For the first time in months, she felt hopeful. Going to Saint Blaise’s had been a dark experience which shook her faith in everything she believed in. It was a cover-up, like others the Church had committed to protect their own.