was thinking about my own birth again and my upcoming search in Montgomery County. Why Giselle would have left Lancaster County to have me was a mystery, and even though I was anxious to be on my way and get some more answers, I knew I was in no shape to drive to Harrisburg this evening. I couldn’t search for the birth certificate until tomorrow anyway, so that left me getting a hotel or staying at Marta’s for another night. I sighed. I sent Sean a text, asking if we could do lunch the next day.
Before going home we headed for Peggy’s. I felt we had left too soon, in too much of a rush. I wanted to make sure she and her little baby boy were fine. For once Ella didn’t speak as we drove. She perked up when we drove by Ezra’s place, but he was nowhere in sight. I glanced down the lane when we passed Klara’s. Tomorrow. If all went well, I would stop at Klara’s, have lunch with Sean, and then leave for Harrisburg.
My life was beginning to feel like the movie Groundhog Day, where everything is exactly the same, over and over and over again.
Everything was fine at Peggy’s. In fact, she was surprised to see me. The family was eating an early dinner of enchiladas, taco salad, and cornbread—all cooked by the older daughters. Peggy declared it the most delicious meal she’d ever eaten. The baby was sleeping in a bassinet next to the table. Her husband, Eli, stood, introduced himself, and shyly thanked me. Then he sat back down, and a daughter on his right passed him more cornbread.
“I’ll bring the baby in for a checkup in a week,” Peggy said.
I didn’t know what to tell her. Marta wouldn’t be seeing patients in a week, and I would be gone. I told her to call Marta to set up an appointment. I stopped myself from imagining a newborn riding in a buggy without a car seat, or even with a car seat, but I told her the midwife would come to her.
“Oh, no,” she said. “I’ll be more than ready to get out of the house by then.”
I held the little boy—Peggy whispered that his name was Thomas—and untucked his blanket and T-shirt. The area around his belly button looked good. He wasn’t feverish. He looked up at me with a wrinkled forehead and inky eyes. I buttoned him back together, and as I did he reached for my finger and squeezed. If only I knew what he was thinking. Did he recognize me? Had I left some mark on him? I handed him back to Peggy and told the family goodbye.
Who had left a mark on me?
As we drove by the weeping willow trees, I knew I wouldn’t wait until tomorrow.
SEVENTEEN
Ella asked me what I was doing as I turned down the lane.
“Stopping at Klara’s,” I answered.
“This late?”
I nodded.
“Can I wait in the car?” she muttered. “I’m not nearly as brave as you.”
“It’s cold out,” I said. “And getting dark.”
“I have my coat. And I’ll hide in the backseat. But could you stop the car now? Before you get any closer to the house?” She slouched down, staring straight ahead.
I wasn’t crazy about leaving Ella alone way out here, but the look on her face convinced me to allow it. I pulled over to the edge of the lane and climbed out. As I walked the last fifty yards, Holstein cows gathered around the white fence. The large white barn was most likely outfitted as a dairy. Beyond it was a weathered outbuilding and behind that, in the waning light, I could make out twin, parallel lines of trees. Most likely a creek ran through the property there, something I had missed the other day when I’d been spying from the road through my camera.
Walking along the field, I thought of baby Caroline and little Thomas, of how warmly they were welcomed into their families. I thought of the trust in their eyes.
I gave James the impression I hadn’t done any reading on adoption, but that wasn’t true. I’d read enough to know about an infant’s ability to grieve.
I often wondered if a relinquished newborn had the same feelings of loss as a newborn whose parents were killed in a tragic accident or moved away or otherwise disappeared from their lives. None of the babies would be able to comprehend what happened, but still the emotions of losing everything familiar would