Hidden in the Heart Page 6

  The man shook his head. “No, nothing like that, thank God. She’s just…uh…going through a bit of a rough patch. She’ll be back to work soon, I’m sure.”

  Michelle caught the unspoken sorrow in his eyes as they captured hers. The shadows around them said that was not quite the truth.

  He held her gaze for a moment, as though he was looking for something—something she definitely did not possess. “Well.” He smiled and turned his attention back to Belinda. “We have a new designer on board now, taking over for Claire, just temporarily of course, but I’d be glad to set up a meeting for you.”

  “Wonderful.” Belinda took another card from him. A few minutes later they were heading down the street back to the car.

  “So, what did you think? Isn’t he amazing? And a good architect to boot!” Belinda’s wicked laughter floated on the air.

  Michelle stopped walking. “You’re incorrigible. Leave the poor man alone.”

  There it was. Just across the street. But the brownstone building she’d expected to see wasn’t there. A florist shop stood in its place. Outside the shop, irises, sunflowers, roses of every color, and fragrant white lilies blended into a vibrant display that made her stop and catch her breath. A bucket full of bright pink and red Gerber daises captured her attention, threw memories hard and fast.

  She shouldn’t have come here.

  “They closed down about ten years ago.” Belinda’s voice softened and she gave a little sigh. “Merged all the smaller town offices together and moved to a big building in Hartford.”

  “Oh.” Michelle blew air through her lips. A faint buzzing sounded in her ears. If she’d any inkling this was going to be so difficult, she’d never have agreed to it.

  “You all right?” Belinda stood in front of her, her eyes shimmering in the afternoon sun.

  Michelle pushed back her shoulders. “Of course. Ready to go?”

  Belinda tipped her head and applied a layer of lipstick. “Did you ever…you know…wonder?”

  “Wonder what?”

  “Shel…”

  “No.” The answer rushed out of her. She let out another breath and steadied herself. Pull it together, Shel. Leave it alone.

  “What do you think Kevin would say?”

  The dull ache in her chest returned. “The question is irrelevant.” Michelle unclasped the butterfly clip that held her hair in place, twisted it up again and clipped it tight. She pulled at the belt of her spring coat and redid the knot. “Why are we talking about this?”

  “Do you honestly think he’d hold it against you?”

  Belinda sounded so innocent that Michelle had to laugh. “Do you honestly think he wouldn’t?”

  Belinda took off her sunglasses and gave a dramatic sniff that signaled she was on the verge of an emotional outburst. “I think about it every now and then, at the strangest times. Sometimes I wonder how you got through it.”

  “Please, Belinda. Can you give it a rest?” Michelle balked at the slight edge of hysteria in her own voice. She took a deep, relaxing breath. There was absolutely no point in venturing down that road.

  “I’m sorry, Shel. I just thought…maybe we should talk about it.”

  Michelle took a last look around and shook her head. “There’s nothing to talk about.” She faltered at the sadness in Belinda’s eyes, tempted for a moment to give in, find the nearest coffee shop and rip the lid off every bit of emotion she’d tamped down and buried someplace deep within her.

  So deep she doubted she’d find it.

  Instead, she smiled and shook her head. “Come along, Miss Naiveté, your mother will be wondering where we are.” Michelle slipped an arm through her friend’s and pulled her toward the car.

  Perhaps it had been good to come here and get a brief glimpse into her past, to remember where she had come from.

  To remember just how far she’d come. Remember all she had endured, suffered and accepted in the name of something she now no longer understood.

  And to remind herself once again, that there would be no going back.

  Chapter Six

  Claire paced the sidewalk. She hadn’t known for sure where she was headed when she’d gotten behind the wheel that morning. Somehow the car ended up in Hartford. She stopped walking and stared at the sign on the building in front of her.

  This was the Hogwarts of her imagination. This place held all her secrets, contained magical mysteries with the power to change everything she knew about herself. But there were no turrets. No black robed professors or magic wands. No flying owls delivering messages to explain all. Just a plain old building, three storey’s high with black lettering on the door that read The Department of Children and Families.

  She wrestled with the idea of actually going in, jumping out of the way as people walked by. She stood close enough to feel the breeze as the doors swung open and closed.

  Flowers added color to the scene, purple petunias and green ferns hanging from baskets on the lampposts. Spring was lovely this year. Not that she got outside enough to enjoy it. The past few months had been a struggle. But maybe now…now that she was making an effort to live again…

  The sun warmed her face and almost had her believing it was a normal day.

  But there was nothing normal about it. There was nothing normal at all about standing in front of the place that could possibly change your life.

  Claire pushed her fingers through her hair. Her heart was doing some kind of spastic dance that made her want to throw up. It joined forces with a feeling she didn’t want to face, and shadowed her every move.

  She hated that feeling. That incomprehensible need to quench a thirst she still didn’t understand. Which really sucked because she’d been doing so well. It was almost the end of the week and she’d had nothing but Starbucks and San Pellegrino. Kicking back with a bottle of Chardonnay was all she could think of right now. If she closed her eyes she could almost taste it on her tongue. She shoved the thought aside, chewed a nail and stared at the building again.

  After another minute, Claire moved forward with purpose and pulled open the glass door. Her heels clicked on the tile of the lobby. She put her sunglasses in her purse and scanned the directory on the wall, got on the elevator and leaned against the side while it took her up to the fifth floor.

  By the time she reached the front desk, she was trembling.

  “Can I help?” A woman with skin the color of dark chocolate sat behind the desk. She stared at a computer screen, her monotone telling Claire she probably couldn’t care less whether she could help or not.

  Claire swallowed and leaned forward. “I hope so. I was adopted you see, and I’d like my information. My birth certificate. The original one.”

  “Really.” The woman sat back in her chair, unsmiling as she gave Claire the once over. She may as well have asked her where the lingerie section was.

  Claire shifted and clenched her fingers around the strap of her purse. “Am I in the right place?”

  “Yes, you’re in the right place.” The lady heaved a sigh, stood and shuffled to the other side of her small cubicle, pulled open a large file cabinet and returned with a stack of papers. “Fill these out. Read everything very carefully. Bring it all back in or do it now if you want.”

  “What is this?” Claire narrowed her eyes and stared at the woman. Surely it wouldn’t kill her to be just a little helpful. On the other hand, it might.

  “You have to apply in writing for the release of your non-identifying information.” The clerk shrugged, her mouth lifting in a smile. “Takes about six weeks, maybe longer. Wheels of bureaucracy and all that, you know.” She cracked a wad of gum.

  “And then you’ll tell me who my birth mother was?”

  “Honey.” The sympathetic smile reminded Claire of her kindergarten teacher. Of course your mother’s coming to pick you up. She’s just a little late. But Claire would not be consoled until she caught sight of her mother’s car driving into the school’s parking lot.

 
“Is that a yes or a no?”

  “Those records are sealed. Depending on what’s on file for you, all you get is the identifying information, okay? No names. Stuff like height, weight, ethnicity and religion of your biological parents. But we can only give that to you if your birth mother gave consent for the information to be released.”

  “What?” Claire shook her head. She didn’t remember reading that on the Internet. “What if she didn’t?”

  “Well, then,” The woman sank into her chair with a bored expression, as though she had a billion better things to do. “The department has sixty days to conduct a search for your birth mother. She’ll be asked to release the information. She has the right to refuse.”

  “She has the right?” Claire inhaled and pinched her lips. Sweat formed on her brow. “What about my rights? Don’t I have any rights?”

  The woman’s dark eyes glazed over and she turned back to the computer. “Anything else I can do for you today?”

  ~

  “I’m going to talk to my father’s lawyer.” Claire slammed her hand down on the top of the mahogany cabinet. Pain shot up her arm and brought her back to reality. Ugly, harsh reality that said she was nothing to nobody.

  “Claire, sit.” Melanie guided her over to an armchair. “When did all this happen? Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I went to Hartford a couple of weeks ago.” Claire hunched in her chair, drew her knees up to her chest and stared at the empty fireplace. “I don’t know why I didn’t tell you.” Exhaustion cloaked her.

  She’d fallen asleep on the couch sometime that Friday night, found Melanie in the room when she woke. “It’s like I’m not even a real person, Mel. Like I don’t exist. Never existed. S’not fair.”

  “How much have you had to drink?”

  Melanie had a knack for asking stupid questions.

  “Not enough.” Claire made a push to get up but Melanie’s fierce expression forced her back down. She slumped in her chair again. “Do you know that I can’t even get my original birth certificate?”

  “You told me. Several times.” Melanie poured steaming liquid from a blue ceramic teapot and handed Claire a cup. “Here, have some tea. When did you last eat?”

  “I don’t remember.” Claire shifted in her chair and took the tea. Her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. She sipped and they sat in silence. Things started to come back into focus.

  “Where’s your dad?”

  “He went to a show and spent the night in New York. Nice, huh? He gets back…what time is it?” She vaguely remembered seeing Melanie heading down the hall to the kitchen some time ago but couldn’t recall letting her in the house. Hours and days molded together.

  Melanie glanced at her watch and sighed. “It’s after midnight.”

  “Oh.” Claire rubbed her eyes. “Saturday. He gets back later today I guess. What are you doing here anyway, Mel?”

  “Don’t you remember calling me?”

  “I called you?”

  “About two hours ago. I couldn’t understand what you were saying and told you to go to bed. You kept calling. When Steve put the answering machine on, I guess you tried James. Then he called me. Said you were frantic. I figured I wasn’t going to sleep anyway, worrying, so I might as well come here and make sure you didn’t do anything stupid.”

  “James didn’t come?”

  “Nope. Dropped me off, gave me his key to get in and told me to call him later.”

  “Oh.” Of course he wouldn’t have come. She’d chased him out of her life.

  Maybe for good this time.

  “I’m so tired.” Claire blinked, her eyes stinging. The past few days were a blur. Time stopped with the phone call from the DCF. She’d been surprised when they called after just two weeks. But then the caseworker gave her the news. “I can’t believe she refused to release the information. It’s not like I’m asking for blood, or a kidney even. I just…want…to know where I came from. I want answers.”

  Melanie sat in the chair opposite her and stared, tears shimmering in her eyes. She cradled her belly and shook her head. “I don’t know why she wouldn’t allow them to give you anything, Claire. I’m sure she has her reasons.”

  “I’m sure she’s just being a—”

  “Claire.”

  “What?” She let go a deep sigh and shrank under Melanie’s sorrowful gaze. “Shouldn’t you be in the hospital by now? When’s that baby due?”

  Melanie smiled. “Any day now, I hope. He or she is taking their own sweet time, that’s for sure. I’ll be induced on Monday if nothing happens before then.”

  Claire sat forward and put her head in her hands. The buzz was wearing off, sobriety kicking in. That was the day after tomorrow. Her throat grew thick.

  “Claire?”

  “I’m okay.”

  The baby would be here soon. She’d have to see it, see how happy Melanie and Steve were…then she’d have to face James and deal with her own inability to find it in her heart to even think about giving their marriage another try.

  “I’m sorry you didn’t get the news you wanted, Claire, but I wish…”

  “I know. It’s okay.” Claire raised her head and waited for her nausea to pass. “I’ll survive.”

  “You were doing so well.” Melanie bit her lip and nodded, as though she’d made up her mind. “I’m really worried about you. We all are. Will you please get some help? I know you think you can do it on your own, but…”

  “No.” Claire put down her cup, drew her legs up under her and sighed. “I can quit on my own. You know I can. You just said I was doing really well.”

  “You were. Were, being the operative word. Claire, you were passed out when I got here and you don’t remember calling me.”

  “A setback.”

  “Claire...” Melanie’s voice quavered. “Please. Let us help you. You don’t have to do this alone. You know that, right?”

  Claire closed her eyes again.

  After her mother died, she’d had trouble sleeping. She hadn’t taken anything because of her pregnancy. But then a week after the funeral, she started bleeding. It was over. No more pregnancy.

  The doctor gave her a prescription then, to help her rest. Each day got harder and eventually she found it easier to stay in bed. One drink led to another, blocked out the pain of a loss she couldn’t begin to comprehend.

  Claire took a deep breath and secured the locks around her heart. “I know you mean well, but you can’t help me, Mel. Nobody can help me.”

  “I wish I could.” Melanie’s eyes sparkled too brightly, her cheeks getting red.

  “I know you do. But you don’t know how this feels.” Claire stared at her feet and wondered how to explain something she didn’t understand. “I don’t want to do anything, go anywhere, talk to anyone. This…ache…my chest feels tight all the time. I just want to curl up in bed and cry. Every day. Sometimes I think…” She stopped, waited, listened to the dogs pacing up and down the hall. She wouldn’t go that far. Melanie would make James have her committed for sure.

  “Claire?” Melanie’s voice was gentle, no hint of judgment. “You’ll get through this.”

  She raised her head and put on a smile. “Of course I will.” Or die trying.

  Claire watched the grandfather clock on the far side of the room. “I’ll try again, Mel. Okay? It’s just…nice to not feel anything, you know?”

  Melanie narrowed her eyes. “If you block out the pain, you’ll never accept it, never be able to deal with it. If you continue on the way you’re going…I don’t want to think about what might happen. I don’t want to lose you, Claire.”

  “Who are you, Dr. Laura now?” Claire laughed but deep down she knew Mel was right. Just one pill too many or another day thinking she was sober enough to drive. Fear crept over her, teasing, taunting, and whispering incomprehensible thoughts into her ear. “I’m going to find her, Mel. I have to.”

  Sudden understanding flooded Melanie’s face. “I wish you’d stop blaming y
ourself. If you think finding your medical history will somehow explain…”

  “And what if it did?” Claire leaned forward. “You don’t understand. I have to know! I have to know that I’m not responsible…or I am. And aside from that, I…I’m curious. I won’t lie.”

  “Has it really bothered you, not knowing where you came from?” Melanie grabbed a chocolate chip cookie and handed the bag to Claire.

  Claire took one, the smell too impossible to resist. She wasn’t sure she could stomach it, but wouldn’t risk Mel shoving it down her throat. “I guess if I’m honest, yes, it has bothered me. Each time I’d look in the mirror, I’d wonder. My parents and I look so different.” Laughter crept out of her, unbidden. “Remember when I tried to dye my hair the same color as my mom’s? She just about had a fit laughing when she tried to explain that hers came out of a bottle too.”

  Melanie smiled. “You’ve never really been able to talk to your dad about your adoption.”

  Claire shrugged and nibbled on the cookie. So far so good. She took another bite and that stayed down too. “I’ll have to. He’s the only way I’ll get answers now. If I petition the court to get them to release my information, he’ll find out anyway.”

  “He’s not going to like it.”

  “I know. But what choice do I have?”

  Melanie rubbed her nose with the tip of her finger, her freckles blending together in a frown. “Do you really want to do it, Claire? You don’t know what you might be walking into. You don’t know who they are, why they gave you up. It may not be a pretty story.”

  Claire sat back, her throat tight. “I can’t stop thinking about it. I know what you’re going to say. Dr. Kay said the same thing. Finding them won’t fix things. But I…” Claire paused, waiting for Melanie to interrupt. She raised an eyebrow. “You’re not stopping me. Don’t you want to try to talk me out of it?”

  Melanie shook her head. “Claire, you’re one of the smartest women I know. I don’t think you really believe that finding out your medical history or even connecting with your birth family will change a thing. But if it’s something you need to do, for yourself, to help you get through this time in your life, then I think you should.”