Love Letters From Ladybug Farm - Donna Ball [86]
Sandra said, “Your mother meant so much to us here at Harbor Home. Just look around. There isn’t a kid in here whose life wasn’t changed because of her.”
Noah replied, “Yeah, there is. Me.” Then he said, “I’ll wait in the car.”
Sandra watched him sympathetically as he left. “I can’t imagine how difficult this must be.”
Lindsay said, “I don’t think any of us can.”
“She told me about her arrangement with you. I have some papers for you. A small life insurance policy, some guardianship papers ... We’ll pack up her things, unless you’d like to go through them now.”
Cici said, “I don’t think this is the right time.”
“Oh, and these.” Sandra reached into her purse and brought out a packet of envelopes bound with a rubber band. “Mandy asked me to give these to Noah. Maybe you could ... ?”
Lindsay took the envelopes, Cici and Bridget collected the other papers, and they made arrangements to have Mandy’s belongings held in storage for Noah until he was ready to go through them.
Noah was leaning against the side of the car, his jacket off, staring straight ahead. All three women went to him. Lindsay handed him the bundle of envelopes. “These are from your mother.”
He looked down at the packet, but said nothing.
Lindsay glanced at the other two. “There’s something I think you should know. Before we knew about your mother, I was looking into the possibility of legally adopting you. I’d like to talk to you about that sometime. If you think it’s something you might be interested in.”
Now he looked up at her, slowly.
“Either way” Cici said, “there’s something else you need to know You might not have been born to us, but you are our kid.”
Bridget laid a gentle hand upon his arm. “You’d better believe it.”
He dropped his eyes again. His fingers closed on the packet in his hands and he said, lowly “I called her a liar.” His voice tightened, and so did his fingers. “The last e-mail I sent her ... I called her a liar.”
His shoulders started to shake, his face began to crumple, and all three women stepped into him, surrounding him with their embrace as he sobbed.
May 25, 2010
Dear Noah,
I wish it were possible to live without regrets, to always know you’re doing the right thing. The problem with choices is that you hardly ever know which is the right one until it’s all over and you look back, wondering how your life would have been if you had chosen differently. When I left you with your grandmother when you were a baby, I thought I was doing the right thing for you, and for me. Then, when she died and I lost contact with you, I spent years hating myself for doing the wrong thing. But now, when I look back over everything that happened, I’m not as sure as I once was. I don’t think you would have survived those years if I had tried to keep you with me. I barely survived them myself. You might not understand this now, and maybe you can never forgive me for what I’ve done, but please believe this: sometimes life has a poetry to it. Sometimes, against all odds, things do work out. I know you grew up in a hard way. But every step you took led you closer to home, where you belong.
I’m glad I got to see you grow up to be well and strong and happy. That was more than I ever expected, or probably deserved. I wish I’d had more time, of course I do. I wish we could have spent some of it together. But after everything else, it didn’t seem fair of me to ask you to spend your teenage years watching your mother die. And that’s the only reason that I’ve stayed away from you this past year. Because, by the time I fouud you, it was too late.
Over the years, when I really didn’t know what had become of you or where you were, I kept you alive in my mind by writing letters to you. Of course I didn’t know where to mail them, but I always believed that one day I’d give them to you in person. I’m sorry I wasn’t able to do that.
I don’t have much to leave you, just my words. I hope they will remind you that you were loved every day of your life—
Mom
From This Day Forward
15
On Tending