Chapter 16

When Sarah was out of sight, I went to the pantry and got a bottle of wine. I took it outside to the patio and sat in a chair at the table. I intended to get falling down, stinking drunk. I wanted my pain to go away and stay away.

Donna asked if she could join me. I nodded and continued sipping my wine. I'd have to wait for Connie before getting really blotto, but I could get a head start. The weather was cooperating; it was fairly warm on the patio, about 65º F. I was feeling flushed and unbuttoned my shirt.

Donna asked, "Do you think we're being punished for something we did?"

I took another swallow and said, "Like what, honey? Being human?"

"Mr. Prentice, he used to preach at us all the time," she said. "He said almost everything is a sin, and if we did a sin, we'd get put in hell."

"Sin is a church word for a mistake, honey, nothing more. It's when you keep making the same mistake over and over that it becomes a sin. You're aren't trying to do better. You see?"

"I think I loved her too much," Donna said.

"No more than the rest of us did, I'm sure," I said.

"My counselor told me that since I was alone I tended to love people too fast. What did he mean?"

"I don't know, Donna. Maybe when a person is alone and they want a family so badly, they love people they shouldn't. A lot of women get into trouble with men that way, seems to me."

"Do you think she'll be happy?" Donna asked.

"Maybe, maybe not," I said. "It's too soon to tell."

"I hope they never find my mother."

Donna said it with such vehemence and anger I stopped to consider her plight: freshly stripped of a sister after being dumped at a police station. Yeah, that would tend to make me bitter too. Suddenly, getting drunk didn't seem like such a good idea.

I said, "Donna, go get us a couple soft drinks out of the fridge and come join me on the lounger. We can cuddle and talk."

About eight that evening, that was the way Connie found us; rubbing noses and sharing secrets like moms and daughters should. I'd lost one daughter through no fault of my own, and I'd be damned if it was going to happen again.

Donna said her goodnights shortly after Connie came home and went to her room. I followed Connie up the stairs and into our bathroom. Her eyes were dull and listless, which matched the rest of her.

"How are you holding up?" I asked.

Connie started stripping off her clothes and said, "I don't really know. I think it hasn't hit me yet; when it does, I'll probably fold up like a wet cardboard box."

"I'm sorry I was such a wuss today. It hurt, bad."

Now naked, she enveloped me in her arms and hugged me firmly. "I know how you feel."

She nodded her head toward the shower and raised her eyebrows. I stripped out of my shorts and shirt and joined her. Minutes later, we were side by side on the bed, kissing softly.

I don't know what triggered it, but suddenly Connie said, "Just hold me. Hold me tight, please?" and started crying. No shakes, sobs or anguished cries like the ones from me, just quiet tears. I held her tight and cried with her. It was the least I could do.

I was startled awake the next morning by a tap-tap-tap on the doorframe of our room. Donna was standing there, dressed in jeans and a cute blouse, with her jacket over her shoulder.

"I've got to leave; the bus is almost here. I made a pot of coffee and my homework is done. I'll see you this afternoon." I heard her run down the stairs to the front door.

I shook my head and nudged Connie. "Time to get up, sweets. Donna is on her way to school."

She grunted and rolled over. I swatted her on the butt and she yelped, then she turned her head and glared at me.

"Up! Up!" I said, waving my arms. "Time's a wastin'."

She lunged at me, growling playfully, and chased me into the shower. We got to work a little late, but no one said anything.

As soon as we got settled at our desks, Connie pulled Donna's file from one of the filing cabinets. The latest entry showed her as "under adoption proceedings, case suspended".

There were no names, but we smiled.

Going back to the start of the file, we learned Donna had begun life in Our Lady of the Angels Home in Fargo. We knew it as one of the three homes for unwed mothers in the state. Connie took a chance and called.

She was connected to the Records Desk, and talked to a nun named Sister Ann. Using a little flattery, Connie found out Donna's mother had been fifteen at the time of Donna's birth, and no father was listed on the birth certificate. That wasn't unusual; many girls refused to name the father of their baby. The mother had no inheritable defects and was in good health at the time of the birth. Sister Ann apologized, but she couldn't say anything else. Connie wished her well and hung up.

"We know where she was born, and when. Do you want to tell her?" Connie asked.

"She told me last night she didn't want to know about her mother, or words to that effect. If she changes her mind, she can go to court."

Connie smiled. "I was hoping you'd say that. If she asks, though, we have to be honest."

"I agree, but I don't think she will," I replied.

The next few weeks passed in a mechanical fashion. All three of us held our emotions on a tight rein, and the only time I let loose was when Connie and I were in bed.

We told my folks we'd lost Sarah, and they shared a tiny bit of our misery. Travis and Kathy gave their condolences, but Travis said it might be for the best. We tried to look at it in a positive way, but it's hard to do that when the pain of loss is fresh and sharp.

Donna's immediate reaction to the loss of her erstwhile sister was to become very withdrawn. She, like us, found no joy in daily living. She began coming to our room at night and asking to sleep with us. We allowed her to do so, and she appeared to become a little more cheerful. She'd lie down between us on her tummy and ask to be held. One or both of us would cuddle her for a moment and she'd fall fast asleep.

We solved part of the problem by enlisting a little help from Travis and his buddies and moved her things to the guestroom opposite our room. Most nights after the move, she stayed in her own bed. Sex between Connie and me gradually returned to normal.

We shared the bathroom, which led to some interesting shrieks and squeals when two people were racing for the pot in the morning. When Donna was shown how the bidet worked, the look on her face was precious.

Sometime in October, the grief and sorrow lifted somewhat, and we began to carry on with our lives. The three of us became a unit, shopping and going to movies together. Donna also came with us a few times to Nona's on Friday nights, and enjoyed the food and "dressing up" for the night on the town.

We received a letter from Sarah, and she said she was very happy. Gramma Frances had a big house, and Aunt Alice was a nice lady. She also said she missed us and would never forget us, and at the end she thanked us for finding her family. I shed a tear or two, but thought it best for her.

Donna was fourteen and a freshman in high school, and the relationship between the three of us was constantly changing. I remembered those times as emotionally frightening and Connie and I did our best to see that Donna was happy. Unlike me at that age, she did her assigned chores without complaint or comment. She liked helping with the cooking, and her room was usually spotless.

One evening after supper, Connie asked Donna how school was going.

"Pretty good, actually," Donna said. "I'm only having trouble with algebra, and one of the girls in my class is helping me."

"What about the kids? Any of them giving you any hassles?" Connie asked.

Donna thought for a moment and said, "Not really. There's a girl in my gym class that likes to stare at me in the showers, but she hasn't said anything to me."

Fond memories surfaced for me, and I smiled. "Let them look, honey. They're probably envious."

Donna gave me an odd look and asked, "You really think so?"