Page 99 of Soft Tissue Damage
I smile as I recognize some of that in myself.
We order our lunch, and our conversation flows easily as we discuss babies and children. Beatrice has two sons who are seven and ten, and she’s married to a man who runs a successful plumbing business.
“I would love for you to meet my family,” she tells me, and then sadness settles over her. “But I suppose you’re wondering why I gave you up.”
“I have been wondering, but it felt rude to ask. You were fifteen years old, and you must have been so scared. You don’t have to explain anything to me.”
“I didn’t want to give you up, but Father Connell impressed on me that it was the only good and proper thing for me to do, so that I didn’t…” She presses her lips together in a regretful line. “So that I didn’t taint you with my sin, as he put it. I took his words to heart.”
Looking at Beatrice, I can picture her as a tearful, frightened teenager, suffering under the weight of her so-called sin. I feel a little spark of hate hearing Father Connell’s name, but I don’t let it show on my face. “I have also taken his words to heart and spent many hours on my knees in repentance for my thoughts and deeds, no matter how hard I tried to be good. Sometimes I even felt like the stained glass in that church was judging me.”
Her eyes widen. “I felt the same way. Like they’re all pointing accusing fingers at me.”
“Yes, exactly that.” I think my mother and I have a lot in common, and I can’t wait to find out more.
“I went to see Father Connell just before your tenth birthday and asked if I could meet you. He said that I couldn’t, that it was confidential where you were, and that you were happier without me. I was twenty-five by then, and I thought I had my life together, but he made me feel just like he did when I was fifteen. Like I wasn’t good enough.”
That my mother was looking for me when I was hoping for her makes a well of emotion open up in my chest. I seize her hand and hold it tightly. “You were always good enough. Always.”
As we finish our lunch, I ask Beatrice, “Do you think that if we’d met by chance, we would have known that we’re mother and daughter?”
She studies my face. “You look so much like me. I think I would have felt that you were familiar, and worried over it and worried over it, and then done the math in my head.”
I smile at her. “Worrying over things, I have the same habit. I think I would have realized the same thing as well.”
“Your fiancée is the kindest man in the world to find me for you.”
We told Beatrice that my aunts knew her name and he looked her up. “He is. Would you like to meet him? He’s waiting in the car outside.”
“I would love that.”
“He’s older than me,” I say, watching her carefully. I don’t care about our age difference, but I’d rather not be around people who practice judgment over love. Cullan doesn’t need to be around that either. I doubt he’d get his feelings hurt, but I would hurt for him, and there’s been enough of that in my life. “Twenty years older than me.”
She shrugs, still smiling. “If he loves you, that’s all that matters. Let’s meet this lovely man of yours.”
I send Cullan a text, and he enters the restaurant a moment later. I can’t help but admire this lovely man of mine, looking so tall and handsome and dressed in a black shirt.
I needn’t have worried Beatrice would judge me for falling for a man who’s twenty years older than me. She loves Cullan, and she’s so happy for me that she even gives me another hug.
Cullan looks at me closely, reading the happiness and hope in my expression. We discussed what I wanted if the meeting with my mother went well, and he agreed it was a wonderful idea. He turns to Beatrice and takes her hands in his. “Elena and I are getting married in a few weeks. We would love for you to come to the wedding.”
“I would love that so much. My daughter is getting married and having a baby, and I get to be there. All these years, I’ve counted the milestones I’ve missed out on and imagining what you were doing.”
“I feel the same way. But the wedding won’t be in church. I hope that’s okay.”
Beatrice nods in understanding. “I haven’t been to Mass or confession for years. I didn’t lose my belief, but I lost faith in the people who took you away from me. Whatever you and Cullan choose, I know it’s going to be wonderful. Thank you for including me.”
With more tears and hugs, we say goodbye, but promise to meet up for coffee in a few days.
All the way home, I feel like I’m floating on air.
While I change out of my dress, Cullan sits on the bed with Rosie in his arms, and I tell him everything about lunch with my mother. He listens with a smile on his face, and I can tell he’s happy for me.
As I pull on some sweats, I’m surprised to find that the waistband is too tight. “Oh, wow. These pants don’t fit anymore. I’m starting to get huge.”
Cullan admires the way the fabric is stretched over my belly. “Mama looks gorgeous as hell.”
“Mama,” Rosie repeats.
