Page 39 of Christmas at Pine Ridge Inn
“Yes, dear?” Carol’s voice was gentle, but she kept her attention focused on the casseroles.
Lila took a breath. There was no graceful way to ease into this. “I need to ask you something.”
Carol’s hands stilled on the foil she was smoothing over a dish. “All right.”
“When I mentioned at dinner that I was looking for information about my birth mother, you seemed ...” Lila paused, struggling for the right words. “You seemed upset.”
“Did I?” Carol’s voice was carefully neutral, but she still wasn’t looking at Lila directly.
“You left the table so quickly.” Lila moved closer, her voice growing softer. “Carol, I found out that the quilt my birth mother sent with me was delivered here. To Pine Ridge Inn on Christmas Eve, 1991.”
Carol’s shoulders tensed, and she turned slowly to face Lila. Her eyes were bright with unshed tears.
“The night before I was born,” Lila continued, her voice barely above a whisper. “Carol, I have to ask—are you my mother?”
For a long moment, the only sound was the hum of the refrigerator. Carol’s face crumpled with emotion, and she pressed a hand to her chest.
“Oh, Lila.” Carol’s voice was thick with tears. “Sweetheart, no. I’m not your birth mother.”
The words hit Lila like a physical blow. She’d been so certain, had built up the possibility in her mind until it felt like reality. “You’re not?”
“No, honey.” Carol reached for her hands, gripping them tightly. “But I would have been so lucky, so incredibly blessed, to have a daughter like you.”
Lila felt tears spill over, disappointment and confusion mixing together. “But the way you reacted, and the baby ornament, and—”
“I know.” Carol’s own tears were falling freely now. “I know how it must have looked. But Lila, the reason I got emotional wasn’t because you’re my daughter. It’s because—” She stopped, seeming to wrestle with something.
“Because what?”
Carol was quiet for a long moment, her thumb rubbing gently over Lila’s knuckles. “Because I do know who your mother is, dear.”
Lila’s breath caught. “What?”
“I know you want answers, but Lila, it’s not my story to tell.”
“Please.” Lila gripped Carol’s hands tighter. “I’ve come so far to find answers. I can’t get this close and not find out.”
“The person involved deserves to make her own choice about whether to share her story with you.” Carol’s expression was gentle but firm as she gave Lila’s hands a final squeeze before letting them go. “She knows you’re here now, and I have to leave it up to her whether she wants to come forward.”
“You’ve spoken with her?” Lila asked, her voice frantic. “You know how to get in touch with her?”
Carol nodded. “I have. Please be patient and give her time to digest the news. You’ve had some time to think on it, but this was very unexpected for her.”
Lila’s mind was racing. What had Carol told this woman about Lila? Sure, Carol liked her, and they seemed to have a connection, but had she talked Lila up? Told the woman she had enjoyed her time with her so much that she wished Lila was her own daughter?
“I was so certain it was you,” Lila said, leaning back against the counter for support as her legs began to feel shaky underneath her.
Carol wiped at the tears remaining on her face. “You were right that the baby ornament and some of the things I’ve said pointed to me having given up a child. But the truth is, Tom and I lost a baby. Early in our marriage, I miscarried at about four months along.”
Lila’s chest tightened with sympathy. “Carol, I’m so sorry.”
“It was devastating at the time. We’d been trying for so long, and then when we finally got pregnant ...” Fresh tearsthreatened to spill from her eyes. “We never got pregnant again after that. So when I see baby things, when I talk about the children we might have had, I’m thinking about the baby we lost, not one I gave away.”
The explanation made perfect sense, and Lila felt foolish for not considering it. Of course, Carol’s emotional reactions could stem from loss rather than a secret she’d kept hidden.
“That’s why your story tonight hit me so hard,” Carol continued. “Here you are, this wonderful young woman looking for her birth mother, and it just made me think about what might have been. What our baby might have grown up to be like. It took me a few minutes before I put the pieces together and realized who you really are.”
Lila wanted to push for more about her birth mother, but something in the older woman’s expression warned her not to press further tonight.
