Vanessa stared at him.
And the expression on her face told me the answer before she spoke.
“Both.”
Chapter 3: THE GIRL WHO WAS TOLD TO FORGET 003
There is a particular kind of heartbreak that comes from discovering your childhood was real, but the story explaining it was not.
I stood in the sitting room looking at Vanessa, trying to separate the memories I treasured from the lies surrounding them.
The woman who had taught me to tie my shoes was my biological mother.
The man I had called Dad was also my grandfather by blood.
And Olivia, whose photograph still stood beside my bed, had chosen to become my mother even though she had never carried me.
None of those truths made the love I remembered imaginary.
But they changed its shape so dramatically that I could no longer recognize the outline of my own life.
Daniel moved toward me.
“Clara, do you want some water?”
I shook my head.
My mouth was dry, but I was afraid that if I swallowed anything, I would be sick.
Grandma settled back onto the sofa.
“Perhaps we should explain what happened.”
“Perhaps,” I repeated.
The bitterness in my voice startled even me.
Grandma accepted it without protest.
“Vanessa met a boy named Adrian Moreno during her final year of high school.”
I looked at Vanessa.
She nodded almost imperceptibly.
“He was seventeen, and I was seventeen.”
For the first time, she spoke without the sharpness that usually colored our arguments.
“He played guitar, worked weekends at his uncle’s auto shop, and thought every problem in the world could be solved with enough courage.”
A faint, sorrowful smile touched her mouth.
“He wanted to study music in Chicago.”
“What happened to him?”
I asked.
Vanessa hesitated.
“Dad didn’t approve.”
Grandma sighed.
“Thomas believed Adrian had no future.”
“That’s a polite way of putting it,” Vanessa said.
She stared into the fire.
“Dad called him worthless.”
My chest tightened.
The father I remembered had been patient and gentle.
He had stayed awake helping me build science projects and driven three hours through a snowstorm when my college car broke down.
I had never heard him speak cruelly about anyone.
But I had also never known him as the frightened father of a pregnant teenager.
“Adrian wanted to marry me,” Vanessa continued.
“We were children, but he believed we could make it work.”
“Did you love him?”
She nodded.
“With everything I understood about love at seventeen.”
I glanced at Daniel.
He listened without interrupting.
Vanessa twisted her wedding ring.
“When I discovered I was pregnant, I thought Dad would throw me out.”
“Did he?”
“Not exactly.”
Her laugh was hollow.
“He told me that I had destroyed my future, embarrassed the family, and disappointed everyone who had ever believed in me.”
Grandma lowered her head.
I could see how much she hated hearing those words repeated.
“He was terrified,” Grandma whispered.
Vanessa looked at her.
“So was I.”
The room fell silent.
Then Vanessa continued.
“Olivia had recently married Dad, and she desperately wanted a baby.”
I tried to imagine Olivia as a young woman waiting for a child.
Her face appeared in my mind exactly as I remembered it, soft and freckled, her brown hair escaping from the clip she wore while cooking.
“She never pressured me,” Vanessa said.
“Not once.”
Grandma nodded.
“Olivia was the only person in that house who asked Vanessa what she wanted.”
I looked between them.
“And what did you want?”
Vanessa’s eyes filled.
“I wanted my baby.”
My breath caught.
“Then why did you give me away?”
She stared at me for a long moment.
“Because wanting something and believing you’re allowed to keep it are two very different things.”
I didn’t know how to answer.
Vanessa looked toward Daniel.
“Dad said Adrian could never provide for us, and I would never finish school.”
She twisted her hands together.
“He said people would whisper about me forever.”
“People were going to whisper regardless,” Grandma said quietly.
“Yes, but he made me believe the whispers would destroy me.”
I looked at Grandma.
“Why didn’t you stop him?”
Tears gathered in her eyes.
“I should have.”
That admission was so simple that it hurt.
She didn’t offer an excuse.
She didn’t explain that times had been different or that complicated decisions had to be made.
She just accepted responsibility.
“I loved my son,” she whispered, “and I trusted him when I should have questioned him.”
Vanessa drew a shaky breath.
“Dad offered a solution.”
I already knew what she was going to say, but hearing it aloud still felt unbearable.
“Olivia would adopt the baby, Dad would become the legal father, and I would be allowed to finish school.”
Vanessa stared into her lap.
