Someone Else's Life

Текст добавлен: 26 сентября 2016, 13:10

Текст книги "Someone Else's Life"

Автор книги: Katie Dale

Соавторы: Katie Dale,Katie Dale

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I’ve been praying for way to make things up to Holly—

swearing I’d do anything, give up anything for her

but

never dreamed it would be Andy. He’s my future. At least,

thought he was.

Perhaps this is destiny?

swallow hard.

Perhaps they were always meant to meet?

If Holly and

had never been switched, I’d have

been brought up here, after all, and Andy and

would

never have met. Instead, Holly and Andy would both be

back home in Bramberley.

And now I’m the one who’s brought them together.

After all, Andy wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for me—if

hadn’t dragged him on this roller-coaster ride.

sigh.

Yet again, I’ve got no one to blame but myself.

401

Holly

stare out my bedroom window at the dark

driveway.

Still no Rosie.

hope she’s okay. Hope she’s not hiding away

somewhere, upset.

Hope she’s going to keep her promise …

sigh. Yeah, right Like she’s really gonna still give

me five hundred dollars, after her boyfriend just returned

from out of the blue– to see me

sink onto my bed.

But my appointment’s tomorrow …

bite my lip. could try asking Dad again after he

finishes work, but

But he wants to sit down and talk about it properly

remember miserably. This isn’t something you want to rush

into– there’s no hurry

But how can

tell him there is

hurry, without

telling him I’m pregnant

close my eyes, imagining the whole new can of

worms that would open—something just can’t even bear

thinking about tonight. Everything’s hard enough already.

flop back onto my pillow and pull Kitty’s letter

from my drawer:

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Dear Holly

know nothing say can ever make up for what did,

or the years I’ve missed …

No kidding.

And know you probably won’t believe me, but I’ve

regretted it every single day since

My heart bleeds.

You’re an adult now, Holly, and while realize I’ve

missed my chance to be any sort of mother to you, hope

you will accept my gift of $10,000

Translation: I’m so rich can buy myself out of any

situation, and usually do.

I’ve missed so many birthdays, so many Christmases,

and whilst know money can never make up for what we’ve

lost, hope it may be useful to you– that can at least make your life easier in some small way as you head into

adulthood– to college, or whatever path you choose

swallow. Whatever path choose

The last thing want now is to make your life any

more difficult, but do fear that now our paths have crossedonce more, the media may try to intrude on your life– as they do in almost every aspect of mine

shudder, imagining reporters swarming round our

house, digging up all our secrets– my secrets—printing

them for the whole world to see.…

Consequently,

feel it would be much better for

everyone if the press does not get involved, and wonder if

you would be so kind as to sign the enclosed form, fill in

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your bank details, and fax it back to me, so may transfer

your money directly

Ten thousand dollars

glance at the form: the

space for my account details, the paragraph promising

won’t speak to the press, then box for my signature.

Ten thousand dollars

Darling Holly, you may not be my biological

daughter, but you are the baby held in my arms, the child

named, the daughter I’ve missed all these years …

swallow hard.

Please believe me when

say

will never forgive

myself for leaving you. The only excuse have is that was

seventeen, no one knew was pregnant and was scared

out of my mind

bite my lip. She was like me, realize suddenly.

Except she was year younger

feel so ashamed of what did, and understand if you

can never forgive me, if you never want to see or speak to

me ever again. But

would be eternally grateful if you

would accept my olive branch, and allow me to at least help you in this small way, my Holly

Sincerely

Kitty Clare

stare at the letter.

Strangely, don’t feel as angry this time. What she

did doesn’t seem quite so awful. Despite myself, even feel

404

stab of sympathy for her, this woman who deserted me,

whose footsteps I’m inadvertently following.

Yes, Kitty abandoned her baby—but she was

teenager, younger than am. And aren’t doing something

similar– worse even—by considering abortion?

my eyes.

At least Kitty’s trying to make up for what she did.

True, money isn’t great way to do it, but as it happens,

it’s exactly what need at the moment. Kitty may not have

been my mother for all these years, but now, ironically,

she’s the one person who can help me out, give me the

money need, no questions asked.

And she’s offered it to me on plate.

In return for

what? Forgiveness? Closure?

guarantee that won’t run off to some tabloid and sell my

story? As if I’d want to. Why would want my life invaded,

my secrets splashed all over some magazine, some paper,

some Website?

And, if not quite forgiveness, can certainly swallow

my pride for the sake of my baby—for the sake of ten

thousand dollars that will allow me to get tested

anonymously, to protect my future—our future.

And why shouldn’t get something from Kitty after

all these years? She owes me. And she’s right, it would

make my life– my decisions—much easier

stare at the form moment longer, then grab pen

and fill it in, sign my name and fax it off.

Perhaps some good can finally come out of this

awful situation after all.

405

Rosie

The frosty wind whispers around my shoulders as

gaze up at the huge two-story lobster-pot Christmas tree,

its cheerful lights glowing determinedly, despite the

darkening night and icy cold, despite the fact that there’s

hardly anyone here to see it—despite the fact that

Christmas was nearly month ago.

The pretty red ribbons flutter in the breeze as

huddle in my hoodie, chilled to the bone, but not from the

wind. can’t face going back to the house yet—not if Andy

might still be there. have enough imagined pictures of

him with Holly floating round my head without risking

adding real ones by returning too soon.

hug my hoodie closer, Holly’s money tucked safely

inside. It’s still hers, after all—she deserves it, whatever’s

happening with Andy. From the sounds of it, she wouldn’t

even take his calls—his “million voice mails,” remember

bitterly.

realize I’m fiddling with the birthstone necklace

and pull my hand away sharply, staring at the lights until

they splinter and blur like reflections on the tide.

Suddenly they’re blotted out.

“Hey,” Andy says quietly.

look away. “How’d you know I’d be here?”

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“I didn’t.”

“Oh.”

flinch, hating my heart for leaping at his

arrival, only to be crushed yet again. He hasn’t come to see

me. It’s just coincidence. It’s only small town, after all.

“I looked everywhere else,” Andy explains, sinking

down next to me on the bench. “There’s not that many

places to search. Especially in off-season.” He smiles wryly

but don’t look up.

“And remembered how much you loved this tree

when we found it.”

stare up at it, at the cheerful red plastic lobster,

king for once, high above the beribboned pots, trying to

ignore the heat feel from Andy’s body close to mine.

“Rosie,” he sighs. “I’m sorry about what said. was

wrong.” He looks at me. “You were right to come here, to

tell them …” He takes deep breath. “Holly had to know.”

stare at my feet.

“What she’s going through, what’s happened—it’s

not your fault

None of it is.” He shakes his head. “And

it’s really brave of you to stay, to face up to the

consequences, take responsibility

I’m not so great at

that.” He smiles ruefully. “But I’ve come back to give it

go.”

He covers my hand gently with his.

“I’m proud of you, Rose. You’re so strong. When

think of everything you’ve been through

You’re the

strongest girl I’ve ever met.”

He squeezes my hand tight, his warm palm

enclosing mine.

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squeeze back. “Thank you, Andy.”

“And Holly needs that strength—needs you—even

if she doesn’t always like to admit it.”

look away, suddenly cold again despite his hand

clutching mine.

“Holly.” nod. “You came back to be with Holly.”

“Don’t be an idiot, Rose.” He sighs, smoothing my

hair as it tangles in the wind. “I’m just

helping her with

something, trying to follow your example.” He cups my

face, his eyes deep in mine. “There’s nothing between me

and Holly.” He brushes my cheek tenderly. “There’s only

you. There’s only ever been you.”

look at him, his eyes fathomless in the dark,

glittering with the reflections of the tiny lights.

“I thought you’d gone for good,” whisper.

“I promised I’d come back,” he reminds me. “I

couldn’t leave things the way they ended—I had to

apologize, tell you you were right.” He smiles. “You seem

to be making real progress with Jack—with Holly …”

nod. “I hope so.”

“And believe me, you didn’t miss anything in

Washington. didn’t even get to the Smithsonian—Aunt

Patty was on overdrive, dragging me round town to meet

all her friends and neighbors—you had

lucky escape.”

He grins.

smile faintly.

“You were right to stay,” he says gently. “You’re

needed here.”

search his eyes. “And you …?” ask tentatively.

408

“I’ll stay if you want me to,” he promises. “But you

don’t need me, Rose—look how far you’ve come on your

own. You’re really building bridges here, and really don’t want to get in the way of that.” He strokes my face.

“They’re your family, Rose, there’s nothing more

important. They have to come first. They need you– all of you—as long as it takes.” He squeezes my hand.

nod slowly, staring at our hands, trying to work

out whose fingers are whose.

“Where does that leave us?”

“I don’t know,” he sighs. “I love you, Rosie Kenning.”

He grips my hand tight, and my heart aches. “And I’m so

glad everything’s working out for you—with Kitty, with

Jack, with Holly

I’m so happy for you.” He looks at me,

his eyes shining. “But right now

it seems like we’re just

on different paths.” He sighs.

swallow hard, my insides twisting as he lifts my

chin.

“Once everything’s settled down—when the

moment’s right, when we’re both ready

that’s when our

paths will come together—that’ll be our time …” His eyes

swim as he cups my face. “We’ll have our time. know it.”

He smiles fiercely and my throat swells. “And we’ll finally

go traveling together. Just you, me, the beach and the

sea—no stress

no worries

and it will be

incredible.”

He grins. “If our week in New York’s anything to go by,

can’t wait!”

His eyes sparkle and giggle weakly.

409

“I love you, Rosie,” he tells me, his voice husky as he

kisses tear from my cheek. “But for now—just for now—

they need you more.”

nod painfully, his face blurring in the dark.

He pulls me close and

shut my eyes, trying to

memorize the feel of his body against mine, every

centimeter his warmth touches

until finally he breaks

away.

“Au revoir.” He smiles, kisses me softly before

slowly walking away.

And although

feel cold without him, shivering

violently in the empty square, watching him disappear

into the night—though the future’s dark, and don’t know

when I’ll see him again—deep inside me, flame burns on.

410

Holly

The burning sun is just starting to creep over the

neighbors’ houses, gilding the roofs and chasing away the

shadows, as brush the dirt off my knees and wriggle into

the dusty corner. It’s smaller than remember up here,

darker, damper. But then, it would be; haven’t been up to

my tree house in about eight years.

pull my jacket tighter against the chilly morning

air as gaze around at the peeling pictures and discarded

toys.

long-forgotten treasure chest sits rotting in the

corner, the bright paint faded, like the old scrap of damp

carpet beneath me. It’s been long time—a lifetime—but

it’s still my place. The playroom Dad built for me; the den

where Melissa and shared our secrets and spied on the

neighborhood boys, watching for hours as they lay

bronzing in the sun, imagining our first kisses.

lean back and my hand rests on something soft.

pick it up and dust it off, surprised. His fur is coarse,

roughened with age and adventures, but the teddy bear’s

deep chocolaty eyes smile at me knowingly, his scent

wonderfully familiar. Mr. Brown. My favorite toy since

was baby.

baby hug my stomach, which is just beginning to

swell against my waistband.

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Will you play up here someday, baby? Will you cuddle

Mr. Brown, read these books, climb that rope– ladder …?

Suddenly the ladder pulls tight, and spring back,

startled, as Dad’s head pops up above the floorboards.

“Hey.” He smiles, wobbling on the rungs. “Sorry,

didn’t mean to scare you. Your mobile was ringing.” He

tosses me Andy’s cell phone and glance at it quickly—it

could be the clinic. forgot to check the voice mail.

“Permission to enter?” he asks.

shrug, wiping my eyes and scooting over quickly

as he crawls awkwardly into the tiny room, tucking his

knees up against his chin.

“I like what you’ve done with the place,” he jokes,

looking around at the layers of dust and cobwebs.

smile despite myself. He looks ridiculous—like

giant folded into nutshell.

“Well

never!” He gasps, his eyes falling on the

teddy bear. “Mr. Brown! How are you, old fella?” He

fondles the bear’s ears affectionately. “I thought we’d lost

him years ago—never dared mention it to you because

one time when you lost him for just

day you were

inconsolable. Even ice cream for breakfast, lunch and

dinner didn’t cheer you up! You cried so hard you gave

yourself headache. Just as well, really—it was only when

went to get some painkillers that found him, hidden in

the medicine chest!” He laughs.

“I’ll never forget the look on your face when

brought him riding into your bedroom on my shoulders.

You looked at me like

was your hero, like

could fix

412

anything.” He smiles wistfully. “I loved that. You’d come to

me with your cuts and scrapes and nightmares and I’d kiss

them all better, solve everything with wave of my magic

wand. It was the best feeling in the world.” He beams at

me for moment; then his face clouds over.

“I’m sorry

can’t fix this, Holly-berry.” He sighs

heavily. “I’d give anything, you know, do anything to

change things—to swap places …”

look at him. For the first time in my life he looks

old.

“You lost your magic wand?” joke, my voice light.

He smiles sadly. “Yes, yes, suppose have.”

stare at the floor, at the knotted wood swirling and

splintering beneath us, yet somehow still managing to

hold us up, at least for now.

“But still have some magical powers.”

“Oh, yeah?” raise an eyebrow.

“Uh-huh. My shoulders are actually super-spongy-

sturdy stress supporters, plus

have super-sensitive-

sympathetic listening skills.”

“Bonus.” grin, and he smiles.

“So

you and Josh …”

shrug. “Didn’t work out.”

“I’m sorry,” Dad says sincerely. “What happened?”

“It just

didn’t work out,” repeat quietly.

“Right.” He nods. “Only hope it wasn’t to do with

Hunt—”

“It’s for the best,” interrupt quickly.

413

“Right.” Dad nods, and we both stare at the floor.

“You know,

do also have super-sonic-shutting-up

powers …,” he says gently. “On occasion …”

grin despite myself. “Rarely used.”

“Rarely used,” he admits, smiling.

sniff. “How about super-human-hugging powers?”

“Now, those,” he says, wrapping one big arm around

me and pulling me close, “are my specialty.”

close my eyes and lean into him, his arms tight

around me, the musty smell of his old woolly sweater

warm and familiar.

“Oh, Holly-berry,” he sighs, rocking me like child.

“You know, it hardly seems two minutes ago that first

gave you Mr. Brown to soothe you to sleep as baby.” He

looks at me. “Did you know he used to be mine, when

was little boy?”

stare up at him. “Really?”

He nods. “I loved him so much,

never went

anywhere without him—I never thought could ever part

with him.” He looks at me. “But it turned out could—for

something loved infinitely more. My first child.”

My heart sinks as rapidly as it rose.

“Then he wasn’t for me, was he?”

say, looking

away. “He was for her. For Rosie.” Just like everything else

“No, Holly-berry,” Dad says gently. “He was always

meant for you. You’re the one who needed him, who

couldn’t sleep without him. Who loved him.” He strokes

my hair off my face. “Some things are yours because

you’re born with them—your DNA, the color of your

414

eyes—and other things become yours because they’re

part of you who you choose to be—and that’s so much more important.” He sighs. “Huntington’s

whether you

have it or not, that’s not who you are. It doesn’t define

you, Holly.”

look away.

“You are the decisions you make. The things you do.

The people you love and who love you. They’re the things

that really make you who you are.” He smiles. “That’s why

Mr. Brown here will always be yours, just like this tree

house, like the scar on your knee where you fell off your

trike.” He links his pinkie with mine. “He’s part of who

you are Intertwined. Inseparable. And no one can ever

take that away. Ever.” His eyes linger on mine, deep and

full. “He’ll always be yours.”

My heart swells.

“Until you decide to give him to your own child one

day.” He grins, handing Mr. Brown to me and pulling me

closer. “It’s crazy thing, becoming parent,” he whispers

into my hair. “You never realize just how much it’s

possible to love someone else. How another life can be so

much more important than your own

until suddenly

you do.”

stare at Mr. Brown and swallow hard. Now’s the

time, the moment.

“Dad …”

“I know, know.” He grins. “Slushy slushy, but you’ll

understand one day, when it’s your turn.”

“Dad …”

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“And that’s

long way in the future, know!” He

laughs. “Supersonic-shutting-up powers activated.”

“No, Dad …” hesitate. have to do this “Dad, you

know those super-sensitive listening skills?”

“Super-sensitive-sympathetic listening skills,” he

corrects me.

“Dad.”

“Sorry,” he says. “Activated. Shoot.”

look at him, my heart pounding in my chest.

Suddenly

smile, certain that everything will be okay.

“Dad, I—I’m—”

“Jack!” Megan yells from the garden.

Dad glances outside, then back at me. “Go ahead.”

“I …,” begin again.

“Jack!”

His gaze remains firmly on mine.

take deep breath.

“Jack!” Megan yells again. “Jack, where are you?”

look down at her pacing the garden, and my pulse

races. can’t do this in hurry.

“You’d better answer her,”

tell him, my heart

sinking.

He sticks his head out of the door. “Megan!” he calls.

“I’m in the tree house with Holly—can it wait?”

Megan hurries over,

large envelope in her hand.

“I’m sorry, no, it can’t,” she says, swiping her frazzled hair

from her eyes. “Jack, you have to see this,” she says, her

face deathly pale. “You too, Holly.”

416

Rosie

turn the kitchen tap on and drink straight from my

hands, the water cold and refreshing after my walk along

the harbor, my cheeks burning despite the morning chill.

“Well, what the hell can we do about it?” Jack’s voice bellows from the living room, making me jump. My heart

sinks.

turn the tap off carefully and hurry upstairs,

anxious to be out of the way of another argument.

“Rosie.” Megan steps into the hall, her hair nest of

frazzled curls. “You’re back.”

nod. “But I’ll get out of your way,” say quickly.

“No, Rosie.” She sighs. “Sweetheart, you’d better

come and see this.”

walk slowly back downstairs,

feeling of unease

sinking over me.

Jack is sitting hunched over in an armchair, the

contents of an envelope spread across the coffee table.

“I need some air,” Holly mutters, pushing past me.

“What’s going on?” ask, watching her go, my skin

prickling with dread, the tension in the room hanging like

icicles ready to strike.

“These arrived

little while ago,” Megan says

calmly, handing me stack of photographs.

417

stare at them, surprised. They’re of me—me and

Kitty in the center of Boston

trying on clothes

having

manicures

hugging tearfully

“I—I don’t understand …”

frown. “When were

these

How …?”

“They were sent by one Janine Lithgow.” Jack sighs.

“Kitty’s publicist.”

“Janine …” trail off. Janine the assistant woman?

Kitty’s publicist?

“I don’t understand,” say again, looking to Megan

for help. “I don’t know how those photos were taken—”

Then suddenly

remember Janine and her huge Gucci

bag

clutching it in the car

peering through the

dressing room curtain at Chanel

thrusting the bag at

Kitty desperately as we left the limo

“I don’t understand …”

sink into

chair. “Why

would she …?”

“This came with the pictures,” Jack interrupts. “It’s

draft article: ‘Mamma Mia—Reunited at Last!: How

Found My Long-Lost Daughter.’

“What?”

stare at the page, words and phrases

leaping out at me. Babies switched! Tearful reunion! Life of misery and heartache

My stomach turns as read my

own words: She didn’t mean to be violent– it was the disease– and all that time feared I’d inherit it too

“What is this?”

Jack sighs. “I’m afraid it’s

publicity stunt. Kitty’s

reinventing herself as Mother Teresa, apparently,” he

says. “Or Mamma Mia, anyway—it says here she’s the

418

favorite for the new Broadway lead with—get this—

rumors that her real daughter will play opposite her!” He

tosses the envelope back onto the coffee table. “I should

never have let you go with her,” he groans. “What bloody

mess.”

stare at the article, the pictures, Kitty’s smiling

face. All publicity stunt?

career move? remember her

tears as she left me, the love in her eyes, the regret. It

seemed so real

It was real, I’d swear to it

But then, she’s an actress, remind myself. She does

this for

living. Fooling people, deceiving them into

thinking she’s someone she’s not—that’s her job Onstage, on camera, her relationship

God, she’d even told me!

It’s all

sham– career move– my whole life’s one

big charade, Rosie– nothing’s real …

Except when there are no lights, no cameras—

hidden or otherwise—then the real Kitty emerges. And

saw her

realize painfully. The real Kitty—the one met

in New York. The one who wanted nothing to do with

until it worked in her interest.

God, how could have been so stupid? scan the

page again, her words in the hotel room echoing in my

ears:

need

hook– you know, capture the public’s

imagination, attract media interest– constantly raise my profile … Well, what better hook than to have long-lost daughter turn up? swapped long-lost daughter, no less—

scandal—and then to be photographed in

joyful

reunion?

419

close my eyes, sick with the realization of it, the

betrayal, my stupidity

It was all an act. She never loved me, never wanted

Andy was right—I should’ve known, should’ve been

more suspicious when she turned up, all hugs and smiles.

Instead, I’d stupidly swallowed the whole act—hook, line

and sinker.

But then, I’d wanted to. So desperately.

“I’ve been asked to give my comment on the whole

sorry saga before it’s submitted to the press on Monday.”

Jack groans. “I daresay she’ll get one of those tabloids to

run it, celebrity magazine perhaps, online …”

“No!” gasp, my blood running cold. “No, she can’t!”

“Oh, I’m afraid she can.” Jack sighs wearily. “They’ll

print anything with celebrity attached.”

“No!” cry, squeezing my eyes tight shut. “Oh, God!

Nana– my nana—she doesn’t know …”

“Doesn’t know what, Rosie?” Megan asks slowly.

“She doesn’t know anything!” tell her desperately.

“She doesn’t know about the swap—the mix-up—

anything!” Nana’s frail face swims in front of me. “It

would—it would destroy her!”

Megan glances at Jack as stare miserably at the

article, wishing could turn back the clock, wishing I’d

never come here, wishing I’d never even heard of Kitty

Clare.

“It might not run in the UK, right?”

ask

desperately. “She’s not even famous at home. These

420

magazines and papers—this story—it’s just for the U.S.,

right?”

“I guess …,” Megan says slowly. “But sweetie, what

about the courts?”

“What?” frown. “What courts?”

“Rosie,” Jack says. “Kitty’s planning to sue.”

“What?” stare at him, frozen.

“She’s going to sue the hospital where you were

born,” he explains. “It’s all part of her Mother-of-the-Year

campaign. She wants the record set straight, wants your

birth certificate rectified—she wants to be officially

recognized as your mother, never mind the fact that for

eighteen years she’s never shown any interest in—”

“No!” stare at him, horror surging through me like

boiling lava. Sarah

“It shows she wants you, at least,” Megan says.

“After all this time.”

“It shows no such thing!” Jack argues. “It’s all about

publicity. She has no idea what

can of worms she’s

opening. Do you have any idea what this could mean—to

all of us? Besides being swamped by journalists day and

night, Rosie and Holly will have their whole lives

rearranged!”

stare at him, dumbstruck, the world tumbling

down around me.

“The two of you live in different countries for God’s

sake, you can’t just swap back eighteen years down the

line. You have different passports, different driver’s

licenses—the list is endless—and they’re all going to be

421

investigated, all ‘set straight’—just so Kitty can bag the

story of the year!”

“Oh, God …”

feel dizzy. “Kitty can’t sue

she

can’t

I’ll deny it!” protest. “I’ll say she made it all up!”

“She had

DNA test done, sweetie,” Megan says

gently.

“DNA? What DNA? How?”

“It says here, your nails—”

“My nails?”

remember Janine insisting we get

manicures and pedicures together as soon as we

arrived—“perfect girly bonding”– all to collect my nails?

“No!” exclaim. “We have to stop this!”

“I don’t see how we can, Rosie.” Jack sighs. “After all,

Kitty’s got

case—it’s

hell of

mistake to swap two

babies.”

squeeze my eyes shut. But it wasn’t

Oh, God, if

they investigate

Sarah

God, Sarah

feel sick to my

stomach.

This is the worst thing could ever imagine If Nana

finds out, she could have

heart attack; Sarah could be

arrested—could go to prison—all because of me and my

stupidity

“It’s my fault,” sob, my voice ragged. “It’s all my

fault …”

“No,” Megan tells me firmly. “No, Rosie, it isn’t.

You’re the victim here. You and Holly. It’s all been

mistake, terrible accident.”

“Except that it wasn’t.” Holly’s words cut through

my tears like ice, freezing my breath.

422

“Holly,” Jack sighs. “Sit down, sweetheart, you’re

upset.”

“No, Dad,” she says calmly. “I know what I’m talking

about. It wasn’t an accident. It was deliberate.”

Through my tears, look up at her, standing in the

doorway, holding up something small and shiny in her

hand. It takes me moment to recognize it.

“We were swapped deliberately,” she says again,

her eyes cold and clear, Andy’s phone gleaming in her

fingers. “Weren’t we, Rosie?”

423

Holly

The truth hangs like

shadow in Rosie’s eyes—I

can see it; so can Megan. So can Dad.

She trembles in our gaze. Little Miss Goody Two-

shoes exposed in the harsh headlights of her lie.

“I don’t understand,” Megan begins. “What do you

mean? How …?”

“I think Rosie had better explain,” suggest, taking

seat. “After all”—I meet her gaze coolly—“Sarah’s your

friend, isn’t she?”

She cringes at my words, closing her eyes and

visibly crumpling into her chair.

“Rosie?” Megan says quietly. “Who’s Sarah?”

Rosie’s head hangs miserably in her hands.

“Rosie?”

She takes

deep breath. “Sarah,” she says slowly,

her voice croaky and unrecognizable. “Sarah is

neighbor,

family friend …” She trails off in

heavy,

trembling sigh, screws her eyes closed tight. “And

midwife.”

Dad stares at her. So do I, Rosie’s voice mail on

Andy’s cell phone ringing in my ears: Sarah changed

everything when she swapped me with Holly– whether she was right or wrong

424

“But

how?

mean, why?” Megan frowns. “Why

would she swap you?”

“She thought …” watch Rosie struggle for the right

words, if any exist. “She thought she was doing the right

thing …”

“How?” Dad demands. “How could she possibly

think—” He rubs his hand over his face, flattening and

creasing his features. “God!”

“Sarah said that—that Kitty didn’t want her baby,”

Rosie explains, her voice cracking, agony etched in every

word. “That she was going to abandon her …”

Dad looks at her, his eyes deep and fierce in their

sockets. look away. So does Rosie, her lips trembling.

“She thought that Trudie’s baby was going to die,”

she continues, her voice quavering. “My dad had an

accident on the way to the hospital

he died, and

and

Sarah didn’t think that Mum—that Trudie could cope with

any more grief.” She breaks off as tears flood her words

and look away, folding my arms tightly, determined to

swallow my sympathy.

Like mother, like daughter—the article’s right. She’s

just like Kitty—breaking out the sob story, making me feel

sorry for her, making me think she’s like me, that she truly wants to make amends

When all along they were both just buying me off—

Kitty with her ten thousand dollars, Rosie with the five

hundred dollars she slipped under my door last night.

When all along they were concealing the bitter truth.

425

Rosie always knew the swap was deliberate, and

Kitty—my blood boils—Kitty used me. The first letter—

the first contact—I’ve had from her in my entire life, and it was

lie She didn’t want to apologize didn’t want to compensate me for everything she’d done, didn’t want to make amends or stop the press from intruding on our lives! She just wanted to buy me off, buy my silence, so she

could spin her own twisted version of events, paint herself

victim,

perfect mother—without worrying that I’d

tell the world the truth, the terrible sordid truth about

America’s beloved sweetheart and her precious freaking

family reunion.

And fell for it.

Well, not anymore.

“So Sarah swapped you,” Dad says, his words cold,

devoid of emotion. His jaw tightens. “She did this for your

mother. For Trudie.”

Rosie nods miserably. “She was desperate—she