“All of a sudden, there was this woman lying on the ground. She just appeared right in front of us. She was lying there, wet and moaning, clutching a soggy bundle in her arms. We didn’t know where she came from. She couldn’t have come out of that water—it was boiling hot. But then we saw the bundle wiggling, and it started crying. It was you. You were a tiny baby, all wrapped up in a cloth, and we couldn’t even see your face. We just sat there, kind of frozen. It took a few seconds, but we finally came out of our stupor. We both went to her and knelt on the ground, asking if we could help her. I remember noticing there was blood in her mouth when she tried to talk. This was before cell phones were common, so we couldn’t call anyone. And we couldn’t have gotten a signal anyway.”
“So my mother died?” Alora hated the quaver in her voice. Her uncle held out his hand again, and this time she grasped it tightly. He squeezed her fingers and lifted her hand to kiss the back of it before he continued.
“No, she didn’t die. At least, she was alive the last time we saw her. You see, I don’t really know what happened to her. This is where it gets even more crazy sounding. She was weak, and she couldn’t lift her head. But her eyes were looking everywhere, like she was worried someone was after her. Her voice was so faint we had to lean close to hear her. She rambled on and on. She told us her name was Wendelle, and then she told us never to repeat it.”
Charles stopped his discourse, staring at Alora like he was seeing a ghost. “You look just like her, except for her eyes. Her eyes were the deepest green I’ve ever seen.”
Her breath caught in her throat. Green—like the boy in the vision. Maybe the boy was her brother. Her heart clenched. For some reason, she didn’t want to be related to the boy she’d seen.
Charles squeezed her hand. “She begged us to take her baby and keep her safe. We tried to reason with her and tell her we’d get her to a hospital, but she said she was dying and only had a few minutes.”
“And then she left me?” Alora closed her eyes tight as her stomach churned.
“No, she disappeared.”
“Disappeared?”
“Yep. Poof—she was gone. Just like that.” Charles took another swig of coffee while she ruminated.
“Okay…” It can’t be true; it’s too crazy. How can I believe my real mother appeared with baby-me in Yellowstone National Park, dropped me off with Uncle Charles and Aunt Lena, and evaporated into thin air? Maybe Uncle Charles is getting senile. He’s in his fifties; that’s pretty old. That must be it. He’s confused.
“Okay? Are you angry with me and Aunt Lena for keeping this a secret all these years?” He screwed up his face, cringing as if she were going to yell at him.
She hesitated, not wanting to hurt his feelings. “To tell you the truth, it all sounds a bit far-fetched.”
“You mean, you don’t believe me?”
“Not exactly. You seem really sincere, and you don’t make a habit of lying to me. But I’m thinking maybe you were just imagining things.”
“Like you imagined that boy in your bathroom just now?”
“No, he was real. I promise.” If he was real, maybe this story is real, too.
Deep wrinkles creased his forehead as Charles swirled the coffee in his cup, staring at it like the answers lay inside the pungent black liquid. “Maybe I spoke too soon. Maybe you won’t believe me until you turn sixteen. Let’s forget I said anything.”
“I can’t really forget what you said.”
“Don’t think about it. I made it all up. Your real mother was your Aunt Lena’s little sister, who was killed in a car accident. You have her picture on your dresser.”
“Wait a minute. You can’t go back to the old story, now. And come to think of it, I don’t really look like Aunt Lena’s sister. Or did she even have a sister? I don’t know what to believe any more.” I’ve stared at that picture day after day for hours, imagining what she might have been like. I can’t believe she might not really be my mother.
Uncle Charles set his coffee cup down and leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, groaning into his hands. “I knew I was going to screw this up. I can’t do it without Lena. I never thought I’d have to explain without her helping me.”
“Just tell me the truth. The whole truth. I’ve got to know.”
He sat up, rubbing his eyes. “I don’t know how to convince you, but everything I told you a few minutes ago is true.”
“Okay… okay…” She tried to find the flaws in his crazy story. “How did you explain me to your friends? And I have a birth certificate—I’ve seen it.”
“When we came back with you, we told everyone you were Lena’s niece. She really did have a little sister named Jenny who was killed in an accident with a drunk driver. No one out here knew any of Lena’s family, so no one questioned anything we said. We got Dr. Sanders and Sheriff Mason to help us get you a birth certificate. They risked their careers by doing it.”
“Why would you do that? Why wouldn’t you just report a missing baby to the authorities?”
“Your mother was terrified of your father. She said he’d raped her and held her prisoner until she’d had the baby, and now he was trying to take the baby away from her. We were convinced he’d kill you if he could find you. We thought he might be a drug dealer or a gang leader or something. We didn’t tell Dr. Sanders and Sherriff Mason the whole story, but we said your mother was hiding her baby from the man who’d raped and stabbed her. We all waited and watched for a report of a missing baby, but nothing ever came through.”
“And my jewel? You told me my mother had it put in when I was a baby, so I would remember her.” Without thinking, her hand snaked up to probe the small belly button stone through her shirt.
“Dr. Sanders looked at it.” Charles shrugged. “He couldn’t really tell how it was put in—it was like it was connected internally. And your mother asked us to leave it, so we did.”