“I like to sing. I guess I have a pretty good voice. That's what people tell me.”
“Then you can't be my daughter,” Maddy laughed, with tears in her eyes again. She was overwhelmed with emotion as they continued to hold hands, sitting in Maddy's office. And miraculously, for once, no one had interrupted them. It was a rare, quiet morning. “What else do you like to do?”
“I like horses. I can ride anything on four legs. But I hate cows. One of the families that fostered me had a dairy farm. I swore I'd never marry a farmer.” They both laughed at that. “I like kids. I write to all my foster brothers and sisters, except for a few of them. Most of them were good people. I like Washington.” She smiled at Maddy then. “I like you on TV … I like clothes … I like boys … I like the beach….”
“I love you,” Maddy blurted out, although she didn't even know her. “I loved you then too. I just couldn't take care of you, I was fifteen and my parents wouldn't let me keep you. I cried over it for years. I always wondered where you were and if you were okay, and if people were being good to you. I told myself you'd been adopted by wonderful people who loved you.” It broke her heart to think that that hadn't been true, and the child had grown up between foster homes and state institutions.
“Do you have kids?” Elizabeth wanted to know. It was a reasonable question. And Maddy shook her head with a look of sorrow. But she did now. She had a daughter. And this time, she wasn't going to lose her. She had already made that decision.
“No, I don't. I never had children, and I can't now.” Elizabeth didn't ask her why, she was respectful of the fact that they didn't know each other. And given the patchwork quilt that her past had been, Maddy was impressed by how polite she was, and well behaved, and how educated she sounded. “Do you like to read?” Maddy asked, curious about her.
“I love it,” Elizabeth confirmed, another trait she had inherited from her mother, along with her perseverance and courage and dogged pursuit of her objectives. She had never given up on finding her mother. It was all she'd ever wanted.
“How old are you now?” Elizabeth asked her, just to be sure she'd originally guessed Maddy's age right. Elizabeth wasn't sure if Maddy had been fifteen or sixteen when she gave up her baby.
“I'm thirty-four.” They were more like sisters, and looked it, than mother and daughter. “And I'm married to the man who owns this network. His name is Jack Hunter.” It was pretty basic information, but after she said it, Elizabeth stunned her.
“I know. I met him last week, in his office.”
“You what? How did you do that?” It seemed impossible to Maddy.
“I tried to ask for you in the lobby, and they wouldn't let me see you. They sent me right up to his office. I talked to his secretary, and I'd written you a note, it just said that I wanted to ask you if you were my mother. She took it to him, and then she brought me in to see him,” she said innocently, as though it were a perfectly logical sequence of events, and it was in some ways. Except that Jack hadn't said a word about it to Maddy
“And then what happened?” Maddy asked, with her heart pounding again, just as it had when Elizabeth said Maddy was her mother. “What did he say to you?”
“He told me that he knew for a fact that I was wrong, that you'd never had any children. I think he thought I was a fake, or trying to blackmail you or something. He told me to go away and never come back again. I showed him my birth certificate and the picture, and I was afraid he would take them away from me, but he didn't. He just told me that wasn't your maiden name, but I knew it was, so I thought he might be lying to protect you. And then I wondered if maybe he didn't know, and you never told him.”
“I never did,” Maddy said honestly. “I was afraid to. He's been very good to me. He got me out of Knoxville nine years ago, and paid for my divorce. He made me who I am today, and I didn't know how he'd feel if I told him, so I didn't.” But he knew now, and he hadn't said a word to her. She wondered if it was because he thought it was a hoax and didn't want to worry her, or if he was saving it for ammunition. Given what she'd come to believe of him recently, she thought the latter more likely, and couldn't help wondering when he was going to tell her. He was probably saving it for just the right moment, when it would do the most damage. And then she felt instantly guilty for what she was thinking. “Well, he knows now,” Maddy said with a sigh, looking at the girl. And then she looked at the girl squarely. “What are we going to do now, about all this?”
“Nothing, I guess,” Elizabeth said practically. “I don't want anything from you. I just wanted to find you, and meet you. I'm going back to Memphis tomorrow. They gave me a week off from work, but I have to go back now.”
“That's it?” Maddy looked surprised that she wanted so little from her. “I'd like to see you again, Elizabeth, and get to know you. Maybe I could come to Memphis.”
“I'd like that. You could stay with me, but I don't think you'd like it.” She smiled shyly. “I rent a room in a boarding house, and it's pretty small and smelly. I spend all my money on school … and on finding you. I guess I won't have to do that now.”
“Maybe we could stay in a hotel together.” The girl's eyes lit up at that, and Maddy was touched. She seemed to have no expectations whatsoever.
“I'm not going to tell anyone about this,” Elizabeth said shyly, “just my landlady and my boss, and one of my foster moms, if that's okay with you. But I won't tell anyone if you don't want me to. I don't want to cause you any trouble.” She herself was unaware of the implications of a public exposé for Maddy.
“That's nice of you to say, Elizabeth, but I don't know what I'm going to do about it myself. I have to think about that and talk it over with my husband.”
“I don't think he's going to like it.” Maddy didn't think so either. “He didn't look real happy to see me. I guess it was kind of a big surprise.”
“Yes, I would say that,” Maddy smiled at her. It was certainly a shock, even to her, but she was pleased now. It was suddenly exciting having a daughter. It was the end to a mystery for her, a healing of an old wound she had resigned herself to for years, but it had always been there. And now this was a blessing like no other. “He'll get used to it. We all will.” Maddy invited her to lunch then, and Elizabeth looked thrilled and told her mother to call her “Lizzie.” They went to a coffee shop around the corner, and Maddy cautiously put an arm around her shoulders as they walked along, and over a club sandwich and a hamburger, Lizzie told her everything she could think of about her life, her friends, her fears, her joys, and then she asked Maddy a million questions. This was the meeting she had always dreamed of, and the one Maddy had never dared to.
It was three o'clock when they got back, and Maddy had given her all her phone numbers and fax numbers, and gotten hers, and she promised to call her often to see how she was doing. And as soon as she got things squared away with Jack, she wanted to have her to Virginia for the weekend. And when she told her she'd send the plane for her, Lizzie's eyes grew big as saucers.
“You guys have your own plane?”
“Jack does.”
“Wow! My mom is a TV star, and my dad has a jet plane! Holy Moses!”
“He's not exactly your father,” Maddy corrected gently, nor would he want to be, Maddy easily suspected. He didn't enjoy interacting with his own sons, let alone take on Maddy's illegitimate daughter. “But he's a nice man,” and as she said it, she knew she was lying to her. But it was too complicated to explain how unhappy she was, and that she was in therapy to try to get up the courage to leave him. She just hoped that Elizabeth had never been abused, as she had been. But there had been no tales of that over lunch, and in spite of never having had a real home, she seemed remarkably well adjusted. And as much as it depressed her to think so, Maddy wondered if Lizzie had done better in the end where she was, than if she'd been watching Bobby Joe shove her mother down the stairs, or listening to Jack abuse her. But she couldn't let herself off the hook as easily as that, and she felt guilty for what she had never done for her daughter. Just thinking the word now gave her a tremor. A daughter. She had a daughter.