emanating from him should have warmed her. And yet she couldn’t stand still in his embrace.
“Before you jump off the deep end, you need more information and it’s time Eleanor gave it to you.”
Jump off the deep end?
She bristled, but she held it inside and left his house. She was on a mission. And her next stop was the Portland Public Library at 5 Monument Square.
CHAPTER 5
I t was sprinkling when Mya left the library. By the time she drove across town to her mother’s hair salon, the sky was engaged in a full-blown temper tantrum.
Inside the salon, her mother was sweeping the floor around her only customer, an elderly woman named Agnes here for her weekly do. Millicent took one look at Mya’s face, and put down the broom. “Something’s wrong. What is it?”
While Agnes napped beneath a large aqua hair dryer, Mya stared at the papers clutched tightly in her hands. The top page was rain spattered, the ink running in places.
“Just come right out and say it. No need to sugarcoat it.”
“Okay, Mom.”
“I mean it. I can take the truth.”
“That’s good, because—”
“What do you have there?” Her mother pointed to the sheaf of papers.
“Research.”
“What are you researching? For God’s sakes, would you say something?”
Beyond any defensive reactions, Mya sighed and said, “This is information about non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma.”
“Non-Hodg—oh my God.” Millie dropped heavily into a chair at another station, then listened as Mya explained what she’d seen the previous night, what she’d learned from Jeffrey and then what she’d discovered at the library.
“Does Jeffrey think Elle has cancer?” Millicent asked.
“What else could it be?”
Her mother rose shakily. Switching off the hair dryer, she woke her customer. “I can’t finish you today, Agnes. We’re having a family emergency and I must go see my granddaughter.”
Poor Agnes blinked the sleep from her eyes. “Did you say granddaughter?”
“Yes.”
“I didn’t know you had a granddaughter.”
“I do. I’ll tell you about her another time. Right now you have to go.”
“But I have curlers in my hair.”
“Take them out in an hour. You can keep them or bring them back next time. I’ll make it up to you. Where’s your purse?” She located the patent leather bag and a spring jacket and ushered the woman out the front door, theplastic cape around her neck and pink curlers still in her hair.
Millicent’s hand shook as she locked up. Turning in a circle, she said, “I remembered Agnes’s purse but I left mine inside.”
“I’ll drive, Mom.”
“Good idea.” Their shoes splashed through a shallow puddle. “I’m a bit of a wreck. You can say it.”
“You’re doing fine.”
“Darned right I am. I’m worried about you, though.”
“Don’t, Mom.”
“I see the way you look at her.”
Mya started her car and pulled into the sparse traffic.
“Aren’t you going to ask how you look at her?”
“Mother.” It was issued as a warning.
“You look at her the same way you looked at her the day you had her, like you’ll die if you can’t keep her.”
“Mom, please.”
“I know, I know. You’ve read accounts of real-life mother-child reunions, and much of the time, the situations aren’t pretty. Maybe a lot of grown adopted children get their medical history and, curiosity satisfied, return to their families and proceed to go about the rest of their lives, and their birth mothers are left wanting more. But Elle’s here, Mya. You can’t close that off.”
“I’m not closing it off.”
“Sure you are,” Millicent said in perfect time to thewindshield wipers. “That’s how you’ve dealt with losing her all these years.”
“I didn’t lose her. I gave her up.”
“And you never talk about it.”
“What good would talking about it have done?” But Mya’s decision weighed heavily upon her. It always had.
Millicent sighed. “This weather is really getting on my nerves.
“Before you jump off the deep end, you need more information and it’s time Eleanor gave it to you.”
Jump off the deep end?
She bristled, but she held it inside and left his house. She was on a mission. And her next stop was the Portland Public Library at 5 Monument Square.
CHAPTER 5
I t was sprinkling when Mya left the library. By the time she drove across town to her mother’s hair salon, the sky was engaged in a full-blown temper tantrum.
Inside the salon, her mother was sweeping the floor around her only customer, an elderly woman named Agnes here for her weekly do. Millicent took one look at Mya’s face, and put down the broom. “Something’s wrong. What is it?”
While Agnes napped beneath a large aqua hair dryer, Mya stared at the papers clutched tightly in her hands. The top page was rain spattered, the ink running in places.
“Just come right out and say it. No need to sugarcoat it.”
“Okay, Mom.”
“I mean it. I can take the truth.”
“That’s good, because—”
“What do you have there?” Her mother pointed to the sheaf of papers.
“Research.”
“What are you researching? For God’s sakes, would you say something?”
Beyond any defensive reactions, Mya sighed and said, “This is information about non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma.”
“Non-Hodg—oh my God.” Millie dropped heavily into a chair at another station, then listened as Mya explained what she’d seen the previous night, what she’d learned from Jeffrey and then what she’d discovered at the library.
“Does Jeffrey think Elle has cancer?” Millicent asked.
“What else could it be?”
Her mother rose shakily. Switching off the hair dryer, she woke her customer. “I can’t finish you today, Agnes. We’re having a family emergency and I must go see my granddaughter.”
Poor Agnes blinked the sleep from her eyes. “Did you say granddaughter?”
“Yes.”
“I didn’t know you had a granddaughter.”
“I do. I’ll tell you about her another time. Right now you have to go.”
“But I have curlers in my hair.”
“Take them out in an hour. You can keep them or bring them back next time. I’ll make it up to you. Where’s your purse?” She located the patent leather bag and a spring jacket and ushered the woman out the front door, theplastic cape around her neck and pink curlers still in her hair.
Millicent’s hand shook as she locked up. Turning in a circle, she said, “I remembered Agnes’s purse but I left mine inside.”
“I’ll drive, Mom.”
“Good idea.” Their shoes splashed through a shallow puddle. “I’m a bit of a wreck. You can say it.”
“You’re doing fine.”
“Darned right I am. I’m worried about you, though.”
“Don’t, Mom.”
“I see the way you look at her.”
Mya started her car and pulled into the sparse traffic.
“Aren’t you going to ask how you look at her?”
“Mother.” It was issued as a warning.
“You look at her the same way you looked at her the day you had her, like you’ll die if you can’t keep her.”
“Mom, please.”
“I know, I know. You’ve read accounts of real-life mother-child reunions, and much of the time, the situations aren’t pretty. Maybe a lot of grown adopted children get their medical history and, curiosity satisfied, return to their families and proceed to go about the rest of their lives, and their birth mothers are left wanting more. But Elle’s here, Mya. You can’t close that off.”
“I’m not closing it off.”
“Sure you are,” Millicent said in perfect time to thewindshield wipers. “That’s how you’ve dealt with losing her all these years.”
“I didn’t lose her. I gave her up.”
“And you never talk about it.”
“What good would talking about it have done?” But Mya’s decision weighed heavily upon her. It always had.
Millicent sighed. “This weather is really getting on my nerves.
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