In My Mother's Footsteps: Chapter Four

Disclaimer.

I do not own Disney, and therefore do not own any of these characters.

Miley.

"Why didn't you tell me that my baby was dead?" I screamed, slamming my fist against the oak desk. "She's my daughter for God's sake; I have a right to know whether she's dead or not. It was an open adoption; I should have been notified immediately! What is wrong with you people that you wouldn't tell me that my daughter, my own flesh and blood, died in a car accident?"

"Miss Stewart," the woman cut across. "I do not know why you weren't notified. I understand that this is very upsetting but if you'll just calm down I'll look into our database to see if there were any surrounding circumstances, okay?" I sat, seething, in the uncomfortable chair. Why are chairs that you sit in, waiting, always so uncomfortable? Is it to make you anxious, or nervous? But why would you want to set someone on edge like that? Behind me, Jessica took her own seat. Through the back of my head I could feel her watching me, willing me to calm down and consider my actions.

"Miss Stewart, your daughter is not dead." Mrs. Brady announced, "Marcus and Natalie Morgan were killed in a car accident almost eight years ago, but Charlotte is still alive. She's a foster child now, living in one of our best homes. I'll write down the address for you, if you'd like."

"That would be great," Jess said. I was in too much shock to speak. She wasn't dead, she was alive. Alive and well, it sounded like. Mrs. Brady handed me a scrap of paper with an address on it.

"I hope you find what you're looking for," she said.

Charlie

I met Tommy just over a year ago at a friend's party. It was innocent enough; top forties music, un-spiked punch and potato chips. We played on her Wii and gossiped, every now and then someone would get up and dance for a while. I didn't notice him at first, too interested in a conversation about our horrible Biology teacher, Mrs. Irwin. No, it wasn't until he got up to get some chips, and brushed my knee on his way. I looked up, and immediately was lost in his baby blues. He smiled, apologizing, and moved along. On the way back he brushed me again, but on purpose. Throughout the night I looked over at him, and every time I did he was grinning. When the evening came to an end he asked me out, and I said yes.

Six months later we were at a party. This one had alcohol and pulsing, sexual music. At first I didn't realize that I was drinking alcohol. I thought it was just a weird flavored punch. Soon I wanted more, and more. I can't remember much after that. I know that Jennifer covered for me and brought me home, but that's as far as I know.

I missed my next period, but didn't worry. It was midterms week, and I was under tons of stress.

I missed it the month after, but chalked it up to an irregular cycle.

But after the third month, March, I could no longer ignore the signs. I was getting headaches, and every so often felt nauseous. My stomach was bulging just the slightest bit, only noticeable to me. My moods were changing – I craved weird food combinations and was more hungry than I had been a month before. Clothes fit me differently. I took two tests and confirmed what I already knew twice over. I bought new, looser clothes and elastic-y-pants. I tried to control my mood swings, detract attention from nausea and headaches. I had a small collection of snacks beneath my bed, so that I could eat more without anyone noticing. I bought a book on pregnancy and wrapped it in a brown bag cover, labeling it as a Science textbook. I read up on what was happening, what to expect and when. That was when I knew I had to leave, that keeping the baby would, in the long run, hurt my family more than necessary. And why should anyone but Tommy and I feel the pain for this?

I began to plan. Aunt Clair, Natalie's (my original adoptive mom's) sister had always kept an open door policy for me and my problems. I planned to runaway when I could no longer hide the weight gain and other signs. I told Tommy, but he refused to support me. He said that I was crazy, and denied it. He offered to pay for an abortion, but I refused based on my own beliefs. He hit me, and I decided to run away alone.

Miley.

"Hello?" A woman opened the door. She had dark, straight hair and a kind face, but she looked confused. She had obviously recognized me – had probably heard a song or two. "I'm Lisa Nathan, how can I help you?"

"I'm looking for Charlotte Morgan." I told her, "I'm her mother."

"Oh." She said, she looked like she was thinking, "well, come in and I'll bring her down, I guess." She opened the door and guided us into her house, to a comfy living room. At the kitchen counter, which I could see from my seat, were two children. They were both girls, but too young to be my baby. They were both slurping down sugary cereals and discussing what sounded like a local kid's soccer league. The younger girl was already in a team uniform, with her long socks bagging around her ankles and cleats lying beside the stool.

Lisa walked passed them, up to what I supposed was a game room, judging by the sound of a video game that came from it. "Do you know where Charlie is?" she asked someone upstairs, but the response was to quiet for me to hear. I looked over at Jess, but she shrugged at me.

I heard a set of footsteps coming downstairs, and assumed it was Lisa, but it wasn't. Her husband appeared, with a baby just about a year old in his arms. "Hello," he said, walking over to us and extending a hand. I shook his hand, as did Jess, "I'm James Nathan."

"Hi," I said, "I'm Miley, and this is my friends Jessica."

"It's nice to meet you," he said, "but may I ask, what are you doing here?"

"Your wife let us in," I told him, "We're looking for Charlotte Morgan."

"I think she's still asleep," he said smiling, "what did you want to talk to her about?"

"Just to meet her," I explained, "I'm her biological mother." This time blush creaped up my face. It was awkward, and I knew he was doing the mental backward calculation to see how young I had been when she was born (eighteen).

"Well, it's nice to meet you." He said, moving to sit across from me. "I'm sure Charlotte will be glad to finally meet you. She's a great kid you know, very responsible and considerate. She loves theater; you actually just missed the last show of her school's last production, which she was in." This made me happy, knowing that she had grown up to be a good person.

A moment later we heard a shriek from upstairs. I bolted, on my feet in a minute, and followed James upstairs, Jess and the girls who had been eating cereal behind us. We were lead to the house's front most bedroom. There were two girl's beds, a general color scheme of purple and gold-yellow. Over one bed was the name Charlotte Rose in wooden letters, over the other was Jessica Lauren. "What happened?" James asked. His wife was sitting on Jennifer's bed, crying. In her hand was a note, hardly more then half a loose leaf paper. "What's wrong."

"She left." Lisa announced, handing me the note. "She ran away last night." I looked down at the note. The handwriting was clear, the words unmistakable. But why had she left? And where had she gone?

Author's Note.

I have the flu, which means I'll be home more, and could possibly write more. Yay.