AFTER
Who's the one that makes you happy?
Or maybe, who's the one always on your mind?
And who is the reason you're livin' for?
Who's the reason for your smile?
"What You Give"
Tesla
May 20, 1952
Worcester, Massachusetts
Chuck wasn't sure if Sarah had said anything more; all he could hear was his pulse, the blood rushing and pounding behind his eardrums.
He was thunderstruck.
After a few seconds of dumbfounded shock, the enormity of it became clear. The first thing he thought of was Sarah…and the tragedy she had endured, now doubly devastating. She had lost two children…both taken from her but in different ways.
The reality of that anguish seared its way through him.
He remembered being ten, with Gertrude on her knees before him, holding him by his shoulders while Casey's faltering words rang in his ears… after Chuck had lost his family. Though it was past, the pain of that loss was never far behind him, darkening his shadow, threatening the sunlight. It created the eternal November that only the blue of Sarah's summer-sky eyes had vanquished.
While he had remained ignorant and oblivious, Sarah had descended into her own November, bleak and dark, after her total loss. Only after having lived through something like that could anyone understand—and he did. Not merely sympathy, but empathy. He understood.
"Chuck, say something," Sarah implored, a quiet desperation in her tone as she regarded him, lifting her eyes from the floor to his face, fear making her blue eyes pale.
He shook himself, like waking from a trance, his gaze settling on her again. She looks terrified, he thought as he saw her eyes darting anxiously back and forth.
Damn it, he cursed himself. His gobsmacked stupor had worsened that fear, he realized, made her think she had finally pushed him past forgiveness. Did she think this was too much for me? That I had finally reached my breaking point with her revelations?
Quickly, he pulled her into his arms, tightening his grip as he felt her trembling. "My God…Sarah, I'm so sorry," he breathed, searching for the words, frantically attempting to allay her fears. "You lost them both," he whispered. "I can't begin to imagine that kind of pain. Or how much strength it took to endure it."
She nuzzled into his chest, wrapping her arms around his back as he held her. He heard the sigh of relief escape her lips. "I don't think I could have survived that…without you," she whispered. "Even when my strength wavered…yours never did. You held me up when I was crumbling."
The pain inside him folded into itself, melting in the wave of tenderness her words had stirred. His comfort was in knowing he had been able to help her the way she had helped him when they were younger. Gertrude's words came back to him; given what he knew, all he could have done he had done–comforted her during her tragedy.
"She was adopted?" he asked, wanting her to share more with him.
She nodded against his chest. "They took her away the moment she was born. They wouldn't let me see her. I never got to hold her," she whispered sadly. "I was still in pain and they didn't know why…and then everyone panicked…I heard the nun say there was another baby, that I had twins. It took all the strength I had left to deliver Eleanor…and I only got a glimpse of her…and then I was so weak I passed out."
Diane's explanation of the complications came back to him, with that same choking feeling strangling him. "Sarah, I talked to Diane," he whispered hoarsely.
She leaned back, pulling her arms away, scanning his face inquisitively. "When?"
"On my way back here. I always believed she knew everything. It only made sense that she did," he explained. He expelled his breath in a shuddering gush. "I can't believe that you almost died…and I had no idea. That Jack didn't have the decency to let me know. Or that Diane just went along with it like that," he said with disapproval.
She was silent for a while. "Diane never stopped trying to convince my father to tell you. I know that. She was following his wishes, his directives, but she hated it." She paused, breathing deeply to calm herself. "When I woke up, I was…in and out…and I heard them arguing outside my hospital room. Diane told my father if…if I never woke up, and you never were given the chance to say goodbye to me…that she would never speak to him again."
He closed his eyes tightly, worrying about what Sarah could see on his face, the thought of that circumstance in the past unbearable to contemplate.
"Carina knew too," she added. "About Eleanor."
Sarah went rigid, and when he shifted he saw her expression, the pinched face that he knew was her bracing for pain. A cloud of gloom passed over her, darkening her eyes. Something about that memory deeply disturbed her.
"Carina only found out about Molly right before my father died."
"Molly?" he asked, bewildered, leaning away from Sarah to study her. "How do you know her name?" he asked slowly. It seemed an impossibility, from what she had already explained.
"Molly Donovan. That's her name. The people who adopted her called her Molly," Sarah explained.
"I thought the records were sealed in cases like that," he offered, confused.
"They are. I mean, they were. The Donovans adopted her when she was two days old. I had no idea who her parents were or where she was. Until this March."
He waited, anxiously anticipating the rest of the story.
"Sister Katherine, one of the nuns who was here this morning…" she prompted.
"Katherine…" he said, as it dawned on him. The Katherine in Sarah's letters, when she was pretending to be at school. Sister Katherine.
Sarah nodded knowingly, understanding what he meant, seeing the sudden comprehension on his face. "She broke the rules. She looked up the information, without me asking her to do it. She kept it hidden. I never knew that she did that. She did that for me…because she was my friend."
He didn't know what was worse for Sarah–never knowing what had happened to her daughter, or knowing exactly who she was, where she was…and never being able to do anything about it.
Sarah reached for Chuck's hand, holding it in both of hers, pulling their intertwined hands into her lap. She fidgeted with his hand much the way he knew she would have with her own. "But, Chuck…the Donovans…they wouldn't, couldn't…keep her," she said softly.
"What?" he asked. It didn't make sense. Sarah's daughter was a child, a human being...not a puppy. "What does that mean?"
"The Donovans…surrendered her back to the orphanage…when she was 11 months old," Sarah announced, her final words almost running together.
Chuck thought the room was spinning, and braced his hands on the side of the mattress, fighting the sensation of falling, like he was falling off the bed onto the floor.
His thoughts all blended, like the colors in a painting left in the rain. If she was surrendered…then…she was at the orphanage. Sarah's volunteer hours, the lingering scent of baby powder, her desperation to know that everyone was safe after the tornado. She had been visiting Molly for months…
He jumped to his feet, shaking the bed as he did so. "She's there now? Your daughter?" he asked eagerly, full of excitement. "You went to see her almost every day…"
Sarah nodded, her hands twisting again.
It took a few moments for her to continue. "I started volunteering when I came home…for all the reasons you might guess. I was in pain. I felt so…empty, so lost. Being around those children…helped me. My volunteer responsibilities were almost always with the babies. They take so much time, so much care. I didn't know what it was about the little girl, Molly, but I was drawn to her. I didn't know Molly was my daughter until Sister Katherine confirmed it for me. And then I couldn't stay away from her. That's how Shaw found out about her. Lurking around my father and me."
Chuck started pacing, the movement helping him process the overload of information. Something else clicked in his mind.
"Morgan said…you and Carina were supposed to run away. But us getting married changed that. Was that because of Molly?" he asked, recalling she had just told him Carina didn't know about her living child until March, when Sarah herself found out. Carina had come home from school early, she had said, once Jack was dead. Apparently, they had been in contact a month before that.
"Our plan…my plan…was to…well, kidnap her, I guess, even though that sounds…wrong." She closed her eyes, shook her head, hating her own explanation. "We planned on taking her out of the orphanage and running. We could escape from Shaw…and Worcester…and everything that was keeping me from being with Molly. Carina agreed, but reluctantly, and not before she told me at every opportunity that leaving you would be the biggest mistake of my life. That I would never stop regretting it."
Thank you, Carina, he thought with an inner smile. For protecting me from my own blind cluelessness.
"I thought I had enough money to do that…escape…until my father went under investigation for embezzlement. I thought I'd lost Molly again…forever…when my father killed himself and left me with nothing."
The investigation, the cooked books, his trust funds and the need to get married…it all spun in his head as he could now place those events on Sarah's timeline.
"Is that why…you…came to my office that day…to accept my proposal? For your share when I told you I would buy you out?" he asked. He was trying to be neutral, surprised at the hurt that sounded in his voice.
"No!" she shouted, jumping to her feet to stand in front of him, not in challenge or anger but confession. She took both of his hands in hers, squeezing them tightly. "I was afraid you would think that. Which is one of the reasons why I refused when you asked me at your house. I would never take advantage of you like that."
He looked down at her, towering over her as she stood before him on her bare feet. She turned her face up to him, her expression soft. The look in her eyes dispelled any remaining doubt. Her eyes were true blue.
"I was being honest. I couldn't let my father cost you everything you had ever worked for in your life, everything your parents left you. I didn't know…how you felt about me. I never dared believe that dream was still possible…that we could be together for real." She lifted his hands, kissing his knuckles. "Once I knew that it was real, that you really loved me, I was still worried that you would think I had ulterior motives. I didn't know what to do. Diane and Carina both kept telling me, over and over, to just tell you the truth. Because you loved me and nothing would ever change that."
"They were both right…about that," he said, slowly, drawing the words out, holding eye contact with her.
She reached for him, leaning against him, sighing her relief. "Thank God." The words sounded like a genuine prayer, not a cliche.
She stood in his arms for what felt like an eternity. He was slowly assimilating all this information, incorporating it into his being. He still had questions.
"How could those people just…return her like that?" Chuck asked after a few seconds.
She shifted in his arms, looking away from him. "They…couldn't afford to take care of her. She…she has–"
"She's deaf, isn't she?" he asked, understanding all at once. The sign language manual in her dresser drawer.
Sarah stared, amazed and wide-eyed at his deduction. "How did you know that?" she asked softly.
"The book," he told her, gesturing back with his hand, indicating the drawer where he had seen it last night. "You took it with you from your father's house, and stored it in the closet, and then in your dresser."
She nodded, accepting his reasoning, and then she elaborated. "Bryce's aunt was deaf. It's hereditary. I knew that…I even met her a few times. But then it went out of my mind. I didn't think about it until I realized Molly was my daughter. It's not obvious that a baby is deaf, not at first. It's when she should have started to understand language, around nine months old, that they noticed. They had her tested." Her voice cracked. "They sound…I don't know, heartless. But they aren't, they were heartbroken. They were poor and the extra care and special needs were too expensive. They had to give her up; they could not care for her as she needed. It was kindness, not cruelty."
Sarah looked up at him, her face grim. "Her chances of ever being adopted are slim…because of that. She had such a hard time adjusting at the orphanage. She cried all the time and I was the only one who could get her to stop. She's only one and already her life has been so hard."
Orphans. Tragedy seemed to cycle back to that, always–he was an orphan without parents, and Sarah was an orphan with a parent. She had told him that when she was young, those words proved prophetic about her father. And now the cruel irony was that Sarah's daughter was an orphan.
"None of the nuns know I'm her mother…except Sister Katherine. The original records stayed sealed. I studied sign language, assimilated it almost completely in two days, so I could interact with her. It's hard because she's so young. If she could hear, she would be just starting to talk and understand words. She doesn't have fine motor skills yet, but I'm still trying to teach her as much as I can." She grimaced, huffing out her breath. "I remember Bryce's aunt and all the trouble with sign language. Hearing people try to force deaf people to act like they can hear, not use sign language. Expecting the handicapped person to do extra to make all the hearing people feel better, more comfortable. She needs to know how to communicate now…and that's the only way she can."
"I'm her mother," Sarah stressed, pounding her closed fist against her chest. "I have to do everything I can for her. To help her, protect her. Even if I had had a million dollars, I could never have taken her out of the place legitimately. I couldn't do anything…not a single nineteen year old woman. Even though I'm her mother." Her voice broke on the word.
Chuck's heart surged, rising like a phoenix from a heap of dusty ashes. For a moment, he was calm, himself the eye of the hurricane. He stepped closer to her, grabbing her hands intensely. "Sarah, you're not single. You're married to me. We can adopt her."
She gasped, leaning away from him. Her mouth stayed open as she slowly shook her head side to side. "You would do that? Become legally responsible for…another man's child? That man's child?" She blushed, the few words hard for her to say, and leaving so much unsaid. A man who hated you, who tormented you, who tried to take me from you?
He pulled her closer, releasing her and cradling her face in his hands. "She's your daughter. She's part of you. That makes her part of me, too, because you are part of me. It's just logic."
She swooned against him, overcome by his words. "Oh, Chuck," she whispered against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her. It struck him that his logic was mistaken but his love was not. And that was all that mattered. He loved all that Sarah loved.
"We have the means to see to all of her needs, whatever they are. I promise," he assured her. He stroked the back of her head, smoothing her hair.
"Won't people talk?" she asked.
He grabbed her shoulders, pulling her away from his body to look in her eyes. "I don't care what anyone says. Let them talk. You're my family, my wife. That is the only thing that matters to me. The only thing that ever has."
He watched as the uncertainty gradually changed, the corners of her mouth curling into a gentle smile. Her eyes twinkled like sapphires as she gazed at him with love and admiration. "Two babies…and we've only been married for…12 days."
"We said five…right?" he asked, laughing with tears in his eyes. "Overlapping…is good."
She giggled, leaning into him. Oh, he loved that sound, such a relief after so much anguish.
"Can I meet her?" Chuck asked with excitement.
Smiling, she told him, "We can go tomorrow." The smile faded. "The other part of this. Shaw…knows she's there. My father knew she was there before he died. Shaw threatened to…hurt her…if my father didn't pay him. It's why I was afraid to tell you. I was trying to keep everyone safe, the best I could. You and Molly."
So it was worse than he had feared, even after the mystery Diane had alluded to had been solved. What kind of monster threatened a child…a baby? The brutal killer Cipriani had described, Chuck thought in answer.
"Sarah, Jack's been dead for over a month. Shaw's been waiting…for his payment. Why hasn't he…done anything?"
Sarah looked away. "Because of Carina," she said softly. "I never asked her to do what she did. I would never ask her to do that…sleep with him." She shivered with disgust. "She wanted information…and connections. So she…accommodated…his requests. He told her he would wait, not hurt Molly…if she continued to… amuse him, she said. She always told me as long as she had control, it was ok."
Morgan's words from earlier replayed in his memory. "Sarah…when I talked to Morgan earlier today…he told me Carina plans to…end things with Shaw. Because she and Morgan are now…kind of…together."
"Really?" Sarah asked, smiling widely, thrilled. "That's…oh, I'm so happy for her."
Not a thought that Carina's happiness could have potentially made the situation worse, Chuck thought.
"Wait, Chuck, what happened in New York?" Sarah suddenly asked, reminded after the drama from the past couple of days.
"The bottom line," he replied, "Cipriani wanted to know what Shaw's leverage is. Along with proof. If he can prove Shaw's been skimming, he said he'll deal with it. I don't necessarily think he's a hundred percent trustworthy…but he spoke so highly of my father, and given how he explained things…my gut told me, tells me he was telling the truth. I'm just worried that Shaw may have found out that I talked to his boss…and that combined with Carina cutting him off…may force his hand. Cipriani said he was sending one of his men to watch our house. There was definitely one of his men at the factory today."
"Well, if you trust him, then so do I," she concluded.
He wanted to run downstairs and tell Gertrude everything, sure she would be just as excited. He recalled her strange mood before he had come upstairs.
"Sarah, do you know why Gertrude is upset?" Chuck asked. "She was acting so…weird when I came in."
"She was there when I found that letter, Chuck. She read it. I've never seen her that angry…ever. She told me she needed to say a…a novena…for my father's soul in purgatory. I don't know what that means but…"
"The whole rosary…nine times," Chuck sighed. "Reserved for the most desperate of situations."
Sarah looked skeptical; Chuck concurred. It seemed such a strange ritual, obviously deep rooted in Gertrude's faith, but arbitrary. Did God listen to prayers more intently if the praying was done more obsessively? He wasn't sure; he would never say such a thing to Gertrude, but he thought maybe just once was enough, as long as the heart asking was pure. But perhaps repetition was a means of purifying the heart?
He had only truly prayed a handful of times in his life, but each one had been answered the same way. The answer was always Sarah.
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"So what did you want to tell me?" Gertrude asked as she sat in the chair across from the sofa.
Chuck and Sarah had come downstairs to tell Gertrude their plans.
"There's more to the story…about what happened to me," Sarah said quietly. Gertrude sat up straight, crossing her legs at her ankles, anticipating Sarah's explanation.
"I had twins," Sarah blurted. It was still so strange, to hear the words out loud. "When I was in the convent. Two girls. One died. The other one was given up for adoption."
Gertrude gasped, covering her mouth with her steepled hands. "Oh, Sarah. All those days at the orphanage. I can't imagine how painful that was for you."
Sarah glanced at Chuck, smiling. Could she see how excited, how happy he was? "There's still more. She was adopted, but she was surrendered back to the orphanage in March. They surrendered her because she's deaf. Her name is Molly."
Gertrude's hands stayed in place, but her eyes widened in shock.
"We plan on adopting her," Chuck told her, excitement making his voice flutter.
It took Gertrude several seconds to recover from that news. "Oh my goodness, that's the best news I've ever heard! Oh…" She jumped to her feet, rushing across the room and embracing them both, one in each arm.
The complications were still there, but not worth mentioning here and now. Nothing could spoil the joy he felt.
"Chuck has the biggest heart," Sarah beamed, smiling at them both. "So full of love. I'm the luckiest girl in the entire world. I don't know what I did to deserve him…or his love."
Gertrude released them, gathering Sarah's hair in her hand affectionately and smoothing it on her shoulder. "That's the thing about love, Sarah. You don't have to deserve it. It's a gift. All you have to do is accept it…and give it back."
"Chuck is a gift," Sarah said, looking straight into her husband's eyes, her blue eyes beaming with certainty at him though she was still speaking to Gertrude.
Gertrude grabbed Chuck's hand and squeezed it. Gertrude's usual sternness was absent, affection in its place. Chuck thought of how tenderly she had spoken to him the previous evening.
"Yes, he certainly is," Gertrude beamed.
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The kerosene lamp on the nightstand was lit, the shadow cast by its flickering flame dancing on the wall beside Chuck as he stood at the bedroom window, peering out on the street below. He could see the city lights, in the distance, the portion of the city where electricity had been restored. On their street, the houses, streetlights, and lampposts were still dark.
The shapes on the street below were more difficult to discern; he was searching for the black sedan he was expecting, promised by Salvatore Cipriani. It was hard to tell, but Chuck believed he saw a car out of place, not one of the usual ones he had seen in his neighborhood.
He heard the running water in the bathroom cease; Sarah had gotten ready for bed with the bathroom door open, needing the light from the lamp to see.
"Can you see anything out there?" Sarah asked as she stepped into the bedroom.
He turned, looking over his shoulder at her. The soft light created a halo around her, her hair shining like gold. So beautiful, he thought. She wore only a satin robe, pearl white, falling just above her knees. An angel with scars, but still an angel.
"I think so," he said.
She came up behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist from behind. He pointed at the window, through the darkness.
"On the street. I think the car is there," he added.
"Are you worried? That Shaw will come after us?" she asked. He felt her cheek against his shoulder blade through the fabric of his bathrobe.
"I am," he admitted. "But I won't let him hurt my family, Sarah. I will do whatever I have to to keep everyone safe."
"I don't want you to get hurt, Chuck," she said softly, her voice tight. "I don't know what I would do."
He turned back from the window, still within the circle of her arms. "Don't worry, please," he requested. "Everything will work out somehow." He kissed her forehead.
"I hope you're right," she added.
Looking down at her face, he frowned slightly. "You look exhausted. Are you still feeling ok?"
"I am tired. This feels like it's been the longest day of my life. Dr. Woodcomb will be upset when he hears how much I didn't rest today."
"We're going to bed now," Chuck chuckled, taking her hand and guiding her towards the bed.
He bent towards the lamp, pursing his lips as he intended to blow out the flame.
"Chuck, leave it lit," she whispered suggestively. She reached for the sash holding his robe closed. "I don't need to wear the dark anymore."
She pulled on the sash, opening his robe, then stepping forward and slowly pushing the robe off his shoulders until it fell onto the carpet behind him. He watched her eyes as they flitted over his body, finally seeing him for the first time. As he continued to watch her, she pulled one end of the belt tied at her waist. Her robe opened, and she shrugged it off, the fabric soughing as it landed on the carpet in a heap. She gave him a minute to look at her.
She closed the distance between them, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him. Her first kiss was gentle, but the kiss deepened, intensified, until she was breathless.
She pulled him with her, slowly moving backwards until she reached the edge of their bed. "We have…some time…before it's time to sleep," she whispered.
Close to her face, his voice deep with passion, he told her, "The doctor did say rest." She quieted him with another kiss, pulling him down beside her on the bed.
He rolled her onto her back, lifting himself over her on his hands. "Save your strength. Let me do this."
"Only if you promise to let me make it up to you…when I'm feeling stronger," she whispered against his ear. He turned his head and smiled against her lips before he kissed her again.
Even in the short time they had been together like this, he had learned her sounds, her breaths, her touch. And now, at last, he could see her face, the joy radiating from her, her love for him shining in her eyes. Those eyes, deep and blue and always with a hint of mystery, but not now of secrets kept, but of her depths, the depths of will and strength and intelligence that made her the woman he adored.
Her breath against his neck, gently whispering his name with growing urgency, was the same as all the other times…but being able to look into her eyes this time transformed the experience. There were tears of joy on her cheeks when he finally pulled her against him, pleasantly exhausted and completely peaceful.
He extinguished the flame in the lamp before he settled back down next to her. While they slept, the power to his house was restored.
The light on the ceiling, inadvertently left in the on position when the power went out, was competing with the sunlight in the morning when they woke.
A/N: Thanks to Zettel for prereading once again. Historical notes: The adoption process in the 1950s was nothing like it is today. Sarah is correct here...custody of a child once given up for adoption would never have been granted to a single woman, even if she was the child's biological mother. A friend of mine's mother was adopted in 1954. Her parents were college students and her birth mother's parents asked the parish priest if he knew of anyone willing to adopt the baby. No agencies, no lengthy paperwork, just word of mouth. The same woman's adopted mother was 45 in 54...and she sent her 22 year old niece in her place to pick up the baby because she was afraid someone would think she was too old. No one questioned who she was, or made her prove her identity. It seems wild...but it really was a different time. Chuck and Sarah, a married couple, even if they are 23 and 19, would have no trouble adopting Molly.