I stood and joined her at the sink. Wrapping my arms around her, I whispered, “I’m sorry,” softly into her hair.
When I released her, she walked over to where her flask sat on the table. After another swallow, she sat and began to speak, this time with less emotion.
“It nearly killed your grandfather. She was so innocent, so pure of heart, how anyone could hurt her in such a way…” She swiped underneath each eye. “He found it so hard to be with her after that. He loved her so much that every time he looked at her, he felt that pain all over again. There was nothing he could do to help her, although he would have died trying.”
“Is that why he doesn’t go to visit her now?”
She nodded. “It was real hard on him… then there were the years in prison… well, he’s been through a lot, too.”
A few minutes passed, each of us reflecting in our own thoughts. I was in dismay, thinking about all of the pain my family had endured, while I was oblivious to it.
“Gram, I’m still curious about something. When exactly after my birth did she stop communicating?”
Displaying no emotion, Gram answered my question. “Your father…” Looking up at me, she shook her head. “I’m sorry, your uncle, Donny… oh, what a fine boy he was. Almost three years before you were born, he had taken a bride and settled in Ransom, about sixty miles from here. We had talked about what would happen to you after you were born. Karen keeping you wasn’t an option.” Pride glowing in her eyes, she said, “Donny came to us early on in Karen’s pregnancy and asked if we would mind if he and Sheila raised you up as their own.” She smiled broadly. “That had been my prayer all along. Of course, I would never have asked that of anyone, not even family, but the thought of giving you up to strangers was weighing heavily on us.”
“You wouldn’t have kept me?” I found myself surprised by the hurt in my own voice.
“It’s not that I wouldn’t have…hell child, in the end I did. Karen occupied all of my time. I was fortunate that Donny was quite a bit older than she was. He was twelve and no longer in need of constant attention when she was born. Child, it wasn’t a question of love, I just didn’t have it in me anymore. She was a full time job.”
Thinking back to the day I spent at Cherry Hall alone with her, I understood what Gram was saying.
“So why did she stop speaking?”
“From the minute you were born, she saw you as a doll, a toy to play with. Even in her state, she somehow sensed that you belonged to her. When it came time to leave the hospital, of course, Donny and Sheila took you with them, and she became very angry. Afterwards, when Donny and Sheila would come to visit, they would let her hold you while they kept careful watch, but she would become so irate each time they would take you from her, sometimes to the point of being violent. It got so we couldn’t let her hold you at all. That’s when she stopped speaking.” She hesitated. “At first we thought it might be her way of punishing us, we thought it would pass in time. But as time went by we began to realize, she had slipped into a world all her own, a place we couldn’t reach.”
This all seemed surreal, something I would hear about, but nothing that would ever really happen. It was all so sad. Gram painted a very clear picture of the past, a picture that included me, but I didn’t feel a part of it. I felt like a bystander, watching this family’s life fall apart and my only role was to stand by and say ‘what a shame’, in between tragedies.
“Gram, why didn’t I ever hear about any of this? I mean, you’d think someone would have found pleasure in informing me of my sordid start in life.”
“No one knew really. Naturally, we couldn’t keep that horrible day in the church a secret, but as far as Karen being pregnant, once we learned of it we immediately sent her to stay with my sister in New York. Everyone thought it was because her behavior had become erratic after what had happened to her, they thought it was a much-needed vacation. Donny and Sheila lived far enough away that no one questioned the birth of their daughter when the time came. No one was ever the wiser.”
“Clever.”
“Well, Meg, you do what you have to in order to protect the people you love.”
“Why don’t you want Gramp to know you’ve told me?”
“The fact that he couldn’t spare Karen an enormous pain always tore him apart; he said that no matter what it took, he would spare you from it. Left to him, you’d never know.”
At that moment, we heard Gramp’s old truck pulling up the driveway. Holding a finger to her lips, Gram said, “Not a word, child. No need getting his suspenders in a twist.”