“Are you making excuses for her?” I asked bitterly, knowing I had no place in my heart to forgive my mother.
“Not anymore. I just want you to understand what happened to her.”
“My father was a good man. He worked long hours to keep a roof over our head. We might not have had the material things like she did when she lived at home, but my father loved her, even when she treated him like dirt.” Mostly, that was the only way my mother had ever treated my father.
“I never met him, but I’m sure he was a good man. But your mother’s father was very conscious of his image, and he refused to have her unwed and pregnant in our house. I know it wasn’t right, and I felt so helpless when he threw her out when she was pregnant, but maybe I was hoping she’d be better off out of the house.” What Mrs. Mitchell didn’t mention was the fact that I was a mixed-race child. But she didn’t have to. It was obvious that had I been of a better pedigree, I would have been more readily accepted.
“She never changed. She was just as crazy out of your home as she was when she lived there. Maybe she was bipolar, but she was also sociopathic. Everything was all about her, and if things didn’t go her way, she made everybody around her miserable.”
“I figured that out after some time in her company as my companion,” Mrs. Mitchell agreed. “I begged her to get treatment for her mental health issues, but she refused.”
“Why in the world did you let her hook up with Trace’s father?” No man had deserved my mother, and by all accounts from Trace, his dad had been a good man.
“I felt guilty for the life Karen had lived when she was younger. I thought maybe if she made a good marriage, she’d get better,” Mrs. Mitchell said contritely.
“She was selfish, she was a thief, and she was a liar. Trace’s father didn’t deserve getting stuck with her without knowing exactly what he was getting into.”
“I know all of those things, but it didn’t erase the fact that she was my baby girl, my only child. I made excuses for her when she was younger. I think I was still trying to make her a better woman than she really was. Of all people, I knew she wasn’t right in the head. But I didn’t want to admit it.”
Tears of remorse was running down Nora Mitchell’s face, but as I thought about the stone cold fear that I’d lived in for most of my adult life, I had a very hard time feeling sympathy for her. “So I could be sacrificed to protect her?” I asked flatly.
“No. And you shouldn’t have been. But it took me a long time to be honest with myself.”
I gritted my teeth. “When? When did you decide to see the truth?”
Nora dug into the large purse she was carrying and pulled something from inside. “When Trace came to me for answers, I finally read her journal. She left it at my house when she went to marry your father. Trace showed me the video, and he told what he believed to be true. He was right.”
I stared at the plain black notebook. She was offering it to me, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to take it.
She dropped it on the small coffee table that separated us. “I’m so sorry, Evangelina. I should have always known it was Karen. But I thought she was going to marry Trace’s father and everything would go right for her.”
“What about me?”
“I convinced myself you were guilty, and that you deserved to spend time in prison.”
“I didn’t do it. I’ve never stolen anything in my life except discarded food occasionally.” I’d done what I had to do to survive, but I’d always hated it. Even if it was garbage, I knew it wasn’t my garbage, and I shouldn’t be taking anything that didn’t belong to me. But survival was a strong instinct to fight.
“I understand. I don’t expect you to forgive me, but I wanted you to know that I was sorry.” The woman broke down in tears, one of her hands fisted to cover her mouth as though she wanted to hide the fact that she was crying.
I watched as fat tears dripped down her cheeks, and my heart started to bleed. I stood and walked over to her chair. I crouched down and took the hand that was lying on her leg. “She’s not worth it, you know.”
“Who?” Mrs. Mitchell’s voice was scratchy.
“My mother. She’s not worth the pain that you carry inside you. She probably never was.”
“I’m not crying for her,” she answered tearfully. “I’m sad for you.”
I didn’t want this woman’s pity. “Don’t. I’m safe now. Trace has helped me in ways nobody else could or would. He trusted me.”
“Trace Walker is a good man, Evangelina.” She stroked the diamond on my finger. “I’m glad that you’re going to be happy. It was pretty obvious to me that he loves you.”