Tides of the Heart by Jean Stone Read Free Book Online

you decided to search for that baby.”
    Cellophane anger crinkled across Jess’s shoulders. She reminded herself of what Maura’s therapist had once said: that Maura suffered from guilt over having become pregnant herself at age sixteen. If not for that, Jess would never have searched for her own baby, would never have learned that Amy was dead, and would never have gone through with the divorce. Maura’s miscarriage had possibly only deepened her distress. Still, Jess had hoped that several years and many thousands of therapy dollars later, her daughter would have dealt with it. Dealt with it and healed.
    “To begin with, that was nearly five years ago,” Jess said defensively—uncomfortably—now. “And I wanted to find my baby because it was unfinished business in my life.”
    “And now some psycho has come out of the woodwork and is probably going to try and get money out of you.”
    “What does money have to do with this? I don’t hide anything anymore.”
    “No, Mom,” Maura said brusquely. “I guess you don’t. But maybe the rest of this family would prefer it if you did.” She plunked her mug in the sink. “I’m going to Eddie’s,” she said, stalking out of the room.
    Jess stayed in her chair, silent in her anguish. Certainly, she had not expected this to be Maura’s reaction. She had not expected her to be so judgmental. She wondered if this had anything to do with Eddie’s country club influence. Then she took another sip of lukewarm hot chocolate and wondered if Travis would feel the same way as Maura, andif Chuck, the eldest, would follow suit. If Chuck ever returned from Boston, and if she could ever be sure he was in no way involved.
    Why did this have to happen now, just when her life seemed to be coming together, just when it had settled into a level of comfort, of routine days and predictable nights?
    Jess closed her eyes. Surely it would be better to ignore the whole thing than to upset her family like this, or to give in to the risky hope that her baby might still be alive. She knew, in her heart, that Amy Hawthorne had been her’s—didn’t she? And that Amy was gone, Amy was dead.
    Quietly, Jess rose from her chair, went to the answering machine, and erased the garbled message.
    Just after midnight the telephone rang. Jess’s eyes sprang open. She lay there, staring at the dark ceiling of her bedroom. Her pulse was racing, her hands shaking.
    The phone rang again,
    She turned onto her side and flicked on the light. She stared at the receiver that rested in its cradle.
    It rang again.
    It must be her
, she said to herself. Or whoever this person was who was determined to drive her mad.
Well
, she thought defiantly,
whoever it is, is not going to get to me or my family. Even if it is my family. Even if it is Chuck.
    She grabbed the phone.
    “Mom?” the voice on the other end asked. “Did I wake you?”
    Maura.
    “Yes, honey,” she said, her pulse easing back, her heart slowing. “What is it?”
    “I decided to stay at Eddie’s tonight,” she said. “It started snowing and I know you hate it when I drive in the snow.”
    “Okay, honey,” Jess said, even though she knew she wascondoning something she didn’t want to condone. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
    There was a pause, then Maura added, “Mom? I’m sorry about our fight this afternoon. I love you.”
    “Me too, honey.”
    Afterward, Jess couldn’t sleep. Mixed with her anxieties about Maura and Eddie was the certainty that the blue-papered letter and the phone message were going to make her and everyone around her crazy if she didn’t do something. If she didn’t learn the truth.
    She could not exactly go to Martha’s Vineyard, stand in the middle of the island, and demand to know who had sent her the letter. But there was somewhere else she could start. Someone else who might be able to help.
    Mary Frances Taylor had retired to Falmouth after a career steeped in unwed mothers and other women’s babies. As