The Keeper of Happy Endings(103)

Rory took a deep breath, letting it out all at once. “Your parents.”

Camilla sagged onto the sofa, her eyes bent on the carpet. When she finally lifted her head, she looked tired and strangely relieved. “How did you find out?”

Rory stared at her, trying to wrap her head around the response. She hadn’t asked, What about my parents? She had simply conceded the point. “You knew about the adoption?”

Camilla nodded.

“For how long?”

“I was ten. I wasn’t supposed to know, but my mother let something slip one day when I made her angry. She said she should have known better than to think I’d ever be a Lowell, that I’d always be trash and she should have packed me up and sent me back when she had the chance. I had no idea what she meant, but a year later, she and my father were arguing, and I heard her say it again. Trash. I don’t know where I ever found the nerve, but I threw the door open and marched right in, demanding to know why she kept saying it. She slapped me so hard, my ears rang for an hour. She was furious that I’d been listening, but deep down I think she enjoyed telling me I wasn’t hers. My father didn’t speak to her for weeks.”

Rory’s throat went tight as she imagined it. Hearing the woman she thought of as her mother refer to her as trash, being told point-blank that she’d never be good enough. No wonder she never spoke about her childhood.

“All these years, you’ve been keeping this from me. Why?”

Camilla’s eyes remained downcast. “I never told anyone. Not even your father.”

“You never told Daddy?”

“My mother was determined to see me married well. She didn’t care to whom, so long as the boy was from a suitable family. She told me to choose someone and get the business done. I chose your father, threw myself at him, really. He married me for my name. And for my inheritance. And I didn’t care. I would have married him on any condition. But my mother had conditions of her own. She made it clear that if I ever told your father about the adoption—if I ever breathed a word to anyone—she would cut me off without a cent, and that would be the end of my marriage. She would have done it, too, if I had crossed her.” She looked away, shaking her head. “I never cared about the money, but I couldn’t lose your father.”

Rory let the words sink in, wondering if she’d heard them correctly. She’d always thought of her parents’ marriage as a kind of devil’s bargain, with both parties being compensated in some nebulous way in exchange for enduring a loveless union. Had she been wrong? Was it possible that her mother had actually been in love when she married Geoffrey Grant?

“But that was years ago. Are you saying that after everything, all the arguing, all the women . . . Are you saying you were in love with him once?”

Camilla managed a smile, her eyes suddenly shiny with tears. “I was in love with him always, Aurora. Always and always.”

Rory shook her head as she digested this bit of news. How had she not seen this love that was suddenly written all over her mother’s face?

You have no idea what I’ve lost.

Her mother had uttered the words once in a heated moment. They hadn’t made sense then, but they did now. As a child, Camilla had been cast aside by her mother, then later, as a woman, she’d been cast aside by the man she loved. Again and again, while her friends looked on and felt sorry for her.

“I’m sorry you felt like you had to carry that around by yourself all these years, that you didn’t think you could share it with me.”

She shrugged. “I was ashamed, I suppose.”

“Ashamed? Of what?”

“Of being unlovable,” Camilla said, blinking the tears from her lashes. She reached for her handbag and fished out a tissue, dabbing at her eyes. “And I’m the mother. You’re supposed to lean on me, not the other way around. I’m glad you finally know about the adoption, though. I was always worried that it would come out in some terrible way. Some health thing would rear its head, and they’d need my family’s medical history, and I wouldn’t know what to tell them.” Her eyes narrowed suddenly. “How did you find out?”

“By accident.” Rory glanced at the framed photo in her hand. Without meaning to, they seemed to have circled back to the original topic. “How much do you know about your birth parents?”

Camilla shook her head slowly. “Only that I was a war baby and that my mother gave me up because she wasn’t married. It wasn’t uncommon back then. So many boys were killed, leaving sweethearts and babies behind. My father finally told me, not long before he died. My mother—Gwendolyn—had lost three babies and was ashamed of being childless when all her friends had houses full of children, so he quietly arranged for the adoption. I was her consolation prize.”

“Did he ever mention the name of your biological mother?”

“Oh, no. Adoptions were very hush-hush in those days, especially when the mother was unmarried. Things are much more open now, but back then, the whole subject was taboo. My mother was adamant that no one know I wasn’t really theirs. They went abroad for a year—on her doctor’s advice, or so the story went—and lo and behold, they came back blooming and healthy, with a daughter in tow. If anyone suspected, they never let on. But of course, they wouldn’t dare if they wanted to stay in the Lowells’ good graces. And everyone did.”