Somewhere Out There(110)

This was how I spent the next forty-eight hours, remembering, crying, and sleeping, burrowing beneath the covers, replaying every moment of the short time my daughters stood in front of me, reliving every one of my past mistakes. As he promised he would, Evan checked on me throughout the day, bringing me water and bits of food.

On the third day, he entered our bedroom about noon, bringing with him half of a turkey sandwich and a glass of ice water, which he set on the night table. He called the dogs off the bed, ordering them outside, then sat down on the edge of the mattress.

I righted myself and leaned against the headboard. He grabbed the water and gave it to me. Obediently, I drank almost half of it and then took two bites of the sandwich before I set it back on the plate. He waited while I got up and walked to the bathroom and then watched as I washed my hands and climbed back in bed.

“You aren’t going to get up?” he asked. “Maybe move to the living room?”

“I’m fine here,” I said. I looked at him with wide, glassy eyes.

“You know you can’t do this forever,” he said.

“I know,” I snapped, and then, regretting my tone, I reached out and grabbed one of his rough-skinned workman’s hands. No matter how well he scrubbed, his cuticles were always slightly darkened by engine grease. “I know,” I said again, softly. “I just need a little more time.”

He stared at me, then squeezed my fingers in return, but didn’t say anything more.

After a moment of silence, I spoke again. “Do you think I did the right thing?” My heart banged inside my rib cage, waiting for his reply.

“That’s not up to me to decide,” he said.

Frustrated by the neutrality of his response, I let go of his hand and pulled my own hands back into my lap, curling them into fists. “Tell me what you think, Evan. Please. I need to hear it. They came here looking for a relationship with me . . . with their mother . . . and I just . . . freaked out. I disappointed them. I hurt them, even more than I already had. I’m a horrible person, right?” Go ahead, I thought. Say it. Confirm everything I already know. All the trained dogs in the world can’t make up for the fact that I abandoned my children. Twice.

Evan ran his fingers through his shaggy silver-brown hair. “No,” he said, and I could tell from his tone he was a little frustrated with me, too. “You’re not. You thought you’d never see them again, but now you have, and this is what happened. You went with exactly how you felt in the moment. It was a genuine reaction. A real one. You were overwhelmed, and scared. You realized you couldn’t handle it. That doesn’t make you a bad person. It just makes you honest.”

“But—” I said, and my voice cracked before I could go on.

“But, nothing,” Evan said. “You are so many things to so many people, baby. To me, to Randy and Lisa, to Chandi and to Paula, and all your other employees. To the women you work with through the prison. Not to mention the animals you take care of every day. I feel like you don’t see any of how much you mean to us. How good you are. How loved. You can’t keep letting one decision define the whole of who you are. Whether it was right or wrong, you have to forgive yourself. You have to accept that it’s healthy to know your limits.” He leaned toward me and cupped my face in his large hands, locking his hazel eyes on mine. “You gave your girls their best chance. Even if their lives didn’t work out the way you hoped, you can choose to be happy they found each other now. And I’m telling you that what you need . . . your best chance . . . is to forgive yourself. You need to find a way to be okay with your decision. Really, truly, deep-down okay.”

I stared at my husband through teary eyes, blinking fast, trying to digest all he had said. “You don’t think I’m weak?”

“No,” he said, dropping his hands from my face. “I don’t.” He leaned forward and kissed both of my cheeks, then my lips, and I tasted the salt of my own tears. “I think you’re one of the strongest women I’ve ever known,” he continued. “Other people who’ve been through just one of the struggles you’ve faced might have been crushed. But not you. You kept going. You didn’t give up. No matter what, no matter how much pain you were in, you pushed ahead and kept trying to do the right things, make better choices, and live a good life.” He paused. “You wouldn’t be who you are or where you are without your faults, Jenny. And who you are is amazing.”

“Thank you,” I whispered. His words felt like balloons, lifting a leaden weight off my chest. I am more than my mistakes, I thought. I am stronger than I know. Evan was right—everything good in my life had only happened because of the things I’d done wrong. Everything was connected, linked to the moment I got pregnant with Brooke, and then that night when I left the girls alone in the car. Getting caught led me to prison, which ultimately led me to Randy and working with dogs. Working with dogs led me to Evan, a successful career, and eventually, being able to give back to others like me. Yes, I was a woman who couldn’t raise her own children, but as a result, I had become so much more than that. The kind of hurt my daughters had suffered—and were surely suffering through right now—was part of their lesson, just as my pain was a part of mine.

Still, I wished I could do something to make up for the damage I’d done. I remembered how easy it used to be to comfort Brooke with just the touch of her “soft side” blanket, and then later, how she gave it to her baby sister so Natalie could be comforted, too. Even if I couldn’t be in their lives, I wished for a way I could offer both of my daughters that kind of comfort now.