“Miss Mazaar, I’m Sister Helen. This is where you will be staying until you give birth. The monastery is a safe and private place. You have our utmost discretion during your stay. As soon as you’re healthy enough, you can return home.”
My eyes flash to my mother. “You’re stowing me away at a monastery? Hiding me like this never happened? What about the baby? What will you say when I magically appear in nine months with an infant?”
“Willa, you’re certainly not returning home with it.”
It. That’s what human life is to my heartless mother. My blood runs cold as I stare at the woman who gave birth to me; she’s no mother to me. She has never been. “Then don’t expect me to come home either. I’m done being your puppet. You can find another daughter to put on your shows.” I climb out of the car, allowing the nun to take my bag.
“Stop being so foolish. This is your mistake. Be thankful you have this option and that no one will think twice about you taking a year off school to travel—”
“But I’m not traveling! I’m pregnant. I will have a baby. Your grandchild. And you’re so cold and heartless, you don’t even care!”
She tsks me away as she and my father walk back toward their town car. “Wait, where are you going? Don’t leave me here!” I cry out. I run toward them, but I’m secured by each arm. “Mother!” My scream tears at my throat. “If you leave me here, I’ll never forgive you!” My heart cracks as I watch my parents get into their vehicle and leave without a second glance. A chill casts over me, turning my heart to stone with hatred. I will never forgive them for this.
“Shhh now, dear. You’re in good hands. We’ll take care of you.”
Chapter Four
Two years later
“Give her to me.” Sister Helen fusses, grabbing Bria before I can say no. Everyone seems to be more needy than usual today.
“This isn’t goodbye. I’ll come visit. I promise.” Sister Helen and Sister Anne both look at me, tears welling in their eyes. “What! I promise!” I laugh and shake my head. These ladies. Bria starts to whine, and I hand them a sippy cup, knowing she’s in good hands, and go to finish packing my things.
After two years of calling this place our home, my daughter and I are saying goodbye and heading off on our new journey. A small part of me aches not to be welcomed home by the family who raised me. But with the reminder of how cold and evil the two people I share blood with are, I know my new life will be better if I don’t hold out any false hope of them ever coming around and loving me the way a mother and father should, let alone their grandchild.
The only time my mother made contact was shortly after I gave birth. She asked if I had learned my lesson and looked thin enough to return home. Her only concern. She didn’t ask if I had a girl or a boy. If he or she was healthy. If I was healthy. She wanted to make sure I looked thin enough no one would suspect.
I held in my shame and anger, refused to give her my tears, and told her if I couldn’t bring my daughter with me, I wasn’t coming home. Her only response was if I disobey, they’d cut me off financially - strip me of my name and lineage.
Any thread of love I harbored at that moment snapped.
If mourning the loss of my family wasn’t enough, I was still grieving the betrayal of someone I spent my entire life believing in. I fought the memories that haunted me at night. His smile. The taste of his lips. His hands as they bruised my skin while making love to me.
Eventually, those happier memories began to fade, and anger taking their place. A man who once filled me with so much purpose tainted me with so much pain. I gave birth to our daughter surrounded by wonderful women who blessed our baby girl and held my hand as I cried for her father. For my mother, when the pain became unbearable. But when I heard her little cries for the first time, it made me realize I couldn’t be weak anymore. I couldn’t allow anyone to make me feel like I was nothing. I had a child to take care of—to protect from the evil in the world—and I vowed to show her what true motherly love was, to be the person my mother wasn’t.
Brianne Jake DuPont.
Since my family turned their back on me, I refused to give her my birthname. I gave her Jake’s. One day, she’ll want to meet him, and I’ll have to explain. At least I can give her that.
The sisters allowed me to stay another year and some months after she was born to get back on my feet. I only had the shoes and clothes I brought with me. I worked long hours at grocery stores and libraries, cleaned houses, and tutored local kids—anything to bring in income for my daughter.
Last month, as if the gods were finally shining down on me, Sister Anne came to me with a job opening from a friend of hers. A local business was in dire need of an administrative assistant. Not only was it something I could learn to do, but it offered tuition reimbursement and housing assistance. It wasn’t an Ivy League school, not that I cared about that in the first place, but it would cover the cost of a local college and an apartment.
“I’m proud of you, you know.” I turn at Sister Helen’s voice, finding her standing in the doorway of my room.
“How so? Because I gave up the chance to live a luxurious life and to possibly put my baby in harm’s way if I fail or struggle?” I wipe away a tear. Darn it. I promised myself I was done giving them my tears.
Her smile is comforting. “You won’t fail. And I think you know that. You’re a resilient young woman. Since the day you came to us, I could see such potential in you. A fighter. One who lives off hope and love.”
“Yeah, and look where that got me.”
“It got you Bria. It gave you the freedom to live your own life and become whoever you want to be. It taught you how to be strong and fight for what you believe in.”
My tears fall too fast for me to hide them. “I did fight, and here I am alone, raising my daughter. He doesn’t even care.”
“Life has a strange way of telling us that even though we don’t believe in second chances, we all get them. Believe that God is guiding you to do what’s best for you and your daughter. He doesn’t give you more than you can handle. If your path crosses with Bria’s father’s again one day, believe there is hope in you to do right. And if not, that you’re given the strength to fight for both of you. Bria is lucky to have you. Remember that.”
Sister Helen opens her arms to me, and I wrap myself in her embrace as tears stream down my face. I cry for all she’s done for me and all the days and nights I’ll miss her. We say our goodbyes as everyone gushes and tears up over Bria and me, and with one last gaze at a place that’s felt more like home than the one I lived in for eighteen years, I take my daughter and step out into the world and toward our new life.
Chapter Five
One month later
“Come on! Not today…” I bounce Bria on my hip, needing her to stop crying so I can get her fed before the sitter arrives. I’m running on thin ice at work. If I’m late one more time, I worry they’ll fire me. The job itself is horrible, and I cringe every time my slimy boss calls me into his office. I officially understand why he goes through so many assistants and why this position was open to anyone desperate enough to take it.