Manhattan December 2019
Seated at the table with the remnants of dinner in front of them, Maggie
noted Mark’s rapt attention. Though the food had arrived about half an hour later than expected, they’d finished eating somewhere around the point in the story when she’d told him that she’d ridden with Bryce to drop off Daisy. Or rather, Mark had finished; Maggie had only picked at her food. Now it was coming up on eleven and Christmas Day was only an hour away. Remarkably, Maggie wasn’t exhausted or uncomfortable, especially compared to how she’d been feeling earlier. Reliving the past had revived her in a way she hadn’t expected.
“What do you mean you never got the chance?”
“Those Braxton Hicks I’d been having that Monday weren’t Braxton Hicks. They were actual labor contractions.”
“And you didn’t know?”
“Not at first. It wasn’t until Bryce left and the next one hit that the thought even crossed my mind. Because that one was a doozy. But I was still so emotional about Bryce, and because my due date wasn’t until the following week, I somehow tucked the thought away until my aunt got home. By then, of course, I’d had even more contractions.”
“What happened?”
“As soon as I mentioned that they’d been coming more frequently and were a lot stronger, she called Gwen. By then, it was at least a quarter past three, maybe half past. When Gwen arrived, it took her less than a minute to make the decision to go to the hospital, because she didn’t think I’d make it until the morning ferry. My aunt tossed a bunch of things in my duffel bag
—the only thing I really cared about was Maggie-bear—then called my parents and the doctor and we were out the door. Thank God the ferry
wasn’t crowded and we were able to get on. I think that by then, the contractions were coming every ten to fifteen minutes apart. Usually, you wait until they’re five minutes apart before you go to the hospital, but the ferry and drive to the hospital was three and a half hours. A long three and a half hours, I might add. By the time the ferry docked, the contractions were coming four to five minutes apart. I’m amazed I didn’t squeeze the stuffing out of Maggie-bear.”
“But you made it.”
“I did. But what I remember most was how calm my aunt and Gwen were the whole time. No matter how many crazy noises I made when the contractions hit, they just kept chatting away like nothing unusual was going on at all. I guess they’d driven lots of pregnant mothers to the hospital.”
“Did the contractions hurt?”
“It was like a baby dinosaur chomping through my uterus.” He laughed. “And?”
“We got to the hospital, and I was checked into a room on the maternity floor. The doctor came by, and both my aunt and Gwen stayed with me for the next six hours until I was finally dilated. Gwen had me concentrate on my breathing, my aunt brought me ice chips—all the usual things, I guess. Sometime around one a.m. or so, I was ready to deliver. The next thing I knew, nurses were getting things ready and the doctor came in. And three or four pushes later, it was over.”
“That doesn’t sound so bad.”
“You forgot the munching baby dinosaur. Every single contraction was agonizing.”
It had been, even if she could no longer remember the exact sensation.
In the dim light, Mark seemed transfixed.
“And Gwen was right. It was a good thing you caught the afternoon ferry.”
“I’m pretty sure Gwen could have handled the birth, since there weren’t any complications. But I did feel better about being in a hospital instead of giving birth on my bed or whatever.”
He stared at the tree before coming back to her again. Sometimes, she thought, he seemed so familiar to her, it was scary.
“What happened after that?”
“Lots of commotion, of course. The doctor made sure I was okay, checked the afterbirth while the pediatrician examined the baby. Weight, Apgar, measurements, and immediately afterwards, the nurse whisked the baby to the nursery. And just like that, it was all suddenly behind me. Even now, it sometimes seems surreal, more like a dream than reality. But after the doctor and nurses cleared out, I grabbed Maggie-bear and started to cry and I couldn’t stop for a long time. I remember that my aunt was on one side of me and Gwen was on the other, both of them consoling me.”
“It had to have been very emotional.”
“It was,” she said. “But I’d known all along that it would be. And of course, by the time my tears stopped falling, it was the middle of the night. My aunt and Gwen had been up nearly twenty-four hours straight and I was even more tired than they were. We all eventually fell asleep. They’d brought in an extra chair for my aunt—Gwen used the other one—so I can’t speak to how much rest they actually got. But I was out like a light. I know the doctor came in sometime during the morning to make sure I was doing okay, but I barely remember that. I went right back to sleep and didn’t wake again until almost eleven. I remember thinking how strange it was to wake up in the hospital bed alone, because neither my aunt nor Gwen was there. I was starved, too, but my breakfast was still on the tray. I had to eat it cold, but I couldn’t have cared less.”
“Where were your aunt and Gwen?”
“In the cafeteria.” When he tilted his head slightly, Maggie changed the subject. “Is there still any eggnog in the back?”
“There is. Would you like me to get you a glass?” “If you wouldn’t mind.”
Maggie watched as Mark rose from the table and headed toward the back. As he vanished from sight, she felt her mind drift back to the moment Aunt Linda had entered the room, the past becoming real again.
* * *
Carteret General Hospital, Morehead City 1996
Aunt Linda approached the bed before pulling up a chair. Reaching over, she brushed the hair from my eyes.
“How are you feeling? You slept a long time.”
“I think I needed it,” I said. “Did the doctor come in earlier?”
“He did,” she said. “He said you were doing very well. You should be out of the hospital tomorrow morning.”
“I have to stay another night?”
“They like to monitor you for at least twenty-four hours.”
The sunlight from the window behind her seemed to frame her in a golden halo.
“How’s the baby?”
“Perfect,” she said. “The staff is excellent and it was a quiet night. I think yours is the only one in the nursery right now.”
I absorbed what she’d said, imagining the scene, and the next words came automatically. “Do you think you could do something for me?”
“Of course.”
“Can you bring Maggie-bear to the nursery? And let the nurses know that I’d like the baby to have her? And maybe they could tell the parents, too?”
My aunt knew how much Maggie-bear meant to me. “Are you sure?” “I think the baby needs her more than I do right now.”
My aunt offered a tender smile. “I think that’s a wonderful and generous gift.”
I handed her the teddy bear, watching as she cradled it before reaching for my hand. “Now that you’re awake, can we talk about the adoption?” When I nodded, she went on. “You know you’re going to have to formally give the baby up, which means paperwork, of course. I’ve reviewed it, so has Gwen, and as I mentioned to your parents, we’ve worked for years with the woman who set up the adoption. You can trust me that everything is in order, or if you wish, I could arrange for you to have an attorney.”
“I trust you,” I said. And I did. I think I trusted my aunt Linda more than anyone.
“The important thing you should know is that this is a closed adoption.
You remember what that means, right?”
“That I don’t know who the parents are, right? And they won’t know me?”
“That’s correct. I want to make sure that’s still what you’d like to do.” “It is,” I said. The thought of knowing anything would drive me crazy.
“Are the new parents here yet?”
“I heard that they arrived this morning, so we’ll take care of the paperwork in a little bit. But there’s something else you should probably
know.”
“What is it?”
She took a deep breath. “Your mom is here now, and she’s arranged for you to fly home tomorrow. The doctor wasn’t thrilled by that because of the possibility of blood clots, but your mom was fairly insistent about it.”
I blinked. “How did she get here so fast?”
“She found a flight yesterday right after I called. She actually arrived in New Bern late last night, before you delivered. She came by this morning to see you but you were still asleep. She hadn’t eaten, so Gwen and I took her to the cafeteria to get her something.”
Preoccupied with thoughts about my mom, I realized that I’d almost tuned out the other thing she’d told me. “Wait. Did you say I’m leaving tomorrow?”
“Yes.”
“You mean I’m not going back to Ocracoke?” “I’m afraid not.”
“What about the rest of my things? And the picture Bryce gave me for Christmas?”
“I’ll ship everything to you. You don’t have to worry about that.”
But…
“What about Bryce? I didn’t even get a chance to say goodbye. I didn’t say goodbye to his mom or his family, either.”
“I know,” she murmured. “But I don’t think there’s anything you can do. Your mom made the arrangements, and that’s why I wanted to come up here to tell you right away. So you wouldn’t be surprised.”
I could feel the tears again, different tears than the previous night’s, filled with a different kind of fear and pain.
“I want to see him again!” I cried. “I can’t just leave like this.” “I know,” she said, compassion weighting every word.
“We had a fight,” I said. I could feel my lip beginning to quiver. “I mean, sort of a fight. I told him I couldn’t marry him.”
“I know,” she whispered.
“You don’t understand,” I said. “I have to see him! Can’t you try to talk to my mom?”
“I did,” she said. “Your parents want you to come home.”
“But I don’t want to leave,” I said. The thought of living with my parents again, not my aunt, wasn’t something I could face right now.
“Your parents love you,” she promised me, squeezing my hand. “Just like I love you.”
But I feel it with you more than I do with them. I wanted to say that to her, but my throat locked up and this time, I simply gave in to the sobbing. And, just as I knew she would, my sweet and wonderful aunt Linda held me tight for a long time, even after my mom finally entered the room.
* * *
Manhattan 2019
“Are you okay? You look troubled.”
Maggie watched as Mark set the eggnog in front of her. “I was remembering the next morning at the hospital,” Maggie said. She reached for the glass while he took his seat again. When he was settled, she told him what had happened, noting his dismay.
“And that was it? You didn’t return to Ocracoke?” “I couldn’t.”
“Did Bryce make it to the hospital? Couldn’t he have caught the ferry?” “I’m sure he thought I’d be coming back to Ocracoke. But even if he had figured it out and made it to the hospital, I can’t imagine what it would have been like with my mom there. After my aunt and Gwen left, I was devastated. My mom couldn’t understand why I kept crying. She thought I was questioning the decision to give up the baby for adoption, and even though I’d already signed the papers, I think she was afraid that I was going
to change my mind. She kept telling me that I was doing the right thing.” “Your aunt and Gwen left?”
“They needed to catch the afternoon ferry back to Ocracoke. I was a wreck after saying goodbye to them. Eventually my mom got tired of it. She kept going downstairs to get coffee, and after I had dinner, she ended up returning to the hotel.”
“Leaving you alone? Even though you were so upset?”
“It was better than having her there and I think both of us knew it. Anyway, I eventually fell asleep and the next thing I really remember is the nurse wheeling me out of the hospital while my mom pulled up the rental car. My mom and I didn’t have much to say to each other in the car or the airport, and once I got on the plane, I remember staring out the window and feeling the same sense of dread that I’d felt when I’d left Seattle to come to North Carolina. I didn’t want to go. In my head, I kept trying to process
everything that had happened. Even when I got home, I couldn’t stop thinking about Bryce and Ocracoke. For a while, the only thing that made me feel better was Sandy. She knew I was struggling, and she wouldn’t leave my side. She’d come into my room or follow me around the house, but of course every time I saw her, I was reminded of Daisy.”
“And you didn’t go back to school?”
“No,” she said. “That was actually a good decision by my parents and the headmaster. When I think back, it’s clear I was depressed. I slept all the time, had zero appetite, and wandered around feeling like a stranger in my own house. I wouldn’t have been able to handle school. I couldn’t concentrate at all, so I ended up bombing every single final. But because I’d done well until then, my overall grades still ended up okay. The only upside to my depression was that I dropped all the baby weight by the time summer started. After a while, I finally felt up to seeing Madison and Jodie, and little by little, I began to inch my way back into my old life.”
“Did you talk or write to Bryce?”
“No. And he didn’t call or write, either. I wanted to, every single day. But we had our plan, and whenever I thought about contacting him, I reminded myself that he was better off without me. That he needed to concentrate on him, just like I needed to focus on me. My aunt wrote to me regularly, though, and she’d offer the occasional nugget about Bryce. She informed me that he became an Eagle Scout, went off to college on schedule, and a couple of months after that, she mentioned that Bryce’s mom had come by the shop to let her know that Bryce was doing exceptionally well.”
“How were you doing?”
“Despite my renewed contact with my friends, I still felt strangely disconnected. I remember that after getting my driver’s license, I’d sometimes borrow the car after church and visit garage sales. I was probably the only teenager in Seattle scouring the newspaper for used bonanzas.”
“Did you ever find anything?”
“I did, actually,” she said. “I found a Leica thirty-five-millimeter camera, older than the one Bryce used but still perfectly functional. I rushed home and begged my dad to buy it for me, promising to pay him back. To my surprise, he did. I think he understood more than my mom how desperate and displaced I felt. After that, I started taking pictures, and that
centered me. When school started, I joined the yearbook staff as a photographer so I could take photos in school, too. Madison and Jodie thought it was silly, but I couldn’t have cared less. I’d spend hours at the public library, flipping through photography magazines and books, just like I did in Ocracoke. I’m pretty sure my dad thought the phase would pass, but at least he humored me when I showed him the photos I’d taken. My mom, on the other hand, was still doing her best to turn me into Morgan.”
“How did that go?”
“It didn’t. Compared to what they’d been in Ocracoke, my grades were terrible in my last two years of high school. Even though Bryce had taught me how to study, I couldn’t make myself care enough to try all that hard. Which, of course, is one of the reasons I ended up at community college.”
“There was another reason?”
“The community college actually had some classes that interested me. I didn’t want to go to college and spend my first two years doing gen-ed and studying the same things I had in high school. The community college offered a class on Photoshop, and others on indoor and sports photography
—they were taught by a local photographer—as well as a few classes in web design. I never forgot what Bryce had told me about the internet becoming the next big thing, so I figured that was something I needed to learn. Once I finished all those, I started working.”
“Did you live at home the whole time you were in Seattle? With your parents?”
Maggie nodded. “The job didn’t pay much, so I didn’t have a choice. But it wasn’t bad, if only because I didn’t spend much time there. I was either at the studio or the lab or on location shooting, and the less I was around, the better my mom and I seemed to get along. Even if she still made it a point to let me know she thought I was wasting my life.”
“How was your relationship with Morgan?”
“To my amazement, she was actually interested in what had happened to me while I’d been in Ocracoke. After making her swear not to tell our parents, I ended up spilling pretty much the whole story, and by the end of that first summer, we were closer than we had ever been. But once she started at Gonzaga, we drifted apart again because she was rarely at home. She took summer classes after her first year, worked at music camps the summers after that. And, of course, the older she got and the more she settled into college life, the more it became clear to both of us that we really
didn’t have anything in common. She didn’t understand my lack of interest in college, couldn’t relate to my passion for photography. In her mind, it was as if I had quit school to become a musician.”
Mark leaned back in his chair and raised an eyebrow. “Did anyone ever figure it out? The real reason you’d gone to Ocracoke?”
“Believe it or not, they didn’t. Madison and Jodie didn’t suspect a thing. They had questions, of course, but I was vague in my answers, and soon enough, it was back to the usual. People saw us together and none of them really cared enough to probe in detail why I’d left. Like Aunt Linda had predicted, they were preoccupied with their own lives, not mine. When school started again in the fall, I was nervous on the first day, but everything was completely normal. People treated me exactly the same, and I never got wind of any rumors. Of course, I wandered the halls that entire year feeling like I had little in common with any of my classmates, even while I was taking pictures of them for the yearbook.”
“How about your senior year?”
“It was strange,” she mused. “Because no one ever mentioned it, by that point, my stay in Ocracoke began to feel like a dream. Aunt Linda and Bryce seemed as real as ever, but there were moments when I could convince myself that I’d never had a baby. As the years went on, that became even easier. One time, maybe ten years ago, a guy I’d met for coffee asked me if I had kids, and I told him no. Not because I wanted to lie to him but because in that instant, I truly didn’t remember. Of course, almost immediately, I did remember, but there was no reason to correct myself. I had no desire to explain that chapter of my life.”
“How about Bryce? Did you send him a Christmas card? You haven’t mentioned him.”
Maggie didn’t answer right away. Instead, she swirled the thick liquid in her glass before meeting Mark’s eyes.
“Yes. I sent him a card that first Christmas after I returned home. Actually, I sent it to my aunt and asked her to deliver it to his house, because I couldn’t remember Bryce’s address. Aunt Linda was the one who put it in his mailbox. Part of me wondered whether he’d forgotten all about me, even though he’d promised that he wouldn’t.”
“Was the card…personal?” Mark inquired, his tone delicate.
“I wrote a message, just kind of updating him on what had gone on since I’d last seen him. I told him about the delivery, apologized for not
saying goodbye. I told him that I’d gone back to school and bought a camera. But because I wasn’t sure how he felt about me, it wasn’t until the very end that I admitted that I still thought about him, and that the time we had together meant the world to me. I also told him that I loved him. I can still remember writing those words and being absolutely terrified of what he might think. What if he didn’t bother to send a card? What if he’d moved on and met someone new? What if he’d eventually come to regret our time together? What if he was angry with me? I didn’t have any idea what he was thinking or how he would respond.”
“And?”
“He sent a card, too. It arrived only a day after I sent mine, so I knew he couldn’t have read what I’d written, but he followed the same script I had. He told me he was happy at West Point, that he’d done well in his classes and had made a number of good friends. He mentioned that he’d seen his parents on Thanksgiving and that his brothers had already started exploring various colleges they might want to attend. And, just like I’d done, in the last paragraph, he told me that he missed me and he still loved me. He also reminded me of our plan to meet on my twenty-fourth birthday in Ocracoke.”
Mark smiled. “That sounds just like him.”
Maggie took another sip of her eggnog, still enjoying the taste. She made a note to keep it stocked in her refrigerator, assuming she’d be able to find it after the holidays. “It took a few more years of Christmas cards for me to believe that he was really committed to our plan. To us, I mean. Every year, I’d think to myself that this was the year the card wouldn’t come or that he’d tell me it was over. But I was wrong. In every Christmas card that arrived, he counted down the years until we could see each other again.”
“He never met anyone else?”
“I don’t think he was interested. And I really didn’t date much, either. In my last years of high school and community college, I was asked out here and there and occasionally I went, but I never had romantic interest in any of them. No one measured up to Bryce.”
“And he graduated from West Point?”
“In 2000,” she said. “Afterwards, like his dad, he went to work in military intelligence in Washington, D.C. I’d graduated from high school and finished taking classes at community college as well. Sometimes I think
we should have followed his suggestion and reunited right after he graduated, instead of waiting until I was twenty-four. It all feels so arbitrary now,” she said, a melancholy look coming over her. “Things would have turned out differently for us.”
“What happened?”
“We both did what I’d recommended and became young adults. He worked at his job and I worked at mine. Photography was my whole world early on, not just because I was passionate about it but also because I wanted to be someone worthy of Bryce, not just someone he loved. Meanwhile, Bryce was making adult decisions about his life, too. Do you know that old army commercial? Where the song goes, ‘Be all that you can be…in the army’?”
“Vaguely.”
“Bryce had never given up on the idea of becoming a Green Beret, so he applied to SFAS. Aunt Linda wrote and told me about it. I guess Bryce’s parents had mentioned it to her and she knew I’d want to know.”
“What’s SFAS?”
“Special Forces Assessment and Selection. It’s at Fort Bragg, back in North Carolina. Long story short, Bryce was assessed with flying colors, eventually went through the training, and ended up being selected. All of that happened by the spring of 2002. Of course, by then, the military had made special forces a priority and wanted the highest-quality people they could find, so I’m not surprised Bryce made it.”
“Why was it a priority?”
“Nine Eleven. You’re probably too young to remember what a cataclysmic event that was, a turning point in America’s history. In Bryce’s Christmas card in 2002, he said that he couldn’t tell me where he was— which even to me was a tip-off that he was someplace dangerous—but that he was doing okay. He also said that he might not be able to make it to Ocracoke the following October, when I was to turn twenty-four. He said that if he wasn’t there, not to read anything into it—he’d find a way to let me know if he was still deployed and would arrange for an alternate time and place for us to finally meet.”
She fell silent, remembering. Then: “Strangely, I wasn’t all that disappointed. More than anything, I was amazed that after all those years, both of us still wanted to be together. Even now, it still seems implausible that our plan worked. I was proud of him and proud of myself, too. And of
course, I was incredibly excited to see him again, no matter when that would be. But once again, it wasn’t in the cards. Fate had something else in store for us.”
Mark said nothing, waiting. Instead of speaking, Maggie faced the Christmas tree again, forcing herself not to dwell on what had happened next, a skill she’d mastered over the years. Instead, she stared at the lights, noting the shadows and tracking the movement of traffic outside the gallery door. When she was finally confident the memory had been fully locked away, she reached for her handbag to retrieve the envelope she’d stashed inside earlier, right before she’d left her apartment. Without a word, she handed it to Mark.
She didn’t watch as he no doubt studied the return address and realized he was holding a letter from her aunt Linda; nor did she watch as he lifted the seal on the envelope. Though she’d read the letter only once, she knew with utter clarity what Mark would see on the page.
Dear Maggie,
It’s late at night, rain is falling, and though I should have been asleep hours ago, I find myself at the table wondering whether I have the strength to tell you what I must. Part of me believes that I should talk to you in person, that maybe I should fly to Seattle and sit down with you at your parents’ house, but I’m afraid you’ll find out from other sources before I’ve had the chance to let you know what happened. Some of the information is already on the news, and that’s why I overnighted this letter. I want you to know that I’ve been praying for hours, both for you and for me.
There is, after all, no easy way to tell you. There is nothing easy about any of this, nor is there any way to diminish the overwhelming grief I feel at the news that I received today. Please know that even now, I ache for you even more deeply, and as I write, I can barely see the page through the tears in my eyes. Know that I wish I could be there to hold you, and that I will forever pray for you.
Bryce was killed in Afghanistan last week.
I don’t know the specifics. His father didn’t know much, either, but he believes that Bryce was caught in a firefight that somehow went wrong. They don’t know when or where or how it happened, because information is scant. Perhaps in time, they’ll know more, but for me, the details don’t matter. For you, I doubt they matter, either. In times
like this, it’s hard even for me to understand the plan that God has for all of us, and it is a struggle to hold on to my faith. Right now, I am shattered.
I’m so sorry for you, Maggie. I know how much you loved him. I know how hard you’ve been working, and I know how much you wanted to see him again. You have my deepest and sincerest condolences. I am hopeful that God will grant you the strength you’ll need to somehow get through this. I will regularly pray that you eventually find peace, no matter how long that takes. You are always in my heart.
I’m so very sorry for your loss. I love you. Aunt Linda
* * *
Mark sat in stunned silence. As for Maggie, she kept her unseeing eyes fixed on the tree, trying to steer her memories down other paths—any path besides the one that led to her memories of what had happened to Bryce. She’d faced it once, had fully experienced the horror, and had vowed not to relive it. Despite her rigid self-control, she felt a tear slip down her cheek and swiped at it, knowing that another would likely follow.
“I know you probably have questions,” she finally whispered. “But I don’t have the answers. I never tried to find out exactly what happened to Bryce. Like my aunt said in the letter, the details didn’t matter to me. All I knew was that Bryce was gone, and afterwards, something broke inside me. I went crazy. I wanted to run away from everything I knew, so I quit my job, left my family, and moved to New York. I stopped going to church, stayed out every night, and dated one bum after another for a long time, until that wound finally began to close. The only thing that kept me from going completely off the deep end was photography. Even when my life felt out of control, I tried to keep learning and improving. Because I knew that’s what Bryce would have wanted me to do. And it was a way of hanging on to something we had shared.”
“I’m…so sorry, Maggie.” Mark seemed to struggle to control his voice.
He swallowed. “I don’t know what to say.”
“There’s nothing to say except that it was the darkest period of my life.” She focused on steadying her breath, her ears half-tuned to the sound of Christmas Eve revelers in the street. When she spoke, her voice was subdued. “It wasn’t until the gallery opened that a day passed when I didn’t
think about it. When I wasn’t angry or sad about what had happened. I mean, why Bryce? Of anyone in the entire world, why him?”
“I don’t know.”
She barely heard him. “I spent years trying not to wonder what would have happened had he just stayed in intelligence, or had I moved to Washington, D.C., after he graduated. I tried not to imagine what our lives might have been like, or where we would have lived, or how many kids we would have had, or the vacations we would have taken. I think that’s another reason why I jumped at every travel gig I could get. It was an attempt to leave those obsessive thoughts behind, but I should have known that never works. Because we always bring ourselves with us wherever we go. It’s one of the universal truths of life.”
Mark lowered his gaze to the table. “I’m sorry I asked you to finish the story. I should have listened and let you end it with the kiss on the beach.”
“I know,” she said. “That’s how I’ve always wanted to end it, too.”
* * *
As the clock continued its countdown to Christmas, their conversation gently drifted from one topic to the next. Maggie was thankful that Mark hadn’t pressed further about Bryce; he seemed to recognize how painful the topic was for her. As she described the years that followed Bryce’s death, she marveled that the strands that informed so many of her decisions always stretched back to Ocracoke.
She described the estrangement from her family that occurred when she moved away; her parents had never given much credence to her love for Bryce, nor did they grasp the impact of his loss. She confessed that she hadn’t trusted the man Morgan had chosen to marry, because she’d never seen him gaze at Morgan the way Bryce had gazed at her. She talked about the growing resentment she felt toward her mother and her judgmental pronouncements; often, she found herself reflecting on the differences between her mom and Aunt Linda. She also spoke about the dread she felt on the ferry to Ocracoke when she finally worked up the courage to visit her aunt again. By that time, Bryce’s grandparents had passed away and his family had moved from the island to somewhere in Pennsylvania. During her stay, Maggie had visited all the places that had once meant so much to her. She’d gone to the beach and the cemetery and the lighthouse and stood outside the house where Bryce once had lived, wondering if the darkroom had been converted into a space more suitable to the new owners. She was
rocked by waves of déjà vu, as though the years had rolled backward, and there were moments when she almost believed that Bryce might suddenly round the corner, only to realize it was an illusion, which reminded her again that nothing turned out the way it was supposed to.
At some point in her thirties, having consumed too many glasses of wine, she’d Googled Bryce’s brothers to see how they’d turned out. Both had graduated from MIT at seventeen and were working in the tech world— Richard in Silicon Valley, Robert in Boston. Both were married with children; to Maggie, though their photographs showed them to be grown men, they would always remain twelve years old.
As the clock’s hands inched toward midnight, Maggie could feel the exhaustion overtaking her, like a storm front rapidly approaching. Mark must have seen it in her face because he reached over to touch her arm.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “I won’t keep you up much longer.”
“You couldn’t even if you tried,” she said weakly. “There comes a time now when I just shut down.”
“You know what I was thinking? Ever since you started telling me the story?”
“What?”
He scratched at his ear. “When I think back on my life—and granted, I’m not all that old—I can’t help thinking that while I’ve had different phases, I’ve always just become a slightly older version of me. Elementary school led to middle school and high school and college, youth hockey led to junior hockey and then high school hockey. There were no periods of major reinvention. But with you, it’s been just the opposite. You were an ordinary girl, then you became the pregnant you, which altered the course of your life. You became someone else once you returned to Seattle, then cast that person aside when you moved to New York. And then transformed yourself again, becoming a professional in the art world. You’ve become someone entirely new, over and over.”
“Don’t forget the cancer version of me.”
“I’m serious,” he said. “And I hope you’re not taking it the wrong way.
I find your journey to be fascinating and inspiring.”
“I’m not that special. And it’s not as though I planned it. I’ve spent most of my life reacting to things that happened to me.”
“It’s more than that. You have a courage that I don’t think I have.”
“It’s not courage as much as survival instincts. And hopefully learning some things along the way.”
He leaned over the table. “You want to know something?” Maggie gave a tired nod.
“This is the most memorable Christmas I’ve ever had,” he stated. “Not just tonight; the entire week. Of course, I also had the chance to listen to the most amazing story I’ve ever heard. It’s been a gift and I want to thank you for that.”
She smiled. “Speaking of gifts, I got something for you.” From her handbag, she pulled out the Altoids tin and slid it across the table. Mark scrutinized it.
“Did I have too much garlic?”
“Don’t be silly. I didn’t have the time or energy to wrap it.” Mark lifted the lid. “Flash drives?”
“They have my photographs on them,” she said. “All of my favorites.” His eyes widened. “Even the ones in the gallery?”
“Of course. They’re not officially numbered, but if there are any that you particularly like, you can have them printed up.”
“Are the photos from Mongolia there?” “Some of them.”
“And Rush?” “That one, too.”
“Wow…” he said, gently lifting one of the drives from the box. “Thank you.” He put the first drive down, lifted the second reverently, and put it back. Touched the third and fourth ones, as though making sure his eyes weren’t deceiving him.
“I can’t tell you how much this means to me,” he said solemnly.
“Before you think it’s too special, I’ll probably do the same thing for Luanne in the next month or so. Trinity too.”
“I’m sure she’ll love it as much as I do. I’d rather have this than one of Trinity’s pieces.”
“You should take the Trinity piece if he offers it. Maybe sell it and buy yourself a nice-sized house.”
“Yeah,” he agreed, but it was clear his mind was still on the gift. He peered at the photos displayed on the walls around him before shaking his head in what looked like wonder. “I can’t think of anything else to say except thank you again.”
“Merry Christmas, Mark. And thank you for making this week very special for me, too. I don’t know what I would have done had you not been so willing to humor my whims. And, of course, I’m looking forward to meeting Abigail, too. I think you said she’s coming out on the twenty- eighth?”
“Saturday,” he said. “I’ll make sure she comes to the gallery on a day when you’re here.”
“I don’t know if I’m going to be able to give you the whole time off while she’s here. I can’t promise anything.”
“She understands,” Mark assured her. “We also have a full Sunday planned and we have New Year’s Day, too.”
“Why don’t we close the gallery on the thirty-first? I’m sure Trinity won’t mind.”
“That would be great.”
“I’ll make it happen. As a boss who understands the importance of spending time with the people you love, I mean.”
“Okay,” he agreed. He closed the lid of the Altoids tin before looking up at her again. “If you could have anything you’d like for Christmas, what would that be?”
The question caught her off guard. “I don’t know,” she finally offered. “I guess I’d say that I’d like to turn back the clock and move to Washington, D.C., right after Bryce graduated. And I’d beg him not to join the special forces.”
“What if you couldn’t turn back the clock? What if it’s something in the here and now? Something that was actually possible?”
She considered it. “It’s not really a Christmas wish, or even a New Year’s resolution. But there are certain…closures that I’d like while I still have time. I want to tell my mom and dad that I understand they always did what they thought was best for me and how much I appreciate all their sacrifices. I know that deep down, my parents have always loved me and been there for me, and I want to thank them for that. Morgan too.”
“Morgan?”
“We may not have had much in common, but she’s my only sister. She’s also an amazing mother to her daughters, and I want her to know that in a lot of ways, she’s been an inspiration.”
“Anyone else?”
“Trinity, for all he’s done for me. Luanne for the same reason. You. Lately, it’s become very clear to me with whom I want to spend my remaining time.”
“How about a last trip somewhere? To the Amazon or something like that?”
“I think my traveling days are behind me. But that’s okay. I don’t have regrets on that end. I’ve traveled enough for ten lives.”
“How about one last feast at a Michelin-starred restaurant?”
“Food tastes bad to me now, remember? I’m pretty much living on smoothies and eggnog.”
“I keep trying to think of something else…”
“I’m fine, Mark. Right now, the apartment and the gallery are more than enough.”
He stared at the floor, head bowed. “I can’t help wishing that your aunt Linda were here for you.”
“You and me both,” she agreed. “At the same time, I wouldn’t want her to have to see me like this, to have to support me in the difficult days ahead. She already did that once for me, back when I needed it most.”
He nodded in silent acknowledgment before glancing at the box on the table. “I guess it’s my turn to give you your gift, but after wrapping it earlier, I wasn’t sure whether I should give it to you.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know how you’ll feel about it.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Now you’ve got me curious.” “Even so, I’m still hesitant to offer it.”
“What’s it going to take?”
“Could I ask you something first? About your story? Not about Bryce.
But you left out something.” “What did I leave out?”
“Did you end up holding the baby?”
Maggie didn’t answer right away. Instead, she remembered those frenzied couple of minutes after birth—the relief and exhaustion she suddenly felt, the sound of the baby crying, the doctors and nurses hovering over both of them, everyone knowing exactly what to do. Hazy images, nothing more.
“No,” she finally answered. “The doctor asked if I wanted to, but I couldn’t do it. I was afraid that if I did, I would never let go.”
“Did you know then that you were going to give away your teddy bear?”
“I’m not sure,” she said, trying and failing to re-create her thought processes. “At the time it felt like a spur-of-the-moment thing, but now I wonder if I’d known all along that I would do it.”
“Were the parents okay about it?”
“I don’t know. I remember signing the papers and saying goodbye to Aunt Linda and Gwen and then suddenly being alone in the room with my mom. Everything is pretty hazy after that.” Though it was the truth, talking about the baby triggered a thought she’d kept locked away over the years, and now it came rushing back. “You asked me what I wanted for Christmas,” she finally went on. “I guess I’d like to know whether all of it had been worth it. And whether I’d made the right decision.”
“You mean about the baby?”
She nodded. “Putting a baby up for adoption is scary, even if it’s the right thing to do. You never know how it’s going to turn out. You wonder if the parents raised the child right, or if the child was happy. And you wonder about the little things, too—favorite foods or hobbies, whether they inherited your physical tics or temperament. There are a thousand different questions and no matter how you try to suppress them, they still sometimes rise to the surface. Like when you see a child holding his parent’s hand, or you spot a family eating at the table next to you. All I could do was hope and wonder.”
“Did you ever try to find the answers?”
“No,” she said. “A few years ago, I toyed with the idea of putting my name on one of those adoption registries, but then I got melanoma and I wondered whether anything good could come of it, given my prognosis. In all candor, cancer kind of takes over your life. Though it would be gratifying to know how it all turned out. And if he wanted to meet me, then I definitely would have wanted to meet him.”
“Him?”
“I had a boy, believe it or not,” she said with a chuckle. “Surprise, surprise. The technician was mistaken.”
“Not to mention a mother’s instincts—you were so sure.” He slid the package toward her. “Why don’t you go ahead and open it? I think you might need this more than I do.”
Intrigued, Maggie looked at Mark curiously before reaching for the ribbon. With a single tug, it came free, and the loosely taped paper peeled away easily. Inside was a shoe box, and as she lifted the lid, she could only stare. Her breath caught in her throat as time seemed to stretch, warping the very air around her.
The coffee-colored fur was matted and pilled, with a second Frankenstein stitch added to one of the legs, but the original stitch and the sewn-on button eye remained. Her name, written in Sharpie ink, was almost unreadable in the dim light, but she recognized her childhood scrawl. Memories surged over her—sleeping with it as a child, holding it tight in her bed in Ocracoke, clutching it as she groaned through labor on the way to the hospital.
It was Maggie-bear—not a replica, not a replacement—and as she gently lifted it from the box, she caught the familiar scent, strangely unchanged by time. She couldn’t believe it—Maggie-bear couldn’t be here; it was impossible…
She looked up at Mark, her face slack with shock. A flood of questions surged through her mind, gradually resolving as she grasped the full meaning of his gift. He’d turned twenty-three earlier in the year, meaning he’d been born in 1996…Aunt Linda’s convent had been somewhere in the Midwest, where Mark had grown up…He’d always struck her as oddly familiar…And now she was holding the teddy bear she’d given to her baby in the hospital…
It couldn’t be.
And yet it was, and when Mark began to smile, she felt a tremulous smile form in response. He stretched his hand across the table, taking her fingers in his own, his expression tender.
“Merry Christmas, Mom.”
