The Stolen Daughter Read online

  “I understand, but she’s good. Besides, we’re here now, so—”

  “Oh my God.” We heard a scream from the other side of the room. “Look at what she did to this two-thousand-dollar cake,” I heard Travis’s mother scream.

  I darted across the room at the same time as Kendra and Travis. The gasps were immediate. My mother was standing there next to the beautiful wedding cake that we had marveled at on the way in. Apparently, Travis’s mother had called in some favors to get the world-renowned chef, Clyde Jiles, to make her cake. And now, that big, beautiful cake was missing two huge chunks on both sides. And standing next to the empty spaces was my mother with crumpled up cake in each hand. It looked like she’d taken her palms and dipped them into the cake and snatched two handfuls.

  “Mama,” I gasped. “What did you do?”

  “I wanted cake,” she said as she stuffed her mouth with a handful of the buttermilk-white cake icing that surrounded her nose as if she’d smashed the cake in her face.

  “Oh my God,” Kendra cried as she approached the table.

  I felt all eyes bore into me. Malcolm appeared on the side of me, his gaze screaming all kinds of “I told you so.” All I could do was mutter my apologies as I tried to get my mother and scurry her out of the room.

  “No!” my mother said, snatching away from me. “Let me go. I don’t know you!” she screamed. She backed away from me and bumped into the table where the cake was sitting. Before anyone could react, the cake came tumbling down.

  “Oh no,” she said, reaching for the cake. Of course it was too late. Cake splattered everywhere. “I-I’m so s-sorry,” she stammered.

  “What did you do?” Travis’s mother screamed, all her prim decorum gone.

  The outburst caused my mother to turn and race out of the room.

  I flashed an apologetic look at all the eyes that were staring at me, then took off after my mother.

  “Mama,” I called out to her just as she reached the stairs. “Wait!”

  But she didn’t stop, she put one foot on the top step and the next thing I knew, she was tumbling down the flight of stairs.

  Chapter 6

  “So how do I look?”

  I laughed at the sight of my mother with the bushy mustache, the tattered brown suit from Goodwill and the glued-on sideburns.

  “You look funny, Mommy,” I said, my seven-year-old eyes looking up at my mother in awe.

  When I’d come home crying about not having a father for the father-daughter dance, my mother had done what she always did, sprang into action to make me happy.

  “My baby won’t be fatherless at this dance,” she’d announced as she headed toward the door. “Stay here. I’ll be back in a few.”

  I knew everybody wouldn’t have a daddy at the dance. But those that didn’t have daddies would have uncles, or big brothers. But I didn’t have anyone.

  It had been just the two of us—Mommy and me—for as long as I could remember. Mama didn’t even have boyfriends. Because at this point, I would have even taken a perfect stranger to the dance. I’d even told Mama that when she announced, “I have an idea,” and went digging in the Halloween costume box for the mustache and sideburns.

  Thirty minutes later, Mama had returned from Goodwill, wearing the man’s suit coat, pants, and a hat. She didn’t fool me though.

  “Mommy, everybody can tell you’re still a mommy,” I giggled.

  “You guys are second graders, nobody will know,” she said, then she deepened her voice. “See, nobody can tell. I sound just like a man.”

  That made me burst out laughing because Mama did sound like a man with that deep hoarse voice.

  “So we’re going to go to the father-daughter dance and we’re going to have a ball and it’s going to just be our secret,” she said.

  “But what about your hair, Mommy?” I asked, as I studied her.

  “Got that covered, too.” She swooped up her long, stringy brown hair, tied it in a bun, put one of those wig cap things on her head and then slid the big brown hat back on her head. “The icing on the cake,” Mama said.

  I wanted to protest, but I couldn’t. “Mommy, do you really think this will work?” I asked her.

  “It will. I know it will,” Mama replied. “And what’s going to be great is that only you and I will know.” She picked me up and swung me around and we both squealed in delight.

  I don’t know why that memory of the father-daughter dance remained so vivid in my mind. My mother was always doing thoughtful things like that to make up for all that I was missing in life. She’d always been there for me, always worked so that I didn’t “feel” all that I was physically lacking.

  Now, sitting here in this cold hospital room, watching her, I knew I would always be here for her. Thankfully, my mother hadn’t suffered any major injuries from the fall down the steps, but because she’d been so disoriented, they immediately admitted her.

  I replayed the reception fiasco over and over. I was sure Malcolm’s family was super pissed at me. I thought about what my mother’s doctor had told us on our last visit.

  “Your mother may get aggressive, but know it’s usually triggered by something—physical discomfort, environmental factors such as being in an unfamiliar situation, or even poor communication.”

  I shouldn’t have made her wear that dress. I shouldn’t have made her come.

  I tried not to blame myself. The doctor had also told me not to take her actions to heart. That when she was in a “state,” it was important to remember that this is not the same woman who raised me.

  I leaned my head back against the seat in the hospital room at Ben Taub and pulled out my cell phone. I swiped until I got to Kendra’s name and then pressed dial. The phone rang and rang. By now, the reception should have been wrapped up. Maybe Kendra and Travis were enjoying their honeymoon night. Hopefully, they’d been able to salvage the disaster my mother had created.

  I ended the call and then did something I’d been dreading all evening, called my husband. For a minute, I didn’t think he was going to answer.

  “Hi, sweetheart,” I said once he picked up.

  “Hi,” he replied, his tone dry. “How’s your mother?” I knew that Malcolm loved my mother. But I could also tell there were days when he was thinking, “This isn’t what I signed up for.” He’d told me as much during one of our heated arguments. He later apologized and said he didn’t mean it, but I knew there was some truth behind his words.

  “She’s asleep. Thankfully, she didn’t break anything and will be okay. The doctor said she might have a slight concussion, but other than that, she’ll be fine,” I said. “Waiting on the doctor to come back with some more test results. They are keeping her overnight. How’s Kendra?”

  I heard a sharp inhale and then Malcolm said, “She’s fine. She managed to pull it together and enjoy the rest of the reception. Travis’s mother, on the other hand, not so much.”

  I paused, waiting on my husband to berate me with a barrage of “I told you sos.”

  “I’m so sorry,” I said, when he didn’t say anything. “I really—”

  “Now’s not the time,” Malcolm said, cutting me off.

  Now might not be the time, but I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt, the time was coming. Malcolm had tried to be supportive as my mother deteriorated. But he’d said we were now putting our lives on hold as my mother spiraled more and more out of control.

  In the beginning, Mama had been staying with Aunt Marilyn, who was actually my great aunt, and her aunt. But Aunt Marilyn could no longer handle my mother, and she had become our problem. Malcolm had wanted to put her in a home but as frustrated as I got, I would never see my mother as a “problem,” and it would break both of our hearts for me to put her in a home—not to mention, since we had no money, it would be one of the state-run facilities and I would die before I ever did something like that.

  “Well, I don’t suppose you’ll make it for their breakfast in the morning?” Malcolm said.
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  I fought back the sadness that had been trying to overtake me all evening. Since I wasn’t in the wedding, I had volunteered to host the breakfast for Kendra and Travis to open gifts.

  “I doubt I’ll make it,” I said. “It really depends on how Mama is doing.”

  “She’s in the hospital. Someone will be watching her,” he snapped. “You can take a couple of hours to come to my sister’s brunch, you know the thing that you are supposed to be hosting. They’re opening the gifts before they leave for the cruise and this was all your idea.”

  “I know Malcolm, but—”

  He cut me off. “You know what? Do whatever you feel. Hope your mother gets better. I’ll talk to you later.” And he hung the phone up before I could say another word. It was unlike Malcolm to snap at me like that. My mother’s situation was taking a toll on us all. I was just about to call my husband back when the doctor walked into the hospital room.

  “Mrs. Reed?” he said.

  I nodded. “Yes. Did you get the test results back?”

  He took a deep breath and nodded. “Yes, and like I said earlier, everything is fine. Your mother is one lucky woman. She could have really done some damage.”

  “I know.” Relief flooded me. My mother couldn’t stand any more health issues.

  Dr. Martin had been the doctor from her church who first diagnosed her. He’d stepped in after all the free clinics kept telling us nothing was wrong. He’d been treating my mother for the past six months and he had sided with Malcolm in saying that she should go into a home. I could tell by the concerned expression on his face that he believed that now more than ever.

  “At some point you’re going to have to reconsider her placement, Jill,” Dr. Martin continued. “For her own good.”

  “But I thought you said the medication would help her get better?”

  “I said it may, and unfortunately your mother seems to be one of those cases where the dementia is progressing much faster than we ever imagined.”

  That brought tears to my eyes.

  His expression turned grim. “Jill, I have to warn you. I did a CAT scan of your mother’s brain, and it’s getting worse. You can expect more bad days than good ones, so . . .”

  He let his words trail off and I nodded in understanding. I took a deep breath and took my mother’s hand. “And I’ll be right there through the good, the bad, and the ugly.”

  He nodded his understanding. “Your mother really is blessed to have a daughter like you.”

  I squeezed her hand. No, I was the one who’d been blessed with a mother like this.

  Chapter 7

  This was a rare occurrence—all of us sitting around our small kitchen table, enjoying a home-cooked meal. It had been a week since Kendra’s wedding. My mother had only spent two nights in the hospital and now she was home, on new meds, and doing better than ever.

  In fact, today, she had been quite lucid, and insisted on making collard greens, macaroni and cheese, black-eyed peas, and fried chicken. Of course, I stayed in the kitchen with her the whole time, but it had been one of those “like old times moments,” where we laughed and joked about any and everything. Even Malcolm had gotten in on the joy. He had gotten a promising job interview today, so he was in a good mood. Though he said removing the stress of how to pay bills would allow him to focus on his app development.

  “Dinner’s ready,” my mother sang as she walked over to the kitchen table carrying a bowl of macaroni and cheese.

  Malcolm made sure Destiny was settled in her highchair and then we sat down and began to make small talk as we ate.

  “So, tell me about your job interview. Why do you think you’re going to get this one?” I said as I bit into a piece of fried chicken. I closed my eyes and savored the taste. Just like old times.

  “I don’t know. I just got a good feeling about this one,” Malcolm replied. “I’m overqualified, but I could tell that the guy I interviewed with really liked me. I’d be working on the city’s fleet. I was able to show him something that had been wrong with one of the city vehicles the whole time. So needless to say, he was excited because they hadn’t been able to figure out what was wrong with the engine, and I fixed it just like that.” Malcolm snapped his fingers. His enthusiasm made me proud. Too bad maintenance was something he did on the side, because he really was good at fixing things.

  “Well, I sure hope so, baby,” I said. I reached over and handed Destiny a piece of mashed up cornbread.

  “Yeah, baby. This is what we need,” Malcolm continued. “This job would give me like a fifteen-thousand-dollar raise over what I was making before I was laid off. If we keep living off my original salary, we could put that extra aside to save so I can finish the app. I think I’ve worked out the kinks.”

  My mother smiled as she sipped her sweet tea. “Well, you shouldn’t have to worry about money,” she said.

  Both Malcolm and I looked at her and managed a smile. “Yeah, don’t we wish? We always worry about money,” Malcolm said.

  “No. Jill’s rich.”

  “You’re so right. I’m rich in love, Mother,” I replied, patting her hand.

  “You’re rich in money, too,” she said with a sheepish grin.

  “Tell that to our bank account.” Malcolm and I laughed at the same time.

  “Your dad has a lot of money. I don’t know where he is, but you really should call him. He’ll help. He’ll help you pay some bills.” She nodded matter-of-factly as she popped a spoonful of macaroni and cheese into her mouth.

  Her serious tone made me lose my smile. “Mom . . .”

  Malcolm narrowed his eyes at me and then a wide smile covered his face and he winked at me.

  “Ms. Connie, how can we find this rich daddy of Jill’s?”

  I cut my eyes at my husband; I really didn’t like when he entertained my mother’s delusions.

  “I told you, I don’t know how to get in touch with him anymore, but he has a lot of money. All your money problems would be solved if you just asked him.” Mama shrugged.

  “All our problems will be solved?” Malcolm said, feigning excitement. “Well Jill, you better call him right now. Let me guess. Her daddy is Denzel James Earl Jones.”

  Mama shook her head. “No, silly. Those are celebrities. And two different people.”

  “Oh.” Malcolm shrugged and suppressed a giggle.

  “But Jill’s daddy is just as rich as them,” Mama continued. “Probably richer.”

  I put my hand over my mother’s and kept my voice calm as I said, “Mama, my daddy died a long time ago.”

  The smile left her face and she frowned like she was trying to reach back into the recesses of her mind. “He did? How do you know?”

  “Because you told me. We grew up without him. He died when I was a baby, remember?”

  She looked extremely confused as she scratched the side of her head. “He’s dead? What did his wife say? Is she heartbroken?”

  “You were his wife, Mama.”

  Her eyebrows scrunched together, she frowned, and a mist covered her eyes. “I didn’t mean to kill him.”

  Now I knew she was gone. Which meant our moment of family joy was gone as well.

  “I am so sorry,” my mother said as tears started running down her face. “I didn’t mean to kill him,” she repeated.

  Malcolm stopped smiling as a look of trepidation passed across his face. “It’s okay, Ms. Connie. I wasn’t trying to upset you.”

  “I didn’t mean to,” she said, shaking her head. “I am really so sorry.”

  “Mama, let me help you go lie down.” I said, pushing back from the table and easing over to help her up.

  She was in full-fledged crying mode now and the outburst startled Destiny, who started crying, too. “I’m so, so sorry,” she continued.

  “Why don’t you just go lie down?” I repeated.

  “I have to clean the kitchen and get ready for the funeral,” she said.

  I debated trying to convince her that there w
as no funeral, but I remembered how Dr. Martin said it was fruitless to argue with a dementia patient. Instead, I just said, “Malcolm and I will do the dishes.”

  “Okay,” she sniffed.

  She let me lead her upstairs to her bedroom, where I got her settled, once again. I returned to the kitchen just as Malcolm was clearing the table.

  “I’m getting really worried about Mama,” I said. “The rambling and delusion is getting progressively worse.”

  Malcolm stopped setting a dish in the sink and then turned around and looked at me. The expression on his face was hard to make out. “How much do you really know about your father?” he asked.

  “What?” I replied, tilting my head as if that would help me understand his question better. “What kind of question is that?”

  “I don’t know.” He shrugged. “Yeah, I think your mom is rambling, but sometimes I feel like there may be something to what she’s saying. I know it’s easy to dismiss it, but something about the conviction in her voice makes me think that this isn’t delusional rambling.”

  I shook my head as I walked over to finish clearing the table. “Okay, now you’re starting to sound crazy like her.”

  He shrugged as he continued to help me. “I’m just saying. You might want to want to consider that there may be more to what she’s talking about.”

  “My mother is delusional. Dementia comes and goes.” I blew an exasperated breath and snatched the plates of food to box up for lunch tomorrow.

  “Look, I didn’t mean you’d get you upset,” he said, when he noticed me slamming stuff. “I just thought maybe it’s something you might want to look into because that’s not the first time she has said that.”

  “All I need to look into is getting my mom some help and hoping that we can find some type of care,” I huffed.

  “Okay.” Malcolm leaned in and kissed me on the forehead, instantly causing some of my irritation to dissipate. My husband’s touch always did that to me. “Don’t be mad at me, babe,” he said. “I was just bringing up a suggestion.”