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Chapter Twenty-Seven

  When Olivia got to the house, she saw that her mother had cooked dinner for everyone.

  She heard a TV on and was glad to be able to escape unnoticed. She went to her room and stretched out on her bed. She needed time to think—and remember. She’d spent a glorious afternoon with Kit and she had a ring on her finger, but had she truly changed the most important thing? Soon after the military came to get Kit, she went back to New York. She’d starred in a few performances of Pride and Prejudice—to excellent reviews—then found out she was pregnant.

  Olivia hit the old pillows with her fists. Memories that she had repressed for so many years were coming back to her. Finding out she was expecting had been the low point of her life. To her mind, her life was finished. She’d gone from being on top of the world, to standing at the bottom of a dark pit.

  It was Dr. Everett, Ace’s father, who she’d called, crying hard as she told him her predicament. He’d arranged everything. She was to spend the months at a facility for unwed mothers in Jacksonville, Florida. She was to give the child up for adoption. Back then, unmarried mothers were looked down on. Olivia didn’t want to do that to her child or her family. She’d made Dr. Everett swear not to tell her parents. Since he well knew that her father’s heart wasn’t strong, he agreed to tell no one.

  During those months at the home, she hadn’t been alive. She’d existed, her belly growing, but she hadn’t felt part of the human race.

  The pregnancy had been easy, but the birth was long and difficult. When she woke up from the anesthesia, her child—who she never saw—was gone and a doctor told her that she’d never have any more children. In the ’70s, doctors didn’t tell patients the details of what happened to their bodies. It was considered too complicated for them to understand.

  But Dr. Everett didn’t keep his vow of secrecy. Not fully, anyway. He arranged for Estelle Latham, a high school classmate of Olivia’s, to adopt her child. Since Estelle had recently miscarried, she told everyone in Summer Hill that she’d given birth to the pretty little girl.

  As soon as Olivia had recovered enough physically, she went home to Summer Hill.

  That was when she found out that her entire personality had changed. She no longer had any goals. She felt that she didn’t, well, didn’t deserve them. Her feeling of being invincible, that nothing bad could happen to her, was gone.

  For a while she stayed with her parents. They tried to get her to talk to them, but she wouldn’t. They assumed it was a love affair gone wrong. Truthfully, they were so glad to have her back that they didn’t pry too hard. Uncle Freddy offered her a job with him, but Olivia couldn’t bear to see the place or the people.

  She got a job at Trumbull Appliances, and soon afterward married Alan and took on the care of his son. Olivia never told him about her baby, just that she couldn’t have children. He’d said that was all right with him, but several times over the years he’d given a great sigh and said he would have liked to have a daughter. Olivia’s response had been to work harder.

  She didn’t know that she often saw her daughter. Estelle’s husband, Henry, got a job in a bank in Pennsylvania and they moved, but they returned to Summer Hill at holidays and they attended the same church.

  Olivia had never allowed herself to really look at the child since she was about the same age as the daughter she’d given away. But no matter how hard she tried to forget, she didn’t—and she was changed by what happened. Changed from deep within her.

  I went from being full of myself to apologizing for my existence, she thought.

  It may have been over forty years ago, but now that she was back in her young body, she could feel that hope for the future. With each hour she was again feeling like she could set the world on fire.

  She did not want to repeat what had happened before!

  That night she couldn’t sleep. It was late and she knew the children got up early and she needed to cook their breakfast, so she had to sleep. But she kept thinking about it all.

  When she’d first seen that card from “Madame Zoya,” aka Arrieta Day, and the idea of going back in time had presented itself to her, she’d known exactly what she’d do. First, she’d get Kit to marry her. But if she changed that one thing, she’d have to change other things.

  She’d have to make sure that Alan got with the love of his life, Willie. That was imperative. She owed them both that. After her talk with Arrieta, Olivia knew she’d have to register to study psychology at the University of Virginia.

  It had all seemed so simple. If she changed what had happened to her, she’d have to change the lives of the people she’d been with.

  But now that she was here, something was happening to her. She wasn’t just in her young body, but her young mind was taking over.

  Last year she’d been a sixty-plus-year-old woman and a lot had happened since she’d seen Kit. For one thing, she’d had years of running a business. During ordering, overseeing shipments, and arguing with deliverymen, friendships and enemies were made. She knew nearly everyone in Summer Hill, and most of all, she’d lived with Alan and his son.

  All those people, places, and happenings had dulled the pain of her past. With tremendous daily effort, she’d blocked out the loss of the baby she had given birth to—and given away.

  But now things were different. With every hour, youth was seeping back into her. It wasn’t just a lack of pain in her joints but all that energy was returning to her. In her sixties, she’d looked forward to an hour to sit down and do nothing. In her twenties, a free hour was a time to do something exciting. Laugh, dance, argue, make love. Go. Do. Create.

  Right now she was feeling anger. When Kit had returned to her life after years of being away, she’d been understanding, forgiving. After all, she’d seen and done a lot in that time.

  And besides, Alan’s dislike of her had taken the edge off Olivia’s spirit.

  She flopped onto her back and looked at the ceiling. Moonlight was coming into her room and she could see the shadows of tree branches. Over the years, she’d asked herself why she hadn’t done the sane and sensible thing of contacting his parents when she found out she was pregnant. Back then, Olivia thought her parents were old, and therefore fragile. Ha! There is nothing fragile about old age! It took strength and stamina just to get out of bed each morning.

  But here she was, and she didn’t feel sane and sensible. She felt angry.

  Worse, her anger at Kit was increasing by the minute. She’d made herself repress memories of what had actually happened. When she’d been alone at the maternity home, her only hope had been that Kit would show up. She told herself that maybe he hadn’t been terrified when she’d told him she loved him. She’d fantasized that he’d somehow find her and tell her the reason he’d left. The death of someone he loved usually won out.

  What was bothering her now was that Kit had seen her on Broadway. He’d been in New York just before being shipped out to Libya. With a government camera in hand, he’d sneaked out a bathroom window and paid a scalper’s price for a ticket to see her on stage. He said he greatly regretted not speaking to her.

  Not speaking to her! she thought.

  She turned over in the bed. What kind of man was he that he could spend a summer as they had done, then just walk out and leave? He could have taken five minutes to speak to her that night in New York, tell her he had to do something for his country, tell her how he felt about her. And she would have told him of her condition. If he’d arranged for her to go to his parents, their lives would have been changed forever. Hers, his, their daughter’s. Her parents wouldn’t have died thinking they had no grandchildren. If Kit had just spoken to her!

  It was well after midnight before Olivia fell asleep, and she woke often. Every time she opened her eyes, she thought of her miserable months in the maternity home. Dr. Everett had paid for it, and later she’d paid him back with interest. Pl