Authors: John Michael Hileman

UNSEEN (38 page)

Liz bit her lip. "Yes, yes of course.”

"
When Abby said this to me, I didn't understand what it meant. I thought maybe you and her father were fighting over custody or something, and I didn't think it was my business to interfere. That's why I didn’t come sooner. I just didn’t understand. But recently my sister made a comment about seeing you at the clinic last summer, and it all just sort of clicked.”

Liz listened intently.

Jake stood and looked her in the eye. "Liz, your daughter wants you to know—that she forgives you.”

It was horrible to watch the agony on her face as she fought to keep her composure. Tremors of emotion tightened her cheek and chin and she looked to the side. The silent assault on her heart was most noticeable in the energy with which she wrung one wrist like a towel. It was clear she had no desire to cry in front of a man she barely knew. Yet his words had found a soft target deep inside.

He felt helpless to ease her silent torture. He had hoped his words would bring her comfort and some semblance of peace, not worsen her pain.

"
I'm so sorry,” he said, standing. "I meant to help..."

"
No," she gasped, "No. It's okay. Thank you. Thank you so much."

"
I’m sorry. I don’t understand.”

Liz discreetly dabbed at the liquid gathering in the corners of her eyes. "There was so much guilt. I didn't realize the depth of it until I started taking those classes. I needed to hear those words. I didn’t realize how badly I needed to hear them. Thank you so much for telling me."

He didn't know what to say. Part of him felt like it would be appropriate to describe her daughter and let her know more about her. And the other part of him was screaming at the first part to keep its big mouth shut. She didn't need to know more about the child she had aborted. It would only drudge up more guilt. Wouldn't it?

He stood awkwardly, painfully aware that he was ill-equipped to be of any more use to his grieving neighbor. And as he did, his eyes came to rest on a photograph sitting on a table next to the television. His eyes narrowed. The woman in the photo bore a remarkable resemblance to the mysterious old woman who had given him the white flower all those months ago. She was younger in the picture, and the nose looked a little different, but that was her. He was sure of it. He stepped forward to get a closer look. "Who is the woman in this picture?” he asked.

Liz moved next to him. "This one?” She pointed. "That’s my grandmother.”

"
Does she visit you often?”

Her shoulders sank slightly. "No, she passed away three years ago.”

Three years ago? How then had she paid him a visit last summer? He reached to pick up the picture. "May I?”

Liz nodded.

There
was
a
gold
plated
inscription
on
the
bottom
of
the
picture
frame
which
read
:
Margaret
Annette
Atwater
.
As
he
examined
the
photo
closer
,
he
couldn
’
t
help
but
notice
that
it
wasn
’
t
the
nose
alone
that
was
different
.
The
woman
in
the
photo
had
brown
eyes
.
That
was
odd
.
He
was
sure
the
old
woman
who
had
visited
him
had
green
eyes
.
He
remembered
them
because
they
were
so
bright
and
vibrant
.
He
’
d
never
seen
anyone
with
such
brilliant
green
eyes
before
.