The Midwife's Confession

fell asleep and when I woke up, my phone was ringing and her cell number was on the display.

“I fell asleep,” I said, instead of hello.

“I’m coming over there.” She sounded terrible and I knew it had to hurt for her to talk.

“You are? It’s pouring out and you’re sick.”

“There’s something I have to tell you. To show you. Is your mom home yet?”

“No. What are you—”

“I’m coming right now, okay?”

I lowered my feet from the headboard and sat up. “Is it about Cleve?” I asked, but she’d already hung up.

When I opened the front door a few minutes later, Jenny stood there shivering and holding an umbrella over her head. I grabbed her arm and pulled her inside.

“What’s so important?” I asked.

“Your mom’s not home yet, right?” Her voice was low and hoarse and her nose was red. She was holding a plastic grocery bag with a book or something inside it.

“No. This is about Cleve, isn’t it?” What if he’d been in an accident? Oh, God! I’d die.

She gave me a little shove toward the stairs. “It’s not about Cleve,” she said. “Let’s go to your room.”

I let her push me across the hall. “You’re seriously freaking me out,” I said as we climbed the stairs.

“Just go,” she said.

In my room, Jenny grabbed the box of tissues from one of the nightstands. She sat on the edge of my bed with the tissues on one side of her and the plastic bag on the other. She pulled a tissue from the box and blew her nose while I just stood there, twisting my hands together, waiting for her to get to the point.

“Look,” Jenny said finally, “this timing sucks and I’m sorry about that, but I found out something you need to know. It has to do with you. Who you are.”

“What do you mean, who I am?” Did she mean my personality? Did I have some trait so horrible that she had to rush over in the rain while she was sick as a dog to tell me about it? Maybe so. After all, Cleve wasn’t crazy about who I was. Neither was my mother. Neither was I.

“Just listen to me,” she said, “and remember I’m your best friend forever, okay? I always will be. Always, always, Gracie, no matter what!” Her eyes looked glassy and I started to cry without even knowing why. Anything that had her this upset was going to make a mess out of me, too.

“Tell me,” I said.

“Ian was at my house like an hour ago.”

“Ian?” What did Ian have to do with anything? “Is this more about the will?” I wasn’t hurt that Noelle left more money to Jenny than to me. Jenny deserved it. I didn’t.

“No, not the will. I thought that, too, but that wasn’t it at all. I was upstairs while you and I were texting, and when I started to go downstairs for more juice, I heard them talking and… I don’t remember what my mom was saying but it made me stop and just listen in. They were talking about—” Jenny hesitated “—I am so sorry to tell you this!”

“Tell me what?”

“They said how you’re not really your mom’s daughter. How you were stolen from some other woman.”

“What?” What was she saying? “Are you sure they were talking about me?”

“Yes.”

“That’s… Why would they say that? It’s ridiculous.”

“I know. It sounds crazy, but they were talking about it and I was totally shocked.” She blew her nose again. “I just stood there listening, trying to get what they meant. Your mom doesn’t know but they’re going to tell her.”

“Know what? How can they know something about me that my own mother doesn’t know?” I tried to laugh. “This is like the most bizarre thing I’ve ever heard.”

“I know, but—”

“Do you hear how stupid this sounds? You just said my mother stole me, which is totally ridiculous, anyway, but if she stole me, then how could she not know I was stolen?” I wanted to throw something at Jenny. “Why are you screwing with my head?”

“I’m sorry! I know. But I can explain everything.” She opened the grocery bag and pulled out a big brown book and a manila file folder. Her hands were shaking all over the place. “I sat on the stairs until after Ian left and then I went into the kitchen like I wanted more juice,” she said. “I think Mom was worried I’d overheard them, but I acted like I just came downstairs right that minute and poured some juice. I watched her put this book and things in the drawer in the kitchen. You know by the desk she uses?”

“What’s the book?” I sat down next to her on the bed.

“It’s got notes from when Noelle delivered babies. I looked over her notes from when you were born and it doesn’t say anything weird that I could tell. But these things were with it.” She opened the folder and took out a type-written sheet of paper. “This letter…part of a letter. Noelle wrote it.” She handed it to me.

I could hardly believe what I was reading.

“This is disgusting!” I said, horrified. “I can’t believe Noelle would do something like that.”