She had never known the true regret of not telling her mother. Her mother, who had children of her own. Who would have been able to imagine the loss. Her mother, who had never known that Lark had carried a baby inside of her.
And Addie had known.
Gram had known. All this time. And never spoken a word of it to her.
Had never reached out and done a thing to see if she could ease Lark’s grief.
She was there for you. She just didn’t ask you about this.
But they could have. They could have.
It’s your fault, isn’t it? You kept the secret.
She was so sick of secrets. She was so done. What had it given her? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. It certainly hadn’t brought Mara back. The child she’d named after she was already gone.
Mara.
Bitter.
She remembered that from Sunday School, the meaning of that name. That in the Book of Ruth, Naomi had changed her name after losing her husband and sons.
Bitter.
The loss had been bitter.
And she thought... She thought that she could make sense of this, on her own. She’d been certain that she’d been missing something on her healing journey.
And she’d been right.
She’d been right.
It was only a shame that this made her feel cut open fresh again. That it made an old wound feel new. The staring down at this blanket, this possibility, this piece of another future, made it all feel so keen.
And Taylor... Ben’s daughter.
His living daughter. Barely even a year younger than the one he didn’t know about. The one who had never lived.
Seeing her didn’t help either.
You came back. You came back to this place where it would be hardest to keep it to yourself. What were you really hoping for?
Maybe the same thing Avery was hoping for when she had walked into the Craft Café with a bruise on her face.
A lifeline she hadn’t even known she needed.
“What happened?” Mary asked, sitting on the bed beside her and grabbing her hands. “Lark, what happened?”
This was the moment. Her chance. To finally say it out loud.
This was what Addie had left her. Not just The Miner’s House, but these letters. This blanket.
This knowledge that she’d known, but that she’d never had the chance to share. So it felt right to do it here.
These were the words she’d been keeping inside ever since she’d taken that test and seen those two pink lines bleed into being.
“I got pregnant. The summer before college. And I kept thinking... I would tell you. Because you can’t keep that kind of thing a secret. Except, I couldn’t decide what to do. I couldn’t decide, and I waited until it was too late to...to have an abortion. I figured I didn’t really want one anyway. I went all through classes, and I just didn’t talk about it. And some people asked, and I would shrug and say that I was a surrogate or something. I just lied. A lot. I told someone I was married and he was in the army.” She scrunched her face. “I just... I didn’t want to tell anyone. And I started to feel her move. They told me it was a girl.”
Her breath caught. “I realized it was my chance. To be great at something. I could be her mother. But I didn’t want to tell anyone. I wanted it to be mine, and I kept thinking the time would come when I’d feel ready. And then she came. Early. I was sure it would still be all right. But I had... I had a placental abruption. And she died. She was... She was born dead, really. She never cried. She never cried, and it just felt like another way I’d failed. Another way I wasn’t... Avery who’s just so perfect and wonderful, and Hannah who was so brilliantly talented. You were so worried my big feelings would get me in trouble. And then I got pregnant. I made such a big mistake, and I proved I was just as...silly and irresponsible as everyone believed, but I thought maybe I could be a good mom. I thought it was my chance. And I failed her.”
“Lark,” her mom whispered, tears in her eyes. “You didn’t fail her, you didn’t fail anyone.”
“I was so embarrassed. Because you warned me. You told me being impetuous and spontaneous and emotional like I was could hurt me. And I knew that you would be disappointed that I got pregnant when I was eighteen. And I couldn’t marry him. I couldn’t marry him because he got engaged to someone else.” She shook her head. “I didn’t know how to tell you. I didn’t know how to tell anyone. What was I supposed to do? He got back together with her, and I found out I was pregnant. And I just wanted to stay away forever. I wanted to stay away forever because I thought I could never hurt as bad as I did knowing that he was going to be with someone else. But I was having his baby. Until I didn’t.” She put her hand on the blanket. “She knew. She figured it out. And I don’t even know how. It must’ve been one of the times I came home. I did come home twice when I was pregnant. It didn’t really show, and I just didn’t say anything. Gram knew. She never... She knew I lost the baby and she never said anything. Maybe she thought I got rid of it. Gave it up for adoption or... And... But we never talked about it. And we never will.”
Mary grabbed her and pulled her in for a hug. “But I know,” she said. Her mother was smaller than her and had been for a long time, but her fragile frame held Lark with all the strength that she needed. “I know, Lark.” She could hear tears in her mother’s voice. “And you can tell me whatever you
