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Every Day Filled with Hope

By Shelia W. Stovall

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The plain white envelope sat in a stack of Christmas cards on the kitchen island. Casey Bledsoe took in the unfamiliar address, the loopy script. The writing looked girlish. Like a teenager’s.
Casey’s legs weakened. Her lungs stopped working and she slid to a counter stool.

Funny, the sensations that hit. The smell of the peppermint-chocolate fudge on the plate before her. “Santa Baby” playing low over the speakers. The coolness of the marble counter.

How many times had she imagined her daughter sitting here with her? Now, just one month after her baby girl would have turned the magic age of eighteen—this envelope. Looking so like the one Casey had imagined, and dreamed of, and prayed for. And prayed against.

Casey ran a hand through her hair, remembering the red fuzz on the baby’s head. How the color had matched her own …

She closed her eyes. Get a grip. It’s only a Christmas letter.
With resolve, she pulled out a single piece of white-lined paper.
Even before she unfolded it, she knew.

Dear Ms. Bledsoe,
My name is Madison, and I’ve been told you are my birth mother.
Casey’s breath caught. Tears stung her eyes, and the paper slipped from her grasp. She hunched over the counter, pulling in air until she could retrieve The Letter with trembling fingers.

Mom said you gave permission for me to learn your identity when I turned eighteen.

The terrible memories flooded back. Clutching the tiny baby for one last time, kissing her wrinkled hands. Eighteen years then had seemed like forever. Had seemed … safe.

I can’t remember a time when I didn’t know I’m adopted, and I’ve always wondered about you. Do you ever think about me?

Casey strangled a sob.

I never would have guessed my biological mother used to model. Wow! You’re famous and beautiful. I’m not like you at all other than we share the same shade of hair, but mine is wild and unmanageable.

I’m athletic, a basketball player. I have so many questions. I hope you’re willing to answer them. Please understand—I don’t need money. And I’m very happy. My parents are the best, and I love them. My mom will always be my mom.
Will you write me back? I don’t want to ruin your life or anything.
I hope to hear from you soon.

Madison Warren

Madison. Madison Warren. Casey stared at her daughter’s name until the letters blurred. The kitchen clock’s hands circled as Casey reread the letter, over and over. She’d never tell her about her father.

Casey covered her face with her hands as she remembered the horrible night. A river of memories poured from the secret chamber of her heart. She’d screamed, “No!” but the brute had ignored her pleas. A chill settled over her as she recalled his strength, his soulless gray eyes, and her innocence lost forever.
Casey’s breath caught. What if her daughter resembled … the monster?

Pain from her ankle called her back to reality. “Meow.” Fats rubbed his pointy chin against her leg.

“Sorry, baby. Are you hungry?” Casey rubbed the place where Fats had clawed her and ran her sleeve across her cheek. The cat’s ragged black ears were down, and he yowled.

After filling his bowl with kibble, Casey lifted the phone, then halted. News this shocking should be shared in person. It was past midnight, but she was sure Emma wouldn’t mind being awakened for this.

Ten minutes later, she stood at the back door of her best friend’s old Victorian, spying two pink bicycles leaning against the porch. Emma must have picked them up for Hallie and Callie, the twin girls she’d fostered a few weeks ago.

A dog barked. “Shhh. It’s me.” Casey scurried toward the two dog houses. Max and Buster licked her palms. The two rottweilers belonged to Harley, a thirteen-year-old girl Emma fostered last year. Emma had a gift for rescuing people and dogs.

Casey scratched the dogs’ soft ears and whispered. “We don’t want to wake up the neighborhood.” Mr. McCullough, the self-appointed neighborhood security guard, lived next door. Casey held her breath as she stared at his dark windows. When no lights appeared, she exhaled.

She dug through her purse and found her phone. After four rings, light streamed from the downstairs bedroom window. “Casey! What’s wrong?”

“I’m fine, but I have news.”

“Did Daniel propose?” Emma’s sleepy voice lifted.

A cloud extinguished the moonlight as a wave of sadness welled up inside of her. “No.” Casey returned to the porch. “I’m at your back door.”

“You’re here?”
“Hurry. My feet are freezing.”

“I’m on my way.”

As Casey waited, her thoughts drifted to Daniel, and her stomach clenched. How would she ever find the words to tell him about her daughter? Madison. A surge of hope lifted her spirits, and she bounced on her heels. My daughter’s name is Madison.

Emma swung the antique door open, and it banged the wall. Her shapeless terrycloth robe hung loose on her thin frame. “What’s going on? You’ve been crying.”

Casey stepped inside and gripped Emma’s shoulders. “I got a letter today.”
“Who sends letters anymore?”

“My daughter.”

Emma’s hand flew to her chest. “Whoa! Tell me everything before I stop breathing.” Emma led her to the suede sofa. “How are you?”

“Almost hopeful.”

“Almost?” Her best friend gave her an understanding smile.

“I’m afraid.”

“Oh, hon. What does her letter say?” Emma pushed her shoulder-length brown hair behind her ear.

“She told me her parents are the best—”

“A prayer answered.”

“Absolutely. Her name is Madison Warren.”

“Madison,” Emma whispered.

Casey knew her best friend had faithfully prayed for her daughter through the years, too, though she never mentioned her. Instead, she’d loved Casey like a sister and pulled her to the light, time and again, as depression threatened to overtake her.

“It’s time to stop being afraid.” Emma curled her feet up under her.

“I want that, more than anything.”

“You used to be fearless.”

“Having five older brothers will do that for you.” Casey placed her palm over the ache in her heart. “How can I explain this to my family?”
“They love you.”

“Daniel might drop me like a hot skillet when he learns I gave away my baby.”

“He’ll understand when you tell him everything.”

“I doubt it.”

“You were traumatized and barely an adult.”

“What if she’d ended up with awful parents?” Casey pulled at her hair.

“But now you know she’s okay!”

Casey removed the envelope from her bag and gave it to Emma.

“Are you sure you want me to read it?”

“You’re the only one who knows everything. I need someone to tell me what to do.”

Emma removed the letter from the envelope and read with her mouth open. “She’s curious.”

“I can’t tell her about her father.” Casey chewed her manicured nail.
Emma pulled Casey’s hand down without looking up. “She’s probably anxious to hear from you. Are you happy she wrote?”

“Of course.”

“Start there.”

“Okay, but I want to meet her, to get to know her, and to do that, I have to tell everyone.”

“Waiting won’t make this easier, and who knows what will happen if the paparazzi get a whiff of this.”

“No one cares about an ex-model.”

“You were a super-model and you’re still famous.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Then why do women travel from all over the country to Weldon, Kentucky, to visit your boutique?” Emma fiddled with her robe. “I mean, your clothes are chic, but …” She lifted a shoulder.

“You may have a point.” Everyone loves a scandal.

“You’d better bless your biscuits she didn’t show up in Weldon without warning instead of sending a letter.”

Casey closed her eyes. “Her father ...” She couldn’t bear to say his name. “… is still in the tabloids. What if someone links her to him?”

Emma gave her a stern look. “You need to tell your parents before you leave for Africa.”

Casey’s stomach lurched. The mission trip. I’m the last person to be preaching to anyone. “I’m not going. I never should have signed up.”

“Daniel asked you to go—it’s his dream.”

“And my nightmare. The pictures of Niger look like a different universe. What was I thinking?”

Emma elbowed her. “That Dr. Sparky wants to play doctor with your boyfriend?”

Casey gave her a vinegar look. “I trust Daniel.”

“Tell that to someone who doesn’t know you. I’ve seen the way you scowl at Sparky.”

“I overheard her say something ugly about me before I signed up for the mission team.”

Emma narrowed her eyes. “What did she say?”

It doesn’t matter.” Casey sighed. “I’m glad a doctor is going, even if she is cute. But perky does get old after a while.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “Yeah, it would be more fun to travel with a sourpuss.”

She opened the letter again. “I wish she’d sent a picture.”

“What if she has…” Casey gulped. “Jansen’s eyes?” Saying his name made her shudder.

“It won’t matter, and I can tell by her description, she’s all you.”

“I still have nightmares.”

“Oh, Casey.” Emma gave her a tender look. “Maybe we can look for Madison on social media?”

Casey shook her head. “No. I need to take her in slowly.”

They sat in the stillness for a long time. When the antique grandfather clock chimed two bells, Emma yawned.

Casey sighed. “You need to get back to bed if you’re going to open the library on time in the morning.”

“I won’t return to the library until after the school’s Christmas break.”

“Lucky you.”

“Take the day off to tell your parents. It’s your store.”

“I can’t leave Tricia to deal with disappointed customers who drove all the way to Weldon to meet Cassandra.”

Emma pulled her up from the sofa. “Go home and get some rest.”

“Okay.” She hugged Emma again. “I have a daughter named Madison.” Her heart lifted.

“Thank you, Lord,” Emma said.

“And all the guardian angels from heaven.”

***

Casey sat up the rest of the night, trying to write a response. When the pink haze of dawn brightened the horizon, she placed her head on the kitchen island’s cool granite. A pile of crumpled false starts surrounded her. After gathering them up and tossing them into the trash, she trudged upstairs, defeated. The flying geese quilt featuring sapphire triangles against a snow-white background caught her eye as she passed the guest bedroom. She’d been too excited about her modeling contract and the ticket to New York to appreciate the parting gift from Granny. Words from the past floated back to her: “If you ever need a hug, wrap up in this quilt, and you’ll feel my arms around you.”
The token of love always comforted her, so she lifted it, lay on the bed, and wished Granny were here to tell her what to do. Drained of energy, she closed her eyes. She’d told so many lies to her family to keep her pregnancy a secret. She wouldn’t make the same mistake twice. Nothing would keep her from getting to know her daughter—unless Madison changed her mind and chose not to have anything to do with her. A tear rolled down her cheek. Just knowing her name caused a seedling of hope to break through the wall she’d built around her heart.
Fats jumped up on the bed, purring as he nudged her hand with his nose.
“At least you’ll still love me.”

She pictured her parents’ stricken faces to learn they had a granddaughter. Nothing was more important to them than family. Her hands trembled as she stroked Fats. They might never forgive her.

After a long while, the rumbling in Fats’ chest relaxed her. Casey’s lids grew heavy as she imagined holding her daughter. Then, in the in-between heartbeat of consciousness and dreaming, she heard her granny’s voice whisper in her ear. “The truth will set you free. Don’t be afraid.”

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