Twist of fate, p.1
Twist of Fate, page 1
Cottage on Gooseberry Bay:
Twist of Fate
by
Kathi Daley
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2022 by Katherine Daley
Version 1.0
All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form.
Gooseberry Bay
Halloween Moon
Thanksgiving Past
Gooseberry Christmas
Kiss ‘N Tell
Charmed Summer
A Summer Thing
A Geek Thing
Santa Who?
Sister Spy
Twist of Fate
A Christmas Memory
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Up next from Gooseberry Bay
Chapter 1
Navigating life, I’ve decided, is like navigating a river. At times, the journey becomes difficult, and we’re forced to deal with unforeseen hazards and turbulent waters. While at other times, we’re able to relax and enjoy the scenery as we’re effortlessly carried toward our predestined future. Of course, not every traveler uses the same approach to their journey. There are those who calmly enter the river, seek out the current, and then settle in for the ride, while others consider the voyage a challenge, entering the river intent on setting their own course while fighting every twist and turn along the way.
During the course of my life, I’ve been both types of traveler. It’s hard to say whether one approach is superior to the other. While drifting with the current was definitely the easiest, I’ve experienced the most growth and the highest level of satisfaction during those voyages where I’ve carved out my own route.
“Ainsley Holloway?” a tall woman wearing straight-legged jeans, knee-high boots, and an angora sweater in a deep rusty orange asked after entering Ainsley Holloway Investigations.
I stood up to greet the woman. “Yes, I’m Ainsley. You must be Opal Fallon.”
“I am.”
“Please have a seat.” I motioned toward the chair across the desk from where I’d been sitting.
She glanced at my Bernese Mountain Dogs, Kai and Kallie, who watched from large pillows designated for them.
“They won’t bother you,” I assured the woman who’d called earlier to inquire about my services. “In fact, they won’t even leave their pillows unless instructed to do so.”
The woman, who I assumed wasn’t a fan of my canine friends, hesitated and then slowly walked toward the desk. She sat down and then crossed her legs one over the other.
“I apologize. I should have warned you about the dogs,” I said once the woman was settled. “If you’re uncomfortable, I can ask the owners of the antique store next door to allow them to hang out over there for a while.”
She glanced at the dogs, who hadn’t moved an inch since she’d walked in. “No, it’s fine.” She narrowed her gaze. “They certainly are large dogs.”
“They are, but they’re very well trained.” I decided to get right to the point and hopefully distract the woman’s attention away from the dogs. “You mentioned on the phone that you needed assistance finding your daughter, but the cell service was iffy, so we never got around to discussing the specifics of why this sort of assistance is needed. Has she run away?” I figured the woman would have gone to the police, not a PI if she’d been kidnapped.
“No. It’s nothing like that.” She put a hand to her throat and gently massaged it as if trying to work words loose that weren’t quite forthcoming. “My story is sort of complicated.”
“That’s fine. Just take your time,” I encouraged.
She took a deep breath, wiped a tear from the corner of her eye, and then began to speak. “Twelve years ago, I gave birth to a child. A daughter. Jeremiah and I were so excited to be parents. We’d wanted a baby for so long, but I’d had problems conceiving, so things had progressed slowly. When I found out I was pregnant, I was over the moon with happiness. We both were.” She smiled a sad little half-smile. “Every morning when I woke up, I thanked God for the child growing inside me. We called her our little miracle. And she was. Not only had I finally conceived, but the pregnancy had been fairly routine with the exception of some morning sickness early on, and the doctors felt confident that I’d be able to carry the baby to term.”
She stopped speaking.
“Just take your time,” I encouraged as she struggled to keep her composure.
She nodded and continued. “When I was about seven months along, my doctor told me I’d developed extremely high blood pressure. He was naturally concerned for my health as well as the baby’s and instructed me to find a way to relax. I tried to do as he suggested, but I just couldn’t seem to let go of my anxiety. By the time I was nearing my eighth month, my blood pressure had become so high that my doctor called and spoke to my husband directly. We talked about my growing anxiety, and after a bit of back and forth, we decided that some time away from everything was just what I needed. Jeremiah’s uncle had a cabin up in the Cascade Mountains, so he suggested we go there for a few days.”
Uh oh. That didn’t sound like a good idea at all.
“I know what you’re thinking,” she continued. “The last thing my husband should have done was take his very pregnant wife to an isolated cabin when she was already dealing with medical issues relating to her pregnancy, but, in his defense, I’d always loved the cabin, and I really was stressed out. I wasn’t due to deliver for another five weeks, and it was only a short trip to the nearby town if something did come up, so after a bit of discussion, we decided the potential reward was greater than any risk involved.”
She paused, and I waited. I realized that whatever came next had probably been traumatic, so I let her move forward at her own pace.
“Initially, upon arriving at the cabin, my blood pressure did drop. I was happy and looking forward to the birth of our baby and our future. Jeremiah and I had three perfect days sitting on the porch overlooking the lake as we talked about the life we’d share with our child in the upcoming years. We discussed names and debated whether her hair would be light like mine or dark like his.” She blew out a breath. “We even discussed preschools and the value of reading to our daughter each night before tucking her into bed.” She paused, bowed her head, took several deep breaths, and then continued. “On the fourth day, a storm blew in. It was a cold storm, and snow was expected, but it was early November, and the forecast was for a short weather event that would blow through without much accumulation. We weren’t worried, but as luck would have it, this particular storm not only hit hard but once it was directly overhead, it stalled.
My stomach began to clench as I waited for the story to unfold. I knew that this story wouldn’t include and we all lived happily ever after.
“On the fifth day, my water broke. We had cell reception, but there was no way our small car would make it out with so much snow covering the unplowed roads, so my husband called my doctor. He told us to stay put. He said he would send an ambulance and that I was to stay warm and rest quietly until it arrived. At first, I was fine. I knew help was coming, so I tried to relax, but as luck would have it, just minutes before the ambulance would have crested the summit and started down the other side toward the cabin, the road was closed due to an avalanche. I knew I needed medical attention. My husband knew I needed medical attention. But we really were stuck. I tried to use breathing to slow the contractions. I did everything I could to stop what was happening, but the baby wasn’t willing to wait. My doctor decided to talk my husband through the steps he would need to take should the baby come before help arrived.”
She paused briefly, closed her eyes, and then opened them before continuing. “While Jeremiah was gathering towels and boiling water, I started to bleed. My poor husband was totally freaking out by this point, but the doctor very calmly assured us that while we couldn’t wait any longer to deliver, the baby would be fine.”
“That must have been awful.” I finally said after forcing myself to remain silent for most of the story.
“It was. Jeremiah and I were both so far out of our depth, but delivering the baby was our only choice, so we did as instructed. The doctor talked Jeremiah through it, and it might have been okay, but the baby was coming out wrong, and I began to hemorrhage. Shortly after the baby’s foot appeared, I went into shock and passed out. My next memory is of waking up in a hospital bed. My husband wasn’t in the room, and no one would explain what had happened. I was assured, however, that my husband had been called and was on his way in. When he arrived, Jeremiah tearfully told me he’d done his best but that our baby had died.”
“I’m so very sorry.” I wasn’t sure how a dead baby led to a missing child, but I imagined she’d get around to that.
“It was the darkest time of my life. I was so depressed, and I could see that Jeremiah was devastated, so we never really talked about the specifics. At least not at that time. I knew that after I passed out and the baby was delivered, a life-flight heli copter eventually arrived, and I was transported to the hospital, but that was the extent of my knowledge.”
“You mentioned a missing child,” I decided to try to bring this story back on point. As bad as I felt for this woman, I was having a hard time figuring out how a missing child played into things.
She nodded. “I’m getting to that.”
“Okay. I’m sorry. Go on.”
She nodded, took several deep breaths, and then continued. “Six months ago, my husband was killed in an auto accident.”
I placed a hand over my heart. “I’m so sorry.”
She continued. “After Jeremiah passed, a priest named Father Patrick came to my door. He told me that he had a secret that had been weighing heavily on his mind for many years. A secret he was honor-bound to keep, but now that my husband was dead, he’d decided it was time to share what he knew.”
I leaned forward slightly.
She continued. “According to Father Patrick, Jeremiah had confessed many years ago that while he’d told me our baby had died, she’d actually lived.”
I let out an involuntary gasp.
She continued. “Father Patrick told me the baby had been transported to the hospital along with me. Apparently, in addition to the trauma of the birth, she’d also been born with a heart defect, and she wasn’t expected to live. As a result, my husband was told she had less than a ten percent chance of making it through the week.” She swallowed and then continued. “Jeremiah was offered the choice to allow the doctors to perform an extremely risky surgery our daughter would likely not survive, or to simply allow the medical staff to make our daughter comfortable and let things evolve naturally.”
“Sounds like a tough choice.”
She swiped at a tear. “It must have been. The doctors had managed to stabilize me by this point, but I hadn’t awakened and, due to the amount of blood loss, no one could say when or if I would. The priest shared with me that my husband was overcome with grief and felt unable to deal with the situation relating to our daughter. He was told that even if the baby survived the surgery, she would need specialized care and that additional surgeries would most likely be required.”
I had to admit that my heart went out to this man. I couldn’t imagine having all of that to deal with at once. “So what happened?”
“Eventually, a woman who Father Patrick thought might have been a social worker or advocate of some sort was called in. I’m afraid the priest didn’t know this woman’s title or name, but he did say that once this woman arrived, my husband was offered a third choice.”
“Third choice?”
She raised her hand to her throat once again. “Jeremiah was offered the choice of relinquishing custody of our daughter and allowing a legal guardian to be named. This legal guardian would make any needed medical decisions, and should the child live, this individual would arrange for a private adoption. My husband felt this was his best choice given the situation, so he agreed and signed the papers.”
“The baby lived,” I realized.
She nodded. “According to the priest, my husband confessed to him that in the beginning, it was touch and go, but she did live.”
“So, was your husband able to stay in contact with her?”
“No, he wasn’t in contact with either the baby or the adoptive parents once he’d signed the paperwork relinquishing custody. The doctor who’d arranged for the transfer of custody did, however, tell my husband that the baby had survived the surgery and that she was in good hands and would be well cared for.”
“Wow. That’s a lot to process.”
She wiped a tear from her cheek. “It is. I was so shocked when I heard. And so angry. How could Jeremiah abandon our baby like that? I thought he loved her as much as I did. And even more importantly, I had to wonder how he could have known of her existence all these years and not tell me. I felt both angry and betrayed. But then I thought about things and tried to put myself in his place. At the time he made the decision to sign away custody, I was in a coma, and no one knew for certain if or when I’d awaken. Add in the responsibility of caring for this tiny baby, who was clinging to life and would likely die. I’m not saying that I would have made the choice my husband did, but I have gotten to the point where I can understand why he might have done what he did.”
“And do you understand his decision not to tell you what had occurred?”
She shrugged. “I think Jeremiah was trying to protect me. What has been done was done. And based on what the priest said, it sounded like my husband felt his decision had been for the best. I imagine he didn’t want to upset me or cause problems for either the child or her adoptive family.”
“Would you have caused problems for the adoptive family?”
She looked me in the eye. “Had I known what had occurred back then, I most definitely would have tried to get my baby back.”
“Is that your intent now? To get her back?”
She hesitated. “I’m not sure. At this point, I just want to find her. If she’s okay and is being raised in a loving home, I’ll likely leave well enough alone. I’m not out to disrupt her life, but I need to know where my daughter is and how she’s doing.” She paused and then continued. “I tried finding her on my own but have had limited success. I called and spoke to the people at the hospital where I’d been taken after I was rescued from the cabin. According to the woman I spoke to, there was no record of a child being admitted under the circumstances I outlined. I have no reason to believe Father Patrick would lie or that my husband would lie to him, but I can’t find a paper trail relating to my child or what happened to her after I passed out in the cabin. I need help. Will you help me?”
I furrowed my brow as I took a moment to think about the situation. I had to admit that the fact there wasn’t any sort of paperwork to verify the story was odd. “Did you live here in Gooseberry Bay when the baby was born?”
She shook her head. “Seattle.”
“So why did you come to me? Wouldn’t a PI based in Seattle be more likely to have the contacts to help you?”
“I considered using a PI based in Seattle, but then I was provided with a piece of evidence that has convinced me that the child is here in Gooseberry Bay. I will share why I believe that to be true with you after we come to an agreement and a contract and confidentiality agreement have been signed. For now, suffice it to say I have my reasons for looking here.”
“Okay. Fair enough.” I honestly had no idea how to respond at this moment. I wanted to help this woman find closure after all she’d been through, but I didn’t want to mess up the life of a twelve-year-old who may or may not even know she was adopted. “I’m going to need a day to think about this and do some preliminary research. If you are agreeable to the idea, I’d like to call you tomorrow afternoon at three o’clock. I’ll give you my decision at that point one way or another. Is that acceptable?”
She nodded. “I know I’ve dumped a lot on you all at once. It took me months to really wrap my head around the whole thing. I can wait another day or two.”
“Okay, great. As I said, I’ll call you with an answer tomorrow afternoon. If I decide to accept the case, we can dig in on Wednesday.”
After the woman left, I got up and crossed the room to the pillows my dogs, Kai and Kallie, had been quietly lying on. I wasn’t quite sure how I felt about the story the woman had told me, but I figured that, if nothing else, I could check out the specifics. But before doing that, I needed to take Kai and Kallie outside. They’d been very patient as they waited for me to finish my work this morning and deserved an extra-long stroll along the boardwalk.
It was August, and the summer festivities along the main thoroughfare in town were in full swing. In addition to the usual vendors selling food and merchandise, booths with carnival-style games had been set up as a fundraiser for the town’s autumn festival, which would overtake Gooseberry Bay in less than two months. I heard someone call out my name as I paused to watch a group of elementary school-aged kids tackling the ring toss.
“Adam,” I smiled as Kai and Kallie trotted over to say hi to one of their favorite people. “I didn’t realize that you planned to be in town today. I would have arranged for us to have lunch or something.”
