57. Jessica

NINE MONTHS LATER…

When they'd found out the baby under the house was likely Miss Fairchild's daughter, Jessica had almost felt sorry for her. They'd been unable to get total certainty around it, as both John and Miss Fairchild's mother had long since passed away, but without any solid proof, the police had concluded that John had caused the death of baby Amy and buried her.

It had been nine months since Miss Fairchild was charged with kidnapping (even though she hadn't actually been the one to "take" Amy, she'd knowingly kept a child obtained illegally, which legally amounted to the same thing) and perverting the course of justice (for blackmailing Dirk and lying to the police). It was six months since she'd been held on remand after being caught trying to flee the country. During the time she'd been in jail, she'd reached out to Jessica several times, asking her to visit. Alicia and Norah had been adamant that Jessica shouldn't go, but in the last month, Jessica had told them that she felt ready, and they supported her, as they always did.

Jessica could not have been better prepared for her visit, as least insofar as logistics went. She'd almost been too focused on the preparations, however, because it wasn't until she was following the guard down a wide corridor toward the visitors' room that she truly considered what she was doing.

If Jessica ever needed a Valium, it was now. Her anxiety was palpable. Unfortunately, now that she was in recovery, it was out of the question.

After leaving the hospital in Port Agatha, she'd been transferred to a drug rehabilitation center in the city. With client after client coming forward to report drugs missing from their homes, it had been futile to deny it, so Jessica handed the reins of Love Your Home to Sonja and issued a statement apologizing for the harm she'd caused. She would be stepping away from the day-to-day running of the business to seek help. She'd even called Debbie Montgomery-Squires to apologize personally.

Rehab had been much harder than Jessica had expected—both the detox aspect and the humility part. She'd thrown herself into it, like the good student she was, following every suggestion, completing every activity, determined to be the best and most enthusiastic at recovery. Still, even six months later, she continued to crave the feeling she got when the pill slid down her throat. The knowledge that calm was coming. Now, her therapist told her, they were shooting for a different type of calm. A less chemical type. A more reliable type. And today's visit was part of that.

Jessica heard a buzzer, and the guard opened the door. Inside, Miss Fairchild sat at small table.

Last night, when she'd had dinner with Norah and Alicia, they'd discussed what it might be like, seeing Miss Fairchild. Norah was curious as to whether she might have been beaten up in prison. Alicia wondered if she would have lost weight or become ill. Jessica had steeled herself for the oddness of seeing her in prison clothing. Oddly enough, the prison uniform didn't look bad on her. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail, which suited her, made her look younger. If it weren't for her bitter expression, she might have looked pretty.

"Jessica," she said tearfully, getting to her feet. "Thank you for coming. I knew you would."

Jessica sat down in the seat provided, ignoring the other woman's outstretched arms.

After a moment, Miss Fairchild sat too. "Can you believe they put me in here?" she hissed. "Like a criminal?"

"You are a criminal," Jessica said neutrally.

Her neutrality was important, she'd learned. She'd spent the past six months learning about narcissists. She'd read books and listened to podcasts and had therapy, all designed to help her understand the abuse she'd suffered and acquire the skills which would allow her to take back control of her own life. (Phil had read the books and listened to the podcasts too. "It's like a sick, tragic book club," he'd said cheerfully, as he arranged a cheese and fruit platter.)

Miss Fairchild looked betrayed. "For goodness' sake. Not you too."

"I'm just stating facts."

Miss Fairchild leaned forward, her eyes narrowed. Jessica was familiar with this stance. It was designed to intimidate her. It was so interesting watching it happen, knowing what it all meant.

"I've. Been. Maligned,"Miss Fairchild said.

Jessica mimicked her stance, leaning forward. Showing she wasn't intimidated. "So you didn't illegally procure a child, and then send her away when she didn't meet your needs?"

Now Miss Fairchild groaned. "Listen to yourself. Procure! Meet my needs! Dramatizing everything. You're as bad as the media."

The media had been swift in condemning Miss Fairchild. Rightly so. To someone as image-obsessed as she was, this was bound to drive her crazy.

"Scott was the one who brought her to me. How was I supposed to know it wasn't legal?"

Scott, it seemed from Miss Fairchild's emails, was public enemy number one in her eyes. After Zara had named him as the one to facilitate her adoption, the police had brought him in. Once he'd realized he was going to jail, he hadn't even tried to protect the identities of those he'd worked with. He admitted to everything, but even so, he would be going away, and for a lot longer than Miss Fairchild.

"I'm just sorry that we weren't able to charge her with anything regarding her treatment of you three girls," Patel had told the girls just last week. The police had kept in touch over the past few months, and the sisters discovered the police weren't the enemies they'd perceived them to be. "Unfortunately, with the house gone, and a lack of supportive evidence, it was very difficult to build a compelling case."

In the end, it didn't really matter. Miss Fairchild was paying the price regardless.

"So you thought it was legal to return a child you'd planned to adopt and then pretend she never existed?" Jessica said to her.

Miss Fairchild rolled her eyes. "Why are you even here if you're just going along with the popular narrative that I'm a monster?"

Jessica wasn't surprised that her former foster mother wasn't accepting any responsibility for her actions. Still, there was something shocking about seeing how readily she could deflect her own guilt and paint herself as the victim.

"I'm here because I want to understand something," Jessica told her.

"What?"

"I know you had a daughter named Amy when you were a teenager. Your stepfather killed her, as far as we know. Ten years later, you fostered me. Why? Was I meant to be a replacement for Amy?"

Miss Fairchild's expression changed. She seemed thoughtful.

"Not a replacement, no," she said. "No one could ever replace her. Maybe it was my attempt to make it up to her? When I returned to Wild Meadows after my mother and John died and heard that there was a little girl who needed me it felt like a sign. A second chance." Miss Fairchild's expression was so pure Jessica had to force herself to keep her guard up. "I'll never forget the moment I saw you. The connection I felt. I loved you in an instant. And you loved me back!"

"I did," Jessica acknowledged.

"But then you started loving other people. Friends at school. Norah and Alicia."

"You brought all of them into my life. What was I supposed to do?"

"You were supposed to love me!" Miss Fairchild cried, so loudly that the guard stepped forward and told her to keep her voice down. When she spoke again, her voice was softer. More miserable. "Norah didn't love me. Alicia didn't love me. The respite babies didn't love me. Even my own mother found someone else to love. The only person who ever loved me and only me was Amy. My daughter.

"It was Scott who suggested that instead of fostering I adopt a baby. He told me that for a rather large fee, he could fast-track an adoption with a healthy baby who would attach easily. He could even find one who looked like me, he said. I went along with it in good faith. I didn't know the details."

Jessica stared at her. "I assume you know the details now?"

Miss Fairchild just rolled her eyes.

"Scott took kids from foster care and sold them," Jessica said. Miss Fairchild knew this, of course, but Jessica wanted to spell it out, so she had nowhere to hide. "He told the parents, usually vulnerable young women or parents from a non-English-speaking background, that they had lost custody permanently and would never see their kids again."

Miss Fairchild shook her head, her lips pursed. "He took kids from parents who were ill-equipped to look after their babies. I would have given Amy a better life. But she decided she loved you girls more than me. It was so demoralizing, Jessica."

"So you gave her away?"

"I had no choice! You told me you were going to report me to the authorities! I called Scott. He came immediately and took Amy and placed her with another family—the family who raised her. I'm told they were good people. So it all worked out in the end."

Jessica stared at her. "It didn't work out. Zara was stolen from her birth parents. Sold to you and then to another family. She has been displaced and a set of parents lost their child!"

Miss Fairchild shrugged. "What was I supposed to do?"

"You were supposed to be an adult!" Jessica cried. "And do the right thing! You were supposed to provide security, consistency, and love! If you weren't capable of that, you had no business having children in your care."

Miss Fairchild started crying noisily. But they weren't tears of realization for what she'd done, Jessica realized; they were tears of self-pity.

Jessica had had enough.

When she stood to leave, Miss Fairchild's tears dried in an instant, replaced by icy coldness. Jessica was no stranger to Miss Fairchild's changing moods, but even so, the speed with which the transformation occurred was chilling.

"Jessica," she said slowly, her gaze settling on her stomach. "Are you…?"

Jessica paused. "Yes. I'm pregnant. Five months along."

One surprising upside of rehab was how it had brought her closer to Phil. As she was only allowed visitors on a Sunday, and she didn't have the use of her phone, they found an old-fashioned way of connecting: writing letters. In his letters, Phil told her all the things he'd wanted to say to her throughout their marriage. That he found it hard to connect with her when she wouldn't ever stop moving. That he knew she wasn't okay all those times she insisted she was. That he yearned to have the kind of bond with her that she had with her sisters. In response, Jessica told him things she'd never talked about before—describing her childhood, her addiction, how she was haunted by her innermost thoughts. She explained that her sisters had been her safe place, her family, growing up. She apologized for not widening that circle to include him when they married. And she promised that things would be different when she came home.

By the time she had finished with rehab, they'd said everything they needed to say. They were able to start over. A month later, Jessica was pregnant. And while the prospect of having a baby still terrified her in many ways, she found her terror was balanced by the moments of joy she and Phil experienced. Such as when they'd learned the week before that they were having a baby boy.

Miss Fairchild was still taking it in. It annoyed Jessica that she still felt the yearning. Longing for a reaction to her news from the woman who'd been a mother figure to her. Maybe she would always feel it. But unlike in the past, her reaction wasn't going to control her. Because she knew now that Miss Fairchild hadn't been a mother figure. She had been an abuser. And Jessica wasn't going to be manipulated by her anymore.

"Were you going to tell me?" Miss Fairchild demanded.

Jessica turned and walked to the door, gesturing to the guard that she was ready to leave. "No," she said, "why would I?"

"Why would you?" Miss Fairchild blustered. "Surely after everything I deserve to—"

The door buzzed and Jessica pulled it open. Miss Fairchild was still talking as Jessica walked out. The click of the door shutting securely behind her felt like a new beginning. One she was finally ready for.