Hope House Read Free

contributors to assemble on her show to discuss their experiences. Kelli touted the book as, “a timeless collection of strength that every woman must read.” Only two months since its release and already Baby was in its second printing. Gloria knew from experience that you couldn’t buy promotion like that.
    It just gets better and better, thought Gloria as she picked up the phone. “Gloria Hanes speaking.”
    “ Gloria, hi. It’s Donna Mallory.”
    She feigned surprise. “Hi, Donna. I loved your spot on Kelli’s show. We can’t thank you enough.”
    “ Just glad I was able to tell my story. Listen, I’m heading to the airport but wanted to confirm we’re meeting tonight.”
    “Wouldn’t miss it for the world. I’ll pick you up at Logan International at—”
    “ Six o’clock.”
    “Great. We’ll go to Mother Anna’s in the North End. Their Chicken Marsala is to die for.” She expected a cheer of approval but Donna didn’t respond. After too long a silence, Gloria said, “You still there? Did we get cut off?”
    “ I’m here. Listen, um —after Kelli’s show aired, a couple of women contacted me and —”
    “That’s wonderful!”
    “— through my publicist. The two ladies, they didn’t know each other, and they were from different parts of the world, but what they said —”
    “What?” Something in Donna’s voice set off fear in Gloria.
    “ You told me that my particular experience was too much like yours to be a coincidence.”
    “Sure, but—”
    “ I went through the same nightmare as you: The denial, the anger, the stint in the mental ward . . . but eventually I accepted the grief of losing my child. Learned to let it go, move on. Like you did.”
    Gloria wondered where Donna was headed with this train of thought. Yes, Gloria had finally let it go. Had conceded that her miscarriage was a natural occurrence, a tragedy, but no one’s fault.  Acceptance had brought her peace and she couldn’t bear to lose that.
    Donna continued. “ You know, let’s just wait till dinner. Now I’m getting paranoid .”
    A chill went up Gloria’s spine.  “Why?”
    “ Just pick me up at the airport. I’ll explain it then. Six o’clock at arrivals for Delta Shuttle .”
    “But—” A dial tone buzzed in Gloria’s ear.  She hung up but missed the cradle. On the second try, success.
    Gloria assured herself that whatever Donna planned to tell her, it would make no difference. Nothing would. It’s what the doctors drilled into Gloria’s head six years ago at Butterfield Psychiatric. Whatever she thought she felt that day right before Dr. Boucher put her under anesthesia, the reality was that she—like millions of mothers across the globe—had lost her baby.
    Slowly but surely, Gloria had moved on, continuing forward in a new life. After her breakdown, Tommy Carpenter had divorced her, relocating to Miami. Gloria had then returned to her hometown of Bradfield, Mass achusetts, where she landed a wonderful job at O’Neill and Rogers, a small but prestigious publishing company in Beacon Hill, an hour’s commute from her cozy brick townhouse in the northern part of the state. Truth be told, she enjoyed the train ride. More time to read.
    She held the job of senior editor here and had envisioned the When Baby Doesn’t Make It anthology to help not only her, but other woman as well. She was in awe of how many broken-hearted parents relayed such remarkable stories of personal strength. Reading the essays, even the ones that didn’t make the cut, had invigorated Gloria, had bolstered her spirits. She could not have imagined that a book would revive her, help her to finally let go.
    Based o n the sales of the book, it yielded the same positive results in its readers. She had made a difference in so many lives.
    “Gloria, got a minute?” It was her boss, Brian Rogers, one of the two co-founders of the firm. “We’re having a surprise birthday party for Charlene in the conference room.”
    She