Finding Lucy

By Amy Copadis

At the age of 22, Lucy Harwell's life has been completely shattered. In an effort to put the pieces of her life back together, she finds herself journeying to the south of Spain, searching for the man who is the only living key to her past. But as Lucy works patiently toward her goal, she finds herself falling in love with this foreign land, and in her journey to find the truth about her existence, Lucy may discover the truth about herself.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: May 22, 2015
• ISBN: 9780996412704

Book preview

Epilogue

Chapter One

Lucy Harwell was at the beginning of a day that already felt far too long. One step forward felt like a hike up a mountain, a dizzying climb to the summit, only to face the tumbling descent on the other side.

She thought of the name, Lucy Harwell, and what it had meant to her for the past twenty-two years of her life. Flashbacks of her parents calling her, of teaching a young Lucy how to spell the only name she had ever known as hers.

Pain chased those happy times away, and Lucy took another step. As her ballet flats hit the concrete, the thoughts took over again.

What do you mean?

The sound of her own ghostly voice, ravaged by dry tears and disbelief, shocked her. The memory played in her head like a movie that she couldn’t pause. She would never forget the look on Aunt Pam’s face, or the way Uncle Theo had gazed intently at the floor to avoid meeting her eyes. The three of them had stood in her aunt and uncle’s kitchen one month before. Her breaths were short. Suddenly she felt like a stranger in her own body.

Your parents only told us when they already had you at home, Aunt Pam had practically whispered. You were such a tiny thing, so helpless. Wherever you started your life, Lucy, it doesn’t matter. They loved you.

They never wanted anyone to know, Uncle Theo had said, his eyes not raising from the floor. Especially you, Lucy. It was all so long ago. We didn’t even think of it, that you would just find out like that…

The fog cleared for a moment and Lucy was once again just walking. The building ahead of her was one story, brick. No steps led to its entrance. Though it was short, it seemed to spread on to the sides forever. It was nondescript, but somehow the air of a nursing home is always the same, no matter where you go.

The glass doors slid open as she stepped closer, like a giant mouth waiting to swallow her up. She shook herself inwardly, trying to dispel the negative thoughts and memories, to rid herself of the terror of what she was attempting to do now. Pretend it’s just another day, she thought to herself. As if this could be just another day. As if these memories could somehow be disassociated from what she was about to do.

The attic. It was the one thing she couldn’t escape. The feeling that such simple words on a page could bring, how they could change her entire life in an instant. She had held her birth certificate with shaking hands and read aloud a name she had never heard before in her life. Lucy Becker. Becker? Not Harwell. Becker. This, the name she should’ve been called, the name she should’ve learned to spell when she was a child, that her parents should’ve taught her. The name she had been called at birth. In a single moment, her whole world had collapsed. She was not the child of the people she had loved and mourned as her parents. In a single moment, she had lost all concept of who she was. For who could really know themselves without knowing the people whose DNA they were made up of?

Lucy stepped inside the nondescript nursing home, and was greeted by the calming tones decorating the walls. She had always believed nursing homes to be hospitals disguised as something less morbid by home-like furniture and softer lighting. This one did not disappoint those expectations. A nurse behind a reception desk to her right cleared her throat.

Hello, there, she said pleasantly. Can I help you find someone?

Lucy tried to smile, and failed. She watched the nurse’s eyes go over her and wondered what she would make of what she saw. A young woman with bloodshot blue eyes, messily put-up strawberry blonde hair and wrinkled clothes, towing a backpack that had seen better days. What would she see in that? Would she see the hours spent in taxis and airports and planes on the last-minute trip that Lucy had taken yesterday to get halfway across the country? Would she see the fear that plagued Lucy’s mind, the look in her eyes that showed her sudden urge to run? Would she see ‘adopted’ written across Lucy’s forehead, like some sort of warning banner?

It worried her sometimes, wondering if other people had seen it all her life and she hadn’t. It wasn’t that she had looked so terribly different from the people she called her parents. But now, with the knowledge that had weighed on her for the past month, she could look at the pictures and see the differences, the subtle dissimilarities that identified her as ‘not theirs’. Had other people noticed that both her parents had brown hair, while she was blonde? Had other people seen that her eyes were the blue-green color of the Caribbean, when her mother’s were hazel and her father’s were brown?

Eunice Becker.

The voice of the man from the adoption agency replayed in her mind.

She’s the only living relative we could find, he had said.

His voice was so matter of fact through the crackled telephone connection that Lucy had to wonder, how often did he deal with a situation like this? How often did the children of strangers call him to ask him to find their families? Lucy had bitten back the tears that threatened to fall and asked, Where?

I’m looking for Eunice Becker, Lucy finally choked out.

The nurse smiled, but was there sadness behind that look? Fear clutched at Lucy’s heart once more, and she wondered yet again if it had been the right decision to come here.

Sure! I’ll take you down to her room, the friendly nurse said, stepping out from behind the reception desk. Are you a relative of hers? When Lucy hesitated, she continued, I was just wondering because we were told she didn’t have any living relatives.

Lucy nodded slowly. She’s… She’s my grandmother.

The woman looked surprised. Oh, lovely! That’s just wonderful! I’m sure she’ll be so happy to see you.

Lucy followed the jolly woman down the hall without further comment. Will she be happy to see me?

What about the woman on the birth certificate? Lucy had asked over the telephone to the adoption agency man.

There was a hesitation, and Lucy’s stomach had dropped.

I’m very sorry, but Renee Becker, your mother, died just a couple months after you were born. We couldn’t find a cause of death, but her obituary was in the paper.

Lucy hadn’t been sure how to feel. She thought maybe she should be crushed, but she couldn’t survive the loss of a mother again. And this way, she didn’t have to compare Renee Becker, her birth mother, to the woman she had known as her mother all her life. They were both buried in the ground, equal in death.

The hallway in the nursing home was busy, but eerily quiet. Some patients were in wheelchairs, or walking slowly. Some were dead eyed, staring at the floor or the ceiling without understanding. Was that how Eunice Becker would be? Completely vegetated, just waiting for death to claim what life she had? Surely someone would’ve warned her if that was the case, wouldn’t they have? But no one had warned her when she was going through the attic and had stumbled across the papers that changed her identity. No one had warned her that life could change so suddenly.

The door was before them. The nurse gestured inside, smiling. I’ll let you go in. My name is Rose. If you need anything you just call, okay?

Lucy nodded, hoping the look in her eyes was enough thanks because she couldn’t muster anything more. She had a moment of panic where she wanted to reach out and grab Rose’s arm, ask her to stay just to have an adult here to comfort her, someone to tell her it was going to be okay.

You are an adult, Lucy, she chided herself. She took a breath. The door was blank. A card on the wall to the side read the name Eunice Becker. For the first time she was going to meet a person whose genes, although a generation removed, were a part of her as well.

Rose was still watching. She was a comforting presence that Lucy was glad she hadn’t asked for, but was relieved to have for the moment anyways. She wanted to run, to go away from this door and never look back, but she knew she couldn’t. She stepped forward, and after giving a light knock on the door, turned the handle and entered.

The TV was on, and it was the first thing Lucy saw. She walked forward, alone, slowly, forcing her feet to move with each step. Slowly the room came into view. It was small, not decorated with flowers or cards or things that other people’s rooms might have. Instead sparse, a few books scattered on a table, nothing that showed any indication of family.

The bed came into view next. Then the person in it.

She was sitting up, her eyes on the TV. She was older than Lucy expected. Her white hair was short, her body frail and her skin a colorful pattern of wrinkles and veins.

The woman turned suddenly to Lucy, her sharp eyes examining her. Lucy was frozen, unable to speak, unable to move. All she could do was wait.

Startled recognition came across the old woman’s face. Renee! she exclaimed, exerting herself to sit a little straighter. Oh, my lovely girl, you’ve come back!

Lucy’s gut wrenched. The sadness that she had evaded when she first learned of her birth mother’s death suddenly came crashing down on her.

No, Lucy practically whispered. I, I’m not…

Oh, Renee, you silly thing! the old woman continued slowly, her hoarse, cheerful voice deliberate on each word. It has been ages since I’ve seen you! Why haven’t you come by to see me? Well, no matter. Come and give your mother a hug, won’t you?

The room went blurry all of a sudden. A sob, an aching sound of despair, ripped through the room. Lucy burst out of the room, trying to control herself, but unable to. She felt as if her heart was being gouged out from her chest, cut out with a fiery knife.

She half-walked, half-ran through the hall, blurred by tears, trying not to trip over people or run into a wall.

Are you alright? someone called. She didn’t respond, couldn’t. She raced outside, leaving the nursing home and the woman who thought she was her mother behind.

Chapter Two

The hotel room held no comfort. She didn’t know how long she cried for. Maybe hours, splayed across the bed as if she’d been shot down.

When the tears were finally dry, when there was nothing left for her body to give, she picked up her phone.

"You’re where? Aunt Pam repeated. How did you get to Illinois?"

I drove to the airport and took a plane yesterday, Lucy replied.

There was a pause on the other line. Did you find her?

Lucy nodded, though she knew her aunt couldn’t see. She couldn’t bring herself to explain. She couldn’t even bear thinking about what had happened. It’s… I’m going to need a few more days here.

Lucy had chosen this hotel by telling the taxi driver that she needed to be within walking distance to the nursing home. He hadn’t asked questions, but she knew it was an odd request. Still, he had done it, which seemed quite a feat in a town that was certainly never meant for visitors.

It was September, but the weather was warm. Lucy walked outside, but at the moment when she reached the street outside the hotel she paused. There were no thoughts, no internal debates or reasonings. She simply turned around and went back inside.

The heat only got worse as the day went on. The food at the hotel was disappointing at best, but she was grateful for the air conditioning to keep the muggy air outside.

Braving the weather, Lucy went outside again and walked. There were trees shading the side of the road, and she stayed under them as best she could. She walked half a mile to the nursing home, and then half a mile back with no stops in between. She told herself she needed to give it time.

The next day was cooler. She left the hotel early. It wasn’t as if she was sleeping well anyways, so getting up early wasn’t a problem. She walked slowly, ever so slowly, until she had no choice but to arrive.

After some convincing, she entered the nursing home once again. There was no one at the reception desk this time, but she knew the way. She walked in a fog down the hall, past the same doors, and forced herself not to think.

The door was slightly ajar, but the lights were off. Quietly, Lucy peeked her head in and saw that no one was there.

She’s in the big hall, said a voice. Lucy turned to see the nurse- Rose?- from last time. They’re listening to someone play guitar for them, the oldies of course. I can show you the way if you like.

Lucy shook her head. No. No, I think it’s better I wait.

Rose nodded. Alright. Would you like some coffee?

The break room was average size, with a table and chairs, a microwave, a small fridge, and, most importantly, a coffee maker. The coffee at the hotel had been so burned that Lucy couldn’t drink it.

Thank you so much, she said as the friendly nurse handed her a steaming cup. Even though the weather was hot, there was something so comforting about having a warm drink in her hands.

My name is Lucy, by the way, she said.

Well then, take a seat, Lucy, Rose replied, going back to make herself a cup.

The two of them sat at the table together, sipping contentedly.

How long has, um, my grandmother been here? Lucy asked. The words didn’t taste quite right in her mouth, and she put down her coffee for a moment.

Oh, Eunice has actually been here a bit longer than most others, she said. I think it’s probably been about five years now.

Five years. Lucy couldn’t help but think about her life in the past five years, how she had been living without any knowledge of her only living relative, alone in a nursing home.

You know, after you left the other day, I went in to check on her, and she was telling me how her daughter had come to see her.

Lucy looked away. She thinks I’m Renee, her daughter. My… mother.

Rose nodded, just sipping her coffee, just letting Lucy take her time.

My mother is dead, she added suddenly.

Rose nodded again. I know. I’m sorry for your loss.

Thank you. It was a very long time ago, Lucy said. She didn’t really know what else to say to that. The woman had no idea what kind of loss she was sorry for. But still, the sentiment made Lucy feel better in some way.

How long has she been like this? I mean, not remembering things.

Rose sighed and looked away, thinking. She had short term memory loss when she first came here. It’s part of the reason why she’s here, really. Forgetting to take pills, forgetting to eat… it happens with people her age. It’s gotten worse though in the last year or so. There’s less in her mind than there used to be. She doesn’t remember bigger things now too, like her daughter dying. But she’s a lovely woman, Lucy. You just need to be patient with her.

Lucy nodded.

A while later, Lucy again stood in the entrance to her grandmother’s room.

Renee, is that you? the old woman asked.

Lucy took a shaky breath. No. I’m…

Oh, won’t you come in? I was just listening to some music, the man played the guitar for us, but not as good as you used to.

Lucy stepped into the room as her grandmother continued talking. My mother used to play guitar, she thought. Something seemed to click. All she had had was a blank slate, nothing to fill in the blanks about her family. But now, a small bit of information had been dropped into her lap, a tiny piece of a giant puzzle. How many more pieces could this woman fill in?

She closed her mouth, and sat in the chair next to her grandmother’s bed. What good would it do to try and explain who she really was? She saw the light in the old woman’s eyes, how happy she was believing that Lucy was really her daughter. Why ruin that? What would be the point?

Lucy didn’t have to speak at all. Eunice was happy enough to talk. All Lucy had to do was listen. She listened to stories of Renee’s childhood, of how she fell in a ditch the first time she rode a bicycle, of how her father ‘gave her a good walloping’ when she stole a candy from the corner store when she was six, of how she sneaked out of the house one night to look at the stars, of how she hit the neighbor boy when he kicked her favorite stray cat.

You just about broke his nose! Eunice laughed. His mother came straight over to our house, dragging you in one hand and him in the other. She told me what happened and I said, ‘Well, sounds like your boy deserved it!’ She never spoke to me again, crazy woman!

Lucy listened, agreeing when needed, asking prodding questions when the old woman got quiet. There were moments when Eunice seemed to fade away, but for the most part she was clear, even if her mind seemed only to exist in the past. In between the stories, when her grandmother was tired and needed to rest, Lucy tried to sort it all out in her mind, to piece together some semblance of a person from these wild stories. It was all so disconnected, distorted by time and the loss of details.

The same routine was repeated the next day, and the one after. Time seemed to blur for Lucy as she relived the life of a woman she would never get to know. How could she put all of these pieces together and make something whole? It

Reviews for Finding Lucy

[Jo P · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

A great novel worth to read. Very well described characters and places. It takes you to a pleasant journey in the south of Spain.