Suddenly, David was handing me a bouquet of pink flowers and talking me into taking a stranger’s child. It’s all so dirty, don’t you think? David and his parents told me the birth mother was a member of their staff, an indoor gardener, who would be grateful, discreet. The adoption would be private, outside normal channels. No one would ever need to know. And David and I would be parents, no stretch marks required.

“She’s gorgeous and the baby will be, too. It’s not the right time for her to raise a child,” David chirped back then. “But it is for us. Honey, we’re going to be parents! It’s a gift.”

A gift I never wanted: someone else’s baby to raise. And all along, David was the father. It’s all just sick. And I fell for it all. The baby shower, the diamond bracelet from David.

Find a rich man, Delilah Jane. Have his babies. You are set for life. Great thinking, Mom.

I guess I should have suspected something, but why would I? David and I were newlyweds, happy and blessed with a lifestyle most people could never afford. Sure, Mary had his same thick dark head of hair. The same shape lips. But that was a coincidence, I told myself. I was a busy new mom, and then, all of a sudden, pregnant with Betsy when I forgot my birth control. That was my mistake, Betsy was my little accident. I don’t have many of those. The other was believing the adoption records were sealed. I know now some fancy lawyer hired by my father-in-law drew up the adoption documents promising me the birth mother would disappear and never be revealed. What lies.

In fact, Elizabeth James met Mary. Talked to Mary. Had begun a relationship with my daughter. Against everything everyone had promised. And then the ultimate disrespect: How dare she come to the memorial service and try to insert herself as Mary’s mother? The memorial ceremony was the time for the community to extend their love to the family. Me, her mother. Not her. She shouldn’t have come. But now that she did, there is nothing left for me to do but to destroy her. And I will. She’s the next one on my list, after I finish up here.

David and Rosemary Harris need to learn a lesson, too. They invited her to the memorial ceremony. I have a hunch they paid for the whole ceremony, too. I’m not sure yet, but it felt like them, smelled like them. After twenty-two years, I can pick up their trail. Good old David Sr. and Rosemary Harris. Mary’s namesake, Rosemary, a condition of her purchase, so to speak. Here you go. We bought you a baby. It’s a girl. Name her Rosemary. Oh, and our son screwed our servant to get the baby for you. You’re welcome.