Lost (Parrlyn)

Chapter 24

I know Thomas Seymour was Catherine Parr's fourth husband, after Henry VIII. But for the sake of the story, he's before Edward Burgh and Henry. 

Sorry if that annoys anybody. 

(Fourteen Years Ago)

It was a mistake. Possibly the most costly one I've ever committed.

I was only 18 at the time. I was young, reckless, carefree...

But I didn't realize how badly these mistakes could cost me. I also believed that each day was a new chance, that all would be forgiven at the start of a new morning. 

How very wrong I was...

I was bored one night at a college party. I knew I should never have gone to the party. I should've been completing assignments and essays that would be due in the following morning. 

But I was in the mood for some fun. 

Thomas was standing a few feet from where I was. I couldn't help but stare at him as he elegantly twirled students on the dance floor. His arms were muscular and strong... He looked chilled and laid back...

Before I knew it, I was there by his side, dancing and moving to the music, my hand in his. We laughed and chatted as if we knew each other for ages, learning more about one another as each second passed. I was going crazy for him.

But I took it too far.

I remembered waking up several days later, holding a positive pregnancy test outstretched in my palm. I remembered staring at it in stunned silence, unable to think straight or clear my head. I remembered screaming into a pillow, trying to figure out what on earth I should do.

I was only 18...

I didn't understand anything. Thomas and I used protection. We were careful. But then how did I get pregnant?

I tried to tell myself that it was just a false reading. I tried to assure myself that I was overreacting and that there was no way I had a baby growing inside of me. I tried to calm myself down, promising myself that I would go to the shops and buy several more just to check.

But all of those tests turned out positive too...

That's when I had to face the harsh reality. I was 18, single, busy, still at school and I was due to have a baby. 

I couldn't tell my parents. They would send me abroad. They would happily dispose of me. They would kill me! 

I told Thomas of what was going to happen a week later once I had screwed up my courage. He was gentle, sympathetic, ready to support any decision I wanted to make.

"It's your child, after all," He patted my arm gently, "I'm here for you. We're going to get through this."

We both debated on whether I should get an abortion, but I strongly disagreed. It was ethically wrong. I was grateful that Thomas respected that I didn't want that, and he started suggesting other options. The one thing that was for sure was... I wasn't going to be able to keep and look after the child. I had to give it away some way or another. 

That's when a decision was made. It was final. I was going to give birth to the child and put it up for adoption. 

It became harder and harder to do as time passed. I became more attached to the little bump growing inside of me. All of the university professors knew, and they all supported my decision. I was happy to be living and learning in such a positive community. 

I gave birth to my little girl and I named her Mary Seymour on the 4th of July. She just looked exactly what a Mary would look like. Everybody started calling her 'Mae' for short though.

The dreaded day of when I had to give her up for adoption rolled around. I left her with a hamper of goodies, including my contact details and a photo album of us being together. I made a silent promise that I would be there for her and that I would never forget her.

It was easily one of the hardest things I've ever had to do. 

Thomas was by my side every step of the way. He was kind and caring. He nursed me back to health. He helped me whenever I would get morning sickness. But I knew our relationship could never last. I wasn't the one for him; he deserved better. 

I suggested that we both would split up and Thomas, being the man that never wanted an argument, he heartily agreed. I believe he did it because he didn't want to cause an argument between us both.

I wish Henry was quite like him.

After I graduated from university, five years later, I went to the orphanage to see if I could get Mae back. But she was gone. Adopted. 

I felt utterly heartbroken.

When Mae turned nine, she did manage to call me once. She found the hamper and wanted to see who her real mum was. But when she called, she wasn't sweet or forgiving. She was angry, furious and demanded explanations of why I would give up her just like that.

I knew a nine-year-old would never understand, so I apologized and hung up. 

We wrote to each other from time-to-time, but that would never last. There would be months where we went about our daily lives, contactless. 

If only she understood...