“You went to your mother’s?” Bette blurted out.

“Yes.” She took a deep breath. “I packed and flew home. Alone.”

Bette sat and waited.

“She came to get us from the airport, took one look at me and realized that I was a mess and in no condition to even take care of Angelica.  It was like I was in a freefall panic attack that just wouldn’t stop.  It felt as if I had been working my way to that state since Angelica was born.  There were so many things going on—physical, mental—I can’t even begin to explain them all.  I couldn’t stop it—anger and fear just poured out of me—I couldn’t eat, I couldn’t sleep.  The only time I felt some sense of calm was when I nursed her.”  Tina got up and walked around the room.  “My mother recognized the symptoms and got me to a doctor.”  She stood in front of Bette. “What I am trying to tell you is that I was sick—I’m not trying to make excuses for my behavior, Bette. I’ve done some awful things.  Postpartum depression is a terrible illness—and I’ve come to realize that I’ve been dealing with so many of the symptoms for a long time.  My hormones were totally unbalanced—probably since the miscarriage. The depression takes so many different forms.  You know I’ve had panic attacks before but I realized that just taking xanax when they hit was no answer to the problem—it just grew and grew until I couldn’t be inside my own skin anymore.”

Bette sat in shock, listening to Tina.

“My mother took me to see a doctor who specializes in postpartum disorders –I’ve been on hormone medication as well as an antidepressant and I’ve been seeing a therapist since I got back.  I had to stop nursing—that was so hard.”  Tina resumed pacing around the room.  “I’ve only been back in LA for a few weeks and…I need to tell you this, Bette…Angelica and I are in the house.”  She looked at Bette’s face as she said this.  She rushed on, “I had nowhere else to stay and I just started to work again so I had no way to…”

Bette interrupted her, “It’s your house as well, Tina.”

Tina bit her lip and nodded.  “I found the paperwork—I thought it was about time I started to take some responsibility about finances. I saw your note.” She smiled a quick smile at Bette. “That’s how I found the name of the lawyer in Philadelphia.  Kit and I contacted him.  This was the only property you didn’t have him sell so I thought it was worth the chance of coming down here.”

“I have some questions, Tina.”

“Of course. That was the short version—I just needed to get it all out.”  She sat back down.

“Where’s Henry in all this?”

“There is no Henry, Bette.  I left him in Canada.”  She looked carefully at Bette’s face. “There never should have been a Henry—just like there should never have been a Helena.  He represented what I thought would fix me—fix my fears, fix my life, give Angelica a safe life.  I was in an emotional freefall, Bette.  I fixated on running back to a life that would just stop all of the feelings.”

Tina took a deep breath and added.  “When I told you what I was feeling, you just let me go.  You told me to leave, Bette.  I should have gotten help then but I was so lost, I couldn’t find a way out alone—and you had stopped loving me. All you cared about was Angelica—I was so crazy, I was jealous of my own child!  I should never have told you that she wasn’t yours—and when I finally got stabilized on the meds, when I got back, you were gone.”

Bette sat stunned by Tina’s admission.  “You can understand that it’s hard taking this all in at once.”

“Yes.”

Bette stood up and weaved a little.

“Bette, you have to eat something.”

“I need to show you something.”  Bette walked back into the kitchen, opened a closet and pulled out a large electric torch.  “Come with me.” 

Tina followed Bette up the hill, guided only by the moonlight and waited while she unbolted and opened the barn doors.  The moonlight shone into the depths of the barn and Bette entered without needing to light her way.  She sensed Tina waiting outside and turned.  “This is my studio.”

The smell of the varnish and turpentine hung heavy in the air and made Tina a little dizzy as she entered.  Bette’s voice had echoed in the barn. 

“Most of the paintings are hung at the gallery for the show.  I spent today packing some up to send back to LA.  These two,” she pointed to the covered easels, “are not for sale. Actually, there are some in the show that are not for sale as well. But I hadn’t decided if I would show these. Now that you are here, I need you to tell me if I should show them.”  Bette hesitated and turned to Tina.  “Whether you decide to come tomorrow night or not—you have met these people so I need to respect your wishes. I’m fine either way.”

“I don’t understand?”

“They are of you, Tina.”

Bette uncovered both easels in the semi-darkness and handed the torch to Tina.  “Here. I’ll be at the house.”  She started moving toward the door.

“Don’t you dare!”  Tina shouted at her.  Bette jumped in surprise and turned as she continued.  “Don’t you dare leave.  How easy do you think it was for me to come here?  How easy do you think it was to tell you what my life has been like?  To acknowledge how wrong I’ve been.  And you can’t stand here and show me your work?”

Bette stood still.  Taking a deep breath, she turned and walked back toward Tina. “OK.”

She took the torch and turned it on the larger of the two, the full length portrait of Tina pregnant with Angelica.  Tina turned and looked at herself; it was a visual memory of how she had felt that afternoon they had made love after the sonogram—open, beautiful, loved. She walked closer to the painting and reached her hand to herself, touching slightly, almost expecting the warmth and movement of her belly as it had been with Angelica inside her.  She remembered how she had offered this child within her to Bette that afternoon and how Bette had claimed both of them.  Where had that gone?