Authors: Louise Behiel
He stared at a space outside the parkade.
“Gray, tell me what happened upstairs. Maybe I can help you make some sense of it.”
“What’s to tell?” he barked. “The conversation between the father and his oldest son about the youngest child was one I’ve had or is very similar to one I’ve had with my brother Geordie.”
“That boy’s name was Jerrod.”
“I know.” He pressed his eyes closed for a minute. “But my brother’s name is Geordie. It’s short for George.”
He snorted. “They, my parents, were fond of names beginning with ‘G’.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Neither do I, but I intend to find out.” He jerked his head around. “Put on your seat belt, we’re going home.” The tires screeched as he threw the truck into reverse. And they did the same when he put it into drive.
***
“I know it’s late and you’re ready for bed, but I have to have some answers, Ma. I want you to tell me the truth.” Although it was an hour earlier on the coast, he hadn’t considered the time when he called.
“Gray, it’s late and you’re obviously upset. Why don’t you call us in the morning when you’re more relaxed.”
“I don’t want to call in the morning. I want to know the truth. Was I adopted?”
There was a moment’s silence, then his mother exploded. “I won’t be subjected to a harangue by an ungrateful wretch whom I did my best for. You were always a troublesome child who never appreciated all we did for you. I will NOT discuss this.”
The click echoed across two provinces, then the dial tone screamed in his ear.
Setting the phone on the table, he turned to Andie. “She hung up on me.”
“Oh babe, I’m so sorry.”
She had offered both tea and coffee but he’d been too agitated to accept either. He’d paced back and forth across her kitchen, until he came to a decision. Then he’d grabbed the phone and punched out his parents’ phone number.
He slumped into a chair at the end of the table. “I can’t believe she wouldn’t talk to me.”
He fumbled in his pants pocket. “But she didn’t deny anything.”
He began to unwrap one of his mints, then stopped and set it on the table, staring at it.
“Gray? What is it?”
“Did you see the father? In the tower?”
“What about him?”
“He handed the little guy a candy. It wasn’t a mint.” He curled his lips. “I think it was a caramel or something.” He turned to her. “My dad used to give me mints. I’ve always loved them, even as a little kid.”
“I don’t understand.”
He jumped up and began pacing. “I remember now. My dad, my real dad, always used to give me mints when my mom wasn’t looking. It was something special between the two of us.” For a moment, he looked off into space, remembering, then turned back to her. “Now that I think about it, he probably gave them to all of us, and I didn’t realize.”
Confusion and anger warred within him. He knew the Mills weren’t his birth parents. What had happened to his family? There were brothers and sisters. Maybe even grandparents. Where had they gone?
Why hadn’t they kept him?
His gut clenched. Was it possible they’d given him up for adoption? Maybe they had too many kids and couldn’t afford another mouth to feed.
He took a deep breath. It didn’t matter. Whatever their reason for giving him away, he was going to find them. And make them explain why he’d been their throw-away child.
Stretched out on the sofa, the living room dark, Gray felt the afghan settle over his shoulders then a warm hand brushing across his forehead. For the last few hours he’d felt like he was in the middle of a tornado, tossed this way and that as he’d remembered bits and pieces of his past.
Answers to riddles he’d lived with had come up, along with more questions without answers. He always came full circle, back to wanting to know why his adopted parents lied to him for all those years. And the reasons he’d been given up.
Eventually he felt warmth along his chest and a strong arm under his. Andie’s legs tangled with his as she rubbed his back and murmured soft words.
He wanted to thank her, but he relaxed instead.
Eventually he settled into an uneasy rest.
“Keep the noise down, guys. Andie’s still asleep.”
“Actually I’m not.”
Sitting at the table with a shadowed jaw, tousled hair and eyes bruised with fatigue, his arms cradled a coffee.
“We tried to be quiet.”
“You succeeded.” She came up behind him and rubbed his shoulders then kissed the top of his head.
“Yuck.” Billy’s opinion was pretty clear.
Jamie giggled.
“You’re a stinker.” She planted a kiss on the boy’s head as she walked by.
“What do you guys want for breakfast?”
“Waffles.”
“Pancakes.”
“Coffee.”
“How about if I make French toast?”
“Yeah.” Both boys were delighted with her choice. Gray didn’t reply, staring into the depths of his coffee cup.
“Go brush your teeth and get dressed while I start. And try not to wake everybody else, okay?”
They hurried off, Billy downstairs and Jamie to the bathroom down the hall.
“How’re you doing?” she asked, pouring herself a coffee. It smelled strong and looked thick but she took a sip. It landed like a rock in her stomach.
Curling up her lips she poured it down the sink then ran cold water for a fresh pot.
“I’m not sure.”
“Did you get any sleep?”
“A few hours.” He looked up from his cup. “I didn’t fall asleep until the wee hours.” He shrugged. “Then I kept hearing things outside, so finally decided to stay up.”
“Did anything happen?” she asked, feeling her heart rate speed up.
“No.” He shook his head. “It was just me.”
He snorted. “I don’t know who I am and then I’m hearing things. I’m a great guy to have around, aren’t I?”
After turning on the coffee maker, she crossed to the table. “Don’t do this Gray. I know you’re hurting but don’t make it about you, please.”
“It is about me, damnit.” He slapped the table.
She placed her hand over his. “No, it’s about something done to you. Something you haven’t figured out yet, but you will.”
“I feel as if I’m adrift in the middle of space, without a clue about where I’m headed or where I’ll end up.”
“Rightfully so. Remember though, you don’t know the full story. Often our imagination is worse than the truth. Give your mother some time and she’ll come around.”
“You don’t know Ma.”
“What about your dad?”
He raised his brows as he considered his other parent. “Pops was usually there for me. Now I’m not so sure about him anymore. He kept this secret too.”
“We’ll figure it out, hon. It might take some time, but we’ll get some answers.” She rubbed his forearm. “Did you remember anything else?
“Nothing concrete. I think there were lots of kids in my family.” He rubbed a hand against his jaw. “But no images I can remember.”
“Tell me about that memory at McDonalds. Remember?”
“My brothers and sister got out of the car and went running for the restaurant while I fumbled with my seat belt.”
“Where your parents in the front seat?”
He looked up to the right and considered for a moment then nodded. “Yeah.”
“When you look up, what color do you see?”
“Dark green.” His face brightened. “The van was dark green too.”
“And you have at least one sister and two brothers. A big family.”
“Yeah, it was, although we were happy.” He rose and pushed his chair back. “At least I thought we were.” His fingers took his weight as he stared out the kitchen window. “I watched Jamie hiding inside himself with grief.” He turned to her. “That makes sense to me.” He dropped his chin to his chest. “How does a person forget about his family, Andie. I....”
She made it across the room in a couple of strides, her arms wrapping around him from behind. “Don’t do this to yourself, Gray. We don’t know what happened or why.” She laid her cheek on his back. “There’s not much firm information about why the brain does what it does with trauma and shock. Don’t blame yourself for any of this, please.”
She turned him around. “You were just a kid and it wasn’t your fault.”
His arms tightened around her. “But I’m the one who forgot.”
“Do you remember what Chloe said in your kitchen the day she came foraging for food in my house?”
He looked at her over his shoulder. “No. Why?”
“She didn’t understand why she couldn’t go into your house, since kids were placed where adults wanted, even if they didn’t want to move.”
“So?”
“Children are often thrust into situations not of their choosing, Gray. Jamie is adapting to being here with me, but it isn’t his first choice. He wants to be with his grandmother. Or his mother. Unfortunately for him, he wasn’t given the choice.”
“From what I can remember, my situation wasn’t the same.” He looked away from her again, his eyes focused outside, somewhere in her back yard.
“We don’t know what your situation was.” She scooped the coffee cup from his hand, reached around him to drain it, then poured him fresh stuff. “Sweetheart, we have no idea what happened to the family you remember.”
He turned and faced her, holding her loosely in his arms. “I’m not sure I’m following you.”
She wrapped her arms around him. “Gray, all kinds of things happen to people. Whole families sometimes.”
His arms tightened to steel. “There could have been an accident.”
“It’s a possibility, but one of many.” She leaned back, looked at him carefully. “Let’s not hypothesize until we collect some facts.” Rubbing circles on his back, she could feel some of the tension leave his body. “Generally, if there’s a horror, a child will often blank it out as their way of coping.”
“Which would explain why Ma was always so protective.”
He set her aside and pushed away from the counter. “Why I’d see a sad look in Pops’ eyes sometimes.”
He turned. “My God, that’s it. The Mills adopted an orphan who’d lost all his earlier memories, so they didn’t push it.”
“No wonder Ma got so angry last night. I have to call and apologize. Maybe they can give me some facts to fill in the blanks.”
“Gray.” She rested her hand over his on the cordless phone. “Please don’t jump to conclusions.” She gently slipped the phone from him and returned it to its base. “We have to wait for facts, as hard as it is.”
He reached around her and picked up the phone again. “My folks can fill in the blanks and it’s damn well time they did.” Quickly he punched in their number and then waited.
Confusion replaced his determination. He checked his watch. Hit redial. Listened for a few seconds, then stabbed the ‘off’ button. “Where to hell can they be? They’re always at home on Sunday afternoon.”
“Always?”
He nodded. “You don’t know Ida Mills...she has her schedule and it never varies.”
He paced back and forth across the room. “The obvious conclusion is she’s avoiding my call, because she doesn’t want to tell me the truth.”
“All done.” Billy came running up the stairs. “Why aren’t you cooking, Andie?”
“Gray and I were talking, but you’re starving, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Then bring the eggs and the milk out of the fridge for me and I’ll start cooking.”
He crossed to the fridge.
Andie stepped closer to Gray. “Since there’s nothing to be done right this minute, why don’t you have a shower and some breakfast? You’ll feel better if you eat something.”
Like a rudderless ship, Gray nodded. “I’ll go to my place and - .”
She didn’t want him alone more than necessary right now. He needed to stay connected with the present in his search for his past. “Go ahead and use mine. I’ll run over for your razor and some clothes.”
He told her where things were and shuffled down the hall to her room and the master bath.
***
The hours of the day passed, although Gray couldn’t say how. Evening arrived. He’d survived. His folks hadn’t answered the phone all day. There wasn’t anything else to tell, unless a feeling of perpetual numbness was noteworthy.
He’d considered grabbing a flight to the coast, but Andie had helped him see reason. They might have gone away for a few days or even a week. He had no way of knowing – which was part of his reaction. Everything he’d always accepted as true had been shaken – right down to how Ma spent Sunday. So he hung tight and kept calling. It didn’t seem like enough, but it was all he could do.
Without doubt, it had been the longest twelve hours of his life. After twelve hours, he’d been reduced to slouching in a tub chair in Andie’s living room and repeatedly hitting redial.
Chloe shook his arm. “Gray.”
He looked at her – from his slouched position they were almost eye to eye. “What?”