Once Again (19 page)

She tilted her head to the side and narrowed
her eyes. Stepping out of the office, she made the few steps down
the hall to the living room. I followed.

We sat next to each other on the brown
leather couch, and by the way she was looking at me – all
misty-eyed and melancholy – I got the feeling she thought I was
going to ask something about boys or love.

Yeah, that was a road I wasn’t going down
with her. At least not yet.

“I’ve been wondering about my adoption.” I
said it softly, but to my ears the words sounded like a harsh
blurt.

“You have?” Her expression changed
completely, but despite it, she still seemed calm and steady. She
reached to tuck a strand of light-brown hair behind here ear. “I
wondered when you’d ask.”

So she’d been expecting it.

“It never seemed important enough to ask
about before.”

“What’s changed?” she asked.

I shrugged. It was a legitimate question and
deserved a legitimate answer. I’d give her the most honest answer I
could.

“Helping Luke with all his genealogy stuff
just got me wondering, I guess.” It was as close to the truth as I
could get. “I know a lot about your family and Dad’s family. And
that’s more than enough. It’s not that anything’s missing. I guess
I just got curious about where my birth parents might’ve come
from.”

Mom reached for my hand, took it gently in
hers. I hadn’t realized I’d balled my fists until she smoothed out
the tension with her touch.

“It’s natural to wonder Layla,” she said.
“And your father and I have always told you that when you were
ready, we’d tell you what we knew.”

I didn’t have it in me actually say the
words I want to know about it,
because the truth was I
didn’t really
want
to know. But I
needed
whatever
information she had about my birth parents. Apparently, my silence
was enough.

“We used a private attorney in Nashville,”
she began. “Your father knew of a couple through his work who’d
adopted a child. They told us about the lawyer that had helped
them, and when we came to the realization we weren’t going to be
able to have children the regular way, we contacted him.

“Your father handled most of the talking and
phone-calling, but I gathered pretty quickly how it worked. There
are attorneys all over the country who specialize in private
adoptions and work closely with agencies. Sometimes a young mother
chooses an adoptive family for her child. Other times a young woman
who wants to allow her baby to be adopted comes to the attorney or
an agency and asks for help in locating a family.

“The lawyer we worked with had contacts in
various parts of the country. He put calls in to all of them that
he had a family ready and willing to adopt. He warned us the
waiting would be difficult, and he was right. But in only six
months, we got the call that a young mother had chosen adoption for
her unborn child.”

“That was me?”

“It was you.” Mom smiled. “Your father and I
were open to the idea of an open adoption, which meant the birth
mother would know where her baby was and the adoptive parents would
allow her to be a part of the child’s life at some point. But the
young woman, your birth mother, didn’t want that. I imagine giving
up a child for adoption is difficult enough, and perhaps it was
easier for her this way.” Mom’s melancholy smile told me that she
truly felt for the young woman who’d given me up. It said a lot
about my mom.

She went on. “Our attorney handled
everything, and coordinated with the agency and with the young
woman’s attorney. We wanted her to have the best prenatal care
possible, both for your sake and for hers, so we offered to pay for
any medical expenses her insurance didn’t cover.”

“Were you able to be there when I was
born?”

“No.” Mom shook her head. “When she went into
labor our attorney notified us and we flew to Boston immediately.
But since it wasn’t an open adoption and the birth mother didn’t
want to meet us or know who we were, we didn’t go to the hospital
to get you until after she’d left.”

“Boston?” My pulsed kicked into high gear. “I
was born in Boston?”

“Yes, at Massachusetts General, but the
adoption was finalized in Tennessee, since that was the state we
were residents of.”

The realization that I was a New Englander by
birth put a whole new spin on the notion that I might be somehow
descended from the family of the woman in my dreams. I don’t know
what I’d expected to find out from my mother, but I hadn’t prepared
myself for this.

Hoping she couldn’t see the stunned feeling
written on my face, I squeezed her hand and smiled.

“Thanks for telling me,” I whispered.

“I wish I knew more to tell you.”

“No.” I shook my head. “This is enough.”

I heard Luke’s car door open and close in the
driveway. I stood up and smoothed my jeans over my thighs.

“You’re lovely, sweetheart,” Mom said. “Now
go meet your prince.”

I hugged her. Tight. And held on for longer
than a moment. Whoever my birth mother was, she’d given me the
greatest gift in the world by allowing this woman to be my
mother.

“I love you, Mom.”

The doorbell rang, and before I answered, I
filed away this latest piece of information into my “tell Luke
later” compartment. Because, after all, we weren’t supposed to
speak of our mystery until after our date.

Leave
it to Lucas to plan the perfect date. He could’ve spent money on
tickets to show at the Camden Civic Theater, which would’ve been
fun, but wouldn’t have allowed us the freedom to talk and laugh. He
could’ve made reservations at an expensive restaurant where both of
us would’ve felt out of place. But he didn’t.

Instead, he found a family-owned diner that
boasted traditional Tennessee barbecue. Who knew there would be
barbecue in Maine?

Luke enjoyed the sweet and tangy shredded
pork served on southern-style cornbread just as much as I did.

The little taste of Tennessee, and the
opportunity to share it with him, warmed me from the inside,
despite the cold temperature.

When we finished dinner, he drove toward the
harbor. Even in the dark I could tell it was much larger than the
one in Sky Cove. A string of restaurants and businesses seemed to
be enjoying a booming Friday night. After an impressive job of
parallel parking, he came around and opened my door, taking my hand
as my feet hit the sidewalk.

“There’s a store right up here I know you’ll
love,” he said, squeezing my fingers.

The hand-painted sign above the door read
Aged Page,
and I smiled with excitement when I realized it
was a used bookstore.

We found several volumes of Robert Burns
poetry, each of us selecting a different one, as well as a
collection of Tolstoy short stories which contained our latest
literature assignment.

There was even a display of artsy jewelry,
which looked to be handmade. I walked over to take a closer
look.

“Is that sea glass?” I asked him, holding a
pair of earrings with green-blue stones wrapped whimsically with
silver wire.

“Sure is,” he nodded. “Some people comb the
beaches finding it and then make jewelry out of it.”

“How cool.” I hung the earrings back on the
wrack, thinking maybe my mom would like a pair for Christmas.

The find of the evening though, was a DVD of
“An Affair to Remember”, which Luke grabbed immediately, saying we
could watch it together back at his house.

The older lady who rang up our purchases
smiled when she saw the movie.

“Nice to see the young folks enjoying films
from my generation.” She placed our items in a brown paper bag and
handed it across the counter to Luke.

“It’s a great movie,” he replied. “We’re
going home to watch it right now.”

“You two lovebirds look very happy.” She
turned toward me. “Reminds me of when my William and I were young
and in love.”

William? The name set off alarm bells in my
head, but for a split second I couldn’t figure out why. Then I
noticed the elderly lady’s nametag.

Patsy.

I looked up at Luke and could tell by his
expression he’d seen it too.

Had we really run across Patsy Emerson by
accident?

And were such occurrences accidents? Could I
even believe in coincidence anymore?

“Are you Patsy Emerson?” Luke asked.

Her eyes lit up. Of
course
she was
Patsy Emerson.

“Yes,” she said, seeming pleased he somehow
knew her. “Do I know you?”

“Not really,” he answered. “My name is Lucas
Ellis. And this Layla Bradford. We live in Sky Cove.”

“My hometown. William and I lived there for
many years.”

“I know,” Luke nodded. “I’ve been doing a bit
of research into my family history, and discovered a possible
connection to your family.”

“Is that so?” Patsy asked, curious.

“Yes, ma’am. A woman named Amelia Cutler. I
think she’s the same woman in my mom’s records, Amelia Cutler
Light.”

“I’m sure she is,” Patsy said, her smile
bright. “William had an aunt named Amelia Light, who was a sister
to William’s uncle Frank Cutler. Amelia and her husband moved out
of the area, though, and William only met her once or twice as a
small child.”

Astounded was too mild a word for what I was
feeling. I made a mental check to see that my chin wasn’t on the
floor and my eyes were still in their sockets.

Luke, meanwhile, continued on in his
discussion with Patsy Emerson as if they were old friends and
nothing more was at stake than his genealogy chart.

“Amazing that Layla and I would run into you
here,” he said. “Layla bought my birthday present at Emerson
Antiques.”

A nostalgic smile spread across the older
woman’s face. “William and I shared happy times in that house.
Parkinson’s disease hit him early, and we had to move to assisted
living long before we thought we’d have to.”

“If you don’t mind me asking, how did you
come to own the house?” Luke asked. “Layla and I have each been
there several times and we think it’s a really interesting
place.”

My heart beat so hard I thought surely Lucas
and Patsy could hear it. Could we be about to discover the reality
of who we once were? Could this chance meeting – if it even
was
by chance – really bring us closer to the truth?

“It came down to us from William’s father,
Walter. Before that it had belonged to William’s grandfather,
Arthur, who inherited it from his father George.”

Which fit with what we’d learned at the
courthouse about Arthur and George Emerson.

“Do you happen to know how George acquired
the house?”

George Emerson was where we’d stopped
looking. After seeing Amelia’s name in the will, we’d headed home
to look at Gwen’s records.

“It seems I remember George inherited the
house from his brother, though I’m not sure which one. According to
what William told me, his great-grandfather – that would be George
– had two brothers, Leo and John. I’m not sure which one of them
was the original owner of the house.”

Leo and John Emerson. Another fact to file
away for later. Along with what I needed to tell Lucas about my
adoption.

“I hope you have all this recorded somewhere.
My mom started a notebook with names and places and stories her
grandparents told her about.” Luke reached for my hand, steadying
me as if he knew how shaken I was by this latest bit of
information. “It’s where I first saw Amelia’s name.”

“My daughter has compiled some records. She
keeps them on her computer, along with old family tales. There’s
one that tells of Leo becoming psychotic and some great tragedy
befalling he and his wife.”

Had Lucas not been holding my hand, I
might’ve fallen over. “Some great tragedy” was likely just what we
were looking for.

“What kind of tragedy?” Luke pulled me closer
to him.

“I’m not sure really. But Leo and his young
wife left Sky Cove never to be heard from again. George, William’s
great-grandfather, apparently forbade discussion of it. William
said his father told him it was all malarkey that had been drummed
up to make small town life seem more interesting.”

“That could be,” Lucas replied. “Small town
life can get a bit redundant.” He stepped toward the door, my hand
still firmly in his. “Thank you for the information, Mrs. Emerson.
I’ll be sure to add it to my records.”

We were almost to the door when Patsy stopped
us.

“I just remembered,” she began.

We turned back toward the counter.

“Amelia has a great-granddaughter. Brooke
McKenna is her name. She was in Camden until just a few years ago,
when she took a job in Boston.”

“Really?” Luke looked down at me, then back
and Mrs. Emerson. “Do you know where we could find her? If I could,
I’d love to talk to her and find out what I can about Amelia and
her descendants.”

“She’s a nurse. I believe she worked in the
maternity ward at Penobscot Bay Medical. Now I hear she’s down in
Boston at Massachusetts General. Still helping deliver babies.”

My knees knocked so hard I feared I couldn’t
walk, but as Lucas led me out of the store after thanking Mrs.
Emerson one last time, somehow I found enough stability to put one
foot in front of the other.

“Quite a coincidence, huh?” he said, as we
made our way back toward his Bronco.

“More than you know.” We reached the car, and
rather than get in as soon as he opened my door, I turned toward
him. “Luke, I have to tell you – ”

He stopped me with a quick kiss on my lips.
“Not now, Layla. Let’s just save all this for tomorrow and enjoy
the rest of tonight.”

“But – ”

Another kiss silenced me again. “I wanted
this to be a normal night, just two regular kids on a date
together. Not that I’m not glad we ran into Mrs. Emerson. It gives
us more information and hopefully an idea where to look next. But
we still have tonight, and I want it to be as normal as possible.
We have a great movie to watch. Let’s just head back to my
house.”