Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 94687 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94687 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
“Perfect. And don’t worry about that stupid news thing. It’ll blow over and Bethany Bloomfart will be on to the next fake scandal.”
“Thanks. I appreciate it. And I was just snippy to Mom. I’ll call her and apologize, then I’ll ask if I can bring him to dinner.”
After ending the call with Chloe, I reached out to my mom and asked about bringing Tyler to Sunday dinner.
“Of course, darling,” she said brightly. “Your friends are always welcome here.”
I took a deep breath. “Mom, I need to ask you something. Did you ever tell Dad about the baby and adoption?”
She didn’t answer right away. “I did. I’m sorry if I betrayed your confidence, but I didn’t feel it was something I should keep from him. Plus, I was struggling too—it’s not easy to see your child in pain, and I knew how hard that was for you to go through. Also . . . it was our grandchild. I had to mourn a little bit.”
I swallowed hard. “I understand.”
“If it makes you feel better, he was very understanding. He wanted to respect your privacy, so he never mentioned it, but he knew, and he was so proud of you.”
My throat tightened, and I had to take another deep breath before speaking. “Thanks, Mom.”
“Would it be okay to tell him you’re aware that he knows now?”
“Sure,” I said, feeling oddly good that the air would be cleared once and for all. “I recently told Meg, Chloe, and Frannie as well.”
“Did you?” She sounded surprised.
“Yes. My therapist encouraged me to be more open about it, starting with people I trust. And there’s no one I trust more than family.”
“That’s wonderful, darling,” she said warmly. “I’m so happy to hear it.”
I thought about telling her I’d written a letter to the adoptive mom, but decided against it. One thing at a time. I could wait until I heard back—if I heard back—to share that news.
“I better go, Mom. I have to get to work, and I’m running a little late.”
“Okay, darling. I’m glad you called.”
We hung up and I glanced around for my bag.
That’s when I looked over at the table, where I’d tossed the stack of mail.
Gooseflesh blanketed my arms, and a strange shiver moved up my spine. Slowly, I walked over to the table and picked up the letter on top. It was addressed to me in black cursive lettering. I picked it up, knowing what it was before I even checked the return address.
My legs trembled, and I sat down. Holding my breath, I slipped my finger beneath the seal and tore open the envelope. With shaking fingers, I pulled out the letter.
A photograph dropped onto the table, and I gasped. There he was—in a baseball uniform. With Tyler’s signature grin plus my dimples. Tyler’s dark eyes and the Sawyer family ears sticking out from under his cap. He was tall and lanky, like Tyler at that age, and his hands looked almost too big for his body. Before I knew it, tears were streaming down my face, but I was smiling too.
Reluctantly I tore my eyes off the picture and unfolded the letter.
Dear April,
Thank you so much for reaching out. I have thought of you often over the years, and I’m glad to hear you are doing well. Chip would very much like to meet you.
At this, I put a hand over my stomach and allowed myself a couple sobs of relief. Of joy. Of anticipation.
I want to apologize for the delay in getting back to you—we moved to Michigan last year, so your letter did not reach me right away. But in fact, we live quite close to each other, as you will see from the return address.
I quickly checked it and discovered—my jaw dropping—that not only had the family moved from Ohio to Michigan, but they’d moved to within fifteen miles of me. My head began to spin . . . had I seen my son already and not even known it?
It has been a difficult couple of years for us, as we lost my husband Chuck last year very suddenly to a heart attack. We moved here to be closer to my mother. The loss of Chuck has been very tough on all of us, but particularly on Chip, who was very close to his father and feels a lot of responsibility to be the man in the house now that his dad is gone (we adopted a baby girl several years after adopting Chip).
We have always been open with Chip and Cecily about the fact that they were adopted, and in fact, Cecily (who is twelve) enjoys a nice relationship with her birth mom—much like an aunt or older cousin. While Chip has never asked many questions about his birth parents (boys are less inquisitive than girls, I suppose), he seemed intrigued when I mentioned that I’d heard from you. Upon learning you’d like to meet him, he thought about it for a minute and asked me how I felt about it. That is the kind of person Chip is—considerate and sensitive to other people’s feelings. When I told him the decision was his, he said he’d like to meet you. In the wake of his loss, I think he is searching for additional family ties, and I truly believe it will be good for him.