“It was late when they finally got home from the hospital, and I remember waiting for them in their driveway when they pulled in. It might have been dark, but their faces illuminated the night, both of them beaming from ear to ear.” His voice went silent but only for a second, allowing the soundtrack of the waterfall to seep in. “I can still feel her tiny body in my arms. I was only nineteen, basically still a kid myself, but holding her gave me a sense of purpose. I still can’t explain it, but as she’d lain peacefully in my arms, I promised myself I’d always take care of her. And Jackson’s face was something I’d burned into my brain, as if he was alive for the first time in his entire life.” This time his silence brought forth a few deep breaths. “That night, Jackson made me promise him that if anything ever happened to him or Rebecca, I’d find her birth parents. I agreed in a heartbeat, without a hint of hesitation. So, here I am, following through on my promise,” he said, stepping back to face me again.
I’d stayed silent the entire time he was talking, finding it hard to focus on his words. I tried, I really did, but I couldn’t help losing myself in my own story, my own experience. The story felt so close to home that the churning in my stomach had me queasy, but I knew I had to say something.
“So, have you found them? Ruby’s birth parents,” I forced out.
“Not yet, but I will,” he stressed. “The process has proven more difficult than I thought. Their adoption was semi-open, or so that’s what I was told, meaning there could be communication but it had to go through a third party, like a lawyer or an agency. And as far as I know, the birth parents never tried to communicate with Jackson or Rebecca and vice versa, so any record there is lacking. I do believe they used an attorney, whichmeans someone out there has the information I need and if I can find said person, their will gives me the permission to obtain it.” His eyes rose to mine. “And I’ll do whatever it takes.”
After listening to him talk about her, there was no doubt in my mind that he would do just that. If Stetson was anything, he was determined, and it was abundantly clear that he was just as loyal. Nothing could stop somebody with those kinds of qualities.
“Are you sure they want to be found?” I asked, my body immediately tensing as I realized what I’d said. I wasn’t even sure why I would make such a comment.
“Would you want to be found if it were you?” he asked casually, not understanding the magnitude of the question he’d just posed.
It was like a dagger straight to the heart, piercing my breath as it broke through my chest, forcing me to silently gasp.
I did want to be found. I desperately wanted to be found. It was a thought that kept me up in the middle of the night, a thought that permanently belonged in my brain.
“Of course I would,” I replied. “I can’t imagine not wanting that. But I also know that everyone has their reasons behind the choices they make, and sometimes you don’t know the whole story.” I maneuvered myself in and out of my words, wanting to make sense but not wanting to give myself away.
Eventually I’d tell Stetson about my past, but not today. Not here. Especially not now.
“That’s fair. But I want to at least give them the chance. Ya know?”
My head moved up and down in an automatic response as he stepped closer. This time, the anxiousness crawling up my chest wasn’t the good kind.
Everything felt different now.
Harder.
More complicated.
I heard the obnoxiously loud sound of my ringtone, grateful that my phone wasn’t on silent because I could use a minute to catch my breath.
“Hey, Maggie, what’s up?” I casually asked, as if I weren’t on the verge of a complete spiral, all whilst still trying to be supportive.
“Say you’ll come to the bar with Booker and me tonight.”
“Um.” I paused, sifting through my options.
“Just say you’ll come. Maybe I’ll see if Booker will invite Stetson, would that make your decision easier?”
Stetson raised an eyebrow. He stood close enough to hear Maggie’s plan through the phone. “We’ll come.” Stetson’s voice beat mine to it.
Shit.
Everything swirled. It was as if I were the base of the waterfall, both excitement and anxiety, or maybe it was guilt, blended together.
“Oh?” she questioned.
I played it cool. “Stetson and I are at the recording studio doing some work for the article,” I lied, not wanting to answer any more questions. “What time?”
“Interesting.” Her tone was filled with the obvious desperation to ask more questions. “We’re headed there around eight.”
“Perfect. See you then. I love you.”
“Love you too. And don’t think you’re getting out of this one. We’ll chat tonight.”
“Goodbye, Maggie,” I said, hanging up the phone.
