Page 102 of Secrets Hidden In The Glass

“I can see that.”

She nodded, treasuring his understanding.

“I’m assuming the police took you to the hospital.”

“Yes. I had a small scratch on my right knee and some tangles in my hair, but otherwise I was fine. No broken bones or bruises. I wasn’t malnourished. My pajamas were relatively clean. There were no signs of abuse. I knew my shapes and colors, could sing the alphabet, and was able to spell my name. For all intents and purposes, it appeared that I had been well cared for.”

Nate frowned. “And they had no leads on your parents? There were no witnesses that saw them drop you off?”

She shook her head. “It was as if they vanished into thin air.”

“You said Social Services didn’t know your age—that you didn’t know your birthdate.”

“We knew I was four because I told them so. A dental and physical examination along with where I was testing developmentally put me in the same age range. A couple of child psychologists and pediatricians came to the conclusion that I was probably forty-nine or fifty months, so my parents decided my birthday would be in June. June twenty-first.”

“How did you end up with the Davises?”

She sighed, always finding this part of the story bittersweet. “Mom and Dad were older—forty-five and forty-six. Jennifer was twelve and Jacob ten when Mom found out she was pregnant again. It was a shock for them at first, then they were thrilled. Unfortunately, Mom lost the baby at nineteen weeks. She was devastated.”

“That’s awful.”

She nodded. “The doctors told her that it was highly unlikely she would ever conceive again. That hadn’t been their plan in the first place, but after Mom and Dad thought they were going to have another child, they wanted one. Not long after the miscarriage, they saw me on TV.”

His frown returned. “What do you mean?”

“My story made national headlines. The media dubbed me Little Girl Lost.” To this day Callie hated the nickname. “The authorities couldn’t find my family. No one was coming forward to claim me, so they put the initial intake video of me on Hartford’s five o’clock news. By the next morning, stations across the country were running with it. It got pretty out of control.”

“Huh.”

“Mom said that as soon as she saw me, she knew I had to be theirs—that I was meant to live with them and be a part of their family. My adoptive grandfather was the senator of Oregon at the time. Mom called him up and told him to pull strings—do whatever needed to be done so that they could take custody of me. Within a couple weeks of the story airing, my social worker was cutting her way through the red tape and I was heading to Oregon with the Davises. They weren’t allowed to adopt me right away. The state of Connecticut wanted to protect my biological parents’ rights until they could investigate further, but after a year with no leads, the Davises were able to make me theirs.”

Nate stroked his fingers through her hair. “What happened to the media attention?”

“There wasn’t any. Mom and Dad have been fierce protectors of my privacy. No one knew where I went. The media has speculated a few times about Little Girl Lost but they have no idea she’s me—the artist, Callie Davis.”

He winced. “That would make for a nightmare.”

She shuddered. “I don’t even want to think about it.”

“Did you tell your mom about the picture when you called her?”

She shook her head as a wave of guilt swamped her. “I need to call her again, though. I was short with her—impatient—and she’s never been anything but wonderful to me.”

“Give yourself a break.” He pressed a gentle kiss to her lips. “You were shaken up.”

She couldn’t dismiss her poor behavior as easily as Nate could. “I don’t want to tell them yet. Not until we have more information. I’m going to call Mom later so she’s not worrying, but I don’t want to bring all of this up unless there’s a reason.”

“That makes sense.”

“This isn’t—I should tell you that this isn’t the first time I’ve thought I found her.” She dropped her gaze from his and traced his firm pectorals. “I’ve gotten my hopes up before.”

He rested his forehead against hers. “I have to believe that’s entirely normal.”

She settled her palms against his cheeks and closed her eyes, finding it so easy to say things to Nate that she would never say to anyone else. “I was positive I’d found her when I was in Boston six months ago. I’d flown in for a charity event, and I saw this blond. We shared a strong resemblance—similar builds and the same eye color.” She huffed out a humorless laugh as she shook her head. “Now that I think back on it, I guess that’s all there was, but I was so sure it was her. We made eye contact several times that night, and I’d convinced myself she’d somehow figured out who I was, tracked me down, and wanted to check on me.”

Nate held her tighter.

“I saw Marion talking to her—heard through the grapevine that they were friends. Eventually, I pulled Marion aside and asked her about the woman—what she did for a living, where she was from, whether she had any children. Marion told me she and her husband had tried conceiving for years but were never able to. I was devastated.”