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My Piper.
The adoptive parents had let us choose her name. At least I’d had a say in that. Otherwise, my dad hadn’t let me make my own decisions about her.
The letter fell from my hand as tears stung my eyes. I remembered how hard I’d cried when I’d handed over to her adoptive parents and how I almost didn’t go through with it.
But my dad had been there, hovering over me like a hawk, making sure I’d followed through. He couldn’t allow his only daughter to become a mother at sixteen. That was a sin in the eyes of the Lord. And his good name couldn’t be sullied by my sin.
After that, I’d gone through my last year of school like a ghost. I’d stopped hanging out with my friends, quit cheerleading, and kept to myself. Lincoln and I had tried to make things work, but they were never the same after we gave her up.
I had focused on my schoolwork so that I could keep my scholarship and get the hell out of there when I graduated. I couldn’t stay there and deal with the constant reminder of what I’d lost.
I’d been too weak to stay and face my failure and deal with the aftermath of the worst decision of my life. So, I’d left my family, my life, and Lincoln behind. I couldn’t salvage what was left after we’d given her up. Nor could I bear to see the look of disappointment and sadness in his eyes when he looked at me.
Not a day had gone by that I didn’t think of Lincoln and my daughter. Lincoln was the only man I’d ever loved; losing him had broken me for anyone else.
I hadn’t spoken to him or my father since I’d left. I talked to my mother once a month but had never returned home to visit. I hadn’t planned on ever going back, but the letter in front of me made me reconsider.
I exhaled a shaky breath. I’d give anything to go back in time and undo my mistake. Things would’ve been completely different if I’d been strong enough to stand up to my dad and fight harder for her, for us.
I wiped the tears from my eyes and sniffled. I wasn’t sure I had it in me to go back and face my demons. But I couldn’t turn my back on my daughter again; not when I’d given up so easily the first time.
I often wondered what she looked like. If she had my eyes or Lincoln’s, and if her hair stayed light like mine or darkened over time to look more like his. Sometimes I’d dream about her, of us as a family back home on Lincoln’s farm.
I let out another sigh as my choices weighed heavily on my mind. My heart told me to go home, but my head argued not to. Why open old wounds when there was no point? I’d given birth to her, but she wasn’t mine; not legally anyway.
Then I thought about Lincoln. What if he’d moved on? I wasn’t sure I could stand to see him with someone else. Not when he was supposed to be with me.
I picked up the letter again and stared at it. What the hell am I going to do?
LINCOLN
Sweat dripped down my back as I tended to the crops in the field. The end of April meant summer was right around the corner, and the heat was definitely making it known.
In the distance, I caught a glimpse of the postman driving down the dirt road to my house. My golden retriever, Rufus, came barreling down the steps of the porch, barking as he charged toward the incoming intruder.
I chuckled as I wiped the sweat from my brow. I jammed my shovel in the dirt, then followed Rufus to the mailbox.
“How ya doing, Lincoln?” the postman, Will, greeted as I approached. He kneeled down and gave Rufus his customary head scratch. “Hello to you, too, Mr. Rufus.”
“I’m well, how ’bout yourself?”
The older man looked up at me. The corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled. “Can’t complain.”
Rufus’s tail was wagging a mile a minute as Will stood and pulled my mail from his bag. He handed the small stack of letters to me. “Since you’re here, I might as well give these to you.”
I took the mail from him and smiled. “Thank you.”
He made his way back to his truck. “Don’t work too hard now, ya hear? It’s getting hot out.”
“I won’t.” I waved. “Thanks.”
“Bye, Rufus. See y’all tomorrow.” He waved back.
Rufus barked and took off behind the mail truck as Will drove away.
I shook my head and laughed. “Crazy dog.”
I started going through the day’s mail, stopping when I came across a small pink letter. My brow furrowed. The writing on the envelope looked like it belonged to a child.
