“You enjoy the rest of the afternoon.” The woman smiled at the man she’d just helped.
What’s left of it, Jack muttered to himself. He stepped forward and handed her his passport form.
The woman set his papers down on the counter. She adjusted her glasses with one hand while she patted her short, dyed, coffee-colored hair with the other. Using her finger as a guide, she checked that each box of the form was correct. When she lazily reached for her coffee cup, Jack wanted to scream. He read her name tag.
“Mrs. Smythe, that form’s ten pages long. There’s no reason to double-check every item again. I’m getting a passport before I enlist in the Army. I checked the form, my recruiter checked it, my father checked it, and my mom went over it with a magnifying glass. Let’s say we speed-read this, and then you can have an early lunch?” He turned his hands palms out and gave her one of his roguish grins.
Mrs. Smythe’s wrinkles deepened. “If there’s a problem, they’ll kick it back and you’ll have to do everything all over again.”
“I’m not leaving for three months. Besides,” Jack leaned closer, “I’m sure you know these forms so well that you can give it a quick scan and we’ll both be out of here.”
Mrs. Smythe tipped her chin down and leveled her gaze at him over the rim of her glasses. “If you’re going in the Army, get used to dotting your i’s and crossing your t’s. Name?”
Jack exhaled. “Jack Stratton.”
“Middle name?”
“Alton.”
“Hair?”
“Brown.”
“Eyes?”
“Two.”
She frowned.
Jack flashed a handsome grin. “Brown.”
She looked down but the corners of her mouth ticked up. “Six foot one and one hundred eighty pounds?”
“Sure am.”
“Age?”
“Seventeen. For the next couple of days, anyway.”
“You do have a birthday coming up.” Mrs. Smythe’s finger stopped at the box for birthplace. “What town is that?”
Jack’s back stiffened. He hated filling out paperwork; it reminded him of all the basic things he didn’t know about himself. What was his real name? Where was he born? Who was his birth father? Facts most people took for granted, Jack ached to know.
He lowered his voice. “It’s not a town. It says unknown.”
She used her pen to point to the line behind him. “Enough with the comedy routine. Birthplace?”
“I’m not kidding. I don’t know. My mom thought we should write something instead of leaving it blank.”
“Your mom? She doesn’t know where she gave birth to you? Not even the state?”
Jack bit into his cheek. “I was abandoned.” Jack hated the word abandoned. It made him feel as if he was less than nothing.
Her cheeks blushed a pale pink. “Oh… I’m sorry.”
Jack stood up straight. “It’s all right. The truth is, I don’t know the answer to half the questions on that form.”
“I am truly sorry.” Mrs. Smythe cleared her throat. When she spoke again, her tone had softened. “And this is your present address?” She clearly felt bad, and that was the last thing Jack wanted. He’d had his fill of pity.
Jack pointed at the address. “That’s the happy ending to my story.” He worked up a smile. “After a few years in the foster care system, I got adopted. Which was a bit of a miracle, considering I was eleven.”
“Miracle?”
“For foster kids, I was past the expiration date. Most people want to adopt a baby.”
She nodded.
“But I ended up with the best parents a kid could have.”
She smiled.
Jack had called the Strattons Mom and Dad from the moment they took him in. They were tender and caring. His parents loved him, and he loved them back. But that never completely healed the scars of his past.
Mrs. Smythe quickly skimmed the remaining pages. “Your mother did a great job filling out this form. Okay,” she pointed to a spot on the floor in front of the camera, “stand there.”
Jack hurried over. “Do you have a mirror?”
She looked at him quizzically. “What for?”
Jack fussed with his thick, dark brown hair. “To try to make me look semi-decent.”
Mrs. Smythe chuckled. “Darling, you’re as handsome as a movie star. You definitely don’t need a mirror.”
Jack’s chest puffed out and he smiled back. The flash popped. “Thanks. When will—”
“Two to six weeks.” Mrs. Smythe put Jack’s paperwork in a stack.
“Thanks again.” Jack gave her a little salute as he headed to the door.