“Dinner was wonderful,” Cora said as they strolled down the drive side by side, without touching. “Now that my brother and I are adults, my mother doesn’t bother to cook anymore. She’s very generous about inviting us over for carryout, or taking us to a restaurant, so I’m not complaining. But a big Sunday meal from scratch? That’s almost unheard of these days.”
“It’s not like it was a sacrifice to have you. You can come back next Sunday. You heard my mom.”
“I’d like that,” she said, but he didn’t get the impression he was the reason she’d like it, and that bothered him.
“Are you really going home to get ready for classes?” he asked as he opened her car door for her.
“Yeah. I promised my students we’d start ceramics this week. Now that I’m more familiar with their skill level, I need to figure out the ideal project and how much time it will require on the throwing wheel.”
He almost said, And if I’d like to see you again? but he got the distinct impression that something was causing her to distance herself from him and he’d be stupid to push.
“You look incredible in that dress,” he said instead, which was the truth. Ever since she’d arrived, he’d had difficulty looking anywhere except at her.
He was glad he’d told her that when, at last, she focused on him—and smiled. “Thank you,” she said, but she didn’t try to set up their next meeting, didn’t ask if he’d call, didn’t say a word about getting together with him again. “Good night,” she added, and that was his signal to close the door.
* * *
The TV played in the background as Cora curled up on her couch and thumbed through the file the private investigator had, after much searching, provided on Aiyana. There wasn’t a great deal in it, just some basic background information—where and when Aiyana was born, where she grew up, a couple of articles on New Horizons. Thanks to California’s adoption laws, Cora had been unable to get the records that were sealed by the court. She’d had an attorney working on that, but because of various details her adoptive mother had let slip—like where and when she was born and at which hospital—the private investigator had come through first. So she’d given up on pursuing the court order. Several states had unsealed their adoption records. She hoped California would soon follow suit. Then maybe she’d be able to find out who her father was—if his name was on her original birth certificate. Adoptees had access only to their ABC or Amended Birth Certificate, which not only facilitated the change in the name of the parents but could list a different place of birth. In some instances, agencies even altered the day of birth. Fortunately, Cora hadn’t been given a new birthday. Otherwise, chances were she never would’ve found Aiyana.
Or...maybe that would’ve been for the best. She’d spoken to several other adoptees, online and otherwise, who’d told her to be careful what she wished for. They’d been disappointed in their birth mothers, but she was not. She respected Aiyana, admired her and wished she could be part of her life in a more significant way than merely working for her. But she couldn’t see how she’d ever be able to do that if she was still sleeping with Elijah.
Regardless of Elijah, did she dare—or even have the right—to upset Aiyana’s life by announcing her true identity? Would Aiyana be happy to have found her?
That would probably depend on the reason Aiyana had given her up, and there was no file, attorney or private detective who could provide that information. Perhaps her grandmother could shed some light on the matter, but even that wasn’t guaranteed. It was possible Consuelo had never been made aware of the pregnancy. Aiyana had had Cora when she was twenty-one, so she’d been an adult but not a well-seasoned one. Maybe Consuelo hadn’t approved of the relationship that’d left Aiyana pregnant, and that was part of the reason Aiyana had acted as she did.
After staring at the grainy picture in the newspaper clipping that’d given Cora her first glimpse of Aiyana, she put down the file and picked up her phone. She hadn’t yet returned Lilly’s call. She needed to do that, didn’t want her adoptive mother to feel as if she was being neglected.
“There you are!” her mother exclaimed as soon as she answered. “How are you, sweetheart?”
Cora rubbed her left temple with her free hand. “I’m doing great. How are you, Mom?”
“Missing you. It’s not the same without you here. I have no one to go shopping with,” she said in a pouty voice that Cora knew was a joke.