Never is a Promise(22)

“What’d you think?” Rebecca asked as she peeled potatoes over a garbage can, an embroidered apron cinched around her waist. “Mabry picked out the color.”

“Oh! The yellow. Yes. It’s lovely,” I said, realizing Mabry hadn’t let go of my hand for a single second since we left her room. “It’s very cheery.”

“Mabry, did you finish your homework?” Sam asked.

She twisted her toe into the ground before a devilish smirk captured her face. “Not yet, Dad…”

One look from Sam was all it took to send her skipping down the hall to finish her homework, and cool air kissed my palm the second our hands released. I missed her already – if that was even possible.

“Would you like any help?” I offered, eyeing the potato peelings as they fell on top of the trash.

“No, no,” Rebecca said. “Thank you though.”

I leaned in, preparing to lower my voice. “Mabry asked how we knew each other.”

I expected her to set the potato peeler down. I expected drama and tension and stopped hearts. I expected the moment to build into something the three of us had wondered about our entire lives.

But it didn’t.

Rebecca continued peeling the potatoes as her face softened. “She knows she’s adopted.”

“We made a promise to you, Dakota,” Sam said from the kitchen table as he set his newspaper down. “She’s going to know you. We want her to know you. And you should know her too – when the time is right for everyone. Rebecca’s her mother, but so are you.”

My heart ached with heaviness, as if my love for her was swelling to the surface after all those years. Deep and unbending, it’d been there all along; I just chose to ignore its power because acknowledging it made the hurt that much worse.

I never wanted to give her up.

“Anyway, look at Sam and me,” Rebecca laughed. “We couldn’t pass as her biological parents no matter how hard we tried.”

Sam batted his gossamer-thin eyelashes and Rebecca tucked her honey hair behind her ear, displaying how Mabry’s dark hair and blue eyes were a stark contrast against their fair features.

“She really seems to like you,” Rebecca said. “I’ve never seen her warm up to someone like that before. It was like you two had an instant connection.”

“Really?” I asked, unable to stop smiling. I blinked away tears at the realization that I’d missed out on the first ten years of her life all because I was afraid of facing one of the darkest moments of my own. “She invited me to her birthday party.”

“Did she?” Sam laughed. “You should come. We’d love that.”

“I heard Beau’s back in town.” Rebecca ran a colander full of peeled, chopped potatoes under the faucet before dropping them into a pot of boiling water on the stove. Her words held more weight than she realized, though I knew exactly what she was hinting at.

“I know,” I said. “I’m in town interviewing him for work. He’s retiring from music.”

“Sam, you want to go fire up the grill?” Rebecca asked cheerfully, sending Sam outside with a plate of marinated chicken she pulled from the refrigerator. The second he left, she turned back to me, her face wearing solemnity in a way I hadn’t seen on her before. “Does he know?”

“Who?”

“Beau. Does he know about Mabry?”

I bit my lip, leaning up against the marble island and holding my head in my hands. “No.”

“You have to tell him.” Her hazel eyes pleaded with me, like a desperate mother afraid of her whole world crashing down.

“You have nothing to worry about. I promise,” I assured her. “I’m going to tell him when the time is right.”

“How do you know?” Rebecca whispered, bringing her fingers to her lips and tracing her lips. “What if he…?”

“He won’t. I know him. He’s not like that.” I lied. I didn’t know him anymore. I didn’t know what he’d say or do or think or feel once I dropped the bomb on him. All I knew was how he’d reacted years ago, and that was with cold, hard silence.





10.5 years ago



Sitting straight up in the most uncomfortable wooden chair in the world, I listened to my Communications professor drone on and on about American dialects in popular media culture. As my mind wandered on that breezy October day, it occurred to me that I hadn’t had a period since August. Immersed in homework and classes and social obligations, I’d completely spaced it off.

The next day I sat in the exam room of a local pregnancy center as a nurse asked me a few questions, had me pee in a cup, and then walked me to a dark room. I waited alone until a sonographer rolled in a machine and started whispering casually with me about how maybe there was still time to do something about my “little problem”.