“Turn it over,” he said softly.
I flipped the name tag over. Staring me in the face was a phone number written with a Sharpie. Devin’s phone number. I gulped and looked back at him, feeling bewildered.
“I had your number? All this time?” I whispered, about to cry from being without him for too long and realizing he still wanted me.
Devin immediately got onto the bed and pushed me to lie down against the pillows. His lips and body covered mine. My hands found his hair and pulled through it, loving how good he felt on top of me. But I was still stunned by what I’d discovered.
“I missed you,” he said under his breath, sending tingles throughout my body.
It took us maybe a minute to get all of our clothes off, the condom on, and have Devin thrusting inside me. He was louder than he’d been at camp, maybe because there was no risk of being heard. My thighs were squeezing his hips, trying to push him in deeper. At one point, he stopped, and we moved into a spooning position. From this angle, he reached over my hip and used his hand on me while simultaneously driving into me. And we remained in this position until we were both physically satisfied and pretty much exhausted.
“I love you,” I managed to say breathlessly.
He repeated it back with a kiss on my face.
Maybe an hour later, after we’d showered together, we were lying in bed talking. It was pretty late then, and we both had class the next day. I’d told Devin about finding Rebekah and how I was waiting to hear back from her. He was excited for me. I liked that he asked for details and really seemed to care. At some point, we began reminiscing about camp.
“The last night was so humiliating—you know, when I was the queen.”
Devin chuckled. “Do you know how you were selected?”
“Not really. I suppose my answer was funny or something. Or a random draw.”
“No. It had nothing to do with the questionnaire. The counselors selected you during a meeting. Your name came up, and we unanimously picked you.”
“Are you serious? I was chosen?” This was certainly news to me. I smiled, but Devin’s expression changed to a more serious one. “What’s wrong?”
“That word—chosen.”
“What about it?”
“You know how they use that word for adoptees?”
“Yeah…”
He swallowed. “I don’t think it’s true. My daughter happened to be the next one in line for that couple. Meanwhile, her mom was grieving over the loss of her baby. She didn’t have anyone supporting her. I feel so bad.”
It moved me to hear Devin open up that way. And I loved that we could share our experiences and possibly empathize with each other.
“I’m a mix of emotions. I’m happy for that piece of paper that revealed my identity. But I’m angry it was sealed away from me to begin with. It was mine.”
Devin kissed my cheek. He was so sweet.
“Why does everyone think adoption is a beautiful thing? It’s a loss to the birth parents and the baby to be separated like that. It’s not beautiful. It’s tragic.” I looked at his face. His eyes were now closed. “You’re still grieving, aren’t you?”
He nodded but kept his eyes closed.
“Is it hard knowing I might meet my mom, and you don’t know where your daughter is?”
He opened his eyes and smiled. “No, I’m happy for you. Eighteen is a long way away for her. And until talking to you, it never crossed my mind to meet her.”
“I’m glad I did something right, then.”
“You do a lot right. And in bed,” he whispered.
My jaw dropped. “Did you really say that?”
“I did, and it’s true. You’re a doll.”
***
The email alert sounded on my phone, so I reached over to my nightstand to look. I saw in the subject line the one I’d entered when I’d emailed my birth mom. My heart started pounding.
I clicked on the email, which read:
Dear Dahlia,
You can’t imagine my astonishment when I opened your email and began reading it. I’d always hoped when you turned eighteen that you’d find me. Then there was the fear of you finding me. I often thought of putting my information in your file so you could contact me once you were old enough to have it. But I wasn’t sure if it was my place to want to know you. I’ve carried a lot of guilt and shame over your relinquishment.
I would love to meet you. My family will be visiting my husband’s parents next weekend. I thought it might be a good time for us to talk without distractions and get to know each other. I’m sure you have a lot of questions. Would you reply and let me know if that would work, and I can give you my address?
Sincerely,
Rebekah
I must’ve read the email five times before it sunk in that I was going to meet my birth mom next weekend. Quickly, I hit reply and told her I wanted to meet.
Devin stirred and stretched beside me. When he opened his eyes and looked at me, I handed him my phone. After he read the email, he rubbed my arm and smiled. “You’re going to meet your mom, Dahlia.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
October
Today was the day I’d meet Rebekah Hatman Beck—the woman who gave birth to me but then relinquished me. Devin, being incredible and supportive, was going with me. I hadn’t told my parents yet because this wasn’t about them. Meeting my birth mom was about me and what I needed. I’d tell them about it eventually.
Leading up to this day, I’d spent every night since last weekend with my boyfriend. Sometimes it wasn’t until late because of his jobs, but I didn’t care. Devin still lived at home with his mom to save money. So, for privacy, we spent most of our time at my place. I asked to meet his mom and brother, and he said I could soon. We were being intimate pretty much daily because I couldn’t keep my hands off him. My next plan was to get a prescription for the pill. Devin definitely approved. He didn’t want to be a dad again—well, not at this time.
During my classes, I sent Devin endless texts. He consumed my thoughts, and I wanted to know everything about him. Very personal questions were asked by me about his ex and were made without judgment. I discovered his daughter’s mother’s name was Madeline. And also, he’d had three sexual relationships before me. He’d lost his virginity fairly young to the girl he’d learned to breakdance with during freshman year. They were having sex by the time they were sophomores. A year later he was with Madeline. Marissa was the last one before me. We never talked about her again because I was done with her. Devin asked a few questions about Cameron and came to the conclusion he hadn’t treated me well.
Two nights before today, I’d boldly asked Devin to show me the copies of the papers he’d signed with the adoption agency. He’d agreed to my request and brought over an envelope with all the paperwork. The next morning, he left for class, but I’d ditched school to look over the papers.
I was about to put the papers back inside the envelope to return to Devin when I noticed something. On the form, there was a section about the adoptive parents. Written on the lines in pencil and hardly noticeable, were two names. Under those names, it said: Baby: Harper.
After considering several possibilities, I thought Madeline had expected an open adoption, met the adoptive parents, and possibly corresponded with them after the papers were signed. Then she’d accidentally given Devin the copy on which she’d written down all their names. If that were accurate… then Madeline might know where their daughter was.
My phone rang, interrupting my thoughts, and I knew from the ringtone that it was Devin. It was the song by Emily Jane White from Devin’s and my first dance. He’d texted Brett, asked for the song’s title, then gotten it for me.
“Hello?”
“Hi. I’m on my way to get you.” Devin’s voice sounded muffled.
I was standing in front of the full-length mirror. “I keep changing my clothes. I want to look just right. But I don’t know what that even means.” I’d settled on a simple
burgundy dress.
“Dahlia, you’re beautiful. She’s going to go crazy when she sees you and think what a pretty daughter she has.”
Why do you always know what to say?
***
Devin reached over to hold my hand. “Have you worked out what you want to say to her?” He was driving us to meet my birth mom.
“Some, but I’m open to suggestions, if you have any.”
“Hmm. I need to think.” He looked back at the road.
“Well, let’s pretend I’m your daughter. And you’re about to meet me. What do you think I might ask you?”
“Oh… I’m scared of the possibility since I didn’t fight to keep her. She might not like the answers.”
“I’m okay with anything she tells me today. I understand she might’ve felt like there were no other options. She was probably really scared.”
“Is there anything she could tell you that’d upset you?” He glanced over at me.
“I wouldn’t want to hear that she didn’t want me at all. It’d be nice to think she missed me a little. Or thought about me.” This was scary. Someone else held the power to my self-worth in some ways. I wanted her validation.
He nodded. “Understandable. I don’t think she’ll say anything bad to you. After all, she wanted to meet you.” He’d made a valid point.
Less than thirty minutes later, we stood outside Rebekah Beck’s house, but I hesitated to knock on the door. Finally, I knocked. I smiled nervously at Devin, who nodded at me, then took my hand into his. He gave it a little squeeze.
The door opened and a woman with shoulder-length, light brown hair peered out and smiled at me. “Dahlia?”
I couldn’t speak—couldn’t take my eyes off her. I nodded.
“Please come in.” She stood out of the way to let us move past her.
I turned around to really get a good look at her. But before I could take in her face, her arms wrapped tightly around me. Her perfume had a sweet floral scent, and I took in a deep breath. It was odd to embrace this person knowing who she really was but who still was a stranger to me. A few seconds later, she let go of me and smiled.
“Let me look at you,” she said.
While my birth mother took in the sight of me, I began studying her. This was the first person I’d ever met who shared my DNA. Her face was young looking and fair. Other than our noses and face shape, I didn’t see too much that looked like me. And her eyes were blue. Yet, she looked somewhat familiar to me.
Rebekah took a step away to look over my body. That’s when I noticed we were the same height and probably close in weight. She also didn’t look like she needed a bra. I wondered if she’d ever played volleyball.
“You’re beautiful,” she finally said.
I think I sighed in relief.
She turned to Devin, extending her hand. “Hi. I’m Rebekah. I’m Dahlia’s mom.” The sound of her calling herself “mom” was foreign and good at the same time.
Turning to Devin, I mumbled, “Sorry, I should’ve introduced you.”
Devin smiled and stepped forward. “Hello. I’m Devin Connell—Dahlia’s boyfriend.” He shook her hand.
“Come and sit,” she said, directing us to her living room. It looked like she had some refreshments waiting on a table.
I sat down and was relieved when Devin sat beside me. Rebekah sat in a chair adjacent to me. She offered us iced tea, coffee, and water.
I declined, but Devin chose a glass of water, and Rebekah poured him one. She set the pitcher back down and looked directly at me.
“So, you must have questions for me. I know I have some for you.”
“Yes,” I said, trying my best to relax and leave my cuticles alone.
“Are you in college?”
“Yeah. I’m attending UW with my best friend, Lauren. I’m interested in social work,” I said.
“Good for you. I never finished college, and wish I had.”
“Really?” I sounded surprised. “What happened? Oh, sorry, hope I don’t sound rude.”
“No. You’re here to learn of your circumstances. Well, I was attending the University of Miami, studying communications. I ended up meeting your dad during the fall of my sophomore year. His name was Brian Diaz. Probably not the name you imagined.”
“Brian,” I repeated, trying to picture what he might look like. The name didn’t sound Egyptian, so there went that fantasy. I thought of the actress Cameron Diaz. And that it’d be fun to be related to someone famous.
“He had the most beautiful green eyes I’d ever seen. It’s what drew me to him.” She smiled at the memory, slightly staring off.
Her comment made me think of how I was drawn to Devin’s eyes. “Do you have a photo? Of Brian, I mean,” I said, sounding anxious.
She picked up a photo sitting on the end table beside her, then handed it to me. “This is for you to keep.”
It was a photo of a young, attractive man with wavy, almost black colored hair and intense green eyes. And I realized he was my birth father. Apparently, my birth mom and I were attracted to men who looked like models and beautiful, unique eyes. I looked back at Rebekah and smiled.
“You must have gotten my straight hair. But your coloring reminds me of Brian’s, except yours looks lighter—not surprising since my genetics factor into your coloring, too. I’m so fair. And you definitely have his shape of eyes. But yours look…” She leaned into me to get a closer look, so I opened them wider for her to inspect. “Sort of a hazel color? Possibly green?”
“Yes. My best friend always says my eyes are Egyptian looking. But I don’t think Diaz is an Egyptian name.”
“No.” She giggled. “Brian was twenty-three. And very athletic. I was so attracted to him. So when he showed interest in me, I was a little bit surprised. He’d told me that his grandparents were from Cuba, but he and his parents were born in the U.S. Oh, and I recall he said his mother’s family was from Russia. You have some Russian in you, too, my dear.”
Fascinated by the information that my birth dad was athletic like Devin, I responded, “I wonder if I get my athleticism from him.”
She gazed off for a moment, possibly at the memories of her and Brian together, then looked back at me with a smile. “My background is far less interesting. Most of my heritage is English.”
“Sounds like my DNA is all over the place… How did you two meet?”
“Brian was working at a restaurant in Miami where I was waitressing. And we had a short fling, which I’d hoped was going to be longer term. Then I got pregnant and everything changed. After I had you, I dropped out of school.”
Then I had to ask the scary question. “Did he know about me?”
“Yes, he did. I told him. But he denied he was the father—another reason it was so short-lived. He didn’t help with anything. I stayed and finished that year of school, went back to Seattle for the summer, and you came a little early in July.” She paused. Her expression suggested it was a painful memory for her to tell.
There was still a question I had to ask. “Did you want to keep me?”
She paused, her eyes watering. “Yes… I did. But my parents thought adoption was best, and I didn’t have the means to support us. I got talked into it. Coerced, really.” Her expression changed slightly, and she didn’t look as happy.
“Oh.” I liked hearing that she wanted to keep me, but I also felt sad no one offered to help her. And I thought of Madeline.
“And how about you? Have you had a good life?”
“I guess. But I wouldn’t say I had a better life since I don’t know what life would’ve been like with you.” I looked at Devin for help.
He smiled and said, “I’d say you had a different life. Yeah?”
I nodded at him, then cleared my throat. “I think I’ve had some issues because I’m adopted.”
“Really?” She seemed intrigued. “Dahlia, I know only you can answer if you like your parents and life. But I think if I could go back in time, I would’ve liked som
e help.” She almost whispered the last sentence. And a tear fell from her eye. She grabbed a tissue and blew her nose. “I’m sorry.”
We smiled at each other. Knowing Rebekah wished she’d kept me made me feel good—and sad. A lot of emotions.
“Do you know where Brian is? Have you ever spoken to him again? Like is he married or has children?” I asked.
Rebekah shook her head. “I don’t know. Once he said you weren’t his, I was done with him. I’m sorry now that you’ve found me that I don’t have any information for you other than his name. But I’m one hundred percent sure he’s your father.” She quickly stood up, walked to the end table, and lifted a framed picture. Then she walked back to me and handed me the photo. “This is Jocelyn. She’s your ten-year-old half-sister.”
I stared at the girl in the photo, who looked much more like Rebekah than I did. I’d already studied her on the Facebook page but didn’t want to tell Rebekah that. The photo showed her features more clearly. Jocelyn’s eyes were blue like Rebekah’s and shaped like them, too. She also had a lighter complexion. Her body frame was small like mine.
“She looks a little bit like my husband, I suppose. He’s a high school science teacher. And I’m a receptionist in a medical office. We met twelve years ago when a friend introduced us.”
“Have you told your husband about me?”
“Yes. I’ve had a hard time with it. I was told my life would go on, and I’d have more children. And I did have another child. But, Dahlia, I never got over it. Time does have a way of healing wounds—just not completely.”
Wow… It sounded exactly like what the agency told Devin and Madeline. What morons. When I looked in Devin’s direction, he was looking down and slowly nodding. He could relate to everything she said.
Rebekah continued, “I had to get to a place where I even wanted another child. Once I married Jack, my husband, I felt like we could have a child. I wanted that with him.”
I gulped audibly. Devin leaned over my shoulder and looked at the photo of Jocelyn. “I can see a resemblance.”
Edge of Eighteen: A Slow Burn Summer Camp Love Story Page 27
