Accept Me

by Marion Ueckermann

  A couple of high-pitched squeals and low whistles rose in the air.

  Hmm, maybe they’d fetch a fair price at the auction, after all. That would be nice…for the town, of course. Riley cared little for the praises of men or women or what they thought of him outwardly. He was more concerned with how people perceived him as a person.

  Just like God, who looks at the heart.

  Character was of more worth than countenance. And every day in his job—and his personal life—he strove for that. Sometimes maybe too hard.

  Although not unattractive, he’d never be the hunky, oil-painting-worthy Roman Vela, or have the classic looks of several of the other contestants. Not to even mention his best buddy, Pete. But that didn’t matter to Riley. This was for the town, and he’d do anything to help the people of Chapel Cove. Nerves shook his legs beneath his uniform. Even this.

  While Riley waited near the other bachelors, Pete took to the ramp, giving his best mega-model imitation. Who was this beast who’d emerged from his usually more reserved friend?

  The bids quickly rose, coming to an end at just over ten thousand dollars. Wow, nice going, Pete. Riley didn’t hope to make nearly as much, especially as he was the last to walk the plank…um, ramp. Still, every dollar pledged in this fundraiser, was a dollar that would go toward repairing the flood damage and putting in preventative measures for next year’s rainy season. Maybe there’d even be some cash to spare for the hospital. One could hope.

  When Pete joined the lineup behind Riley, Riley’s heart lurched into his throat, beating wildly.

  Judge Henderson’s voice boomed over the speakers, “And our final bachelor, let’s start the bidding for EMT, Riley Jordan!”

  Riley was certain that everyone in the room could see the veins pulsating in his neck. He swallowed hard and took a step forward, then another, doing his best to wow the crowds. The bidding soon rose.

  Five thousand dollars.

  Six thousand.

  Wow, who would’ve thought? Could he even hope he’d get close to what was offered for his good-looking, half-Italian friend?

  The medical bag he’d thought would be a good prop, suddenly felt like a millstone around his neck. Too late, he couldn’t ditch it now.

  Or maybe he could.

  Spotting Ivy Macnamara seated in the third row, Riley hopped down from the ramp and headed straight for her. He dropped the bag beside her seat, planning to retrieve it later, then lifted the stethoscope. He placed it at the very top of her chest, way higher than it would be placed medically, but totally appropriate and acceptable for his public display.

  The older lady chuckled, then narrowed her gaze. “Young man, you still owe me a new blouse. Don’t think that checking on my health will get you off the hook.”

  Ivy never failed to remind him that he’d ruined her favorite blouse when he’d cut it from her body after her heart-attack in church. He’d been looking for a replacement but hadn’t found anything remotely close so far.

  “Twelve thousand dollars,” a woman shouted from the front rows.

  What?

  Disregarding his safe flirting with the woman years his senior, Riley snapped to attention. Oh no! He recognized those long, flaming tresses tumbling down the mauve-jacketed arm waving an auction card high in the air.

  Anna Alverson.

  Although Portland residents, Chapel Cove was the regular weekend home of the Alversons, and Anna never missed an opportunity to chill in the small town with her wealthy parents. Then again, with a cliffside mansion overlooking the ocean, who wouldn’t want to relax there for three nights a week?

  Other opportunities Ms. Alverson didn’t miss were the fake 911 calls whenever she knew Riley was on duty and she hadn’t yet bumped into him over a weekend or cornered him at church. An invisible insect bite here, a stomach cramp there, “twisted” ankles, “sprained” wrists… She’d been hounding him for years, talking way too much whenever she did manage to corner him. He’d long ago come to the conclusion that she was either a chronic hypochondriac, a total klutz, or a desperate almost-thirty-year-old daddy’s girl. He suspected the latter to be true, not that he knew Anna’s exact age.

  Please, please, please let someone make a counterbid.

  “Going once. Going twice.” The auctioneer’s gavel slammed down on the pedestal behind which Judge Henderson stood. “Sold to Ms. Alverson for twelve thousand dollars, making a total of seventy-seven thousand dollars raised here tonight for Chapel Cove’s flood repairs. Well done, everyone.”

  Wow, this was a successful fundraiser. Riley hadn’t thought they’d make nearly that amount of money, and he was glad to have done his bit. Even if it meant spending more than a house call with audacious Anna.

  “Later, lover,” Anna boldly announced as Riley whooshed past her and hopped back onto the catwalk where he joined the other bachelors.

  Lover?

  Maybe he could come to an agreement with Anna—free house calls for a year where Kay Alverson, her mother, hovered in lieu of the single date alone with the man-hungry…no make that Riley-hungry…woman.

  Chapter Three

  HADDIE WAS certain her heart had broken into a million little pieces as she stood beside her mother’s grave, weeping. The minister’s voice faded to white noise as she stared at the casket suspended above her mother’s final resting place. Her gloved fingers tightened around the long stem of a red rose. With her free hand, she dabbed a tissue to her eyes before the tears froze on her face.

  Haddie felt so numb. At the same time, angry. And sad. Lost. So many conflicting emotions broiled inside of her.

  Most of all, she felt scared and alone. If only Cara was there to comfort her.

  If only her mother was still alive and well and this was someone else’s grave.

  But it wasn’t. This truth was as stark and unbelievable as the last words her mother had spoken to her before slipping into a coma for a day, passing peacefully from this life to the next in the early hours of Friday morning.

  And that truth, too, would not leave her alone.

  She hadn’t mentioned a word to her father about what her mother had told her. There hadn’t been a time that had seemed appropriate. But maybe now that the funeral was over.

  Or tomorrow, after Thanksgiving dinner.

  And her birthday celebrations.

  Thanksgiving dinner? Birthday celebrations? What was there to be thankful for? What was there to celebrate? Besides, she hadn’t had much of an appetite since her mother passed away. Neither had her father.

  And yet, she couldn’t help but wonder what her mom would want them to do on this extra special day, even if it was the day after her funeral.

  Haddie knew exactly what.

  Mom would want them to do what they’d always done on Thanksgiving—a great big dinner shared with the staff of Bluegrass Stud Farm. And as much as she’d rather spend the night in her room, weeping, she had to honor her mother.

  In life.

  And in death.

  Seeing her father step up to the casket and place his rose on its lid, Haddie did the same. She blew a final kiss to her mom then fell into her father’s arms. Together, they wept.

  Driving away from the cemetery, Haddie turned to her father. He stared straight ahead as he drove, knuckles white as his hands gripped the SUV’s steering wheel. This had been a horrendous day for him. He’d lost the love of his life.

  Would she even find hers? What man would be interested in a dowdy, uninteresting girl like her? At twenty-eight—well, tomorrow at least—she’d given up hope of finding her prince charming and her happy ever after. There was no fairytale ending for Haddie Hayes, or whoever she really was.

  Haddie sucked in a deep breath then exhaled. “Can we stop at the grocery store on the way home?”

  She and her father had chosen not to do refreshments at home or the church after the funeral. Haddie was relieved not to have to still spend time making small talk, not that that had been the basis for their decision. Most
people would want—no need—to spend the afternoon preparing for Thanksgiving, and that fact had swayed their minds to end the day’s proceedings at the graveside.

  Dad glanced at her and nodded. “Of course. I guess we do need to stock up on some foodstuffs. We’ve let things slide at home, haven’t we?” His bottom lip began to quiver and he quickly concentrated on the road again.

  Haddie leaned over and curled her arm around her father’s before laying her head on his shoulder. “How are we going to live without her, Daddy?” Tears began to roll down her cold cheeks once again.

  “One day at a time, Haddie. One day at a time.”

  Haddie sniffed then eased back into her seat. “I’d like to host a Thanksgiving dinner tomorrow night. As Mom did every year. Are you up to it?”

  Dad turned to her, his right eyebrow raised. “Are you? It’s a lot of work, Haddie.”

  She lifted one shoulder. “It’s okay. I’ll ask everyone to bring something along when I contact them, that way the workload will be a little easier. Besides, I think I need to have something to occupy my mind.” Hopefully concentrating on executing her mother’s favorite recipes with precision would take her mind off the fact that she could have a mother, a father, brothers, sisters, somewhere out there in the world.

  Her father offered a weak smile, the expression not seen on his face in weeks. “Then I think it’s a great idea. And necessary, too, seeing as it’s also your birthday.” He reached for her and brushed his fingers over her cheek. “Your mom would be so proud of you.”

  Haddie pursed her lips and nodded.

  Her mom…

  Yes, the woman who’d raised her, who she’d called “Mom” all her life, would be proud.

  The one who had given birth to her? Probably not. She had obviously not wanted her. Why else would she have given her away?

  Excited chatter and the delicious aroma of roast turkey rose to the ceiling of the dining room as Haddie and her dad enjoyed the Thanksgiving meal with their guests. Everyone seemed to have gone to extra trouble over their contribution to the dinner. “For your mom,” they said. “For Glenda.”

  Haddie had made the turkey and a pumpkin pie with walnut crust, while others had brought cheese grits and corn pudding, roasted sweet potato casserole with praline, a Brussel sprouts salad with red pepper and avocado, a potato and celery root gratin, and green beans with bacon. Haddie was sure there was enough food to feed the neighboring farm workers as well.

  Most of the talk around the table had been about the life of Glenda Hayes. Haddie was surprised that it had actually been healing to reminisce with everyone on her mom’s life.

  A sudden loud clap drew everyone’s attention to Chester Blandford, the stud farm manager who had taken over when Cara and her dad had returned to Ireland. The good-looking, rugged man in his late forties rubbed his hands together and leaned back in his chair. “As it’s Thanksgiving, why don’t we each mention something that we’re thankful for. I can start us off.”

  Everyone nodded, a few praising Chester for the great idea.

  Chester smiled and continued, “I’m thankful for the interesting job I have, and that I work for such an incredible and hospitable boss.” He patted Haddie’s father’s shoulder. “Thank you, Roy. This has been the best ten years of our lives. I know I say it every year, but Eula and I love it here at Bluegrass Stud Farm.”

  Seated on the opposite side of the table from Haddie, Chester’s wife, Eula agreed with her husband then fixed her blue-eyed gaze on Haddie. “I’m thankful for everything your mother taught me about being a stud farmer’s wife, as well as being a mother. I owe her so much.” The petite brunette’s voice waivered slightly as she spoke, and her eyes teared up. She drew in a deep breath. “I’m going to miss her so much.”

  Chester wrapped a muscular arm around his wife’s shoulder, drawing her into his embrace. He kissed her head.

  Ruby, their eleven-year-old daughter, was next. She gave a wide smile. “I’m thankful for my mom and dad.” A giggle followed her announcement.

  Memories of Cara sitting in the same seat so long ago, saying similar things about the farm and her father, flooded Haddie’s mind. How she wished her friend could have been here. But she understood why it wasn’t possible.

  Thanksgivings made their way around the table until only Haddie and her father were left.

  Haddie twisted her hands in her lap then lowered her gaze. “I–I’m thankful for—” She faltered, choking on her words. “I’m thankful that my mother is no longer in pain.” She wanted to add walking in heaven with Jesus but her nose and throat had started to burn as she struggled to curb her tears.

  Dad reached over and squeezed her arm. “I’m so thankful for my beautiful daughter. I could not have gotten through Glenda’s illness without her. And I’m thankful that God has given Haddie to me for twenty-eight precious years. Happy birthday, sweetheart.” He rose from his chair to give Haddie a hug.

  Everyone broke out in song, singing “Happy Birthday” to Haddie.

  After the pumpkin pie dessert, the women helped Haddie to clear the table and wash and dry the dishes. Once everyone had left, Haddie and her dad retired to the living room and the crackling fire with a mug of hot chocolate.

  The house suddenly seemed deathly quiet, only the popping, sizzling, and snapping sounds coming from the hearth breaking the silence as they sipped their hot drinks and stared at the dancing flames.

  She needed to have this conversation with her dad, while his spirits were lifted from the evening shared with friends. The mere thought sent Haddie’s heart racing, but she needed to be brave, ask the questions, and wait for him to deny it…to confirm her mother had been delusional on her deathbed.

  She leaned against the sofa’s armrest, then tucked her socked feet to her side. The semi-fetal position didn’t do much to calm her. She filled her lungs.

  “D–Dad, I–I have something I need to ask you…something Mom told me before she lapsed into a coma. She said that I should talk to you.”

  Lines rippled her father’s forehead as he turned his attention from the flames to Haddie.

  “What is it, sweetheart? Did your mom think you need a new car, or horse? You just say it and it’s yours.”

  Haddie shook her head. “No, Dad. The only thing I need is information.” Confirmation that what her mother had said wasn’t true. “M–mom told me that I was adopted at birth. I… Is that true?”

  Pursing his lips, Dad lowered his gaze. Not a good sign.

  Haddie swallowed hard. “It’s true, isn’t it?”

  Her father exhaled a heavy sigh before shifting his gaze back to Haddie. “Your mother and I tried for many years to start a family, but it just wasn’t meant to be. After I inherited Bluegrass Stud Farm from your late grandfather, we started the process to adopt a baby—we’d tried too long to conceive.

  “It seemed that our being well-off, established, and living far away from your biological mother played in our favor when she made her decision to choose us as the adoptive family.”

  The room swirled around Haddie. So it was true.

  For the second time in a week, Haddie felt her world crumbling.

  She stared at her father as he spoke. This man she’d looked up to and loved her entire life suddenly seemed like a stranger to her. It would take time to process this truth, for life and their relationship to return to normal.

  Dad smiled at her. “You were meant to be our Christmas baby. Instead you surprised us all, came a month earlier than expected, and became our Thanksgiving baby instead.” Dad’s grin widened, creasing the skin on his tanned cheeks. “We weren’t complaining about welcoming you into our lives earlier though.”

  Haddie remained silent as the thought that she was adopted pummeled her mind.

  “Sweetheart, this doesn’t change anything. You’re my daughter…always have been, always will be.”

  Oh, Dad, this changes everything.

  But how could she say that to him. He’d already lost
so much.

  “C–can you tell me anything about her? My biological mother?”

  Dad shrugged. “Not an awful lot, I’m afraid. Her name, according to your original birth certificate and the adoption agency was Kayleigh Scott. Of course, by now, that could’ve changed…she might’ve married.”

  “S–so she was a young unmarried mother?” That must be why she’d given Haddie away. Too young to look after a baby.

  “No, she wasn’t. We only met her once, before you were born, but she was in her late thirties. She’d be in her mid-sixties today.”

  Sixties? At that age, she might not even be alive.

  Haddie’s heart squeezed.

  Seriously? She’d never get to meet the woman.

  It’s possible. Children reunite with their biological parents all the time.

  “Y–you said she lived far away. Was it Portland, where I was born?” Haddie had always assumed her parents had lived there for a while. They’d never let anything slip to the contrary.

  “Again, according to your original birth certificate, she came from a small town on the Oregon coast called Chapel Cove.”

  “Oh. Anything else you can tell me about her?”

  Dad shook his head. “No…except, she was insistent that we name you Haddie. It was a bonus that we liked the name, and it worked well with our surname your mother thought.” At the mention of the woman who had raised Haddie from birth, and the love of his life, her father’s voice cracked. His eyes moistened and he quickly closed them, pressing his fingers against their lids for a moment. He blew out a heavy sigh and continued. “W–we decided it wouldn’t hurt to honor the woman’s wish. Maybe she wanted you named after her own mother? Who knows?” He shrugged then lifted the mug to his lips.

  Haddie did the same. Ugh, lukewarm. She swallowed the tepid liquid anyway. It wasn’t nearly as unpleasant as swallowing Dad’s news, or the question she needed to ask next.