The Girl of Sand & Fog

by Ward, Susan

  I quickly search through the attachment. No last known address for his birth mother, but the dad is in Lodi, California.

  Lodi? Lodi? Lodi?

  Where the fuck is that?

  I do a Google map search.

  Oh crap, that’s not far.

  Isn’t there a song about Lodi?

  I Google again. Yep, there’s a song by Creedence Clearwater Revival. I don’t like the lyrics. Stuck in Lodi again. Doesn’t sound like a great place for a milestone moment.

  Bobby doesn’t even want to find his birth parents.

  Maybe I should leave it alone.

  My other secret reminds me why I shouldn’t.

  “What are you sitting there plotting?”

  I look up to find Bobby standing in the bathroom door—smelling good, looking good—waiting expectantly with only a towel draped around his hips.

  I flush. “Nothing.”

  He goes to his bag and pulls out a pair of shorts. “You’re a terrible liar. Do you know that, Kaley?” He drops his towel and pulls on his shorts, and then sinks down beside me on the bed. “Are you going to tell me what you’re hiding from me? Something has been going on with you for weeks.”

  I debate.

  He waits.

  Fuck. No point delaying even if this room is not the scene I pictured in my head. I rummage through my bag, pull out the small case I carry my tampons in, kiss him on the cheek, curl into his side, and drop the white stick with the blue cross onto his lap.

  “There, that’s my secret,” I announce, anxiously trying to read his reaction. “I don’t know if this is good or bad. We haven’t really talked about kids. Blue means pregnant.”

  I wait. He’s just staring at the stick. He looks like he’s in shock.

  “Aren’t you going to say something, Bobby? You better say something soon or I’m going to freak out—”

  It happens so fast—being pulled into his arms, crushed into his chest, and his mouth closing in on mine—that the last of my rambling words are trapped in my throat.

  When he finally pulls back, he’s breathing like he just ran a marathon. “Oh fuck. I’m going to be a father. How? When?”

  I make a face at him. “How? Really? You just asked me how?”

  He laughs, but the entire surface of his body is trembling. “Oh God, I can’t breathe.”

  “Can’t breathe? Is that good or bad?”

  His expression makes tears rise to my eyes. “Good. Definitely good. How could you ask me that, Kaley?” He lies back on the bed, taking me with him and holding me close. “We’re going to be parents. We’re going to have our own family. I’m going to have my own family.”

  This time the tears give way as I pick up on what he hasn’t said: a connection to someone by blood. Absolute. From the start. No unanswered questions. No missing pieces. Complete.

  God, how foolish I am at times. I shouldn’t have worried even for a second about telling him. I should have known how he’d take it, how important us having a baby someday would be to him even if we haven’t discussed it.

  I kiss him on his chest. “Pretty wonderful, huh?”

  He stares at me, his eyes sparkling. “How long have you known?”

  “Two months.”

  His brows lower. “Two months? And you didn’t tell me.”

  “I didn’t want you to think that the only reason I agreed to marry you was because you knocked me up.”

  He stills, anxiously studying me. “It isn’t, is it?”

  “No. Of course not.” I settle into him, moving an arm across his stomach and this time holding him. “So this pretty much seals the deal. We need to go home. Tell the families we got married and that you knocked me up.”

  Bobby grimaces. “Oh, this is going to go over great with your dad. Can you use a different word when you tell him that you’re pregnant?”

  We both erupt into laughter.

  Once he’s calmed, I lean up and gaze down at him, smiling. “Can you imagine how crazy your mom is going to be when she finds out she’s going to be a grandmother? We definitely need to figure out where we want to live. I need to see a doctor soon. I’m in my third month. And we need a home.”

  He inhales deeply then exhales loudly. His hands take hold of my face. “Whatever you want. That’s what we’ll do.”

  I shrug. “I don’t know what I want. I haven’t gotten to thinking about that yet. I’ve been a little preoccupied with the how to tell you part.”

  His hand moves slowly under my shirt and starts to inch upward to my breasts. “I know what I want. I want to make love to you. Right now. This second.”

  He turns me beneath him on the bed. “It better be more than a second,” I warn between kisses, “or you are definitely going to be sleeping in the other bed the rest of the night.”

  He has me half undressed before I stop him.

  “Wait. There is something else I have to tell you, Bobby.”

  “Now? Can’t it wait?”

  I shake my head, pull away from him, grab my tablet and click it on.

  Bobby falls back on the bed, groaning. “Kaley, what are you doing?”

  I open the attachment but I don’t let him see it yet.

  “I’ve done something I need to tell you about.”

  His eyes shoot open. “What?”

  He sounds alarmed.

  Damn, why did my voice have to sound all worried and shit?

  I search for the right words to ease into this. “I know what you said, how you feel about this, but I thought it was important because we’re having a baby.”

  He sits up, tense. “You thought what was important?”

  I clutch the tablet even more firmly against me. “Finding your birth parents.” Fuck. Everything in his body goes rigid. “Hear me out before you get angry, OK? I’m a mommy-to-be here so remember that before you get really pissed off. I know my parents. My genetic history. But I want to know yours, too. Those things are important when you’re having a baby.”

  He stares at me, the light completely gone from his eyes. “Fuck, what did you do, Kaley?”

  Oh crap.

  I don’t like the look on his face.

  This isn’t going to go well.

  I’ll just dump it between us, one dump, no more easing into it.

  “I asked Linda what agency you were adopted from. I filled out the forms—as you, by the way—to unseal your birth records. And my mom received the documents, scanned them and e-mailed them to me. I know who your birth parents are and where they live. At least, your birth dad. I know where he lives. There wasn’t a last known address for your birth mother, but maybe your dad knows and we can find her that way.”

  His jaw drops. “You did what?”

  I set the Surface onto the bed between us. “I found your father. He’s in Lodi. Less than two hours from us and, Bobby, we are going there tomorrow before we head back to Pacific Palisades. You just said whatever I want. I want to meet my child’s biological grandfather.”

  He springs from the bed, pacing and raking a hand through his hair. “I don’t know how you could do this without discussing it with me.”

  I follow his agitated movements. “I can do it because I love you and I’ve got your baby growing in me. That gives me a say in whether we find your birth parents or not.”

  He stops. “A say: yes. Total vote in decision process: no.”

  I pout. “Well, you got to make our last major decision all on your own.”

  “And what would that be?”

  I arch a brow. “That would be when you decided that not having a condom didn’t matter and we were doing it anyway. Your exact words, Bobby. And you were wrong. It did matter. One time not shooting into a cap and here I am pregnant.”

  A flush rises on his face. “That’s different. And how the fuck was I supposed to know you’re just like your mother? A fertility machine.”

  I stare at him, not really angry because I know I’ve pushed the limits with this, but I pretend to be angry. “We
ll, that was a crummy thing to say to your pregnant wife. You’re definitely sleeping in your own little double bed tonight.”

  His eyes scream I’m sorry but he doesn’t say it.

  Yep, he’s really pissed.

  Damn. Maybe I shouldn’t have done this.

  CHAPTER 34

  The next morning I open my eyes to find Bobby stretched out on the extra bed, wide awake and staring at the ceiling.

  Crap, I must have fallen asleep in the middle of the shitstorm and Bobby must have decided to be a jerk and not join me in bed.

  Time for the next round, I guess, but after last night I’m not sure that I want to continue the fight. We argued for hours about how I could have gone behind his back and done this. Bobby fluctuated between being really angry, really nervous about potentially meeting his birth dad, really apologetic because he shouldn’t be bickering with his pregnant wife, and round and round we went until my preggers body had had enough and it was hasta la bye-bye, Kaley.

  In between the discussion over how I could have done this, we debated whether to call his birth dad or just show up on his doorstep.

  I study his expression. I’m not sure what his mood is this morning, but I’m exhausted. The last thing I want is to be dragged into more discussion.

  I sit on the edge of the bed. “Get up, Bobby. Get dressed. Pack. We’re going to Lodi before we head back to Pacific Palisades. You can stay in the car if you want to, but if your birth dad is there I’m meeting him today. I don’t care what you say, I don’t care if you’re pissed at me, and we’re not discussing it anymore. Decision made. I’m going.”

  We dress in silence, pack up, climb into the car, grab breakfast at a drive-thru, and head out toward Lodi with nothing decided.

  I sit quietly in the car as we speed up Highway 99, pretending to focus on my meal as I try to read my husband’s face. He looks drained, worried, a little sad, and still a smidge angry with me.

  The tension between us is palpable.

  I hate when we’re emotionally out of sync.

  He is staring at the road ahead, jaw tight and fingers clenched around the steering wheel. Not good. Silent, brooding Bobby.

  I take a bite of my breakfast burrito. My stomach turns. Oh fuck, not morning sickness again. Not now. I try to fight down the bile in my mouth and it immediately fights to come back up.

  A ghastly sound escapes me.

  Bobby glances at me. The color drains from his face. “Kaley, what’s wrong?”

  Without answering him, I scramble for the bag with the remainder of our breakfast and start retching. The tires screech as he pulls off on the side of the freeway.

  His arm slips around my shoulders, supporting me. “Oh jeez, baby, I shouldn’t upset you. What a jerk I am. Fuck, is there anything I can do to help?”

  I shake my head, not daring to speak, not sure that it’s over. I wait. Oh, thank you, God. Nothing. I relax back into my seat, breathing rapidly.

  He starts to brush back the tumbling hair from my face. “Oh, baby, I’m sorry. That didn’t happen because we fought all night, did it?”

  A small laugh escapes me as I slowly open my eyes. “No, I got sick because I’m pregnant. I’ve been getting sick in the morning even after the nights we make love. Why do you think I’ve been spending so much time in the bathroom getting ready? I’ve been tossing my stomach into the toilet almost every day for five weeks now.”

  His gaze holds me like a gentle embrace. “I’m sorry about the sickness and I’m sorry about the fight. I would have rather made love to you last night. I hate fighting with you, Kaley.”

  “Me, too.”

  He kisses me lightly on my brow. “Do you feel well enough to do this today?”

  I nod, excited, since I can hear how much he wants to finish this trip to Lodi to meet his dad, even though he hasn’t said it.

  We drive the rest of the way in silence, but the tension is gone between us, and he’s extra cautious not to upset me or drive too fast.

  I ease close into his side from the passenger seat and let him put an arm around me. He drops a kiss on my curls and then I touch my lips to his neck.

  “So I’ve been thinking of names,” I announce randomly out of nowhere. “If it’s a girl, Alana. And if it’s a boy, Aldo.”

  Bobby’s expression is priceless. “You want to name a girl Alana? And a boy Aldo?”

  I fight not to laugh. “Variations of Alan. Pretty groovy, huh? That might score you some points with my dad.”

  He shudders, but he’s holding back a smile. Good. Even better. Yep, we’re back in a good place again.

  An hour later our GPS prompts us to a freeway off-ramp, and I sit up in my seat, more alertly studying the passing scenery. Well, Lodi isn’t awful, but it’s not exactly great. It looks like every other hole-in-the-wall town in Northern California. I’m a little apprehensive about what we’re going to find. I’m pretty sure we’re driving the only Aston Martin in this area.

  We cut through the city, making turn after turn, then onto a straight road that looks like it goes on forever. Vineyards line each side of the two lanes. It’s pretty and rural, and somewhere on this street is the house where Bobby’s birth dad lives.

  I turn in my seat and smile at him. “They make wine in Lodi. I didn’t know that.”

  “They make wine everywhere in California,” Bobby replies, his voice a little on edge.

  “Maybe your dad owns a winery.”

  He shakes his head, downshifting the car. “Nope, more likely works on one. Probably a day laborer. He’ll probably take one look at the car and ask me for a loan. I bet my dad is a total loser.”

  Oh crap. That doesn’t sound at all like Bobby, and I know he doesn’t mean it. He’s just being uncharacteristically negative to keep from getting his hopes up.

  “Your birth dad is not going to be a total loser. Your birth parents have to be good people to have a son as wonderful as you.”

  His gaze moves to pause briefly on mine. “I’m still not sure if this was a good idea, Kaley.”

  “Well, it’s too late. I think we’re here.”

  The GPS is yapping in its annoying voice to make a fast left and I quickly read the sign verifying it’s the right address.

  Bobby pulls to a stop at the giant billboard at the entrance of the driveway.

  I give him the stare. “Aha. Loser, huh? Willis & Sons Winery. He owns a freaking winery, Bobby. A pretty successful one, by the looks of it. Can you relax now? This isn’t going to be awful and he’s not going to hit you up for money.”

  Bobby puts the car back into gear. “Sons. The dude has other kids. I have brothers. Shit, maybe even sisters. Why didn’t they want me?”

  His jaw clenches.

  Oh damn.

  I didn’t take that sign the way Bobby did.

  I kiss his arm. “I don’t know. But since we’re going to find out very soon, why don’t we stop with the doom and gloom thoughts in your head?”

  We continue down the road and park in an empty gravel lot shaded by large oak and sycamore trees and surrounded by buildings. One is obviously the main house, a large wooden structure at least a hundred years old, and across the drive is a smaller replica labeled Tasting Room. Set back behind both structures is a larger building with floor-to-ceiling barn doors open.

  I quickly inspect the yard. “It’s beautiful here. Look, they have a small lake surrounded by grass with tables so people can have picnics. It seems like a very nice winery, Bobby.”

  Nothing. No comment. He’s just staring out the window. After a few minutes, I unbuckle my seat belt and pull the strap of my cross-body tote over my head.

  I open my door. “I’m going to go look around.”

  Bobby stops me with a hand. “No wait. Someone’s coming.”

  I turn in the direction of his gaze to catch a man exiting the largest outbuilding. The closer he gets, the faster my heartbeat. Oh my God: tall, lean-muscled build, light brown hair.

  Holy shit.


  “Hey, kid, nice car,” he says loud enough to be heard through the open windows, pointing at us as he continues walking toward the main house.

  I climb out of my seat and he turns to look at me over his shoulder. His eyes widen in that she’s gorgeous way, and he’s impressed enough by what he sees that he stops walking, pulls off his sunglasses and turns to face me.

  Big green eyes.

  My heart drops.

  Fuck, he can’t be more than thirty-five, but the resemblance is uncanny.

  Willis & Sons Winery?

  This guy has to be Bobby’s older brother.

  “The tasting room isn’t open yet,” he says politely into my stupor, “but it’s unlocked if you want to wait inside. I can be back in a few minutes.”

  “We’re not here to taste wine,” I hear Bobby announce. When I look he’s standing half in, half out of the car, staring across the roof. “I’m looking for Greg Willis. My name is Bobby—”

  “Rowan. You’re Bobby Rowan,” he exclaims in stunned disbelief.

  The color drains from the man’s face.

  Crap, I can tell he knows exactly why we’re here and has been catapulted into his own holy shit moment.

  The vineyard around us grows uncomfortably still.

  Why doesn’t someone say something?

  Fine. “Do you know where he is?” I ask.

  The man’s eyes shift back to me, and then he hurries across the gravel, extending his hand. “I’m Greg Willis. This is my dad’s winery. I run it with my brothers. And you are?”

  Oh my God, this hot, only slightly older version of Bobby is Greg Willis? His birth father? He couldn’t have been more than fourteen or fifteen when Bobby was born.

  I shake his outstretched hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Willis. I’m Kaley Rowan. I’m Bobby’s wife.”

  His eyes widen and then he smiles and steps back. Almost in slow motion, he turns toward Bobby. “I’m the man you’re looking for.”

  Bobby comes around the car, stopping close next to me. “My wife has some papers that indicate you are my father.”

  Greg nods. “Don’t need to see them. I can tell just by looking at you, Bobby. And I’ve waited a very long time to meet you.”