by Mary Manners
Rebecca’s breath caught. O negative happened to be her blood type, as well. What were the chances…?
She started a list: Birthday, check. Blood type, check. Adopted, double check. And the uncanny resemblance—
“Rebecca? Are you there?” A knock on the door, followed by the sound of Cole’s voice, startled her.
“Just a minute.” She realized she was crying. She reached for a tissue from the box on her desk and cleared her throat as she swiped her eyes.
“May I come in? I need to talk to you.”
“Yes, of course.” Rebecca gathered the papers and smoothed her blouse. “The door’s unlocked.”
“Thanks.” The knob turned and he stepped inside. His tie was loose again, and his gray eyes were shadowed. The feelings she had for him came rushing back. She remembered the kindness he’d shown her not so many years ago. “I don’t mean to intrude.”
“You’re not. Come in.” She glanced at her watch, urging her pulse to steady. “You’re early.”
“Yeah. I rescheduled my last appointment.” His gaze captured hers. “Are you crying?”
She shifted in the seat, dipping her head as she smoothed her skirt. “I, um…just a little.”
He leaned against the wall, jamming his hands into his pockets. “We need to talk.”
“I think so, too.”
“Sounds serious.” His lips curved into a tentative grin as he stumbled for a bit of humor, though the look in his eyes was uncertain. “Time for fingerprints, huh?”
“You could say that.”
Cole nodded, stepping away from the wall. He slipped into a chair across the desk across from her. “I’m not sure I’m going to like this.”
Rebecca paused a heartbeat, two. Her voice caught. “I think you have my daughter.”
****
Though he had an idea they were coming, the words were a blow to Cole. “Kimmy? She’s my daughter.”
“But you adopted her.”
“So, that doesn’t make her any less my child.”
“Or any less mine.”
“If she is yours.”
Rebecca handed him the list. “The proof is evident. How could you do this, Cole? You must have known there was more to the story the adoption counselor fed you.”
He scanned what she’d written, his pulse raging with each item. With a heated burst of frustration, he tossed the note aside. “This is ludicrous. I assure you Kimmy’s adoption was above-board. I’d never—”
“You’re an attorney.” Her gaze narrowed in teary accusation. “You must have seen the parade of red flags.”
“There were no red flags, just a child who needed a family and a family who needed her.”
“I need her, Cole. I’ve been looking for over three years.”
“That doesn’t prove she’s your daughter.”
Rebecca stood to pace the length of the office. “You might be an attorney, Cole, but I know my rights, too. Kimmy and I have the same blood type.”
“O negative?” So, he’d finally found someone. He never imagined it would happen this way. He told himself the bite in her tone was fueled by frustration and fear. He remembered another time, at the arena, when hurt and vulnerability had reduced her to a puddle of tears. He’d shown gentleness then, and the effort had sliced through her pain. Could he manage to reach her now? “So do a million other people. It’s just a fluke, Becca.”
“She was born the same day as my daughter.”
A chill turned Cole’s nerves to ice. “Even so, that’s not proof.”
“There’s DNA testing.”
“You’d do that?”
“Of course, if I have to.” She dabbed her nose with the tissue. “I’d hope you’d agree to it and cooperate. It’s the least you can do.”
“And if the testing proves she’s your daughter, Becca, at least genetically…?” He shook his head as his efforts at gentleness waned. With great effort, he steadied his voice. “You’d try to take Kimmy from everything she knows and loves?”
“I…I never thought of it this way…that my daughter would be happy and healthy, in the care of a man who’s so capable—and who loves her so.”
The words tamed the anger seething just beneath his patience. “Even if she is your daughter, you’re not the only victim here, Becca. Kimmy’s a victim, too. So am I.” He lowered his voice as he rounded the desk to place a hand on her shoulder. “Put yourself in our shoes.”
“I’m sorry, Cole.” Tears spilled over as she pressed her cheek to his hand. “I never thought of it from her perspective.”
“Oh, Becca.” Her tears nearly undid Cole. He was on the precipice of losing everything he loved. What should he do—fight? And, if he chose that route, how would it affect Kimmy? What, if anything, was fair about the situation? Why was it happening? “This is a mess, isn’t it? I’m so sorry.”
“I don’t want to hurt Kimmy…or you.” She shuddered and gasped, leaning into him. “What are we going to do?”
A small voice inside nudged Cole. Put your fears aside and choose kindness, for Kimmy’s sake.
“It’s going to be OK.” He pulled another tissue from the box on her desk and handed it to her. “We’re both adults. We’ll work this out.”
“How?”
“I don’t know yet.” Cole uncrossed his arms and took a step toward her. “But we’ll find a way. I promise. I don’t want to be your enemy, Rebecca.” He touched her copper curls and stroked a palm down her tear-dampened cheek. “It won’t do either of us any good. Besides, I care about you too much to cause you any more pain. Let’s just take one step at a time and try to sort this out.”
“And Kimmy?”
“She knows she’s adopted. Leah and I told her from the time she was old enough to understand what it means. It’s never been a secret, Becca. But I don’t think we should say anything now, until we know for sure…until we’ve sorted this out.”
“And then?”
“God will take care of things, Bec. If I know nothing else for certain, at least I’m sure of that.”
****
Rebecca stared through the office window as Cole and Kimmy crossed the parking lot. They were a pair, hands clasped as Kimmy skipped to keep up with him. A paper flapped in one hand as the breeze caught it—a drawing Kimmy had sketched during playtime.
Her chatter drifted through the open window along with the scent of fresh-mowed grass. Rebecca swiped a hand across her tear-stained cheek as she listened.
“Miss Rebecca’s nice, Daddy. She has lots of puzzles, and all kinds of toys and books. And she can braid, Daddy.” Kimmy showed him her woven hair; Rebecca had fixed it for her while they waited for the other children to arrive that morning.
“It’s beautiful, sweetie.”
“Maybe she can come to our house.” Kimmy tilted her head to gaze up at Cole. “And you can cook macaroni and cheese, and she can meet Buttercup.”
Rebecca pressed a fist to her mouth to stifle a sob. The vision was almost more than she could bear.
“What if she doesn’t like cats?” Cole’s voice was strained. Rebecca imagined he struggled to hide his emotions for Kimmy’s sake.
“Everyone likes cats, Daddy. Especially cuddly cats like Buttercup.”
“I don’t know…”
“Can we ask her, Daddy? Pretty please?”
“Is that what you really want?”
“Oh, yes, Daddy. I do.”
8
“What are you doing here, Cole?” Rebecca asked as she opened the door of her house the next afternoon.
“I promised you dinner.” Dark smudges shadowed her pretty eyes, and Cole’s heart tugged. Her tears tore at him.
“Are you kidding?” Rebecca frowned and stepped back as if he’d slapped her. “Under the circumstances, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Just hear me out.” Cole stepped forward, filling the doorway. Rebecca’s silver locket caught the light, and Cole knew now what the two hearts represented. He reache
d for it, grasping the hearts between his fingers. “The circumstances—this locket—are just the reason we need to go to dinner.”
“I’m not hungry, Cole.” She swatted his hand away and tucked the necklace beneath the collar of her blouse. “I couldn’t eat a bite.”
“I figured. That’s why I came early. We’re going skating first.” Cole stood his ground. “It’s good for the appetite. Grab a jacket and some mittens.”
“Cole—”
“And, if you still have your skates. Bring them, too.”
Tears suddenly pooled in Rebecca’s eyes. “Where’s Kimmy?”
“She’s with Patty and Derek.”
“Derek?”
“Patty’s husband.”
“Did you tell Patty what’s happened?”
“No. The doctor has put her on bed rest, and I don’t want her to worry about me. Any hint of this and she’d most likely ignore the doctor’s orders and be back on her feet. I won’t be responsible for that.”
The tears spilled over to stream down her pale cheeks. “I want to see Kimmy.”
“I know.”
“This isn’t fair, Cole.”
“For any of us.”
“But mostly for me.” She drew a breath, sniffling. “I didn’t consent to the adoption. I didn’t know…”
“Neither did I.” He was quiet a moment. “Kimmy’s birthday is tomorrow.”
“I’m well aware of that.”
“Please, Becca.” He tucked a curl behind her ear and smoothed his knuckles across her cheek. “This is almost too much…let’s just get away from it for a bit; go back in time for a while, to when things weren’t so confused. I think we both need that right now.”
“I need much more than that, Cole.”
“I know, and that will come later. But, for now…”
“OK.” Rebecca’s gaze softened and she sighed. She smiled through drying tears as she stepped back from the doorway. “Come in while I get my jacket…and my skates.”
****
“I just can’t do this.” Rebecca plopped down on a wooden bench at rink side. “It doesn’t look the same. Nothing looks the same…or feels the same.”
“Those banners are the same.” Cole motioned to the rafters, where a row of crimson and gold banners hung. “They’ve been hanging nearly a decade, but I remember when the Hurricanes won that state title.”
“I do, too. You were in the net.”
“You came to watch?” Surprise flickered in his widened eyes.
“I wouldn’t have missed it.”
“Things don’t have to be the same, Becca. Different doesn’t mean worse.” He offered a lopsided grin, and the chill in Rebecca’s heart thawed just a little. “They can be better instead.”
“I don’t see how.”
“Take my hand.” He reached for hers, clad in hunter-green mittens that matched the scarf wrapped loosely at her neck. “Let me show you.”
Rebecca followed him to an opening in the boards. Without hesitation, he plunged right onto the ice and then turned to beckon her. “Come on, Bec. You can do it.”
She took a tentative step. The first push-off felt wobbly, the second a bit better. The third had her gaining speed and whizzing by Cole, gliding as though she’d never left. The wind in her hair, coupled with a string of deep, cool breaths, freed her.
“Wait for me!” Cole shouted as she executed a toe-loop and then slipped into a blinding spin. When she came out of it, Cole was waiting.
“You’re just as beautiful on the ice now as you were back then—more.”
She adjusted the scarf, her pulse stammering as she studied him carefully. “How do you know?”
“I used to watch you from the glass—up there.” He motioned to the observation deck. “That afternoon, when I saw you crying, it tore me up inside.”
She gasped as a flash of heat coursed up her spine, chasing away the chill of the ice. “You were so kind to me that day.”
“What made you cry, Bec?”
“My grandmother who raised me after my parents died had just passed away. We were very close. She’s the reason I skated. She encouraged me. She never missed a competition or a performance.”
“I remember.” Cole pointed toward the stands. “She carried a yellow and green patchwork lap blanket and always sat right there.”
“That’s right.”
Cole paused a moment, then took her hand once more. “I have a confession, Becca.”
“I’m not sure I can stomach any more of those.” Her lips tickled at the corners as her voice teased.
“I had the most colossal crush on you—for more than a year.”
“But you never said…”
“Because you started dating Steve, and then I met Leah.” He took her hand and led her across the ice. “I loved Leah, truly. I still—”
“Don’t, Cole.”
“This is coming out all wrong.” He spun once in a wide arc, the skate blades scratching along the ice, before pausing to face her again. “It just seemed like we were meant to be together. I thought…”
“Let’s just skate.”
“We will, but I have to get this out first.” He eased toward her. “After Leah died, I sometimes wondered what had happened to you…where you were, what you were doing.”
“We’re not the same people, Cole. Too much time has passed.”
“I don’t believe that, Becca, because when I saw you again, I felt…alive.”
“What are you saying?”
“My feelings are all jumbled. It’s been so much, so fast. It’s nearly impossible to digest.”
“I know.” She dipped her head. “Because I feel something, too.”
“What is it?” He slipped a finger beneath her chin, coaxed her gaze to meet his once again. “Tell me, Becca.”
“I don’t…” She shook her head. “I don’t know, Cole. There were times that I watched you and I thought…I felt. But you never said anything, never let on that you wanted anything more than the friendship we shared. And then Steve came along.” It was Rebecca’s turn to skate away and spin a quick circle. The motion should have chased all thought from her head, but only served to intensify the memories. Breathless, she jammed her toe pick into the ice and stopped abruptly, facing him. “I’m so confused. Maybe—yes…I do feel something for you, but I’m not sure what it is, exactly.”
“Will this help?” He pulled her in, kissed her forehead, her cheek, before claiming her lips.
“Oh, Cole.” The arena was spinning, yet she stood perfectly still. Blood rushed through her ears as her pulse hammered. It was difficult to draw a breath. “I just need some time.”
“I understand, Bec. Really I do.” He leaned in to stroke damp hair from her cheek. “Let’s spend some time together to know for sure…to find out.”
“Are you sure, Cole, that this isn’t just because of Kimmy…and what’s happened?”
“I’m not sure of anything, except that when I’m with you I feel…” He dropped her hand and skated ahead. “Come on, skate with me.”
9
Cole slipped from bed and padded to the kitchen. Moonlight filtered through the window, casting shadows across the room. Outside, a starlit sky beckoned. He filled the coffeemaker and grabbed a mug from the cabinet. There would be no sleeping tonight.
Down the hall, Kimmy snuggled like a burrito, wrapped in her blankets and breathing softly. He’d spent an hour reading to her tonight, stretched out in the bed beside her, until she’d finally drifted off. Her movements—the tilt of her jaw, the way she scratched an itch from her nose, reminded him of Becca. They looked so much alike, it was impossible not to see the connection. Kimmy’s burnished hair, still damp from a bath, fanned out along the pillow like flames. Cole stroked the smooth, freckled cheek and kissed her forehead before heading to his own room to catch some sleep. But sleep hadn’t come. Questions invaded, jumbling his thoughts until he finally gave up.
He filled the mug with muddy brew and strode th
rough the patio door and onto the deck. An Adirondack chair beckoned as a cool breeze whispered through the trees. The sky was brilliant with stars, and he wondered if Becca sat watching the symphony of light.
Becca…the kiss they’d shared jumpstarted his heart. There was no turning back now. Where would it lead?
Cole eased into the chair and drew a sip of coffee. The heat scalded going down and made him think of Becca once more, and the coffee she’d shared with him in her office mere days ago.
Prior to their reunion his world had been normal—whatever that meant—filled with legal cases and storybooks and trips to the park to push Kimmy on a swing. There were romps through the yard with the cat following at their heels, dinners of macaroni and cheese, and coloring books before bedtime. The routine was simple, mindless…comfortable.
But that comfort had exploded in the course of a single sentence—I think you have my daughter.
How easy would it be for Cole to use his connections to sort this out—at least the legal side of it? His emotions were another matter altogether. The very idea losing Becca again shredded his heart. Because I love her. What’s the answer, Lord? What should I do?
They’d have to find a way through this mess…a way to each other and the blessings he felt certain God had waiting. Cole drew a sip of coffee and closed his eyes. His question was answered by the stars…unseen when his eyes were closed but still there, still brilliant. Becca, was like those stars. A document might declare her to be gone from Kimmy’s life, but she remained just the same…in the color of Kimmy’s hair, the shape of her eyes, her blood type…
…in his heart.
When Cole opened his eyes again, the stars shone like precious diamonds nestled in a velvet case. He leaned back and sighed.
I’m listening, Lord. I hear you. Help Becca to hear you, as well. My love for her is true, steady, and enduring.
****
Rebecca tossed the paperback onto the coffee table and stood to stretch the kinks from her back. There was no use trying to read…tears blurred her vision and the words were nothing more than a muddy pool that made no sense at all.
