by Holly Jacobs
“Ban,” Carey said from behind me. “I don’t want to do this.”
I turned. “Tough. I’m going out for coffee. I’ll be home in two hours, and I’d like you to be gone. If you’ve left anything, I’ll send it to you later. Leave your key.”
I grabbed my purse, stuffed the papers Ned had handed me into it, and walked down the block to the coffee shop. I thought about sitting inside, but I couldn’t face running into someone I knew, so I ordered a coffee, took it down a few more blocks to the park, and found an empty bench.
I set the coffee down and pulled the papers out of my purse and realized that my hands were trembling. It was as if all the emotions I couldn’t let myself feel had at last found an outlet. The paper actually rattled. I placed the sheets on my lap and took a deep breath.
I’d spent so much of my life imagining this woman, and here was something from her.
Ned had said that his wife had never forgotten me.
I hadn’t asked if he was my father. I hadn’t asked anything. But I was pretty sure from the way he spoke that he wasn’t.
After a few minutes, I felt calm enough to look at the papers. They were a letter.
Dear Amanda,
Merry Christmas. It’s evening now, and you were on my mind all day.
I bought you a car charm this year. I wonder if you’re driving. If you are, be careful. I worry. I’m sure your mom and dad do, too.
I spent the day with my parents and a man I care about. At first I worried that I didn’t feel the same passion for him that I had felt for your father, but I’ve realized that I’m no longer a child and maybe a quiet caring is better.
You’re sixteen now. I was sixteen when you were born.
My mother had written this when I was sixteen? Twelve years ago.
Some kids hated high school, but I’d loved it. Every moment of it. I’d had such a carefree childhood. But here was my biological mom telling me that she’d had a baby at sixteen.
I’d never blamed her for giving me up for adoption, but suddenly I realized that my biological mother had been just a kid when she had me. Would I have been equipped to make such a big decision? I didn’t think so.
I tried to concentrate on the words as I read on.
My biological father had denied I was his. His name was Mick Grant—so Ned wasn’t my biological father—and he played basketball. My biological mother had been a geek.
She’d gone to stay with an aunt in Ohio to have me.
She’d handpicked my parents and still had their letter . . .
I haven’t read it in years, but they described themselves as normal and average. Your father was a professor and your mother was an elementary school teacher. They sounded like my parents, and I knew I couldn’t give you a greater gift than parents who were as wonderful as mine.
I caught only a glimpse of them as they picked you up. They looked normal. Bland even.
Until the nurse handed you to your mom.
At that moment, they were transformed. Your mom was so beautiful. They were head over heels in love with you. And in that split second, I knew they were meant to be your parents.
And so I let you go.
But that briefest of glimpses has been something I’ve held on to all these years.
I hope they were—are—as marvelous as my parents are.
I started to cry. My parents had been marvelous. They’d loved me unconditionally and had supported me. Always.
After my mother died, my father limped along, half of a whole for a long time. Then he’d found Margo.
I know some people feel bitter toward stepparents, but Margo had never tried to take my mother’s place with me or with Dad for that matter. She’d offered me friendship, and over the years I’d come to count on it.
My biological mother had gotten her wish; she’d given me a wonderful family. I thought about what my mother had said, how she’d suffered thinking she’d never have children. But when she’d adopted me, she’d known that she was always meant to be my mother.
My biological mother had now said the same thing.
I kept reading. As the copied letter ended, I was crying even harder.
It’s midnight, Amanda. Another Christmas is over. I hope it was a wonderful one for you. I hope it was filled with love, laughter, and family.
Know you’ve been in my thoughts all day. You’re in my thoughts every day.
Love,
Piper
I didn’t have a tissue so I wiped at my face with the back of my hand. And suddenly what Ned had said really sank in. The woman who’d given birth to me and had written this letter so full of love—yes, that’s exactly what stood out in her letter: love—this woman was sick. I was her last best hope, he’d said.
There was a scrawled note after the photocopied pages.
Siobhan,
Your mother wrote an entire journal to you over the course of years. She talked to you about so many things. I pulled this one section out of context. One reason is if you never come see us, you at least have your birth father’s name. And though the journal excerpt doesn’t make it clear, your mom is Piper George. She’s Pip to her readers.
I’m sure you noticed how she addressed the note . . . Dear Amanda. She didn’t know your real name until I found you your senior year of high school. She held you for an hour after you were born and in her heart, you were always Amanda. She doesn’t say it here, but she called that name as the nurse handed you to your parents. The fact your parents gave it to you as a middle name, well, it says something about them. I’m hoping their generous spirit is something they instilled in you. I hope you call me and try to help Pip. She’d be the first to say that you don’t owe her anything. I’d say you owe her everything, even if you don’t know it.
If this is the only contact we ever have, know she’s loved you and thought of you every day of your life. And know that you’ve always had a home with us, a family with us, even if you never knew it.
Love, Ned
I’m not sure how long I sat there after I finished Ned’s letter. I know I never drank my coffee. My mind went in circles.
Piper George.
My biological mother was Piper George. She was the author, Pip.
I’d grown up reading her books. Now she was sick. She needed me.
Her husband loved her.
I reread the letters from Piper and Ned, and sometime after that, I walked home.
I don’t remember walking home.
I did notice that Carey’s car was gone, and when I opened the door, I saw his key on the foyer table. I waited to feel relief, or regret, but all I felt was anxious to find my books. I didn’t check to see what Carey had taken with him. I simply went up to the attic and started tearing through boxes. I finally found them under a box of Christmas decorations.
Julie and Auggie.
Terry the Terrible.
Beautiful Belle.
The Hunt for Bigfoot and Other Wonders of the Eighth Grade.
B Is for Bully.
These books were old friends.
When I was younger, Pip had been my favorite author. She’d seemed to understand what school was like. I remembered reading The Hunt for Bigfoot and Other Wonders of the Eighth Grade. I’d been that girl. Tall. Gangly. And in a sea of developing friends I was as flat as a pancake.
I’d told my mom that I was pretty sure I had some horrible disease. I remember that she’d said things happen in their own time, and then she’d bought me Pip’s book. As a teacher and an avid reader, she’d always felt that all the answers to all the world’s questions could be answered in the pages of some book.
For a moment, I thought I’d start with that book, but then I spotted Felicity’s Folly. I flipped to the front of the book and found the dedication.
“For Amanda.”
Clutching the note and the book, I cried again for the mother I’d lost and the mother I’d inadvertently found. I cried for Ned, who wore his heart on his sleeve as he begged me to help Piper.
I didn’t cry over losing Carey.
Chapter Two
“Every epic journey starts with just one step,” Patty said.
“Then maybe it’s a good thing I have such big feet,” Eileen said.
“Why?”
“Because I’ll get to where I’m going that much sooner.”
—The Hunt for Bigfoot and Other Wonders of the Eighth Grade, by Pip
I stayed up all that night and reread every Pip books I owned. Each one was dedicated to Amanda.
I traced each letter of my middle name. I wondered about this woman who’d given birth to me and then had given me to my parents. She’s obviously thought about me. According to Ned, she’d thought about me often.
When I woke up that afternoon, I called Ned.
Now, three days after breaking up with Carey and finding Ned on my front porch, I was in my car heading east on I-90, driving toward Erie, Pennsylvania. The autumn leaves made the drive picturesque, but it was the occasional view of Lake Erie that drew my attention.
Piper and Ned lived in Erie, on the shore of the same Great Lake as my Port Clinton, Ohio, home.
My parents had taken me to Erie one summer when I was a teen. We’d stayed at a cottage on the peninsula, and I’d spent a long weekend swimming in that lake and boating through its lagoons. And as I vacationed all those years ago, my birth mother had been in the same city, thinking about me.
When I was growing up, I’d noticed every redheaded woman and wondered if she was my biological mother.
She could have lived anywhere. Europe, the West Coast, Alaska. In reality, she’d lived a short drive from my home.
I’d visited her city as a child.
The day after Ned’s visit, I’d gone and talked to my dad. He’d been just as supportive as I knew he’d be. “You have to get the test and see if a match, sweetheart. Even if it’s a long shot, it’s still a chance. Your mother would expect nothing less from you.”
I knew that Mom would have been the first one to help me pack a suitcase. Mom was the most caring person I’d ever met.
Normally when I thought about her, I cried. Still. After all these years. But not today.
I hadn’t cried since the day of Ned’s visit. Maybe if he hadn’t come, I’d have thought of last Wednesday as the day that Carey left. But the enormity of Ned’s news trumped the official demise of a relationship that was over months ago.
Before Ned had knocked on my door, I’d been wondering about the next chapter in my life. The Carey-less chapter. I’d worried. I didn’t know what it would look like.
Now, this next chapter was the meeting Piper chapter.
I wondered if it would be a short chapter or a long one.
I hoped it would be a good one. No matter what I found in Piper George, I hoped that as this chapter came to a close, she’d be well again.
My family doctor had talked to Piper’s doctor and then had arranged my test in Port Clinton. All that was left was to wait for the results. Between my doctor and the Internet, I’d learned that the best chance of a bone marrow match came from siblings. Child to parent or parent to child matches weren’t nearly as common. According to my doctor, I was a long shot. I tried to remind myself that my dad was right—a long shot was better than no shot.
I-90 snaked east from Port Clinton toward Erie. After I went through Cleveland, the traffic thinned.
I tried to stop worrying and concentrate on the fall beauty that was very much a part of the lakeshore. The trees that bordered the interstate here were brilliant reds, oranges, and yellows. Every now and then a V of geese flew into view through my car’s windshield and then disappeared toward the south. On the ground, a group of geese is called a gaggle, but in the air it’s known as a skein.
I liked that.
Different names for different perspectives.
The clouds were those puffy white autumnal clouds that spoke of cool days and the winter to come.
Most days this kind of beauty could distract me from almost any worry, but not today. My stomach was in knots.
I turned on the radio, but I found stations fading in and out of range annoying so tried my iPod. I put it on shuffle mode, but I couldn’t make myself sing along. I was simply too anxious about my arrival in Erie. I had no idea what I would find.
I wasn’t accustomed to going into a situation blind, and I found very little to recommend the experience. Maybe that’s why I’d put off finding my birth mother. I wasn’t good at diving into the unknown. As a programmer, I was used to concrete parameters: if X then Y; if Y then Z.
I’d told my business partner, Jaylin, that I was officially on vacation for a few weeks. We had no pressing projects, and she’d readily agreed.
When she asked why, I used the breakup with Carey as an excuse. I hadn’t told Jaylin about Ned’s visit or Piper or Piper being sick. I knew I would eventually, but everything was happening too fast for me to process, much less share the details with anyone other than Dad.
My thoughts and emotions went round and round as I made the less than three-hour drive. Ned’s exit was just a mile away a sign proclaimed.
Despite the butterflies in my stomach, I felt a weird calm.
As I turned off the exit, my thoughts and emotions simply stopped, and all that was left was a feeling of flatness.
Ned had offered to let me stay in the house he’d lived in before he’d married Piper. After, he’d moved in with her, they’d kept his for others to use whenever there was a need.
I wanted to ask what kind of need, but I didn’t. I wanted to ask who kept a house and then just loaned it out to other people, but I didn’t ask that, either.
Our two conversations on the phone had been short and perfunctory. I didn’t know what to say to him, and I don’t think he knew what to say to me.
Ned said I was welcome to stay at his house for the night or for as long as I wanted to stay. He was leaving the key under the doormat for me.
I thought his offer showed a great deal of empathy. Staying at his house would allow me to be close to my biological mother without being, well, too close.
My GPS told me to take the next exit and informed me the road I was turning on to was Peach Street.
It was a busy road. Stores and restaurants lined the street. Some of the names I recognized; some I didn’t. Jaylin would be squealing with glee at the sight of so many shopping opportunities. Me? I preferred shopping online. It seemed so much easier. Need something? In just a couple of clicks, it was on its way to your front door.
I drove down Peach Street until the GPS had me turn right on to Thirty-Eighth Street. There were a few businesses and then a sign for the Erie Zoo. The street became busier but more residential. There were a few nonresidential businesses, a VA Hospital, and then Mercyhurst University. Finally, I turned into a residential neighborhood.
Piper George might be a bestselling author, but she wasn’t playing lady of the manor. This was a very middle class neighborhood.
After I’d read the older Piper George books I owned, I’d looked her up on the Internet. She’d done a lot of writing in the last decade. Books I’d never read. Given all her books, I’d expected some kind of gated community or at least a suburban McMansion.
The neighborhood I found myself driving in wasn’t either of those things. I pulled on to a quiet street. On the south side was a huge, sprawling school with the standard playground next to it. I watched the house numbers on the north side of the street. The GPS alerted me that I had arrived, and I finally pulled up in front of the number Ned had given me. It was a small brick home with a flair of Tudor styling at the peak. Those wooden beams sort of framed it all in. It had a family feel.
I could have pulled in the driveway, but I didn’t want to announce that I’d arrived. I wanted a moment or two to collect myself before I went over to meet my birth mother.
I got out of the car and looked at her house.
Piper George’s house.
My biological mother’s hou
se.
It was brick as well but more of a Cape Cod style. It had a large front porch that ran along the entire front of the house.
I could walk across the small yard and up on that porch. I could just knock and meet the woman I’d spent my life wondering about.
I could, but I didn’t.
Instead, I grabbed my small suitcase and went to Ned’s old house and let myself in with the key he had indeed left under the mat.
The interior was spartan but serviceable. There was a couch, a recliner, and a big television in the living room. I went to the back of the house and found a small but functional kitchen.
I’d told Ned I was coming today, but he hadn’t asked me about a time so there were no expectations on his part. Even though I’d parked on the street, I was pretty sure he’d see the Ohio license plate on my car and know it was me.
He said he wouldn’t say anything to Piper until I was ready. And I wasn’t ready yet.
I walked into the dining room. I could see Piper’s house through the windows. And over a solid wooden fence, I could make out a lot of fading fall greenery spiced up by punctuations of autumnal colors in her backyard.
Curious, I went upstairs to get a better look.
I walked into the closest back bedroom, sure that I’d have a better vantage point. I dropped my suitcase on the floor and found a barely clothed man sprawled out on the bed sleeping. Whether he was sleeping soundly or had simply closed his eyes I couldn’t be sure because the moment I spotted him I said, “Oh,” and turned to leave.
But not before noticing that the boxers he wore were black and covered with little yellow smiley faces.
“Hey, wait,” Mr. Naked Smiley Face called.
I rushed out of the room, slamming the door behind me. “I’m so sorry. Ned said no one would be here.”
I realized I had left my suitcase in the room, but I didn’t go back for it. I mean, I could replace everything in it with one quick Internet shopping trip. I could even break down and go to a store. So I simply hurried down the stairs. I heard the door upstairs open and then footsteps following me down the stairs.
