As Mason indulges our son in tales of football for the millionth time, my mind wanders back eighteen years to the day I first met my daughter. The day I said hello and goodbye to her all within an hour. The day I died until Mason brought me back to life.
Eighteen years. Eighteen years, two months and nine days since I’ve seen her, and she’s about to walk through that door any second.
Amber. That’s her name. It’s the only thing I know about her, other than the fact that she grew up in White Plains, just forty-nine miles from here. Thirty-three minutes away on the express train. So close that we’ve probably passed on the street. Or eaten in the same restaurant. Or gone to the same movie theater.
My unborn daughter must sense my anxiety as she’s doing somersaults in my stomach. I rub my hand across my belly, wondering if she will look like Amber did as a newborn.
I never had a picture. I didn’t need one. Even after all these years, her face is still etched into my memory as permanently as the rose is tattooed into my skin.
Then fear grips me and I think, not for the first time, that Amber might not want to know me. She might just want to meet me; getting some kind of closure to whatever story her parents may have told her about me. She may even hate me, especially when she sees I have other children. Children I chose to keep—not give away.
Mason and I debated postponing the meeting until after the baby came. But what it really boiled down to was that we wanted to dive into this head first—the way we’ve dealt with everything life has thrown at us since the day we got engaged. If it isn’t meant to be, we will accept it and move on, just like we did after my multiple miscarriages almost a decade ago.
I don’t know what to expect from this meeting. I’ve dreamed about this day for years. With Mason’s gentle urging, I registered my information on the adoption reunion website the day she turned eighteen. I never imagined she would do the same. But she did, and it only took a few months to get through the red tape and organize a meeting.
Before that, I didn’t know if she was even alive. Or if she was living in New York. Or if she had ever been told she was adopted. But whatever happens here, I know Mason has my back. He’s had my back since the day I walked off that plane all those years ago.
He encouraged me to get involved in community theater, and after a few years of that, to take some small roles in independent films produced by Gavin’s studio. But my heart was always at home with Hailey and Griff.
I look at Mason, in awe of the father he is with our children. He never raises his voice, even when fifteen-year-old Hailey tries to leave the house with a skirt that is three sizes too small. Just as he’s always been a leader and motivator on the field, he’s handled his kids with respect and grace, making our family cohesive. Significant. Strong.
He slips the chunky Super Bowl ring off his finger and lets Griff play with it as he tells him about the winning touchdown pass he threw to capture the title of MVP.
After eleven years as starting quarterback for the Giants, it was the last game he played before announcing his retirement two seasons ago. Everyone knew he had a good five years left in him, but he didn’t want to miss any more birthday parties. He didn’t want to hear about Hailey’s teenage accomplishments or Griff’s first tee-ball game from me. He wanted to live those moments with them.
Hailey wanted to be here, but her sophomore class trip to D.C. was this week and we weren’t about to let her miss out on that experience. Not even for this. She has always wanted a sister, and now, God willing, she might be able to have two. The fact that they don’t share blood has never concerned her. Just as my not being her biological mother has never been an issue. Since she was two years old, I’ve been Mom and Cassidy has been Mama. And she is as much my child as Griff and the baby growing inside me.
Mason reaches over to squeeze my hand. “It’s going to be okay, sweetheart. We can get through anything, right?”
I nod. “Right, babe.”
He smiles and picks up my hand, kissing the back of it when the door to the conference room swings open, causing my heart to smash into the wall of my chest.
She walks through the door and I freeze. Time stands still. Mason leans into me and whispers, “God, Piper, she’s you.”
He’s right. It’s like looking into a mirror at my eighteen-year-old self, right down to her green eyes. But no way was I this beautiful. Nothing and no one has ever been as beautiful as the creature I see standing before me.
And just like the day I gave birth to her, she instantly works her way into every corner of my being.
With Mason’s help, I stand. I remind myself to breathe before I force my legs to walk me across the room.
Amber and I quietly stare at each other with millions of unanswered questions swimming in our identical eyes. As I come around the table and get closer to her, her eyes fall to my stomach. Then they dart over to where Griff has parked himself, staring out the picture window at the tiny cars thirty floors below.
A slow smile creeps up her face, brightening her eyes as they glisten with tears, matching my own. Her smile lights up the room. It lights up my soul. And for the first time in eighteen years, I feel complete.
“I’ve always wanted siblings,” she says through her smile.
Tears of joy roll down my cheeks as the first words I’ve ever heard her speak wind silken threads around my heart.
She holds her hand out to me. “Hi. I’m Amber,” she says, a sweet crest of emotion filling her voice. “Amber Rose Black.”
Please come back and join me in the fall of 2016 for Charlie’s story—the first in my next series of books following three brothers.
If you’ve enjoyed Black Roses, I would appreciate you taking a minute to leave a review on Amazon. Reviews, even just a few words, are incredibly valuable to indie authors like me.
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acknowledgments
It is with both happy and sad tears that I complete this, my first series. Had I known up front how fun it would be, I would have given Baylor, Skylar and Piper three more sisters. However, their legacy will continue with Charlie’s story, which will be the first book in my next series following three brothers.
Thank you to my editors, Ann Peters and Jeannie Hinkle. You make me look a lot smarter than I really am. And to my wonderful beta readers, Tammy Dixon, Laura Conley and Angela Marie—your long hours and eyes for detail are appreciated more than you will ever know.
Without the motivation and enthusiasm of my dear friend, April Barnswell, Black Roses would have taken a lot longer for me to write. Her daily emails, bits of encouragement, and friendly competition kept me on track and for that I’m truly grateful.
None of this would be possible without the love and support of my awesome family. Thank you, Bruce, for being not only my husband and best friend, but for being the best damn tech support an author could have.
If someone had told me two years ago that in two years, I’d be publishing my sixth novel, I would have called them crazy. Today, I’m delighted, humbled and honored to be able to call myself a full-time writer.
about the author
Samantha Christy’s passion for writing started long before her first novel was published. Graduating from the University of Nebraska with a degree in Criminal Justice, she held the title of Computer Systems Analyst for The Supreme Court of Wisconsin and several major universities around the United States. Raised mainly in Indianapolis, she holds the Midwest and its homegrown values dear to her heart and upon the birth of her third child devoted herself to raising her family full time. While it took time to get from there to here, writing has remained her utmost passion and being a stay-at-home mom facilitated her ability to follow that dream. When she is not writing, she keeps busy cruising to every Caribbean island where ships sail. Samantha Christy currently resides in St. Augustine, Florida with her h
usband and four children.
You can reach Samantha Christy at any of these wonderful places:
Website: www.samanthachristy.com
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/SamanthaChristyAuthor
Twitter: @SamLoves2Write
E-mail: [email protected]
Table of Contents
chapter one
chapter two
chapter three
chapter four
chapter five
chapter six
chapter seven
chapter eight
chapter nine
chapter ten
chapter eleven
chapter twelve
chapter thirteen
chapter fourteen
chapter fifteen
chapter sixteen
chapter seventeen
chapter eighteen
chapter nineteen
chapter twenty
chapter twenty-one
chapter twenty-two
chapter twenty-three
chapter twenty-four
chapter twenty-five
chapter twenty-six
chapter twenty-seven
chapter twenty-eight
chapter twenty-nine
chapter thirty
chapter thirty-one
chapter thirty-two
chapter thirty-three
epilogue
acknowledgments
about the author
Black Roses (A Mitchell Sisters Novel) Page 30
