Unforgettable (Cloverleigh Farms #5)(67)

My legs trembled, and I sat down. Holding my breath, I slipped my finger beneath the seal and tore open the envelope. With shaking fingers, I pulled out the letter.

A photograph dropped onto the table, and I gasped. There he was—in a baseball uniform. With Tyler’s signature grin plus my dimples. Tyler’s dark eyes and the Sawyer family ears sticking out from under his cap. He was tall and lanky, like Tyler at that age, and his hands looked almost too big for his body. Before I knew it, tears were streaming down my face, but I was smiling too.

Reluctantly I tore my eyes off the picture and unfolded the letter.

Dear April,

Thank you so much for reaching out. I have thought of you often over the years, and I’m glad to hear you are doing well. Chip would very much like to meet you.

At this, I put a hand over my stomach and allowed myself a couple sobs of relief. Of joy. Of anticipation.

I want to apologize for the delay in getting back to you—we moved to Michigan last year, so your letter did not reach me right away. But in fact, we live quite close to each other, as you will see from the return address.

I quickly checked it and discovered—my jaw dropping—that not only had the family moved from Ohio to Michigan, but they’d moved to within fifteen miles of me. My head began to spin . . . had I seen my son already and not even known it?

It has been a difficult couple of years for us, as we lost my husband Chuck last year very suddenly to a heart attack. We moved here to be closer to my mother. The loss of Chuck has been very tough on all of us, but particularly on Chip, who was very close to his father and feels a lot of responsibility to be the man in the house now that his dad is gone (we adopted a baby girl several years after adopting Chip).

We have always been open with Chip and Cecily about the fact that they were adopted, and in fact, Cecily (who is twelve) enjoys a nice relationship with her birth mom—much like an aunt or older cousin. While Chip has never asked many questions about his birth parents (boys are less inquisitive than girls, I suppose), he seemed intrigued when I mentioned that I’d heard from you. Upon learning you’d like to meet him, he thought about it for a minute and asked me how I felt about it. That is the kind of person Chip is—considerate and sensitive to other people’s feelings. When I told him the decision was his, he said he’d like to meet you. In the wake of his loss, I think he is searching for additional family ties, and I truly believe it will be good for him.

His schedule is fairly busy these days with school and baseball—he is an honor student and a very talented pitcher with scholarship offers from multiple schools—but perhaps you’d like to come to our house sometime?

My email address and cell phone number are at the bottom of this letter. Please feel free to use it and we can set up a meeting. In addition, if you’d like to see him play, he is a starting pitcher for the varsity team at Central High School.

We look forward to hearing from you.

Sincerely,

Robin Carswell

I could hardly breathe—I was bursting with something like pride, which was ridiculous, wasn’t it? I hadn’t raised him. But he was handsome! And smart! And talented! And considerate of other people’s feelings! It seemed like he’d gotten all the best things about Tyler and me, and had been raised exactly right. A rush of gratitude for Robin and her husband flooded me, as well as sympathy for the loss of Chuck.

God, what a morning this had been—my emotions were all over the place. And I was totally going to be late for work if I didn’t get out of here. I’d have to repair my ruined eye makeup in the car. I stuck the letter in my bag, grabbed my keys and phone, and hurried out the door.

I was halfway to work when it hit me.

Chip was a starting pitcher for Central High School, where Tyler had been coaching the team all week long.

Which meant he’d already met his son.





Twenty





Tyler





After dropping April off, I decided to head downtown. There were several real estate offices along Main Street with listings in their front windows, and I figured I could check them out without having to go in and talk to anyone. If I saw something I was really interested in, I’d take a picture of it and make a phone call.

But I wasn’t standing there for sixty seconds before someone poked his head out. “Tyler Shaw, right?”

Fucking great. “Yeah.”

The guy held out his hand. He looked kind of familiar, but I couldn’t place him. He wore a suit, an excited grin, and a lot of cologne. “Bob Dennis. Huge fan.”

Reluctantly I took the guy’s hand. “Hey.”

“Come on in.”

I glanced up the street toward where I’d parked, tempted to make a run for it, but decided to go in. If April were here, she’d want me to. And maybe this weekend, if she had time, we could check out a few places together.

Bob led the way to his desk, which was right near the front of the room. He gestured toward the chairs across from it before taking his seat. “So what can I do for you? You thinking of buying a place around here? I saw the news this morning.”

I’d just sat down, but I stood right back up again. “Sorry. I changed my mind.”

“No, wait!” he said, also rising to his feet. “I’ve got some great listings. You like privacy, right? I have one that’s perfect. Right on the water, boat dock, deck with jacuzzi, gourmet kitchen, master suite. Everything top-notch.”