Somewhere Out There(102)

“Jen.” Evan’s voice called to me through the fuzzy cloud that clogged my head. I felt his strong, warm hand on my cheek. “It’s okay. They showed me the paperwork. It’s definitely them.”

I shook my head again, keeping my eyes shut. I was too afraid to find out what might happen if I opened them. How did they have paperwork? Gina had told me all the records were sealed, that the state would only open them in case of an emergency. What if this is an emergency? What if one of my daughters is sick?

This was not what I’d imagined would have happened if I ever saw my girls again. Even with all the letters I wrote them, I had never let myself believe this moment would ever come about. It was too terrifying, too overwhelming to even consider as a possibility. I’d let them go, for their sakes. And for my own. I clung to Evan, worried I might pass out.

“Let’s just go,” I heard Brooke say. At least I assumed it was Brooke because her voice sounded different from that of Natalie, who had spoken before. “She doesn’t want us here.”

“Wait,” Natalie said. “We’ve just shocked the hell out of her. Let’s give her a minute.”

“Evan,” I whispered. “I can’t do this. Please.”

He leaned over and pressed his cheek against mine. His lips were next to my ear. “Yes, you can.” He hugged me, rubbing a soothing circle on my back. “They only want to talk. To ask you a few questions. You can do that for them, can’t you? It might be good for you. For them, too.”

I forced myself to turn my head, open my eyes, and look at my daughters. My heart fluttered inside my chest as I pulled back from Evan’s embrace and slowly reached out a hand, thinking I needed to touch them to believe that they were actually here. But at the last second, I jerked my arm back to my side, unable to go through with it. What did they want to say to me? What would I say to them? How could I explain the decisions I’d made, the pain of letting them go, which had torn me apart in ways that seeing them here, in my living room, made me realize just how delicately I’d been sewn together all of these years. All the progress I’d made, the confidence I thought I’d earned, now vanished, and I felt like I was right back in that room where I’d last held them—fragile, uncertain, full of soul-scorching regret. My seams once again threatening to burst.

“Jennifer,” Natalie said. “I’m so sorry if we’ve upset you, just showing up like this. We’ll go, if you want us to.” She’d taken a few steps closer to me, and Evan stood to the side. I could see the shadows of the baby I’d held around her edges, the shape of her eyes, and the soft curve of her smile. Brooke stood with her arms crossed over her chest, still so much the defiant little girl I remembered, the girl who pretended to be brave when she was riddled with fear. It shocked me, how easily I recognized them. All of those faces I’d searched for in crowds—the ones I thought might be my daughters—were nowhere close to being my girls.

These were my girls, standing right in front of me, asking me to talk. And no matter how hard it might be, telling them the truth about their past was the very least I could do.

The four of us sat down, Brooke and Natalie on the larger couch, and Evan and I across from them on the love seat. “Where are the dogs?” I asked Evan. I was accustomed to our pups’ welcoming presence the moment I came home from work. It was odd not to have them lying at my feet.

“They’re outside,” he said. He held my left hand in both of his, and I was pressed up tight against him. Evan was my touchstone, my security, the place I felt most safe. If I was going to do this, if I was going to talk with my daughters, I needed him there with me.

I nodded, keeping my eyes on the floor. We were all quiet, but I could feel my girls’ gazes upon me, waiting for me to begin. “How did you find me?” I finally asked.

“A friend of Brooke’s,” Natalie said. “A detective.”

“And your adoptive family,” I said. The words came out staggered—I felt as though I were in a foreign country, speaking an entirely new language. “Do they know you’re here?”

“Mine does,” Natalie said.

“I was never adopted,” Brooke said. Her tone was clipped. “I grew up in foster homes and a facility run by the state.”

I snapped my eyes up from the floor to look at my older daughter. “You weren’t raised together?”

Brooke shook her head. “We only just found each other in October. Up until then, Natalie didn’t know I existed. We were separated about a month after you gave us up.”

“Oh my god,” I said. My lungs felt shriveled; I couldn’t get enough air. “I’m so sorry . . . I assumed . . . I never thought . . .” I let my words trail off, not having any idea what to say to them. My heart pounded an erratic rhythm behind my rib cage. I couldn’t believe that Natalie hadn’t even known she had an older sister. The only comfort I’d had over the years was in the knowledge that the two of them had each other after they’d lost me. Discovering this belief was false made me feel as though I’d been shoved off a cliff.

“You didn’t know,” Natalie said, kindly. “It’s just . . . the way things turned out.” She paused, fiddling with the strap of the black leather purse resting at her side. When she spoke again, she kept her eyes on my face. “We only know a little about your decision to give up custody. We were hoping . . . wondering, really, if you could tell us a little about what led you to make it. We know you were young, and that things had to be tough for you, having the both of us.”