Somewhere Out There(63)
Natalie reached out and put her delicately boned hand on top of Brooke’s. “If I had known about you, I would have tried to find you right away.” Natalie’s bottom lip trembled. “I wish . . .” She paused before trying again. “I wish my parents knew better than to let us be separated. I wish we could have been raised together.”
“It wasn’t just them,” Brooke whispered, trying to control her own tears. She was not typically a crier—could it be her pregnancy hormones? “The state didn’t know better. Neither did Gina.”
“Still,” Natalie said. “I know things must have been so hard for you. I’m sorry for that.”
“It wasn’t your fault.” Brooke shrugged. “But thank you.”
The server arrived then with their drinks, Brooke’s toast, and Natalie’s breakfast, and after confirming they didn’t need anything else, he left them alone again.
Brooke took a few timid bites of her toast and washed them down with a sip of her tea. She watched Natalie pick at her muffin with her nose scrunched up with distaste. “Something wrong?” Brooke asked her, nodding toward the baked good.
“Not really,” Natalie said; then she gave Brooke what seemed like a guilty look. “Well, actually, yes. It’s dry. And overmixed. Possibly not made from scratch.”
Brooke lifted her eyebrows and took another sip of hot water. “You can tell that with just your fingers?”
Natalie laughed and brushed off the crumbs from her hands on a napkin. “I can, actually. I bake for a living. I own a catering company called Just Desserts.”
“Wow,” Brooke said. “That’s so cool.”
“What do you do?”
“I’m a cocktail waitress,” Brooke said. She waited to see a shadow of judgment fall across Natalie’s face, but it never came.
“I used to be a lawyer,” Natalie said, making a face like she had smelled something unpleasant, “but I hated it. I had Hailey and decided that staying home with her was more important. And after Henry came along, the baking thing just sort of happened.”
For the next two hours, they shared little bits of themselves with each other, carefully feeling out what seemed safe to discuss. Brooke spoke mostly about work, the various places she’d been employed over the years, some of the men she’d dated, and a few vague details about her breakup with Ryan. She struggled with whether or not she should tell Natalie about being pregnant. The truth perched on the tip of her tongue their entire conversation, but each time she was about to speak, something inside made her hold back. Even though she felt certain Natalie was her sister, it seemed too soon to share something so personal with a woman she didn’t really know. Not yet.
It wasn’t until Natalie had finished her third cup of coffee that she brought up their mother again. “Did you ever try to find her?” she asked.
“No,” Brooke said.
“And she never reached out to you?”
“No,” Brooke said again. The question prodded at an angry, inflamed knot in her stomach—a wound that had been there since the day she last saw her mother.
“Do you know her name?”
“Jennifer Walker.”
Natalie leaned forward, resting both hands in the crooks of her elbows. “Do you have any idea what happened? Why she gave us up?”
Brooke felt the heat rise in her cheeks, wrestling with how much she should say. If she should say anything at all. But then she decided her sister deserved to hear the truth. “She went to jail for child endangerment and neglect. And theft.” She watched her sister’s mouth drop open and then spoke again, keeping her voice as steady as she could. “I prefer not to think about her, really. Or talk about her. If you don’t mind.”
Natalie looked at her with big brown eyes, and Brooke flashed on the last time she saw them at Hillcrest, the morning Gina had taken her sister away. If she closed her own eyes, she could almost remember what it felt like to hold her baby sister in her arms.
“Oh,” Natalie said. “Of course.” But Brooke could sense her sister’s list of unasked questions. They sat in uncomfortable silence for a few minutes until Brooke glanced around at the other busy tables. “We’ve probably taken up this space long enough this morning,” she said. She raised her hand, indicating to the server they were ready for their check.
“This is on me,” Natalie said, reaching into her purse and pulling out a black leather wallet. “Please.”
Brooke pulled a couple of twenties out of her purse and set them on the table. “Thank you,” she said. “But no. It’s my treat.”
Natalie began to protest, then seemed to think better of it and put her wallet away. “When can I see you again?” she asked.
Brooke hesitated, still struggling to comprehend that the woman sitting across from her was actually her sister. But she couldn’t resist the eager look on Natalie’s face. “How about we have coffee next week?” Brooke said. “There’s a great little spot near my apartment on Capitol Hill.”
“Perfect,” Natalie said. “I’ll text you, and we’ll figure out a day that works for us both.”
The two of them stood up and walked through the restaurant, back out into the bright glare of midday. Natalie hugged Brooke again, and this time, the embrace felt easier, more natural. Brooke let her sister hold her longer than she normally would another person.