I gave up on the front door and walked around to the side of the house. There was a small stoop that led to a screen door. The screen was open.
“Hello?” I called through the screen. “Ethan?”
“Yep. Who’s asking?”
My stomach flipped. He was home after all.
“You’re here. I didn’t think you were home.”
I jumped when a dog barked. His shaggy white fur covered his eyes. He growled at the door.
“Who’s asking for me?” He looked over his shoulder. “Stop it, Max.”
I only saw his shadow through the screen door. From this angle, he looked large and looming. I felt smaller than my 5’8” frame and a little off-balance in my high boots.
“Hi. I’m Sydney Miller.” I smiled.
As he approached the door, his face came into focus. He had a receding hairline and deep creases around his eyes, as if he spent a lot of time outside. I’d already assessed he didn’t spend it taking care of his yard. I knew he used to be an athlete, but now it looked like he drank beer mostly. His stomach was paunchy.
“Are you selling something?” he asked. “It’s not Girl Scout cookie time already, is it? I don’t need cookies.”
I shook my head. “No, I’m not a Girl Scout.”
“I don’t want anything political. Just pass on by if that’s what it is, darlin’.” He placed his hand on the door knob.
“No. No. It’s nothing like that. Actually, Ethan I’m here to try to find my parents.”
He pulled back as if the handle was on fire. “Oh no. I’m not your daddy.” Max barked again. He must have sensed his owner was upset.
“I know.” I stopped. “Can I come in and talk for a little bit? I wanted to ask you about a girl you went to college with. Someone I think might be my birth mother. I think you could help me.”
His eyes bulged. “I don’t know. Isn’t there someone who does this kind of thing for you? An investigator?”
I lifted the recorder. “I’d rather not hire someone. I want to do this on my own.” It was hard to explain to someone in the span of five seconds why I had to do this. Why it was so important to me. Why it had wound its way inside my being. “I’m recording my story. It’s a podcast that I hope will help other people like me looking for answers about where they came from. I’d love to talk to you about it. About her. Please. Just a few minutes.”
He looked over his shoulder, but I didn’t think it was to silence Max. I wondered if there was someone else in the house.
?
??Who do you want to ask me about? I might not even know this girl. You might have the wrong person. I might not be able to help you, darlin’.”
“Penny Neworth,” I answered.
It had happened before. And until I found her, I knew it would continue to happen. Something in my gut told me this wouldn’t be the last time.
Ethan Howard slammed the door in my face and turned the lock.
Chapter Three
I waited until after dinner before I knocked on Ethan Howard’s door again. I ate at a diner near the hotel, nibbled half a grilled chicken sandwich and sipped a Diet Coke, waiting for enough time to pass before I headed back to his house. The sun had started to set, and the air was a few degrees cooler.
I had flown from Washington D.C. to Dallas for the weekend to interview him. I couldn’t walk away just because I’d had one door slammed in my face. I hadn’t given up when I traveled to the suburbs of Chicago, or during the trip to Charleston. That’s how I got Ethan’s name in the first place.
It took perseverance and a little persuasion. This was my journey. My story to tell. However long it took to tell it.
It would have been easier if my birth mother had gone to college in the age of the Internet, but she was at in college before the age of email. Recovering digital records of students, roommates, and hallmates wasn’t an option. They might as well have been erased from the web. Almost non-existent. There hadn’t been any social media in 1990. There had been no chatrooms or web pages. Back then, they didn’t have email on campus or even computers in their dorm rooms. I was on a true hunt for a needle in a haystack. But I knew she was out there somewhere. So was my father. I had parents. Everyone did. Mine just seemed to be harder to find.
Ethan Howard knew something. Why else would he shut me down the way he did? I couldn’t leave Dallas without knowing what that was. I couldn’t leave without the next lead.