“You look just like her, like Amber. I saw her in you the first day Kent brought you home. I wanted to tell you, to drag out my pictures and tell you stories about her, but it wasn’t my place. I wasn’t sure if you knew, and I didn’t want to open that can of worms and upset your life. I’m sorry. I feel as though maybe I made the wrong choice.”
“No. You did the right thing. I needed to hear it from him. From my dad. There has been so much of my life that’s been filled in by others, and even though this is his retelling, it’s his truth. I needed that.”
“She loved you, Delaney. Your mother, she loved you so much. I’d never seen her more excited for anything than becoming a mother. She was good to do it on her own too. She loved your father, but she had made peace with the fact that he was married. It wasn’t something that they planned; it just happened. He told her he was separated and getting a divorce. In his heart, I know that’s what he wanted.”
I swallow hard. “You mentioned pictures. Do you still have them?”
She reaches over and grabs an old photo album from the coffee table. “She was my best friend. We did everything together. She was in my wedding.” She hands me the album and scoots closer to me, where we’re sitting on the couch. She begins to point out my mother and explain what was going on in each picture.
Tears slide down my cheeks and I quickly swipe them away. “I can’t let her see me like this.”
“Oh, don’t you worry about that. Gordon and I set up her bedroom here, so he’s going to have her occupied in there for a while.”
“You set up a bedroom for her?”
“Of course we did. She’s our granddaughter.”
The way she says it. It’s so simple to her, and I’ve never been more grateful to have people like her, like Gordon, and like Kenton in my life.
“You know we always said our kids could get married, and then we would have to be in each other’s lives forever.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. We had it all planned out.” She laughs.
I don’t know how long we sit here, looking through that album. Georgia tells me story after story about my birth mother, the times that they had. Gordon and Kendrix leave to go see Kent at work, and Georgia and I, we talk. All afternoon we talk and laugh. Not just about my mother, but about Kent when he was young. About motherhood, and just life.
Somewhere along the way, I realize I can’t let myself dwell on the past. Sure, the details of my father’s letter were unexpected, but the odds of me getting direct answers beyond that is slim to none. I need to leave the past where it is—the past. I need to look toward the future with Kenton and our daughter. With all these amazing people who have come into my life and have shown me what it’s like to have a true support system, not one of manipulation. I’m tired of living in the unknown, the “let’s wait and see.” I want to live for me. Memories or not.
“I love him.” I say the words out loud for the first time.
“I know you do.”
“What?”
Georgia smiles. “Anyone can see it. You might not have your memories of your time with my son, but your heart, it remembers. I see it when you look at him.” She places her hand on my arm and gives it a gentle squeeze. “Follow your heart, Delaney. Let it guide you. The best things in life are uncertain. They’re scary, and it’s a risk, but the rewards, they’re worth it.”
“Thank you for this.” I hold up the now-closed photo album. “Thank you for today and talking to me about her, and just… listening. I needed this.”
“You know where to find me if you need me. Besides, you’re family now.”
“You want to go over to the house? Meet up with Kendrix and Gordon?”
“Yes! It’s been ages since I’ve seen the work the boys do.”
I laugh. “Boys?”
“They will always be five years old in my eyes. Every single one of them. Come on, let’s grab our coats.”* * *“Wow,” I say, walking into the kitchen. I haven’t been here all week, too wrapped up in my own grief, if that’s what you want to call it. It’s amazing what five days can do for a demolished kitchen.
“Momma!” Kendrix calls out for me. She wiggles out of Kent’s arms and comes rushing toward me. She crashes into my legs, hugging them tightly. “It’s so pwetty.”
Smoothing her hair back from her eyes, I agree with her. “It is.”
“Laney.” Kent’s deep voice greets me. I look up, and he’s before me, pressing his lips to mine.