Ten Mountain Men's Baby (Love by Numbers 9)

Holly laughed. The waitress smiled and walked away.

It took me a moment to register what the waitress had said. First, I found it comical and bizarre. But then I began thinking: I was born not too far from here. If maybe I had a brother, then perhaps I had cousins or other brothers. Why not nine? And naturally, we would all look alike.

“Well, that was odd,” said Holly. She leaned across the table and whispered, “I think that’s just her way of hitting on you.” She glanced over her shoulder then back at me. “I might have to put an end to that. Hope I can take her.”

I glanced at the short, portly, middle-aged waitress then at Holly. “She’d be no match for you.”

Brothers? Nine brothers? Could they be mine?

As if reading my mind, Holly said, “Do you have family in the region? Maybe you look like a relative she knows.”

I nodded and stared blankly at her. “I just might. I just might.”I had come this far with a specific goal: to look for my birth family. It was a fantasy unlikely to come true. I knew that. But hearing that there was a band of brothers that I looked remarkably similar to cast that fantasy in a whole new, more plausible light.

On the other hand, after spending a few days with Holly, I found myself living a different fantasy, one equally as unlikely to lead to anything real.

She fluttered her eyebrows and smiled mischievously at me. I wondered, if I were out here chasing fantasies, my past or my future, was I really chasing after the right one?

Am I really going to let her go so I can chase after this crazy notion that I’ll be able to discover my birth parents? And if I do find out who they are, then what? They probably passed away years ago. And even if they hadn’t, they didn’t want me in their lives twenty-two years ago; why would they want me in their lives now? Am I really going to let Holly get away to chase down that pipedream?

Say goodbye to Holly here, likely never seeing her again or give up on trying to find out more about where I came from and focus more on where I’m going. Which pipedream am I going to chase?

The dilemma was eating away at me, and I’d always been bad at hiding my feelings. She must have seen the conflict of emotions on my face. She said, “Something on your mind?”

I nodded.

“Care to share?”

I thought about it, wondering where to begin, how to come out with it. Instead, I pivoted to another conflict that had been eating away at me. Before saying goodbye to her, before separating, I had to have an answer to that one question that had been on my mind.

“Holly?”

“Yes.”

“Will you tell me why you don’t wear a wedding ring?”

She cocked her head to the side and furrowed her brow. “Because I’m not married.”

“That makes sense.” I looked out the window of the restaurant onto the quiet street, immediately lost in thought, and muttered to myself, “I guess Dr. Raskin was wrong.”

“What did you say?” Holly had dropped her fork and stared at me wide-eyed.

I put my hands up defensively. “Nothing. I just said, ‘I guess Dr. Raskin was wrong.’”

“Dr. Raskin!” She grabbed my hand and leaned over the table. “Who are you?”

The question and her reaction to Dr. Raskin’s name took me by surprise. “You mean, my name? You want to know my name?”

She nodded.

“My name’s Ryker.”

“No!” She pulled back and threw her hands to her face. “Oh, my goodness. I read the bio you wrote for Dr. Raskin.”

“The bio.” I shook my head and drummed on the table. “Why would you read the bio?”

“Because you wrote it for me!” she shouted, then glanced around the restaurant and sank in her seat. Then she whispered, “So I could write about your charity work with ‘Medicine on the Trail.’”

I shook my head. “I’m not affiliated with ‘Medicine on the Trail.’ Never heard of them. I know Dr. Raskin from ‘The Health Wagon.’”

She shook her head, vigorously. “Same difference. ‘Medicine on the Trail’ raises money for charities like ‘The Health Wagon.’ They purchase medicine and hospital equipment.”

“Oh. Okay. So, you read my bio. Interesting.” Then I remembered exactly what I had put in my bio: the search for my birth parents. “Oh, you read my bio!”

“Yes.” She laughed. “You’re Ryker!” She said it like it was cause for celebration, and then she leaned back over the table and grabbed my hands again. “You’re part of the charity mission here on the trail! Why didn’t you tell me?”

I laughed. “I tried to, but you didn’t want to know.”

The waitress came over to our table to take our empty plates. “Everything all right, here?”

Holly turned to her. “Everything’s great.” She pointed to me. “He’s Ryker!”