My cell phone rang and I fished in my purse for it. The screen lit up with “Mom.” Oh, no. She rarely called. What if she had arrived home and wondered where I was?
“Aren’t you going to answer that?” Zack asked.
“It’s my mom.” I stared at the phone like it was an F on a report card, then turned it so he could see the screen. As if he wouldn’t believe me. Duh. “I can’t tell her I’m out of town. What if I lie and she asks more questions and I slip up? It’s too easy to get caught.”
The ringing stopped.
Panic crept into my voice. “What should I tell her? I have to call her back or she’ll worry. But if she’s home and I say I’m at a friend’s house, she’ll wonder why I don’t come home right away.
“Relax. We just need to think of a place you could be all day.” He tapped the table with his fingertips. “Like Magic Mountain or Disneyland.”
“That’s perfect!” I pressed the send button and waited while it rang.
“Hi, sweetheart,” she answered.
“Hey, mom. What’s up?”
“I’m home. Thought we could spend some time together. Where are you?”
I took a deep breath, reminding myself to be calm. Knowing my mom, she wouldn’t stick around long anyway and I wouldn’t get caught. No need to panic. Unless she picked this trip to veer from her routine and stay the night, then it’d be the rottenest luck ever. “Magic Mountain. With some friends.” Duh. It’s not as if I’d go alone.
“Oh, that’s nice. You’re out early though. What time do they open?”
What time did they open? I wanted to weep. Or bang my head against the wall. “Oh, we’re not actually there right this second. We stopped for breakfast.”
Just then, a waitress arrived to take our order. If Mom heard the waitress, it added authenticity to my story.
Garden omelet, hash browns, English muffins, I told Zack silently.
“You sure you don’t want to come back?” she asked. “I’ve got until this evening.”
No! No! This can’t be.
Tell her you’re carpooling and you’re the one driving, Zack told me telepathically, taking a pause to give the server our orders. And that your friends will be really disappointed, because they’ve been planning it all week.
Oh, hallelujah for Zack and his quick thinking. I repeated what he’d said and she seemed mollified, although disappointed. The waitress left and Zack’s eyes met mine.
Why was my mom home anyway? Did she get the credit card statement and wonder about the new charges? No, she wouldn’t get the bill so soon. But what if the credit card company had called to alert her of suspicious activity? Had she been in the safe and noticed the missing items?
Oh damn, I wished I’d used my own money.
“You think you might be back by eight?” my mom asked. “I’m leaving tonight.”
Of course she was. Which was a good thing this time or I’d have to come home. “Everyone will want to stay until it closes. Then maybe stop for food. That’s the plan anyway. I’m super bummed to miss you though. Next time, call first and let me know.” Like a normal parent would. “Give Dad my love, would you?”
“Sure. He’s wrapping up in Montana right now. We’ll get settled in New Mexico, then come back here in a few days. We’ll see you then, okay? Have fun at Magic Mountain, sweetie.”
It was a narrow escape, yet I couldn’t help feeling disappointed that she wasn’t staying longer. Why wouldn’t she spend the night? What was the hurry?
After we hung up, I stared at my phone. “You could hear her talking. You think she bought it?”
“Yes,” he said confidently. “From what you’ve told me about them, if she suspected anything, she would’ve insisted you come home.”
“I have this vision of her figuring out what I liar I am and staying until I get there.”
“If that happens, then tell her the truth — that you were out of town with your boyfriend. What’s the worst that can happen? She’ll worry about you?” Zack laughed once. “Doesn’t she excel at that already?”
I nodded, but my mind was reeling over the fact that he’d referred to himself as my boyfriend. Was he still mine? Did I want him to be? I loved him, yes, but… Images of him and Gina popped into my head and I inwardly flinched.
“By the time she catches on, we might have some information on your birth parents. Or your current parents if it was just a matter of a name change. If they get mad at you for lying, you can point out the whoppers they’ve been telling.”
“True,” I said.
† † †
We arrived at Oakhurst General Hospital and took the elevator to the maternity ward on the fifth floor. We approached the wide Formica counter and waited for the woman on the other side to finish her phone conversation and notice us.
Moments later, she set the phone down and smiled. “May I help you?”
“I really hope you can. My name is Autumn Rossi. I was born here eighteen years ago. How do I go about getting my medical records?”
“Honey, from that long ago, it’d be in archives.”
“What floor?” Zack asked.
“From eighteen years ago?” She looked doubtful.
“Yes, it’s really important.” My stomach clenched and I fought to keep my voice even. “I found out I might have been adopted and want to confirm it. I couldn’t be the only adopted child ever to search for her biological parents, right? They’d have to keep records somewhere.”
Her brows flew up. “Adopted, huh? That kind of information isn’t necessarily released to the child.”
“I’m eighteen and it’s my medical record.” My brow furrowed and I hoped I wouldn’t have to spend the rest of the weekend researching my legal rights.
“Oh, in that case…” She waved a hand as if to wash away what she’d said. “Go down the hallway to the elevator.” She grabbed a piece of paper, sketched a map of the building, and marked an X. “Go to the first floor, make a right then go to the end of the hall. You’ll have to sign some forms, pay a fee. And they’ll want to see your ID to prove who you are, of course.”
“That won’t be a problem. I have a copy of my birth certificate, too, but the last names are different.”
“You’ll have to talk to Records about all that. I don’t know how it works, but I do know it’s going to take a while to find those records,” she said.
“We can do the paperwork, then come back at lunch or something,” I said.
“Lunch?” She gave me a you-can’t-be-serious look. “Oh, honey, it could take days, maybe weeks.”
My heart sank. “That long?”
Her tone softened as she handed me the piece of paper with her notes on it. “They’ll have to look through thousands of records, hon. It won’t be instant like we have nowadays. Don’t fret. Maybe Archives will be slow today and they’ll get lucky locating it. You won’t know until you check.”
It was sweet of her to try to give me hope, but my guess was that she had it right with her first assumption. We’d have to find another way.
† † †
We filled out the forms anyway, then slogged back to the car. Zack didn’t start it up, almost as if he sensed I needed to sit and not talk for a minute. I stared out the window at the blanket of asphalt and the street lamps interspersed between cars, trying to pull my emotions together.
With no information at all on my parents, not even a home address, where would we start?
“It’s after nine now so we can start knocking on doors,” Zack said.
I nodded. “Let’s drive.”
The Mustang purred to life. Once out of the lot, he looked both ways, but didn’t choose either. To the right, a rural road stretched ahead. To the left, a gas station, a small convenience store and a handful of quaint shops scattered the street — which didn’t seem much more promising than the trees to the right.
Zack finally made a decision and hung a left but after only few blocks, the buildings became scarcer. That’s al
l there was of the town? I deflated, slumping in my seat.
The Mustang cruised along at a speed I was sure was well below the limit. He was probably making sure I had a chance to look around. But at what? We passed a stretch of farmland and beyond that, a sprinkling of houses.
Just ahead, I eyed what appeared to be an ancient convenience store. It looked like one of those family-run places where the owner worked it himself and knew everyone in town. “Pull over.”
Before the car had totally stopped, I was already opening the door to jump out. I bolted for the barn-like store and leaped the two steps, landing on the wide wood porch. Chimes sounded as I swung open the door. A moment later, they were dinging again and I knew Zack had come in behind me. Even without jingles, I’d know he was close.
The smell of musty wood mingled with fresh brewed coffee. I scanned the crowded and well-stocked but tidy store, wondering what could possibly be lacking considering the shelves were packed with everything you could imagine. Bread, cereal, mayonnaise and mustard.
I strolled toward the cash register, noting the next aisle with miscellaneous first-aid products, toothpaste and various bathroom items. At the opposite end of the store, along the wall, milk and other dairy products sat behind a glass door, safe from the heat.
A thin man with deep lines etched into his weathered face stood behind the counter. “May I help you, miss?”
“I hope so.” What should I say? The truth? Why hadn’t I thought to bring a picture of my mom and dad? How could he possibly help me if he didn’t know who I was talking about? “Um, this might sound a little crazy, but I’m looking for my birth parents. I was born at Oakhurst General, but I was adopted and grew up out of state. Were you, by any chance, living here eighteen years ago?”
He smiled proudly. “I’ve lived here all my life. I’m Earl.”
I squeezed his outstretched hand. “I’m Autumn and my parents are Richard and Patricia Nicholson. Ever heard of them?”
“As her biological parents, they should resemble her a little,” Zack said, stepping forward.
The old man eyed me. “Richard and Patricia Nicholson… does ring a bell.”
Familiar wasn’t good enough. Besides, the name wasn’t exactly unusual. It would probably sound familiar to anyone.
“If I needed anything and didn’t want to drive very far, wouldn’t I have to shop here?” Zack asked.
“You got that right.” The man grinned, obviously proud of his store. “Only two choices. Shop here or drive at least a half hour. That or folks nowadays order online and all that.”
“So you’d pretty much know everyone who lives within, say, a five mile radius?” Zack asked.
“About that, yes.”
“So, if her parents had lived here, you would’ve known them. No Internet back then.” Zack didn’t say it like it was a question. He stated it with finality, as if trying to jog the man’s memory. “Young couple with a baby would’ve come in for diapers and that kind of thing.”
The man stared off into space and I didn’t want to distract him from pulling up the images he needed. “About eighteen years ago,” I said softly.
“Patricia and Richard, yeah, I remember. Kept to themselves, which couldn’t have been easy since they looked like they belonged in Hollywood or something. People who stand out like that, you remember them.”
My pulse jumped and I slowed my breathing in hopes of appearing calm. “I want to find them. Can you think of anything that would help me?”
The old man shrugged. “They weren’t very chatty. They were here nearly a year. Once they came home with the baby, they moved away and I never saw them again.”
Zack and I spent a few more minutes with the storekeeper, trying to squeeze more details from him, but we’d exhausted his memory. We thanked him and left.
“Not much to go on,” I said, sliding into the passenger seat.
“We’ve confirmed they lived here. That’s a start.” He turned down a side road, then slowed the Mustang. “There’re some houses up ahead. Let’s knock on some doors and see what we can find out.”
Just before the first house, he killed the engine and rotated in his seat to face me. “How did you know to stop at that store? You jumped out like your ass was on fire. Did you remember it or something?”
“Nothing like that. As soon as I saw it, I got this image of an old couple who’ve run the store for fifty years. Thought maybe they’d remember my parents.”
“Good call.” Zack glanced around. “Thought maybe you saw Renzo and got spooked. Haven’t seen any sign of him, though.”
“Hard to be sad about that.”
I eyed a little blue Cape Cod style house with worn and chipped paint. Old bottles and paper littered the bottom of the chain link fence that barely contained the overgrown and yellowing grass. “What if we knock on the door and they think we’re axe murderers or something?”
Zack laughed. It had been a while since I’d heard that sound. It was nice.
“Girls who look like you aren’t axe murderers.” He waved a hand at me as if that said it all. “Go on. I’ll wait here.”
My head snapped around, my eyes cut to his. “You’re not coming with me?”
“You’re the one who brought up the axe murderer scenario.” He scratched his chin and shrugged. “They might be more willing to talk if it’s just you. I can roll down the window and listen in. If I think of something that might help, I’ll talk to you silently.”
I nodded and reluctantly exited the Mustang. At the top of the steps, I rapped my knuckles on the door and waited. A moment later, a hairy, middle-aged man in a wife-beater opened it, a remote control in his hand. The stench of stale smoke and rancid alcohol wafted through the doorway. “Yeah?”
“Hi.” I forced my lips to curve up. “My name’s Autumn. I… I’m looking for my real parents, Richard and Patricia Nicholson. They lived around here about eighteen years ago. Would you by chance remember them?”
His eyes lowered to my chest and paused a moment before sweeping the length of my body and the heebie-jeebies got personal with me. “Name sounds familiar. Would you like to come in? I have more beer inside.”
I heard the Mustang door slam and footsteps on concrete.
“Did you say beer?” Zack grinned. Pervert, he added silently.
The man gave a short, polite laugh. “Actually, uh, I’ve only lived here a couple years. I don’t think I can help you.”
“Well, thanks for your time,” Zack called over his shoulder as he dragged me away from the house. Once at my car, he opened the door and practically shoved me inside, then slammed the door. “What a pig.”
“I could’ve taken care of myself, Zack. It’s not like a human can do much to hurt me.”
“Right, while I sit here and watch? I don’t think so. The dude was slime. More than twice your age and inviting you inside for beer? Creepy. I’m coming with you from now on.”
“You don’t have to.”
“Yeah, I do.” His voice was firm like his words were final.
“Okay.” I averted my face and smiled.
I felt ridiculous driving the short distance from Pervert’s house to the next one just a half block away, but we were already in the car and Zack was being way overprotective — which was actually kind of sweet.
Zack parked and we resumed our door-to-door search.
“Hi,” I said to the kid who answered at the door. He looked about thirteen years old. “Are your parents home?”
“No.”
“Will they be back soon?” I asked.
He shrugged, looking from me to Zack, but not volunteering anything else.
“Okay. Well, maybe we’ll come back later,” I said.
Without saying a word, the kid shut the door. Rude.
“Let’s move on,” Zack said.
Deflated, I followed him down the sidewalk to the next house. I knocked, then paused to listen. It sounded like muffled voices and scrambling over a blaring TV, followed by footst
eps coming toward us.
The woman who answered looked disheveled as she tugged on the bottom of her shirt. I didn’t even want to know what she’d been doing.
“Hi.” I smiled. “My name’s Autumn and I was hoping you could help me. I’m looking for someone.”
Her brows raised, eyes darting to Zack. She looked him up and down appreciatively. “Aren’t we all?”
I ignored her leer at my boyfriend, explained my situation and asked if she remembered my parents.
“Oh, honey, I would’ve been just a little girl back then.”
Did she think I was blind? The woman had to close to be fifty years old, more than old enough to be my mom. I forced my eyes still so they wouldn’t roll. “Well, thanks for your time.”
Heading down the path back to the sidewalk, I plastered on a big, fake smile. “We’ve made so much progress already.”
Zack turned and blocked me from walking, grasping my shoulders. “Each house with nothing is another house we can rule out. We’re narrowing the field, Autumn. We’ll just get closer and closer. You found the guy at the store, right?”
“Yes. But if my parents kept to themselves, it’s possible that even if we found someone else who remembers them, they may not be able to give us anything more than the guy at the store.”
My stomach dipped. It was an awful thought, the possibility of never finding Richard and Patricia Nicholson, never knowing the truth.
Chapter Twenty-nine
“I’m starving,” I said.
The houses were spread over long distances — unlike the tract houses in southern California that were sometimes crammed so tight you practically lived with your neighbor. While we covered a lot of ground, there weren’t many people to talk to. And those who were willing to speak with us hadn’t coughed up any usable information.
“I’m hungry too. Let’s take a break,” Zack said.
Unless we wanted to drive back to the hotel, there were only a handful of places to eat — a drive-thru, a deli and a diner. After the long drive yesterday, I didn’t want to drive any more than we had to. And I wanted to sit and relax while someone took my order, so we chose the diner — a decision I almost regretted the moment we sat. The seats at the table were covered in orange vinyl and the place smelled of old grease. But my growling stomach became less discerning by the second.
Shapes of Autumn (Boxed set, books 1 - 5) Page 50