Thomas studied Jack’s every move. When he drummed his fingers on his knees, there was a rhythm. It wasn’t random. It was anxious, but it wasn’t random.
And his fingernails. Like they’d talked about, wide and flat. Trim. Just like Thomas’s.
They were the same height, too. Six foot one. They’d even stood back-to-back while Savannah measured. Jack had smaller feet, though. Size ten and a half. Thomas wore elevens.
Jack sort of nodded when he thought, not speaking until he’d put the words together in his head. Thomas did that.
Not like Savannah, who constructed complete paragraphs on a single breath.
More than anything, Thomas just couldn’t get used to looking at someone and seeing his own face looking back.
Okay, so it wasn’t exactly his face. Jack had a wide, square jaw and Thomas’s was long and narrow. Jack had a lot more freckles—probably all that time in the sun. But they definitely had the same, fairish skin. And the gap in Jack’s teeth. Thomas brought his tongue up to where his had been, even just months ago. Would he have wanted to leave it there, if he’d known?
Probably not.
Not that it was ugly, of course.
“I can’t imagine what you were thinking, sitting there at the table tonight.”
That’s all Thomas had been able to think about during dinner—that Sam Tamblin was going to uncover the whole scheme. Sam had seen Jack’s pictures. And how could he possibly think that Abe, who’d owned The Mine for decades, looked the same age as the guy sitting at dinner?
“I’m really sorry, Jack. We didn’t know we’d end up in the ER tonight.”
Jack scratched at his chin. “Well, if there’s one thing I ought to know about the McClairs by now, it’s that you’re never predictable.” He smiled his gap-toothed smile at Thomas. “Your mom gave me twins, after all.”
Thomas missed his mom so badly all of a sudden, it was as if they’d just lost her again.
Everything they’d done to find Jack would have gone so much better if she’d been alive. More supervised. Less Maggie-esque. Savannah wouldn’t have gotten ambushed and their whole life wouldn’t have shut down while they hid.
Everything would be different. If their mom hadn’t died.
He took a long breath, hoping to calm the emotion that threatened to come screaming out.
The woman in the chair across from him was holding her toddler daughter across her lap, rocking her and singing. She was asleep now, but the little girl woke every few minutes to cry and squirm. Her hair was plastered down with sweat and she hadn’t let go of the nubby pink blanket in her fist the whole time they’d been there.
“She’s supposed to be here.” The words came out aloud.
Jack drummed his fingers slowly on his knee. Purposefully, not random. “Yeah,” he said. “She is.”
They sat without speaking a few minutes more. Quiet. But there. The three of them. Finally. Together.
Renata Covington
Showrunner, Son Showers
American Broadcasting Company
Dear Savannah,
It appears you are quite the fan of our show, Son Showers.
I received your résumé and (multiple) letters. Your doggedness is admirable. Even more, you’re an insightful woman and our production team is always in need of sharp young minds like yours.
Plus, we Minnesotans look out for our own, no?
I’ve passed on your information to the producer who leads our team of interns, Alison Bloom. Please reach out to her when you’ve settled college and your plans for next year.
I look forward to working with you.
Respectfully,
Renata Covington
[BEEP]
Good afternoon. This is Theodore Brown calling for Thomas McClair and family. Thomas, I’m one of the track-and-field coaches at the University of Chicago and we received the recruit questionnaire you completed online. You’re an accomplished young man, and so first let me say, congratulations. As you probably already know, we’re a Division Three school here at the university. Meaning, we focus on providing each of our student athletes with a well-rounded educational experience. You’ll work hard and you’ll train hard, but you won’t be asked to sacrifice your academics for your sport. Which, since it looks like you intend to study genetics or engineering, is a good thing. Anyway, we’d love to talk to you. See if University of Chicago is a good fit and what we can do to help you in your decision making. Maybe bring you down from Minneapolis for a visit. I’ve taken the liberty of mailing you a few materials you might find interesting, and I’ll reach out again soon to try to catch you in person. Take care. And, Thomas, keep running.
[BEEP]
<
The Kids Are Gonna Ask
No Longer a Guava Media Podcast
Finale
OPEN
SAVANNAH
Here’s what we knew when we started: Bess McClair had just turned twenty-two when she and three friends—Brynn, Kristen and Elise—flew from Minneapolis to Colorado. It was spring break, March 2002. The four women were college seniors, due to graduate in two months. It was their last vacation before they’d be on to the next chapter in their lives.
THOMAS
Here’s what we know now: Our biodad is alive and healthy. He’s a year older than our mom would have been. He remembers her well. DNA tests showed a near-certain match. Last month, he flew to Minneapolis to meet us. We spent three days together.
SAVANNAH
Sorry, folks. As much as our previous producer wanted to record our meeting for this podcast, we had other ideas.
THOMAS
Not to mention our previous producer is currently very busy. His business partners sent him on an extended involuntary vacation.
SAVANNAH
Delicious, no?
[pause]
Anyway. As tempting as it is to tell you all the sordid details about that, let’s get back to our story.
THOMAS
The better story.
SAVANNAH
One teeny problem before we get into it, though. We’re not going to tell you much. The first meeting with our biological father was just too personal. I mean, it was totally crazy. Cray-zee. Believe me. But we decided there are some things that are better left private.
THOMAS
Yeah, you’re just going to have to trust us when we say, it was pretty amazing.
[pause]
So, do you feel different now?
SAVANNAH
Only in about a thousand ways.
THOMAS
Ha, yeah. I guess what I mean is, I feel different in ways I didn’t expect. We got answers to questions I didn’t even know I had.
SAVANNAH
Like what?
THOMAS
Like, I knew Maggie missed Mom. But I always thought about Mom’s death in terms of what it meant to you and me. But it changed Maggie’s life, too. She’s lonely. And I think that helped me understand her better.
SAVANNAH
You know how I feel different? I’m not so worried about the future. Like I have a clearer picture of where I’m going now.
THOMAS
But you’ve always known where you were going.
SAVANNAH
No, I knew where I wanted to go. Now I feel like I can go.
THOMAS
Plus, it’s nice to know we won’t be alone if anything happens to Maggie.
SAVANNAH
You’ll always have me, dummy.
THOMAS
And you’ll always have me. But now we have Jack, too.
SAVANNAH
Now we have Jack.
THOMAS
I want to tell Mom thanks for picking so well.
SAVANNAH
You know what I wish
I could tell her?
THOMAS
What?
SAVANNAH
That I’m so glad we discovered she was a badass. I’m still going to miss her every day, but now I’m inspired by her. She always did what she wanted to do, what she believed was right. And I’m going to honor that by carrying her badass-ness forward. Always.
<
* * *
Acknowledgments
The characters in this book are fictional, but the choice to understand one’s history and biology is a very real and deeply personal decision for millions of people. I haven’t faced the reunion journey in my own life, but in writing this book, I gained a profound respect for the emotional and logistical tangles such a decision requires of individuals and families. As much as possible, I tried to reflect the very real questions, concerns, hopes, fears, dreams and heartaches that can come with any biological search. I also recognize, however, that every journey is as unique as the person who undertakes it. There is no single, definitive story about finding one’s biological family, and in recognition of that, I did not set out to write one.
I would, most importantly, like to extend my sincere thanks to those who shared their origin, adoption, search and reunion stories with me—some who chose to search, and some who chose not to. Special thanks to K.S., J.O. and V.L. for being willing to answer my questions. Also, many, many thanks to Karen, who not only shared the story of her search and ongoing journey with me, but who also took the time to read an early, messy draft of this book. I hope I did your feedback justice, Karen, and that I extended to these kids the same generosity you showed me.
I will not presume to give advice to anyone considering finding their birth parents. I will, however, share several resources that proved valuable to me in researching and writing Savannah and Thomas’s story.
The Child Welfare Information Gateway on Searching for Birth Relatives is an online resource maintained by the US Department of Health and Human Services. The gateway provides access to reunion registries, support groups and a variety of resources for conducting domestic and international searches. https://www.childwelfare.gov/topics/adoption/search/searching/
Who Am I...Really? Podcast. Real stories about adoption, searching, biological reunions and the emotions throughout. http://www.whoamireallypodcast.com/
Adoptees On. A podcast and online community of adopted people willing to share their stories and experiences. http://www.adopteeson.com/
As for the day-to-day writing of this book, there are more thanks to be given.
To Josh Moehling and Laska Nygaard, two-thirds of the Monday Night Go Go’s, this book would not, could not, exist without you. For real. I will attempt to repay you every week from here until the end of our writing lives.
To my editor at Park Row Books, Natalie Hallak, you give one heck of a pep talk, and I needed so many. Thank you for keeping my chin up and your editorial flashlight fully charged. There was a lot of dark, but we made it.
To my agent, Holly Root, because all writers should be so lucky as to have her.
To every independent bookseller, librarian and reader who loved, talked up and hand sold my first book, Evergreen Tidings from the Baumgartners. I thought I was a lucky woman the day I held the finished book in my hands. Boy, was I wrong. As a writer, nothing beats the feeling of learning that your book meant enough to a person that they’re willing to evangelize on its behalf. The experience is magical, humbling and, sometimes, on the hard days, the only reason to get back to the keyboard. Thank you, thank you, thank you.
On a related note: SUPPORT YOUR INDEPENDENT BOOKSTORES AND PUBLIC LIBRARIES! [red-face emoji, laughing-through-tears emoji, flag emoji, cheerleader emoji]
And finally, to my family, you’re crazy, and I love ya.
My mother, to whom this book is dedicated, actually did spend an afternoon in 1962 helping my grandmother paint her antique table bright red. Like the table in this story, ours passed from my grandmother’s house to my mother’s and now to mine, where my husband and I eat with our three boys every night. There’s something magical about that table, and may we be forever thankful for the blessings it grants to those around it.
To our boys, you’re already incredible young men. Just keep going.
To Chad, all of it would mean so much less without you.
With heartfelt thanks,
Gretchen Anthony
THE KIDS ARE GONNA ASK
Gretchen Anthony
Reader’s Guide
Questions for Discussion
Throughout the book, Maggie worries about the potential dangers of doing a podcast for Guava Media, yet she allows her grandchildren to pursue it anyway. Why? Does this contradict the McClair family motto, “Listen to your instincts”? Would you have let your children or grandchildren pursue a similar public endeavor?
The McClair household is figuratively haunted by the memories of George and Bess. What effects do you think these “ghosts” have on each character? Does Maggie think she’s really talking to her daughter? Does Savannah believe her mother visits her in her dreams? If so, what does that say about each of them?
Maggie engages in magical thinking throughout the book: she believes her heart can match its beat to music and she engages in conversation with Bess. Why? How does magical thinking benefit Maggie? Are there ways it’s not helpful?
Thomas and Savannah’s sibling relationship changes throughout the book; it’s sometimes volatile and sometimes tender. How did the external pressures of school and the podcast affect their relationship? How did it evolve with time? Did the podcast harm their relationship or strengthen it?
Maggie describes Thomas and Savannah as trying to avoid falling into a “quicksand pit of emotion” during their podcast journey. How did the kids display this “quicksand”? How did their internal and external emotional responses evolve as the podcast went on?
Thomas keeps his email relationship with Jack a secret from everyone, including Savannah. Why? How did it benefit him? Do you think he had a right to do so?
George McClair used to say, “We will always have enough, as long as we have each other.” But at different points throughout the book, Maggie, Savannah, Thomas and Jack each express feelings of loneliness. How does loneliness affect the choices they make? How does it affect the way they interact with others? How is it possible to be surrounded by people who love you and still feel alone?
Savannah is a smart and outspoken young woman but is often ridiculed for it. At one point she says, “Like having the whole school hate me wasn’t enough. Now the whole world gets to hate me.” Have you experienced this conflict in your own life? Have you watched other girls or women experience the same? Do you believe Thomas was treated differently? If so, was it because of his gender?
Jack recognizes that his boss, Ford, became more of a father figure to him than his own dad. Even so, Jack betrays his promise to buy Ford’s business. Why did Jack make a promise he couldn’t keep, especially to someone like Ford? At what point did Jack decide to “make it right”? What does his relationship with young Carter say about Jack’s character?
The podcast earns decent ratings when it’s a happy story about two kids searching for their father, but it goes viral when it becomes the subject of hate and fear. What examples of this “hater” phenomenon do you see in the world today? Is there a way to beat it, or is the “hater” culture simply a fact of human nature?
Evergreen Tidings from The Baumgartners
by Gretchen Anthony
Be it labor great or small, do it well or not at all.
—CHILDREN’S RHYME
June
ONE WOULD THINK being treated like a daft old Betty by a police officer with mustard on his lapel would top Violet’s all-time list of humiliations. But after the fall of Gomorrah she’d just witnessed, it barely registered.
> “Mrs. Baumgartner,” he said, as if repeating her name would help. “Why won’t you tell me who threw the first punch?”
“Like I told you, Officer, I couldn’t see. I went momentarily blind.”
“But you can see now?”
For heaven’s sake, she said she’d gone blind, not soft in the head. “Of course I can see now—” She raised her finger to his name badge. “Officer Clive Bailey.”
She paused to let him absorb her demonstration of faculties. “Officer Bailey, I couldn’t see who threw the first punch, but believe me, I know very well it wasn’t my husband. Nor could I see what happened next because of the stars. And the buzzing. Like a swarm of bees in my head and before my eyes.”
“Bees.” Officer Bailey made a note.
“No, not bees.” Now that she was on record she thought she ought to be exact. “Like pins—hundreds of tiny, sharp pricks piercing the blackness. And then a million streams of blinding light. Really, I thought my brain was about ready to rip in two.”
She noticed the officer’s right eye had begun to twitch ever so imperceptibly where lid met lash, but he did manage to record the words blinding light. That would have to suffice.
“Okay. So if you were blind, how did you manage to leave the scene?”
“My husband, of course. Edward Baumgartner. He’s a distinguished scientist so I can assure you that he has no tolerance for violence. A man like Edward only uses his hands for the good of others.” She paused, and then added, “Even when he would have had every right to punch the man groping his meaty fingers across his wife’s backside.”
The twitch in Officer Bailey’s eye escalated to full-blown mutiny, and he began to worry at it with the back of his wrist. “I’m confused. A man groped your backside? Or he groped his own wife’s backside?”
“How on earth could he have groped his own wife’s backside? She was off pawing at Pastor Norblad like a Parisian streetwalker.”
Officer Bailey’s hand was so busy controlling the twitch in his eye that none of this was making it into his notes.
The Kids Are Gonna Ask Page 33