by Jean Oram
“There will come a time when you’ll appreciate the quiet, reliable, and predictable. A town that will have your back no matter what.”
Amber tried to look at her mother with fresh eyes, not as someone she’d known all her life. She wondered if there had been a time when her mom had needed the town to have her back, and if so, what had happened.
“Like now,” Gloria added.
Oh, she was talking about her. Right. Amber supposed the town was looking out for her in its usual nosy sort of way. Honestly though, she’d prefer the anonymity of the city when it came to things like this.
“Have you been okay, Mom? With everything?”
“I wish Russell had been a whole lot nicer to you. Someone needs to have a good long talk with his mother.”
Amber let out a chuckle. She doubted talking with Mrs. Peaks would change the man’s behavior.
They had reached her mother’s house, and Gloria let them in, dropping her keys in a dish by the door. She sat on a folding chair, slipping off her shoes so she could massage the balls of her feet, just as she’d done after every shift while Amber was growing up.
“Why didn’t you become a stylist after hairdressing school?”
Her mother’s thumbs stopped working circles into her soles as she glanced up.
“Hairdressing wasn’t for me,” she said simply.
“How come?”
She gave a shrug, placing her foot back on the floor. “It just wasn’t.”
So much for being able to see hidden meanings in her mother’s expression. Gloria was as good at poker faces as Scott was.
Either that or there really was nothing behind the hairdressing school rumor.
Her mother went silent, hooking a thumb under her chin, pondering something. “Mary Alice’s incident got me thinking. There are things I want you to know, now that you’re an adult.”
“What incident? What things?” Amber struggled to catch up with this new line of conversation. They were close to something. She could feel it.
“Her lump.”
Mary Alice had believed she was dying a few months ago, and had begun writing relatives’ names on pieces of tape, sticking them on various items around her home so they could be handed down after she was gone—much to her husband’s consternation. It turned out she’d had just a small malignant tumor that had been safely removed. She was fine now, but that period of not knowing and assuming the worst had been unsettling for more than just Mary Alice. John had said he’d had a run on residents wanting to update their last wills and testaments, and it seemed as though Gloria had been affected, too.
“If you have sex toys or raunchy magazines, you can just go ahead and dispose of those before I have to deal with them.”
Her mother breathed heavily through her nose. “Amber, be serious. You’ve been asking about your family history. Do you want to know or not?”
“Yes, sorry.” Now she was worried that Gloria was sick and there were some bad genes kicking around that knocked Thompsons off prematurely. That and what secrets her mother might reveal. Suddenly Amber didn’t feel ready.
“I’ve been thinking about telling you this for some time. I don’t know if it’s a great time for you, given everything going on with Russell, but either way, you’re an adult now and I think you deserve to know.”
Amber had to remind herself to breathe, to not blurt out something stupid. Something big was coming down the secrets pipe. Bigger than the name of her father.
“But please know that what I’m about to tell you is confidential. Only four other people know and two of them are dead.”
“Um, is this an issue of national security?”
So much for being able to keep her mouth shut, but this was feeling really, really heavy.
Her mother gave her a stern look. “Your grandparents, Amber. Don’t be ridiculous. And the secret didn’t kill them.”
“Sorry. It just sounded like a line from a movie, not our life. I’ll shut up and listen. I promise.”
“I didn’t go to hairdressing school.”
“Okay.”
“I… I got pregnant in high school.”
Her mother had been in her early twenties when she’d had Amber. Which meant… secret baby.
Holy poop. Secret baby!
“I gave her up for adoption.”
Amber hadn’t seen that one coming. She needed to sit down.
She had a sister. She was a sister. To someone. Somewhere. To someone she hadn’t even met. Someone who didn’t know she existed, just as Amber hadn’t known she’d existed until seconds ago.
“I mistook sex for love,” her mother said heavily, and Amber struggled to pay attention, her mind still reeling from the shock. “I was a fool. Young. I found out I was pregnant two months before graduation. The baby’s father didn’t want anything to do with us and your grandparents weren’t interested in raising another child. So I went away to hairdressing school.”
“But you didn’t really go there?” Amber slid down the wall, settling on the floor.
This was huge. Huger than Philip not being her father. Huger than Scott applying out. Huger than Russell’s book, even. This was a change-her-life-forever secret. A sister!
She had a sister!
“I didn’t go. I applied, showed everyone the acceptance letter, then went and worked in a temp agency in the same city until it was time to deliver.”
That explained why her mom had burned Amber’s forehead with the curling iron and always sent her to the local salon for anything more than a trim. She hadn’t even walked through the doors of beauty school.
But to keep such a massive secret for so long. To keep it from everyone. Did Mary Alice know, or simply just suspect, because she didn’t have anything better to do with her time?
“Mary Alice hinted that there might be something about you and hairdressing school. Does she know?”
Gloria paused, her face pale, then shook her head. “But if anyone is going to figure out discrepancies in my history, it would be Mary Alice. Not much gets by her.”
“But she said…”
“She was probably just fishing, as usual. You’ve got everyone wondering who your father is, so I’m not surprised she’s sifting through my past, looking for hints.”
“Oh, Mom. I’m so sorry.” Amber hadn’t had a clue that there were more secrets that could be exposed by her searching for her father. Her mother had been right when she’d said it was complicated. Getting to the bottom of one secret was like trying to pull a pair of jeans from beneath a towering stack, one-handed, without toppling the others.
“No, no. It’s my fault.” Gloria let out a long sigh.
“Nobody knows.” They sat in silence for a few moments, then Amber tested the words that had been whirling in her head. “I’m a sister.”
More silence.
“Where is she?”
“I don’t know. I know nothing about her.”
“But you could find her, right?”
Gloria shrugged.
“Have you thought about it? Do you want to?”
Her mother let out a shaky sigh laden with sorrow. “She has a family. She doesn’t need me interfering and disturbing her life just because I’m curious.”
“But what if she’s curious, too? What if she wants to know where she came from?”
“She came from the family that adopted her. I gave up my rights.”
They were quiet for a long moment.
“Do you regret it?”
“What choice did I have, Amber? I couldn’t raise her on my own.” Gloria got to her feet, flinging her jacket onto the chair. Then she carefully picked it up and hung it in the closet. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“For… everything.” She blinked rapidly, sucking in a big breath.
Amber grabbed her in a bear hug, holding her close. She couldn’t begin to imagine what her mother must have gone through and the emotions she must have faced—still faced. If Amber was feeling
overwhelmed by it all, she couldn’t even imagine what her mom must be feeling.
She loosened her grip on her. “Do my sister and I have the same father?”
“No.”
Wow. Talk about being unlucky in love. Two daughters and no fathers for either of them. Maybe Amber didn’t need to find her dad to understand why things hadn’t worked out with her and Russell. Maybe it was a maternal bad-luck-in-love gene—one that kicked in once they stopped believing in themselves and their power to determine their own futures. Boom! Here’s your bad luck, ma’am.
But how had these secrets not burned up her mother? To have two children out of wedlock. To give one away. To be rejected by two baby daddies. So many secrets. So much sorrow.
Maybe Thompson women were stronger than they thought.
“Can we find her?”
“Oh, I don’t know, Amber.”
Amber needed to know what her sister was like—what she herself might be capable of achieving. Would finding her missing sibling show her mother that she didn’t need to keep her secrets any longer? People traced long-lost family members all the time. It had been well over twenty years ago and nobody would judge a teen mom for something like that now. Nobody was perfect, and as Scott said, everyone had secrets. So why not own up and move past it? Bury the sorrow under love and discovery? Stop wondering and regretting and start living.
And at the end of the day, maybe her father wasn’t who Amber needed to meet to figure herself out, maybe it was her sister. And maybe, just maybe, finding her would help set their mom free, as well.
* * *
Amber’s mother hadn’t said yes, but she hadn’t said no when Amber asked if they could find her sister. She’d simply asked Amber to let things sink in first.
Well, things had sunk in and Amber was excited and hopeful. There was no way she couldn’t try to find her. What if she had nieces and nephews? What if she and her sister had tons in common? She couldn’t resist trying to find out.
She wouldn’t tell a soul. She could keep it a secret. She wouldn’t betray her mother’s trust and confidence.
She could do this. And it was so easy. There were piles of websites and forums where adopted children were seeking their biological parents or siblings, and vice versa. Some sites allowed her to type in birth dates to narrow down the search—even though all she had was the year, a possible January birth, the fact that it was a baby girl, and the city she had been born in. But so far Amber had found four possible matches.
As a precaution, she’d added her name to the government’s application system—a sibling searching sibling. She’d had to mail information and documents proving her identity but it would take them several weeks to confirm who she was, as well as search for any possible matches in their system. But that was easy, too. And if her sister had granted permission for family members to contact her, then Amber would have something. Otherwise, her name and information would remain in the database until her sister added herself—if ever.
Amber decided if she got as far as finding her, and had contact information, she would discuss the search with her mother. At that point, she figured, Gloria wouldn’t be able to resist meeting her long-lost baby girl.
With a renewed desire to get to the bottom of the secrets surrounding her, Amber sent messages to the four possible matches on the nongovernment website. While it was a discouragingly small number, with no obvious feeling of “this must be her,” at least it wasn’t thousands of people she had to sift through with her limited information.
Amber’s phone rang as she hit “Send” on the last message. It was Liz, calling as John Abcott’s receptionist, requesting a meeting in the lawyer’s office ASAP.
That couldn’t be good.
What did Russell want now?
* * *
Amber sat across from the lawyer, wondering why he’d called her into his office. Did John know about how to track down her sister, and want to help? No, that was a silly idea. He knew nothing about Gloria’s secret baby. Amber was suspecting secrets where there couldn’t be ones now.
He tapped his fingers on the table he used as a desk and cleared his throat, then adjusted his reading glasses on his nose. “How are you doing with everything that’s going on?”
“Okay.” Amber had poured herself a coffee from the pot near Liz’s reception desk, and turned the cup around in her hands. The liquid was so dark she was afraid to drink it; even with cream and sugar added it had a lethal look to it. “You still have the old soccer team photos in your reception area.”
John had coached her soccer team all through the years, as well as sponsored jerseys and fees through his office. He’d been on parent council and organized all sorts of other things for kids in the community. How the man ever found the time was beyond her.
“I do,” he said, taking a sip from the water glass to his right. “How’s your mom doing?”
“Fine.”
John was a lunch regular at Benny’s, which was a mere block away. If anyone knew how Gloria was doing, it was likely customers such as John.
“Good. She always wanted to travel, and now that you’re all grown up I keep imagining her just up and taking off one day.” Her mother wanted to travel? How many secrets did that woman have? “I’m actually heading out on a trip next week, which is what made me think about it.”
“That’s nice.” Amber checked her watch. Usually the two of them sat along the bar in Brew Babies, shooting the breeze and sharing several bowls of nuts, as well as a few vodka shots, but she really didn’t have time today. “I don’t mean to be rude, but I have a conference call for work in half an hour. Sorry to hurry things along, but what did you need me for?”
“Right. I’m sorry. Russell contacted me about his holiday trailer.” John passed a piece of paper to Amber. “He wants you to pay the amount owed, and plans to take you to court if you don’t cover it. Consider this letter a shot across the proverbial bow—a warning.”
She twined her fingers together, elbows resting on the chair’s armrests. “Right. That’s not happening.”
John was like Scott—respected, knew everyone. A man who could be relied on. He was also someone she could be a straight with.
His eyebrows rose incrementally as he leaned forward, echoing her pose. “How so?”
“He put my life in a book. You know, tit for tat. Even if it was an accidental dose of tit.”
“That just sounds wrong,” John said with a chuckle.
Amber made a face and John stood, turning to lift a decorative box that sat behind him. He revealed a single-cup coffeemaker and a bottle of vodka. “Name your poison.”
“Coffee, please.” She had to work later.
She looked at the sludge in her cup, realizing she was ordering what she already had.
John said quickly, “Don’t drink that.”
He began measuring coffee and water into the machine, before switching it on and returning to his seat. “Do you think you have a case for libel?”
“Did you read the book? Everyone knows I’m Ember, even though he keeps saying I’m not. He called Scott Sir Studly, and now everyone thinks I’m in love with him. Well, Liz and Mary Alice, anyway.” Maybe not the strongest argument to bring to a small-town lawyer.
“Were you financially supporting him while he wrote the book?”
“He was on paid sabbatical.” She slumped deeper into the chair. “He took things that I said…” She paused, trying to control the emotions that were ravaging her vocal cords and making it impossible for her to speak clearly. “He took me out of context. It’s my life. I should have a right to have things we said remain private. I’m not a public persona.”
“Real people are used as inspiration all the time. He was within the bounds of the law by the sounds of things—sorry, I haven’t read the book yet. But from what I understand, he changed your name, age, career, locale, and therefore used nothing considered identifying information. People always think they know the characters in an author’s
book. Especially if they know the author well.”
“He named the main character Ember.” Amber held up a finger. “That is one letter off of my name. Doesn’t that say it all? And didn’t he have insurance on his little writing cave? Because that was totally an accident. I filed a report with Scott and everything.”
“No insurance. And he claims it was intentional, vindictive destruction of his personal property.” John propped his fingers in a steeple, then removed his reading glasses. “I should warn you that keeping a low profile during the next few months would be wise. The press could have a field day with your personal life if these allegations become widely known.”
She bowed her head, thinking of her mother. Amber would love to go after Russell for defaming her, but if she was going to protect her mom, her secrets, and sort out her own problems, she was going to have to give up battling her ex.
“I’d like to make a counter offer if I could.”
“Sure.” John picked up his pen. “What do you have in mind?”
“He drops the idea that I need to pay for the trailer and I won’t sue him for libel.”
“He’s the type that would like you suing him—all publicity is good publicity, and publicity sells more books.”
Amber sighed. She didn’t feel it was right to have to pay for his trailer. Not when he had wronged her in so many different ways. She needed something to make him go away. Something good.
“Don’t reply yet then,” she said. “I might come up with something.”
John swung his chair around to retrieve her cup of coffee, doctored it with just the right amount of cream and sugar, and placed it in front of her, taking away the cruddy cup she’d previously ignored.
How did he know how she took her coffee?
“I heard you’re looking for your father?”
Amber started, her attention jerking from her java to the man seated across from her.
He wasn’t her father, she reminded herself. He just knew what everyone else in town knew. Or maybe a bit more, if she was lucky.
“Do you know who my mom was dating just before Philip?” Her heart was beating so fast and hard that in her peripheral vision she swore could see it moving her shirt.