Mathew looked at his computer and sighed. “Twenty years ago fathers had very little recourse. Divorce hearings, custody. They were not considered equal to the mother. In parental abductions most people, even agencies, assumed the dad must have been horrible if the mother was willing to run. During the divorce, it seems like your mother did a lot to smear his name. Until this hearing he didn’t have a chance to clear his name and get any agency support. By then they were long gone.”
“So,” Aria asked, staring at his hands, “he’s a good man?”
Mathew fidgeted some as he continued, “It seems like it. A forklift operator in Philly. Just a normal guy who loved you and wanted to find you.”
The silence was broken only by the ping of emails coming into Mathew’s laptop. It was proof to Aria that the world outside of this house hadn’t crashed into nothingness. Only her consciousness had.
“Now what?” James asked, the honest reaction of a man of action. “You want to meet him?”
“I do,” Aria said, swallowing hard. “I want to apologize to him.”
“Apologize?” Monroe asked, taking her hand in his. “You have nothing to apologize for.”
“Growing up I didn’t have any choice, but when I found out . . . I knew his name and I didn’t reach out. I prolonged his pain for years. I’m no better than she was.”
A clamor of voices rose to disagree with her, but she waved them off. “I can’t make that right, but I can stop this. I can fix it.”
Mathew began typing on his computer. “I’ll have Emmitt get us some contact information and an address.”
“I’d like to meet him in person,” Aria asserted. “I don’t think this is something you can explain over the phone. He probably wouldn’t believe me.”
James folded his hands and looked at Monroe. “The company jet is at your disposal. If you need to go to Philadelphia it’ll be your best bet. Any other resources we have, please use them.”
Aria wiped a stray tear from her cheek and leaned her head on to Monroe’s shoulder. “I can’t believe this. I’m going to meet my father. He wanted me this whole time.”
“James, get that bottle of champagne. We’ve been saving it for something special, and I can’t think of a better time than now. Let’s celebrate.”
He hopped to his feet and retrieved the bottle while Jessica grabbed the crystal flutes and passed them out. When the cork popped loudly Aria jumped and giggled nervously.
“Dessert,” Libby announced, dashing toward the kitchen. “I almost forgot.” In her hands was a lopsided, poorly decorated cake, ablaze with candles. “We never got to have cake for your birthday Mathew. I baked this for you.”
“It’s . . .” Mathew said, getting a good look at the cake. “It’s very homemade.”
“It was a bit of a rush job,” she admitted bashfully as they all began to loudly sing happy birthday. When he blew out the candles they showered him with slaps on the back and hugs.
There had been so many birthdays missed for Aria and her father. So much time had passed between them, and the questions were whirling in her mind. Monroe leaned in close and whispered through her hair.
“Having you as his daughter, getting you back, he’ll be the luckiest man in the world.”
Chapter 35
“Why haven’t we heard back from Emmitt yet?” Libby asked, looking thoroughly annoyed. “Ever since he met Evie he’s been chilled out. He’s hardly taking any of his old jobs. He should have an answer by now. Aria’s going crazy.”
“It’s fine,” Aria lied. The last three days had been excruciatingly long. She and Monroe had tried to pass the time sight-seeing and hanging out with their new friends. But every free minute passed slowly, and Aria felt an urgency she couldn’t explain. She wanted to meet her father. She wanted to make amends.
“Have you given more thought to your mother?” Mathew asked, changing the subject.
“What do you mean?” Aria asked, lying on the blanket and staring at the sky. The guys had taken a lunch break from work and joined them at the park for a picnic.
“The documents stated your father was granted a large settlement from your mother if and when she was apprehended. Besides the charges she’ll face, she’ll also be expected to make financial restitution.”
“She has no money,” Aria explained. “Or at least she didn’t six year ago. Who knows what she has now? I doubt my father will care about the money. He’ll just be happy to see me.”
“Right,” Mathew said, sounding unconvinced. “He may want to pursue your mother. And if he doesn’t, the police likely will. I want to make sure you’re prepared for that.”
“I’m prepared for anything,” Aria said adamantly. “I’m in the angry stage right now. I’ve never let myself go there. I’ve always given my mother a free pass because she was protecting me. She did what was hard in the face of real danger in order to give me a better life. Now that’s gone, and I’m left with she used me as a pawn to hurt my father. He and I have been robbed of important years together. I rotted away in that hellhole for no reason at all.”
“Oh,” Libby said, reaching for her phone, “I almost forgot about that hellhole. I have some news from Randolph. Look at these photographs. This is Javier’s new apartment. He settled in south Florida, and his family met him there last week. This is all of them reuniting at the airport. He doesn’t have to worry about gangs anymore. His mother was so excited; they’re all starting fresh.”
“That’s wonderful,” Aria exclaimed as she looked closely at each picture. “It looks like a beautiful apartment. I hope they’re happy.”
“He said to tell you he is grateful to you and Monroe,” Libby said, looking fondly at Monroe, who was busy checking email on his phone. “These big tough guys always end up being the kindest in the end. Once we show them the way.”
Mathew was now pacing as he held his phone to his ear and grunted replies.
Jessica handed Aria a plate full of freshly cut watermelon. “These guys never stop working. We’re going to fix that next. They can’t all keep this pace. We should plan a big vacation for all six of us. Something before the baby comes.”
“No beach resorts,” Aria joked, and it wasn’t until Mathew came back to the blanket looking sick that they stopped laughing.
“What is it?” Jessica asked, knowing the man well enough to see how serious it was. “Is everything all right?”
“No,” he replied simply as he looked at his phone as if it could take back the bad news it had just given. “Aria, I’m so sorry. I don’t know how to tell you this.”
“What?” Aria, gulped, instantly feeling hot and dizzy.
“That was Emmitt. He had been looking high and low for your father, but he said he’s not used to finding average people. You know?”
“I guess,” Aria replied, her heart thudding loudly.
“He looks for criminals, dignitaries, political figures, military people. That’s what he does. Your dad, he operated a forklift. Just a middle class, nice guy. So it took longer to find him.”
“But he did?” Monroe asked impatiently. “He found him?”
“He did,” Mathew said, looking over at James and exchanging a knowing look. A pleading help me friend kind of look.
“He’s dead,” James said, filling in the blank even without hearing it first-hand. From the expression on his best friend’s face, he could tell. “Emmitt found him, but he’s dead.”
“Yes,” Mathew apologized. “Pancreatic cancer two years ago. Emmitt was able to track down his last known address and where he was buried. He’s sending a newspaper clipping of the obituary. He apologized for taking so long. He wanted to be one hundred percent sure before he broke the news.”
“No,” Aria said, shaking her head and waving Monroe off as he came to her. “He’s not dead. Your brother is wrong. He wouldn’t even be fifty years old. Scott Laurence is a very common name, I’m sure.” She paced around the blanket and backed away from anyone who tried to come close to her.
“He’s positive,” Mathew said, somberly. “He validated it through multiple sources. I’m sorry, Aria. Your father is dead.”
“Dead,” she gasped, clutching at her throat as though she were choking. The world around her had transformed into an enormous vacuum; she felt everything being pulled from her. Gone were the images she’d conjured up of her emotional reunion. Gone were the stories they’d tell each other. There would be no laughter about the mannerisms they had in common. It would never be. None of it.
“Aria . . .” Monroe said gently, though he didn’t reach for her. “We can go Philadelphia. We can find more about who he was.”
His words felt like droplets of water on a raging fire. There was nothing that could extinguish it. She lost her breath suddenly and felt the earth beneath her feet give way. Monroe caught her elbow and pulled her in to his body, holding her fiercely as she wept. She cried with her whole body, with her whole heart. When she hit her knees, Monroe did too, whispering something she was sure was meant to bring comfort. But his voice was too far off.
Aria rested her head on Monroe’s chest and clung to him as though she would be sucked into oblivion if she let go. “He’s dead,” she said in a raspy whisper. “And I have to live with that.”
Chapter 36
The flight was bumpy, but Aria wasn’t sure if that was what made her queasy. The list of possible culprits was long. She hadn’t eaten. She hadn’t slept. Dehydration was a possibility, considering she’d cried her eyes dry.
“Emmitt said we should go to this address. He didn’t say much else, but apparently you’ll get some answers if we do. Maybe your dad has some living relatives there.”
“Maybe,” Aria replied as she stared out the window, foolish enough to think maybe something in Philadelphia would be familiar. Her last time here, she was a three-year-old. She’d spent many nights trying to conjure up a true memory of her father. Surely she’d gone to a park with him. Had he pushed her on the swing? Had she sat on his shoulders and never worried about falling?
“I can’t imagine how you’re feeling right now,” Monroe offered gently. “I can tell you a hundred times not to blame yourself, and it won’t matter. I don’t have any advice. I don’t have anything, but I’m here.”
It was not lost on her how much willpower it took for a man, especially this man, to admit he was out of solutions. To just be present and without a direct purpose was a difficult proposition and that he was willing to attempt it, meant a lot to her. “I wouldn’t be able to do this alone,” she admitted, giving up on staring out the window. Nothing in Philadelphia would be easy. The one connection she had to this place was now dead.
“Here we are,” Monroe said, forcing a cheery tone as he pulled in front of a three-story apartment building. It was a slate color with bright white trim. Certainly not newly built but well kept.
“Are we supposed to knock on the door?” Aria asked, feeling nervousness roll up her spine. “Emmitt couldn’t give us anything else to go on?”
“I didn’t talk to him directly,” Monroe said as he looked at the apartment. He was watching as if the answer would climb out of a window. “James said he’s a pain in the ass. Effective, but he doesn’t make anything easy.”
“I can’t imagine anyone in that house wants to see a couple strangers on their porch, talking about ancient history and a dead man.” Aria didn’t unbuckle her seat belt.
Monroe cut the engine and took her hand in his. “It’s not ancient history. It’s your history, and the worst that can happen is they have no idea what we’re talking about. We’ll leave and try something else.”
“I guess,” Aria agreed, refusing to admit what being turned away would actually do. If the people in that house were her blood relatives, and they didn’t want her, she’d get back in the car and tell Monroe to drive until they hit the ocean, until this place was a distant memory.
He clicked her seatbelt free, and she stepped out of the car with the uneasy legs of a newborn deer. A few seconds later Monroe was at her side, propping her up with his sturdy arm.
“Look,” he said optimistically as he read the names next to each apartment’s buzzer. “Laurence. That’s on the second floor. That must be what we’re looking for.”
“You think he lived here?” she asked, looking around for something he might have touched. Something he might have loved about this porch.
“We’re about to find out,” Monroe said as he pressed the buzzer and waited.
“Yes?” a sweet voice called back. “Who is it?”
Aria didn’t answer. What would she possible be able to say through this little electronic thing that could bring someone to the door? Likely they’d think she’s crazy.
“Uh, yes ma’am . . . my name is Monroe, and I was hoping to talk to you about Scott Laurence. Is he a relative of yours?”
“He is,” the voice said, sounding far more guarded now. “What is this about?”
“His daughter,” Monroe said, nervously clearing his throat and unconsciously tightening his grip on her.
“There is a toll-free number you can call if you want to set up an interview. But there is no new information. Everything is up to date on our website. This is our private residence.”
“I know that,” Monroe said. “I’m very sorry to intrude. If you could spare just a minute. I have new information for you.”
There was a long pause before the voice came back. “I’ll give you Detective Logan’s phone number. He’s in charge of the case. Any new leads can go to him. But, what exactly do you . . .” she trailed off. “What kind of information is it?”
Monroe looked at Aria and held his breath. His eyes roamed over her face expectantly.
“Hello?” Aria finally edged out. “I am . . . uh, I’m his daughter. Scott Laurence was my father.”
The pause on the other end of the speaker dragged on, and Aria held her breath as well.
“Go out to the front porch,” she ordered. “Stand by the flagpole.”
Monroe opened his mouth to ask why, but Aria was already down the stairs and halfway to the flagpole before he could say anything. She couldn’t blame this person for not wanting to open the door for such a crazy proclamation.
Aria looked at the apartment as the porch door opened and out stepped a young woman in sweatpants and a tattered tank top. Her blond hair was in a messy bun on top of her head, and even from a distance she could tell the girl was rubbing sleep out of her eyes.
“When’s your birthday?” the girl called down.
“October thirteenth,” Aria called back, her hands shaking with fear.
“No,” the girl corrected. “Her birthday was November thirteenth.”
“I only know what my mother told me. What the papers she gave me said,” Aria explained. “I can’t remember him. Anything you ask me, I won’t be able to answer.”
“There have been others,” the girl said with a sigh. “They think they’ll get some kind of money or something. There’s no money.”
“I don’t want money,” Aria said, her voice cracking with emotion.
“What do you want?”
“I have no idea,” Aria admitted. “I know I’m too late. He’s already gone. I don’t know what I want.”
“The birthmark?” the girl asked, as though the idea had just popped in her head. “She has a birthmark.”
“On my shoulder,” Aria said, her eyes welling with tears as she spun around and slipped her shirt down. “Can you see it from there?”
“Yeah,” the girl said, through a little sob. “It does look like Hawaii. That’s what he always said.”
The girl disappeared from the porch and in a few seconds the front door swung open. “It’s you?” she was asking over and over again, half declaration half question. “Is it really you?”
“Yes,” Aria answered, accepting the full-body hug as the girl nearly lifted her off the ground. “It’s really me.”
“Johana? Do you go by Johana?”
; “No,” she said awkwardly. “My name is Aria. Or that’s what I’ve gone by all these years. This is Monroe.”
“I’m Natalie,” she gulped out as she wiped tears away. “I’m your sister. Well your half-sister. Oh my gosh. I have to call Lennon. Our brother. He’s in school in California. But he’ll come on the first flight.” She patted her sweatpants, looking for her phone. “I don’t have my cell. I need to get it. Don’t move. Don’t leave. I have to call Aunt Gail. You look just like her. It’s actually spooky. That’s Dad’s sister. Did you know he had a sister?”
“No,” Aria said. “I don’t know anything. He had more kids? Two?”
“Yes,” Natalie smiled.
“How old are you? And your brother.”
“We’re twins,” she smiled. “Twenty. We’re twenty.”
“I’m so glad he had more kids,” Aria said, clutching her heart. “I’m so glad he wasn’t alone. He married again?”
“For a while,” Natalie said, for the first time looking somber. “They separated when we were ten.”
“You’ve always known about me?” Aria asked, astonished that she was so welcomed.
“One of my first memories was licking envelopes stuffed with your missing person flyer. My brother was in charge of the stamps. You can’t imagine how much a part of our lives you were. Every Thanksgiving he saved you the wishbone. There was always a seat for you at our table. Every single night. My mother”—she bit at her lip—“was very supportive. She understood the lengths Dad needed to go to keep your memory alive. To keep hope alive. But at some point it just became too much. If she’d have let him, he’d have spent every dime they had trying new ways to find you. He went in debt so many times and it was mostly people taking advantage of him.”
“She left him because of me?” Aria asked, a dagger aimed at her heart until Natalie removed it.
“No,” she said firmly. “They had a complicated marriage outside of the baggage he brought with him. It sounds cold, but I promise you, my mother wanted you found. She prayed for it every night. She’ll be so happy.” Natalie clamped her hands together and gasped as though she still couldn’t believe this was happening. “He went to his deathbed without seeing you again, and it kills me. I’m so sorry you didn’t meet him in time.”
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