Ripple: A Novel

by Cedergreen, L. D.

  “Why not, Kendi? I’ve been listening to you cry over this boy for three years, and now he’s going to be less than twenty miles from you. You should go.”

  “I can’t, Tab. You know it’s more complicated than that. I can’t tell him. I just can’t.”

  She looked at me with deep understanding in her eyes and reached for my hands. “Kendi, you don’t have to tell him today. You don’t have to say anything, but don’t you think that you should at least see him? Maybe this will be a chance for you to have some closure.”

  “I don’t know, Tab. I don’t think that I’m strong enough to face him.”

  “Oh, please, you’re like the strongest person I know. You can do this.”

  Maybe she was right. Maybe seeing him would help me move on. I let out a loud sigh. “Okay, I’ll go. But you’re driving me. The thought of seeing Adam again is making me feel sick to my stomach.”

  She smiled at me, happy that I was taking her advice. “Fine. I’ll drive. Let’s get you in the shower. We only have thirty minutes to get you dolled up. You have to make a huge impression. It’s been three years since he’s seen you.”

  I rolled my eyes at her and forced a smile, but inside I was falling apart.

  Running a few minutes behind schedule, Tabatha raced down I-5 toward the airport. I felt like we were on the autobahn, the world whirling by at record speed. My hands were trembling, my heart racing at the idea of seeing Adam after all this time. I took slow deep breaths, trying to calm the nerves coursing through my blood.

  Tab pulled the car up to the terminal and turned toward me. “Kendi, you’ll be fine. I’ll park the car and meet you at the gate, okay?”

  “Okay.” My voice was barely audible as I opened the door and slowly climbed out of the car. The door had not even closed yet as Tabatha hit the gas and sped toward the parking garage.

  I glanced at the monitor and noted the gate number, my knees shaking so hard it felt like they would give out on me any minute. I can do this, I told myself as I inhaled deeply through my nose, trying to calm myself. I walked quickly through the terminal, knowing that his plane was landing that very minute, and I wanted to be there when he stepped off the Jetway. Of course his gate would be at the very end of the terminal. I walked as fast as my trembling legs would carry me, but it took forever.

  I rounded the last corner and spotted his gate number up ahead. I was just a short distance away when I saw him. He was standing in the center of a small crowd, hugging several people around him. I knew it was him, from his crazy dark curls that fell over his forehead, much longer than he usually wore it. I slowed my pace and took in the sight of him from afar, my heart pounding in my chest. I felt my face flush with heat, tears of joy wetting my cheeks.

  Feeling that familiar pull, I continued to walk toward him. I hadn’t realized just how much I still loved him until that moment. I was closing in on him, passing the last gate before I reached him. I could make out the faces of those gathered around him now. His mom, his dad, Josh, his two older brothers, a woman that I didn’t recognize, holding a toddler in her arms. The crowd parted, and I could see Rick and a girl that Adam had just pulled into a firm hug, his lips brushing her cheek.

  As she stepped back, wiping tears from her eyes, I saw that it was Katie. I stopped dead in my tracks. What was she doing here? I stepped behind a pillar, its massive size obscuring me from sight but allowing me to peer around its edge to see Adam. The pained expression on Josh’s face told me everything that I needed to know, as I turned away from them and slid my back down the pillar until I was sitting on the floor, knees drawn up to my chest. There was no way that Adam would want us both here. He wouldn’t do that to me. And his mother would not have invited Katie, knowing her role in Adam’s past. Which led me to the only logical explanation.

  Adam had asked Katie to be here, and his mother had asked me. Adam didn’t know that she had called me, that I might be here, but he had wanted Katie here. I should never have come. The hurt that I felt knowing that he was just steps away, but that I could not face him, especially with Katie here, was unendurable. The idea that she had once meant nothing to him seemed like such a loaded lie after watching their exchange. Her presence here alone screamed significance.

  I had no right to feel betrayed. The depth of my betrayal was far greater. I had let him go. Another decision that I could add to my list of regrets. I knew all this, and yet I still felt so wounded. It took every ounce of will I possessed to stand and walk away from the only man that I had ever really loved.

  And still loved.

  Letters

  I shuddered from the memory of that day. There were so many painful moments in my past that I had tried to forget, knowing that they were the result of the choices that I had made. I found myself at the pier several miles from my apartment. I hadn’t realized that I had wandered that far, so I turned around and slowly made my way back home. The sun was directly overhead, revealing how long I had been walking, and I could feel my skin absorbing every degree of heat that it radiated. I reached my apartment and took the stairs two at a time, watching each step that my sandy bare feet landed on, careful not to fall.

  When I reached my deck, slightly out of breath, I looked up to find Adam sitting in one of the chairs, staring out at the ocean. My breath escaped me, and I heard my flip-flops crash against the wood of the deck as they fell from my grip, the sound bringing Adam’s face toward mine. I stood there, in complete shock by his presence, unable to move or speak. He turned away from me, his eyes once again taking in the view. I couldn’t read his expression, but I could sense an overwhelming sadness in his tone as he spoke.

  “I can see why you like it here so much. This view is breathtaking.”

  I moved slowly, lowering my body into the chair beside him, keeping my eyes on the beach. “What are you doing here, Adam?” I asked, curiosity swelling inside of me. I was afraid of what he had come here to say. It wasn’t his anger I feared or the amount of resentment that would be in his eyes when he looked at me—it was the questions that he had come here to ask. The questions that I was afraid to answer, afraid of where they might lead.

  When he didn’t answer me, I kept talking, filling the silence that not even the crashing waves below could drown out. “I tried to call you so many times, but you never answered or returned any of my calls. I can’t tell you enough how sorry I am.”

  He still refused to look at me, his eyes staring out into the distance. “I was going to call, but I don’t even know what to say to you. I called your mom and asked for your address, and here I am. I guess I just needed to see you.” He finally turned and looked at me, his gaze burning into mine as I watched the moisture build and spill down his cheeks.

  “Kendi, I need to know everything. I need to know everything about her. I’ve been trying to wrap my head around the fact that I have a daughter somewhere out there. Now that the anger is gone, I just feel sad and useless. There’s nothing that I can do at this point. I need to know what you know, so that I can try to make sense of these feelings that I have.”

  I saw something in his eyes. That shattered look, revealing the fissures that spread throughout his insides, breaking apart his heart and soul, stripping him of his completeness. I knew that look. I saw it every time that I looked in the mirror. We were both missing a piece of our soul, and I wondered if we would ever feel whole again.

  “I know, Adam,” I admitted with a sigh. He did need to know everything and there was so much that I needed to tell him.

  He leaned back in his chair, his gaze fixed on the beach. He was lost in thought, as if he didn’t see the view in front him but something else entirely. He reached up and pulled at a dark curl on his forehead with his fingertips, twirling it absentmindedly.

  I took a moment to look at him. And I didn’t mean his deep blue eyes or his dark wavy hair that I longed to run my fingers through or the way the ridge of his muscles showed through his dark T-shirt or the tightness of the skin on his legs that his
khaki shorts left visible. I meant I really saw him. I took note of the pull I felt in his presence. That undeniable feeling of wanting him and not just in a physical sense. Years had separated us, and yet I felt like I knew him better than I had known any other man.

  The tenor of his broken voice interrupted my thoughts. “You know I wrote you every day for a year, even after the letters were sent back to me. You can’t imagine how much I wanted to get on a plane and come home to you, to beg for you to take me back. I knew that I had lost you, but I didn’t know why. I had no idea the decisions that you were making without me.”

  “I had finally worked up the nerve to tell you everything when I was home that Christmas. I wrote it all down, and I was just about to send you my letter...then I got your letter about your extension and the ministry. I told myself that I could never tell you. I let you go that day. You had made decisions without me too, Adam. I take full responsibility for what I did and for not telling you. But you broke my heart that day.”

  He looked at me as if he was seeing me for the first time. “I’m so sorry, Kendi.”

  “I’m sorry too, Adam. I’m sorry about everything, and I’ll understand if you never forgive me. I haven’t been able to forgive myself.” I could feel my emotions bubbling to the surface, tears wetting my cheeks. I turned away from him and we both sat in silence, fighting against the pain of our regrets that our past had handed us on a silver platter, forcing us to taste its bitter bite on our tongues.

  We sat like this for a while listening to the sounds of the ocean, the voices of people passing by on the strand. I knew that it was time to share what I knew of our daughter, to delve into a part of me that I kept closed off from the world in order to hide the shame and guilt that ate away at me one tiny fragment at a time. I reached for Adam’s hand, and I felt him tense at my touch.

  “Come inside. I have something to show you.” I stood and led him through the door into my small apartment. I offered him something to drink as his eyes scanned the room, taking in all the details of my home.

  “I’ll have some water,” he replied, clearing his throat. I made my way into the kitchen, watching him as he ambled around my living room picking up framed photographs that were displayed throughout the room: my favorite picture of Mo and me sitting in the grass in front of the high school; a photograph of Derek and me on the slopes in Aspen bundled in our ski gear; a family photo from Marie’s wedding. I returned to the living room carrying two cold water bottles and set them down on the table next to the couch. Adam held up a photograph of Derek and me, taken at a fund-raiser we had attended the year before.

  “Is this him?” he asked.

  “Yes, that’s Derek,” I replied sadly, realizing how much I missed him.

  “You look beautiful, Kendi.” He motioned toward the photo of me in a red silk gown, my hair swept in a fancy up-do.

  “Thank you.” I felt myself blush.

  “Still can’t take a compliment, huh?” he teased me, his mouth pulled up on one side giving me a clear view of his dimple.

  He pulled so many different emotions out of me that I felt crazy. “Make yourself comfortable, I’ll be right back.”

  I went to my bedroom and retrieved an old wooden box from the back of my closet and the picture from my nightstand. When I returned, Adam was sitting on my couch, sipping his water from the bottle. It felt a bit surreal to have him in my apartment, like two worlds were colliding, my past and my present.

  I sat next to him and set the box between us.

  “What is this?” he asked, curiosity filling his eyes.

  I held out the picture in my hand. “This is Brooklyn Grace, your daughter.”

  He looked at me, stunned, as he took the worn photograph from my hand. I watched him brush his finger across her face, his eyes taking in every detail.

  My tears fell effortlessly as I swiped them away with my fingers, waiting for his response.

  “My God, Kendi, she is so beautiful,” he whispered through tears of his own. “And you...you’re so young. I can’t imagine what you’re feeling in this picture.”

  I stared at the picture in his hands, remembering every emotion as if it was yesterday. “She was born on April 21 at 4:35 in the afternoon. She weighed six pounds, two ounces, and measured nineteen inches in length. She was perfect and so tiny. She has your eyes and obviously your hair too. The two days that I spent with her were the most precious and most agonizing of my life, and I have never been the same since.”

  “Were you alone?”

  His question warmed me, knowing that he was thinking of me in some small way. “Marie was there. She’s the only one who knew. I don’t know what I would’ve done without her.”

  “No one else knew?”

  “No, I told my Mom and Scott—and Derek—the same day I told you.”

  “You’re so brave, Kendi. But then again, you always were.” His eyes had not left the photograph. “Where is she, Kendi?” he asked as he looked up at me, his eyes so intense it took my breath away.

  This was what I had feared. I knew that he would want to know where she was; I knew that just telling him about her would not be enough. I opened the box and began to pull out stacks of envelopes, all unopened. Envelopes addressed to me from The Petersen Family with a Bellingham address.

  “What are these, Kendi?”

  “These are letters about your daughter. I could never bring myself to open them. You can have them.” I handed the letters to him.

  He was still stunned. “You know where she is?”

  “Yes, it was an open adoption. I chose them to raise her, and I signed papers that would allow me to have contact with her. I couldn’t...I couldn’t open myself up to that pain again. I haven’t seen her since the day I placed her in their arms. She’s ten years old now.” I felt so ashamed admitting this to him.

  “What did you tell them about me?”

  I looked at him, pausing, as he searched my eyes for answers. “I told them that I didn’t know who the father was,” I choked out. I was drowning in the depths of self-reproach. It had rolled off my tongue so easily back then; now, sitting here, staring into Adam’s eyes filled with hurt that I had put there, it was hard to accept that I could have lied so easily. I had been raised to always be honest, and I had told lies that had torn lives apart. Adam must have hated me.

  He was quiet for a moment, absorbing the sharp edge of my words. “I want to see her,” he said quietly, almost a whisper.

  “Adam,” I started to protest but he interrupted me, his voice firm.

  “You can’t keep her from me, Kendi. You owe me this much. Please, do whatever it is that you have to do to make this happen.”

  “Are you sure that’s what you want, Adam? Because I can tell you exactly how it feels to hold your child in your arms, to know that she is a part of you, and then the unbearable pain that follows when you have to say good-bye. You don’t want to know what I know, to feel what I feel, trust me.” I sobbed uncontrollably.

  His words cut me to the core, harsh and angry. “You never gave me that chance, Kendi. I will never know what you feel, because you took that from me. Don’t pretend that you’re trying to protect me. You’re only trying to protect yourself.” He rested his elbows on his knees and buried his face in his hands. A moment later, he lifted his face, his hands pressed together against his lips as he whispered, “I have to know that she is okay.”

  “She is, Adam. Heather and Charles are amazing. I would not have trusted just anyone to raise her.”

  “You don’t know that, Kendi. You have no idea. You haven’t read these letters, and you haven’t seen her. I need to see for myself that she is happy and healthy, that you made the right choice.”

  “If that’s what you really want, I’ll call the agency,” I said, unable to fight him any longer. I had carried her in my womb for nine months, had given birth to her; and I had not checked on her once. I had not even glanced at these letters to read about her life, scanned the photos for her
smile. I had known of her existence for ten years; I had dreamed of her face nearly every night, wondered about her incessantly, but I had never checked on her.

  Adam had known of her for a few short months, and he instantly felt this need to protect her, this innate fatherly instinct consuming him. He didn’t trust my judgment, and I could not blame him. I found solace in the connection that I felt with Heather and Charles, the comfort of knowing that they were good people and would be great parents. I understood now that Adam needed to know this for himself.

  “Yes, this is what I want,” he said confidently, as he collected the letters from the couch and stood. “I’m staying at the Ocean Inn down the street for a few days. Let me give you my cell phone number.”

  I scrambled to my small desk in the corner of the room and produced a pen and piece of paper, writing down his phone number as he recited it to me in an even tone.

  “Please call me when you have information about the possibility of me meeting my daughter.” He turned toward the door, and I called out his name, not sure of what I wanted to say, but I wasn’t ready for him to leave yet. He turned back to look at me, waiting for me to speak. The seconds ticked by, silence hanging in the air. At my lack of response and the desperation in my eyes, he walked out the door.

  I called the agency, and surprisingly Susanne was still employed there. I told her of the new circumstances—that I knew who was the birth father—and he was asking to meet Brooklyn. I wasn’t sure what the protocol was for this sort of thing or how bad this looked from a legal standpoint, given the fact that I had lied. Susanne said that she would contact the Petersens and their lawyer, and get back to me.

  Her call came within an hour. I was shocked, not expecting to hear from her for a few days. The Petersens were actually thrilled to have their daughter meet her birth father, and they wanted to know if I would be there as well. They wanted Adam to sign a waiver, relinquishing his parental rights though, just as I had, before he would be allowed to meet her. The question of whether or not I would be there weighed heavy on my mind as I tried to focus on the rest of our conversation.