Nowhere but Here

by Renee Carlino

  “Thank you,” I said, taken aback.

  “I’m Jamie, Kate’s fiancé.” Jamie stuck out his hand and Paul shook it.

  “Nice to meet you. Shall we have a seat?” Paul gestured to a table in the corner.

  “I’ll get us coffees,” Jamie said.

  I sat across from Paul and scanned his features. “So you dated my mother?”

  “Yes, and I know what you’re thinking.”

  “Oh?”

  “I was much younger than her. In my twenties. She was close to forty.”

  “Actually, I was thinking that you look very familiar to me.”

  “Well, I’m a writer. Maybe you’ve read one of my novels?”

  “Yes, that’s it!” It hit me instantly. The man I was sitting across from was the award-winning, bestselling author Paul Sullivan. “What an honor to meet you. I’m a writer as well. I write for the Crier.”

  “Oh yes, I’m familiar with that paper. That’s wonderful, but honestly, I’m not surprised. Your mother was a huge fan of the written word.”

  “What happened between you and my mother?”

  He leaned back in his chair and smiled at the memory. “She was a teller at my bank. She was so uniquely beautiful. I would find reasons to go in and see her. She agreed to have lunch with me one day and we started dating from there.” He paused and his lips flattened. Looking down at the table in a daze, he said, “I was in love with her.” The age difference didn’t shock me because my mother always seemed young at heart. What surprised me more was that I’d never heard of this man who had been so madly in love with her.

  “So what happened?”

  “She was resistant to starting a serious relationship with someone so much younger. She said she couldn’t have kids, but apparently she could because she did. With Samuel, I assume?”

  “I have no idea who Samuel is.”

  He squinted and shook his head. “Well, that’s why she ended our relationship. She met Samuel. He was her age. She said he was a better match for her. They were engaged within weeks of meeting, and she told me she couldn’t see me anymore. The last day I saw her, she showed me her ring.” Jamie sat down at that point and took my hand in his. Paul looked a little choked up. “She cried and apologized over and over again. I left her there, crying on a lakefront trail. That was the last time I saw her, but I never stopped thinking about her. I don’t think I ever will.”

  “Wow,” I said as tears ran down my cheeks.

  “I’m sorry, sweetheart. This must be very hard for you to hear.”

  “I want to know. I need to know as much as I can. I don’t know who my father is. She never told me.” My voice was shaky. Jamie remained silent.

  “Samuel Morrison. I would start there.”

  “What about you? Do you have a family?”

  The mood seemed to lighten. Paul chuckled. “Yes, I met my wife shortly after I dated your mother. We have five children, two grandchildren, and another one on the way. I have a very big family that I love, but like I said, I never stopped thinking about Ann, and I was curious. That’s why I called.”

  I couldn’t believe my mother was a heartbreaker. Why would she ever dump this guy?

  We all stood up at the same time. “Thank you for meeting me, Paul. I feel like I have a place to start searching.”

  “You’re welcome. I’m sorry you had to lose your mother so young.”

  I hugged him and then he shook Jamie’s hand before we all walked out into the brisk air.

  We walked three blocks before it started raining. I grabbed Jamie’s hand and pulled him up the stairs to the nearest L station.

  “Are you sure, Kate? I can get us a cab.”

  “No. I’m doing this. I’m changing this memory.” Somehow the meeting with Paul had reinvigorated me.

  The train stopped in front of us as we stood shaking on the platform. We were soaking wet and freezing. I pulled him in through the doors by his jacket, pushed him up against a pole, and pressed my mouth to his, kissing him urgently. He cupped my face and kissed me back with so much intensity I thought we’d combust. When we pulled apart, he held my face and said, “This is why I love you. You’re amazing.”

  “This is how I want to remember the L. If we move away and I never come back here again, this is how I will remember it, kissing you sopping wet.” I laughed. He kissed me again and then we held each other until it was time to get off.

  Back at my apartment, it took Jamie exactly three minutes to Google Samuel Morrison. He lived in the city, less than two miles from me. The thought that my possible father lived two miles from me and didn’t even care tortured me and made me not want to seek him out, but Jamie insisted I call. I knew he was right. It would eat away at me if I didn’t at least try to find my real father.

  After a few rings, he picked up, and my heart started beating wildly. I had no idea what to expect.

  “Hello?”

  “May I speak with Samuel Morrison?”

  “Speaking.” I paused, swallowing a huge lump in my throat. “Hello?” he said again.

  “My name is Kate Corbin. I’m Ann Corbin’s daughter.” Jamie nodded at me, encouraging me to go on. “My mother passed away when I was eight. I never knew who my father was, but now I have reason to believe it’s you.”

  His voice became very low and serious. “I’m sorry for your loss. I did know your mother. I was engaged to her, in fact, but I can assure you that I’m not your father.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Because I was never with your mother intimately. She was pregnant when I met her. I didn’t know until we were about to be married. She wanted to keep you, but I couldn’t live with the thought of raising another man’s child, so we broke it off.” I held the phone to my ear, speechless. “Kate?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’m not a bad person. I cared for her. In fact, I stayed in touch with her through the pregnancy. She went looking for your father when she was close to having you, but he had moved on. I don’t think she ever told him. She said that she could do it on her own. I believed her. She was a strong woman.”

  Everything was starting to come together, and the truth was finally within my grasp.

  “Is my father Paul Sullivan?”

  “Yes, I believe he is.”

  My biological father was the handsome man I had met at Starbucks just an hour before. The beloved, award-winning, bestselling author. I looked up and could see that Jamie was just as shocked as I was. His eyes were huge, and then he looked at me curiously before smiling from ear to ear.

  “Thank you, Mr. Morrison. I have to go. Good-bye.”

  As soon as I ended the call, Jamie wrapped me up. “Oh my god, baby. Your dad is the Paul Sullivan.”

  “But he doesn’t know. What if he doesn’t want me?”

  “We just call him and tell him the story and see what he says. Now that I think about it, there was a resemblance. His ears stuck out just like yours,” he said, trying to lighten the mood.

  “My ears don’t stick out, jerk.”

  “They do, just a little. It’s actually pretty cute.” He picked up the phone and handed it to me. “Well . . . time to call Paul.”

  “I can’t, Jamie—I’m scared.”

  “You’ve been through a lot, baby. Come here.” He took me into his arms and held me while he spoke softly in my ear. “You’re one of the bravest people I know. You can do this. I know he’ll want you in his life. How could he not?” He gently pushed me away from him and looked down at me, bracing my shoulders. “You’re amazing.”

  “Okay, I’ll do it.” Jamie handed me the phone. I dialed the number and waited with my stomach in knots for an answer. “Hello?”

  “Hi Paul, it’s Kate. I have something to tell you . . .”

  Page 17

  * * *
r />   The Situation

  There are moments when clear images finally begin to emerge within the abstract painting of your life. For me, it was the moment I picked up the phone to call Paul. I saw myself in Chicago and Napa surrounded by Jamie, Beth, Jerry, and Dylan—the people who had been with me through my darkest hours—and I realized that all I ever wanted and yearned for was already within my grasp. I wanted a career I could feel passionate about. I had my novel. I wanted love and lust and everything that comes with it. I had Jamie. I wanted to fight hard, love hard, and live hard. But more than anything, I wanted a family to share my life with. I had that, too, even if they weren’t my blood. Everything I wanted already existed within my life. The death of my mother and Rose, my constant reinterpretations of my dream about Rose, and my relationship with Just Bob had paralyzed me in a place of fear and isolation. I had believed I was all I had and all I needed. It was easier that way. But Jamie was right. I was scared to live, to be happy, to take what I deserved.

  Once my entire life was laid out for me during that critical moment of clarity, I was immediately grateful for all the traumatic and painful experiences. If I hadn’t lived in the fucking darkness, I never would have seen the light. Now I was finally facing that light, fearless, ready to walk into it and take my happiness.

  “Paul . . . I think you might be my father. Actually, I know you are, and I wanted to tell you that if you’re open to it and comfortable, I’d like to get to know you.”

  I could sense Paul’s emotion over the phone. “I was just going to call you, Kate.” His voice cracked. I was trembling and Jamie was watching me cautiously. “On my way back home after meeting you, it struck me that you had never heard about Samuel. There would have been no reason for your mother to hide him from you. I got this feeling . . . I thought about the timing and your age. You look just like your mom, you know, but there’s something in your smile that I see in my youngest daughter. Even more obvious, you, my dear, were blessed with the Sullivan ears.”

  “My boyfriend said the same thing,” I said, laughing and crying at the same time. Jamie mouthed the word fiancé at me. I walked over and sat on his lap. He kissed my back and rubbed my shoulders while I continued talking to Paul. My father.

  “When I got home, I told my wife, Elaine, that I had a feeling. I told her the story. She’s very excited to meet you.” There was a long pause. He cleared his throat and went on. “I am so sorry that I wasn’t in your life sooner, Kate, but I promise you, I will do everything I can to make up for lost time.”

  It’s fair to say that by that point I was hysterical. All I could blubber was, “I’m a writer, too.”

  “I know. I looked you up . . .” His voice was shaky, and he was crying with me. “I’m . . . I’m very proud of you. None of my other kids . . . I’m just so happy. Please come and have Christmas dinner with us tomorrow? You can meet your brothers and sisters.”

  “Tell me about them.”

  He took a deep breath. “Well, you have a sister, Olivia, who is twenty-five. She has twin boys that are a year old. You’re an aunt.”

  I laughed giddily through tears. “Go on.”

  “Your brother Aiden is twenty-three. He’s engaged to Lauralie, who’s pregnant. A little young, we know, but they’re in love. And then Gavin is twenty-one. He goes to college in Los Angeles at USC, but he’s here for the holidays. Blake is twenty, and he’s still finding himself,” he said, in an amused tone. “And finally, there’s Skylar, the youngest. She’s seventeen and still in high school. She’s the free spirit—a very gifted pianist.”

  “Wow. I’m speechless. I’ve lived all my life thinking I had no family.”

  “Well, you have a big family, and I know they will welcome the addition. What do you say? Come and meet everyone?”

  “Yes, I definitely will.”

  “See you tomorrow, sweetheart. I can’t wait to get to know you.”

  “Likewise,” I said in a low voice and then hung up. I turned around and straddled Jamie in the chair and then buried my face in his neck and sobbed. “Happy tears?” he asked.

  “The happiest. Will you go with me?”

  “Of course.”

  We slid into bed, naked and freezing, but within moments we were warm, wrapped up in each other, and dozing off to sleep. I woke up Christmas morning to the smell of breakfast. Jamie was making pancakes and singing to the Black Keys pumping through the iPod dock.

  When I came into his view, he shouted, “Merry Christmas, lover” over the loud music. He was shirtless, wearing nothing but his plaid flannel pajamas. I was wearing the slinky black Victoria’s Secret purchase I’d made with Beth. I walked around the counter so he could see me from head to toe. His mouth dropped open.

  “Oh my god. Screw breakfast.” When he lifted me from my waist, I wrapped my legs around him. He slammed me against the dining room wall and attacked my mouth just as the lead singer of the Black Keys shouted, “I got mine!” Best sex song EVER! I thought.

  After Jamie took me against the wall, we ate our partially burnt breakfast and then showered and got dressed.

  “Jamie?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I feel terrible. I didn’t get you anything.”

  “You mean that thing you were wearing earlier wasn’t for me?”

  I laughed. “Well, yes, I guess so.”

  “I have a photographic memory, remember? That little number will be the gift that keeps on giving. Trust me.”

  He was standing at my dresser injecting his insulin pen. When he turned around, he had a small box in his hands. “This is for you, but you can’t open it until later.” I made a grumpy face. “Oh, is Katy curious?”

  “No, I can handle a little suspense.”

  We decided we would go through the city looking for the holiday train before we headed to my father’s house, which was located in a little suburb just outside Chicago.

  As we headed out the lobby of my building, I noticed a sign above the exit door was misspelled. It said: MARRY CHRISTMAS. I laughed to myself. Two blocks away, another sign sitting in the coffee shop window said: MARRY CHRISTMAS.

  “Do you see that?” I pointed the sign out to Jamie.

  “What?”

  “It’s spelled wrong.”

  “Oh, hmm. Idiots.” He chuckled and pulled me along by the hand. As we approached the L station nearest to my apartment, I spotted Darlene. She was wrapped in a blanket, sitting on a piece of cardboard. When I got close to her, she said, “Hey, you, girl. Say yes!” I looked up at Jamie. He shrugged and then looked up to the sky curiously.

  “Merry Christmas, Darlene.” I handed her a ten-dollar bill. “Stay warm.”

  “Thank you,” she said.

  We continued walking. I stopped abruptly about a half a block down and turned to Jamie. “What are you up to? Huh?”

  “Who, me?” he said in mock surprise. “Let’s go, we gotta hurry.” He yanked me along.

  “Why do we have to hurry?”

  “We just do.”

  “When we got to the platform of the station, it began to snow. “I planned this,” Jamie said.

  And then lo and behold, the goddamned holiday train pulled up. “You arranged this?”

  He pulled me toward Santa’s car. “No, silly girl, there’s a schedule.”

  “You’re kidding? All these years?!”

  Just as we reached Santa, Jamie stopped and looked me in the eye and said, “Merry Christmas, angel.”

  Then Santa chimed in, “Ho ho ho, marry him!”

  Jamie pointed a thumb back toward Santa as he stood in front of me. “That, I planned,” he said. Then he dropped to his knee, pulled the box out, and opened it, revealing a modest pink stone on a platinum band. “Sorry, honey, no blood diamonds for you.” I shook my head and laughed. “Marry me?”

  “Jamie Lawson . . . is that how you
ask nicely?”

  “Katherine Corbin, will you please marry me and be my wife and wear that black silky thing at least twice a week for the rest of our lives?”

  I dropped to my knees, gripped his face, and kissed him. “Absolutely, one hundred percent yes. And that was a way better proposal than a note.”

  People all around us on the platform began clapping and cheering. Even Santa was jollier than usual. Jamie put the ring on my finger and then we stood together and rushed onto the train car. Powdered in snow, we kissed the moment the doors closed and made a silent promise that we would do that every time we got on the L. It was our new beautiful memory.

  • • •

  We rented a car and headed north. Paul Sullivan, my father, lived in a gorgeous, two-story colonial house in the village of Wilmette, a tranquil little suburb north of Chicago. The treelined street and large snow-covered homes were picturesque, an ideal place to grow up. I felt a pang of sadness as we pulled down the long driveway. I wondered if it was resentment toward my mother or just pure envy that all of my father’s other kids got to grow up here while I was living in a one-bedroom, stuffy apartment with a depressed Rose. I thought about the many nights I’d slept on the pullout sofa, wishing I had my own room. Still, I couldn’t forget that Rose had loved me like a mother.

  Before we got out of the car, Jamie looked over at me with concern. “Are you okay? You seem somewhere else.”

  “I’m here, I assure you. I’m here. This hurts a little. I can’t figure out why my mother didn’t want me to know.”

  He took my hand and kissed the back of it. “You may never know the reason, and I can tell you from experience that you have to let it go. When my biological parents tried to extort money from me, they told lie after lie. They tried to take me down—their own flesh and blood— when all I wanted was to do good for people. For months, I just kept wondering why. Finally, my adoptive mother told me I needed to stop searching for that answer and move forward. When the trial was over, I promised myself I would never ask why again. Look at this, Kate. See all of these cars?” The driveway and street were spilling over with cars jammed into every spot around the big white house. “This is what you get now. This is amazing. Don’t think about the past ever again.”