Holly Jacobs - A Walk Down the Aisle

With that, he turned, strode up the aisle and raced off down the hill toward the farm. He was a simple man—too simple perhaps to know how to handle something this decidedly unsimple.

* * *

SOPHIE HAD DRIVEN to Colton’s that morning. She hadn’t intended on driving back to her house today. They were supposed to leave for their honeymoon tonight. No cruise or European vacation. They’d borrowed their friends’ cabin in the Poconos for the week. Only the two of them in the mountain retreat. Long walks. Quiet days. A perfect way to start a life together.

And now? Sophie wanted to curl up in a ball and cry. She wanted to find Colton and throw herself in his arms. She wanted to be back at the arbor he’d built for her, saying I do in front of all their friends, then walking down to the barn for their reception. She wanted to dance with Colton and cut the cake, and...

Instead, she drove the now-silent teen back to her house. “Let’s go talk.”

Sophie noticed the big scuff mark on her front door as they walked up the stairs but didn’t comment as she let Tori inside. Sophie led her into the small but functional living room, and nodded at the red plaid couch. Tori slouched onto it and then glared as Sophie sat next to her.

“Why don’t you start,” she said softly. “You came to find me because...?”

“Why did I find you?” Tori’s voice was quiet, but that only made it easier to hear the anger reverberating in every syllable. “Oh, I don’t know. I’m going about my very normal life when I discover I’m not who I thought I was. I thought I was Gloria and Dom’s daughter. I thought my mother was a college president and my dad was a stay-at-home painter. I thought my grandparents were ex-hippie farmers. Instead, I find out I’m adopted and I don’t know anything about my real family. I found out that the reason I didn’t inherit any of my dad’s artistic genes is ’cause I don’t have his genes. And I didn’t get mom’s academic brain ’cause I don’t have her genes, either.”

“So you want to know about my genes?” Sophie asked quietly. She’d dreamed of this. Meeting her daughter. But in those dreams, there had been a happy, albeit tearful, reunion.

Not being battered by wave after wave of anger.

“Hell, no,” Tori barked. “I don’t care about your genes. I want to know how someone just gives their baby away. I wanted to see you. I want a freakin’ explanation. I deserve that much.”

“You do deserve that much and so much more. It’s a long story,” Sophie said. “I don’t know where to start.”

“How about with that guy you were about to marry. I take it he’s not my father?” Tori asked.

“No. Your father was my high school boyfriend. His name was Shawn and I thought I was in love. For that one blink of an eye, I thought Shawn and I would be together through everything. Anything.”

As she remembered those long-ago feelings, she recognized how shallow they were. She so wished Colton had been Tori’s father. He’d have stood by her. He’d have done the right thing, no matter how hard it was. By right thing, she didn’t mean marry her. She might have been young, but even when she was pregnant with Tori, she’d known she never wanted anyone to feel obligated to stand by her. By right thing, she meant he’d have stayed and helped raise the child they’d created. Colton would have supported her against her parents, and she had no doubt that with Colton by her side, she’d have won.

“And the guy, this Shawn, who was my real father. He didn’t want me, either?”

She longed to say something to help Tori. To ease her anger. But she knew what it was like to feel betrayed by a parent, and she didn’t think there were any words that would erase that kind of pain. She’d try, though. “Shawn. Shawn Mayburn was his full name, in case you want it. He—we—were both kids. Not much older than you are now. We were high school sweethearts, making plans for our future. He’d go to college two years before me, but that was okay, because he’d be able to show me the ropes when I got there. We’d get our degrees, backpack through Europe and then...well, things got fuzzy then. Still, we knew we’d have a phenomenal life. We had all kinds of ideas. But we didn’t plan on having a baby—at least not when we were still in our teens. Please, Tori, no matter what you think of me, you have to know you were always, always wanted. And loved.”

Tori reached out and snagged a corner of the throw over the back of the couch. She rubbed a section between her forefinger and thumb, and finally asked, “So, what happened? If you wanted me and loved me, and you loved my father, how come you let me be adopted?”

“I—” This had been a whirlwind, but suddenly Sophie realized that she hadn’t asked. “Where are your parents?”

“I—” This time it was Tori who hesitated.

Sophie might be brand-new at parenting, but even she could see the guilt written all over Tori’s face. “Do they know you’re here?”

Tori shook her head. “No.”

“You ran away?”

“Not exactly.” Guilt clearly replaced Tori’s anger. “I ran to, not away. I ran to you. To find you and find some answers.”

“You need to call your parents right now,” Sophie said. She could only imagine how scared they must be.

“No.”

“Tori, this isn’t negotiable. I’ll answer any questions you have as honestly as I can, but I won’t tell you another thing until you call your parents and tell them where you are.”

“I’m not what they want,” Tori blurted out, the pain of that knowledge—right or wrong—evident in her voice. “When I found out, I realized how disappointed they must be that they adopted a clunker kid. Mom makes her living educating kids, yet has one who doesn’t get straight As. I get Bs and sometimes Cs except with anything technology. Those classes I always ace, but it’s not really academic, is it? I have a bizarre sense of how things work. I’ll never read Proust for fun. I’m Mom’s big disaster. And Dad, he’d love an artsy sort of vegan kid, and instead he has a hamburger-eating one who can paint the walls in her room, but not much else. They’re both extraordinary, and I’m...I’m not. I’m an average kid.”

“So you looked up your biological mom because you wanted someone to blame for your mediocrity?” Sophie asked. She realized it came out snarky, but listening to Tori, she thought that maybe her daughter needed a bit of snark if those were her biggest complaints about her parents.

Tori shrugged. “Maybe partly. Maybe I wanted to find you and find there was something special about me. And maybe I hoped that I’d find someone who understood. Maybe there was some genetic...”

Sophie filled in the blank. “A mediocrity gene?”

“It sounds stupid when you say it.” She rubbed the afghan harder.

“Maybe it is. Here’s how I see it. You are who you are. Part of that is the genes I gave you. Part of that comes from Shawn’s genes. Part of that is the way your parents raised you. And part of that, the biggest part, is you...the essence of you. No amount of genes or environment can change that essence.”

“So I’m screwed.” Tori slouched even further.

Sophie might not have ever parented a child, but she’d seen Bridget, and now Mattie, holler at a kid without saying a word. She tried quirking her eyes and frowning at Tori’s totally awful word choice.

It got the desired result.

Tori raked her hand through her short blue hair. “Sorry. I am sorry for everything. I didn’t come here to ruin your life, too.”

“You haven’t ruined my life.” Sophie wanted more than anything to reach out and hug this child she’d fought so hard for. This child she’d thought of every day for fourteen years. This child she loved.