Holly Jacobs - A Walk Down the Aisle

She slipped on a pair of jeans and a blouse. She thought about taking her hair down, but there were so many bobby pins, and so much hairspray in it, she didn’t think she could until she showered.

She didn’t want to lose a minute of her time with Tori to showering, so she’d gone back into the living room. She’d stood in the doorway, drinking in the sight of her daughter on her couch. Anger. Pain. Blue hair. Still gripping the throw on the couch between her finger and thumb. Every inch of Tori was...perfect.

She wished she could make her daughter see that.

During those one hundred and twenty minutes they waited for Tori’s parents to arrive, Tori peppered Sophie with questions ranging from her family’s medical history to Sophie’s educational background. She asked about Sophie’s job here in Valley Ridge.

She didn’t ask again why Sophie had given her up.

She didn’t ask about her father.

The questions she didn’t ask bothered Sophie more than the ones she did.

Tori startled when the doorbell rang. “It’s them, isn’t it?”

Sophie nodded. “I imagine so. Do you want to get the door, or shall I?”

“You. They’re going to kill me.”

Sophie got up and, before going to the door, walked by her daughter and patted her shoulder to comfort her and to allow herself one more touch. She went to the small foyer and opened the door. The woman, Tori’s mother, wore a pair of black pants, low heels and a no-nonsense fitted white blouse. She was wearing a very classic set of pearls and had pearl studs in her earlobes. Her light blond hair was pulled back into a chignon.

Tori’s father had on jeans with a hole in one knee, wear marks on the other and a couple of paint splotches. He wore brown loafers and a T-shirt with pictures of doors on it that read The Doors. His dark brown hair was shaggy, as if he’d forgotten to get it cut for several months.

“Sophie?” the woman asked.

Suddenly, it occurred to Sophie that she didn’t know Tori’s last name. She’d only mentioned her parents’ first names. “Gloria and Dom?”

They both nodded.

“Thank you for calling us,” Gloria said stiffly.

“Tori’s in the living room.” Sophie knew that Tori’s parents needed to see her—to touch her, to know for themselves she was all right.

Sophie had been right. As her parents entered the room, Tori got up from the couch and was enveloped in her parents’ hugs. For as completely composed and business-looking as Gloria appeared, she was unabashedly crying as she embraced her daughter. “Don’t you ever do anything like that to us again.”

Dom sounded heartbroken as he added, “You could have talked to us. We’d have brought you—”

Tori pulled back, the happy reunion forgotten. “No, Dad, don’t say you would have supported me and brought me to meet Sophie. You didn’t even tell me I was adopted. I still wouldn’t know if I hadn’t seen that envelope. You both lied to me my whole life.”

“Victoria, it’s time to go,” her mother said, tears forgotten. “We’ll discuss this later. Right now, you’ve barged in on Sophie and—”

Tori pulled back from her parents’ embrace. “No, Mom. I’m not going. I got a few answers, but I need more. I need to know Sophie. If I can know her, maybe I can figure me out.”

Sophie felt awkward in the midst of the volatile family confrontation. “Tori, I—”

Tori whirled on her. “Oh, I know, I’ll interrupt your perfect life. I already ruined your wedding. I’m an inconvenience, but I’m not going home to Cleveland yet.”

“Victoria—” her mother started, but her father interrupted.

“Tori, give us a minute.”

“Where should I go? Sophie’s house is small. I’ll hear you wherever I am. And honestly, I think I’ve proved I’m an adult.”

Dom had struck Sophie as a free spirit. Seeing him with Tori’s mom, a decidedly unfree spirit if ever she’d met one, seemed incongruous, but in this instant, he transformed into a father—a firm but loving father who expected to be obeyed. “Tori, if anything, you’ve proven how immature you still are. I’m not denying that we should have told you sooner that you were adopted, but that doesn’t excuse your conduct. You are fourteen, and you stole our car. Not only that, you drove it out of state.”

“I read the driver’s manual. I know all the rules. I think I was the only one who drove the speed limit the whole way here. And I’ve driven all kinds of vehicles at Nana and Papa’s farm. I was confident I could manage. And I did.”

“It’s illegal. If you’d been stopped...if you’d hit another car...if...” All the things that could have gone wrong had obviously been playing in his mind.

“You drove here?” Sophie asked. It occurred to her that a good parent would have asked how a fourteen-year-old arrived in Valley Ridge. The town was too small for a public transportation system. That left either driving or hitchhiking.

She felt sick at the realization Tori had driven across three states. She couldn’t stop the images of what could have happened. Scenes from nightly newscasts played in horrible detail, all of them with Tori as the focus.

“Go outside, Tori,” her father said firmly “Find a seat on Sophie’s porch and don’t move from there. We’ll come get you in a little bit.”

“Fine.” Tori whirled and headed toward the front door.

“And if you go anywhere other than that front porch, I’ll track you down and I’ll—”

“What? Spank me?” Tori laughed.

“I might be a pacifist, but believe me when I say, if that’s what it took to get you to understand how incredibly stupid you’ve been, well, I’d do it. Don’t tempt me.”

Tori looked taken aback by his response. She hid it by turning on her heels and slamming the door behind her for good measure.

Sophie didn’t know what to do, what to say. “I’m sorry.”

Dom quirked one eyebrow and Sophie thought of Star Trek’s Spock, which struck her as an absurd thought to have in the midst of the day’s events.

“For what?” he asked.

She shrugged. “I don’t know, but I can’t help feeling this is all my fault, and I’m sorry.”

“Let’s sit down.” He assumed the role of host and got them situated in the living room, he and his wife on the couch, Sophie opposite them on the chair.

“If anyone should be sorry, it’s me,” Gloria said. “Dom wanted me to tell Tori she was adopted from the day she arrived home, but I...” She shook her head. “I couldn’t bear it. I sent you those letters every year through the adoption ageny, and part of me relished sharing her development with someone I knew cared. I was so grateful to you for choosing us. I spent days writing them. Picking out pictures. But I never told you her name or ours because I was afraid. She’s mine. Every time I mailed out a letter, I’d be sick with worry that you’d realized how much you gave up and come to get her, but that didn’t stop me from writing down all the details I thought you wanted to hear. I needed to prove to you that you were right to choose us. But it scared me to death.”

“So that’s why no names?” Sophie asked. All she’d ever known her daughter as was Baby Girl. Every year, after she read Gloria’s letter, she’d write her Baby Girl a letter in response. She could have sent them to Tori through the agency, but frankly, pouring her heart out to her child didn’t seem fair. At some point, she’d give her daughter the box of letters. Maybe it would help answer her questions.

“I know. Not even her first name. That was cruel.” Gloria leaned into Dom with a real need to touch him evident in her expression.

“No. You were so generous sharing her moments. When I received that first letter chronicling all those milestones in her first year...” Sophie fought to hold back the tears. “For weeks, I read it every day. I can recite the letter to you word for word. But at some point, I knew I couldn’t go on that like that. So, I put it away. And each year, when you sent the new letter, along with the pictures, I’d read it through, then I’d reread all the old ones. I’d write my response and put it away, as well. I gave myself one full day to appreciate them, to look at Tori and marvel at her. Then I’d put the box away and would go back to living my life. You provided that one letter to me and then went back to being her mother. I get that. You wanted to keep her safe.”