Janice Johnson - Open Secret

“She’s been that close all along. Her parents still live at the same address they were at twenty-five years ago.”

“Oh, dear. Can I call you back?”

She did, fifteen minutes later, still sounding watery but more composed. “I had to take it all in. I’d begun to think I would never find her. Carrie. Is that what you said her name is?”

“Carrie St. John,” he repeated.

“And her adoptive father really is a doctor? That was true?”

He rocked back in his chair. “Yep. A surgeon. So she grew up with money.”

“What…what do we do now?”

“We need to plan our next step. I can try to track Carrie down without speaking to her adoptive parents. I can approach them. Or you can approach them.”

“You mean, just call them out of the blue? And say, ‘I’m Carrie’s real sister?’”

“Yep.”

“Wow.” She gave a shaky laugh. “Isn’t it funny? I wanted this so badly, and now I’m terrified!”

They talked about how she felt, with him reassuring her that it was natural. She’d dreamed all her life about finding her sister and brother, but dreams weren’t the same thing as being only a phone call or two from actually meeting her sibling.

“Will you do it?” she finally asked.

“Talk to the adoptive parents?”

“If you think that’s the best thing.”

“I do. They may not be pleased, but there’s always the chance they’ll think this is a good thing for her, and they’re certainly the best go-betweens. Besides, if we bypass them, they’re more likely to be hostile to your appearance in Carrie’s life.”

He heard her take a deep breath.

“Okay. Do it.”

MARK CALLED TWICE that afternoon, getting only voice mail and choosing not to leave a message. At five-thirty, he left for home.

Michael was in half day kindergarten this year. He attended the morning session and was home by twelve-thirty. Mark considered himself amazingly, miraculously lucky to have found and been able to keep a young woman who stayed for the afternoon with Michael, put dinner on and cleaned house besides. Heidi was often willing to watch Michael evenings, as well. She was working gradually on a degree from the University of Washington.

When he walked in the door of his house in the Wallingford neighborhood, only ten minutes from his office, his son and their dog both raced to meet him.

Daisy skidded to a stop, her tail whacking Mark’s legs, her butt swinging in delight.

“Dad! Dad!” Michael shouted, leaping into his father’s arms with the full trust that he’d be caught. “I can read! I read ‘cat’ today. And ‘bat’!”

“Hey, that’s fantastic.” Mark gave him a huge hug, kissed the top of his head and swung him back to his feet. He scratched the top of Daisy’s head and got slopped with her long, wet tongue in reward.

Daisy had joined their household two years ago, after Emily died. The house and Michael both had become painfully quiet. Grasping at straws, one day Mark had thought, a dog. Every boy needed a dog. And right now, some unconditional love and companionship would be invaluable.

So they’d gone to the shelter with the intention of picking out a puppy. Daisy, a middle-aged Spaniel and God knew what mix, had entranced Mark’s three-year-old son more than the heaps of fat, sleepy puppies. Instead of being scared when her tongue swiped his face, he’d giggled. The first giggle Mark had heard in months.

“We want her,” he’d told the attendant.

Some idiot had surrendered her because they were moving to a no-pet apartment. He couldn’t imagine how you could have a dog as loving, eager to please and well-behaved as Daisy and be willing to discard her like a couch that didn’t fit into a new living room.

Their loss, his and Michael’s gain. She was part of their family now.

So was Heidi, as far as he was concerned.

As usual, dinner was in the oven and smelled damned good. Sometimes she stayed to eat with them, but tonight she appeared right on Michael’s heels, her bookbag already swung over her shoulder.

“Um, Mark? Can I talk to you for a minute before I go?”

Surprised, he disentangled his son and gave him a gentle push. “Go find a book. You can read to me before dinner.”

“Okay!” the five-year-old declared, and raced for his bedroom.

“What’s up?”

Heidi was short and a little plump. She had mousy brown hair, wire-rimmed glasses and ears that stuck out, making him think of an elf. She also had a laugh as carefree as Michael’s and the willingness to play with him by the hour as if no demand on her time was great enough to keep her from wanting to built a Lego spacecraft.

“Well, you know Peter?” She held out a hand at him. “He asked me to marry him!”

Good Lord. A diamond winked on her finger. Mark looked up to see the glow on her face and, despite his own dismay, he grinned and hugged her. “Congratulations! When’s the big day?”

Not too soon. Please, not too soon.

“Peter wanted to get married in June. But I talked him into waiting until September. So Michael’s in first grade. I want to keep working for you, but…but maybe not as many hours. You know? Once he’s in school all day, maybe he could go to after-school care sometimes, when I’m busy.” Her voice faltered and her glow dimmed. “Unless, um, unless you want to find someone else to be full-time.”

“Someone else? We could never replace you. You’re a saint. If you can stay on days through the summer, we’ll figure it out from there. Tell Peter thank you for being patient.”

She chuckled and, looking pleased with herself, opened the door. “See you in the morning!”

He had one hell of a mixed bag of emotions after she left. He’d grown fond of Heidi and was genuinely happy for her, but she’d also scared him. He didn’t like realizing quite how dependent he and Michael were on her; it made him feel a little resentful.

He thought he’d buried most of his anger at Emily, but surprised himself now with a burst of stomach-clenching rage. She’d done this to them. Left them alone. Some inner need had been way more important to her than her husband and son were, and he couldn’t get past that.

Shoving the mess of emotions out of sight, as he’d had to do for Michael’s sake since the funeral, Mark went to the kitchen and peered in the oven to see what was cooking. Then he listened to Michael sound out not just “cat” and “bat” but also “fat” and “rat.”

Feeling like every other overanxious parent, he asked, “Is everyone in your class starting to learn to read?”

“Annie already reads,” his son said. “And Kayla, too. They think they’re better than everyone else.” He added grudgingly, “I guess they are better readers. But lots of the kids can’t remember letter sounds. I sounded out b-a-t all by myself. Miss Hooper got really excited.”

Embarrassed at himself, Mark relaxed. Okay, so his kid wasn’t the most advanced in the class. But apparently he was doing better than most. And didn’t researchers say that girls usually started to read sooner than boys? Michael would be kicking Kayla’s butt by the time they took their SATs.

Over dinner, they talked about Heidi getting married, which worried Michael a little bit. “Will she have her own kids?” he asked.

“She probably will, eventually. She’ll be a great mom, don’t you think?”

“Yeah.” The boy was silent, his head bent over his plate. Finally, in a small voice, he said, “Sometimes I wish she was my mom.”

Mark’s heart contracted. “Well, in a way she is, isn’t she? Except, it’s a little like we’re borrowing her,” he explained. “Like a library book. We know we can’t keep it forever but we can sure enjoy it while we have it.”