Page 26 of Forgotten Dreams
“Thank you, Hudson,” I say softly before leaving and walking out of the office and back to the front door. Stepping out into the sunlight, I try not to let the setback bother me as I walk over to the bakery to grab something to eat. I sit at the table with my sandwich, and the phone rings with an unknown number.
“Hello.” I put the phone to my ear.
“Is this Sierra?” the caller asks.
“This is she,” I confirm, sitting up.
“I heard you have some questions for me.” My heart speeds up, and it finally clicks that this is the fire chief.
“I do.” I try to actually calm and not act like I’m freaking the fuck out, but internally I’m freaking the fuck out. “I won’t take up much of your time.”
“Good,” he says, “here is my address.” He gives me his address, and I text it to myself. “Come before dinner.”
“I’m at the bakery now. I can be there as soon as I leave here.”
“Ms. Maddie’s bakery?” he asks.
“Yes.”
“Good, bring me some donuts.” I try not to smile at his request.
“Is there any kind that you want in particular?” I ask him and he hangs up the phone on me. “So one of each.” I take a deep breath in and slowly let it out. “Let’s get some answers.”
Chapter 13
Sierra
“You have reached your destination,” the voice says, “your destination is on the right.” I park the car by the curb and look at the little white house with dark windows. Two weeping willow trees protect it from the sun, rain, and everything from outside. A United States flag flies from the side of the open front door, but a screen door shuts out everything. “Here we go.” I pep myself up as I lean over to grab the box of donuts and my phone.
I shut my car door, walking around the car and stepping onto the sidewalk, looking right and left as I make my way up the pathway to the door. Stepping up one step, I see there are two rocking chairs out here, moving back and forth softly in the wind. I look for a doorbell when I finally get to the screen door. Seeing none, I lift my hand and knock softly on the wooden side. My heart pounds fast and hard in my chest as I step back and nervously wait for him to come to the door.
“I’m coming,” the voice snaps as I hear footsteps approaching me. I see him fill the doorway. He semi-glares at me, then his eyes go from me to the box of donuts in my hands, and his look softens just a touch. “Hmm,” he says, “you listened.”
I don’t mean to but with all the nervousness I have in me, I giggle a little bit. “Of course,” I respond as he pushes open the screen door so I have to take an extra step back. “I got one of everything,” I tell him, extending the box to him, but I see he is holding a cane with one hand and the door with the other. “I’ll carry it in for you.”
“Don’t need you to do no such thing,” he grumbles, lifting his arm with the cane and reaching for the box. “Come in.” He turns, and I must step in quickly before the screen door slams shut.
I follow him past the living room with one brown couch that seats three people. A dinner tray with remotes on it is right next to a brown La-Z-Boy. There are pictures of him in uniform on the wall from many years ago. Then another one of him in the same uniform but with a woman wearing a wedding dress beside him. Then the pictures go from black-and-white to color. Pictures of him with what must be his children and then grandchildren. I step into the small kitchen and see an L-shaped counter with a fridge and stove tucked into it and a sink facing the window in the room. A small round table with four chairs is pushed almost to the wall, facing the counter. He pulls out a chair before hanging the cane on the table and then plopping the box down right next to a glass that looks like iced tea. “You want something to drink?” He looks over at me, and I shake my head, not sure if I should join him and sit at the table or just stay standing. He sits down at the table and then looks at me. “You going to stand there all day looking at me, or are you going to sit down?”
I roll my lips, trying not to laugh at him as I pull out the chair closest to me before sitting down. “Thank you for meeting with me, Mr.—” I start, not sure what to call him because I don’t know his fucking name.
“Bruce.” He opens the box of donuts and looks at all of them before choosing one, taking a bite and then reaching for a napkin to wipe his mouth. “So you have questions, do you? What questions do you have?”
I rub my hand down the front of my pants, wiping the clamminess off. “Yes, just a couple.”
“Well, I’m not getting any younger. So get to it.” He looks at me as he takes another bite of the donut.
“In the paper, it said that you found me, but you didn’t know how long I had been out there.” He nods.
“We were sitting in the crew mess. A couple of the guys were playing cards. A couple were sitting around shooting the shit. It was a slow night.” He looks down at the donut. “Then I heard it…” His voice trails off. “The sound of a baby crying. It was after midnight, so we all looked at each other, not sure we heard what we heard until it got louder.” He looks over at me, and I can see he remembers it. “We all got up and walked toward the door. Back then, the station was smaller.” He turns his eyes now as he picks up his tea. “I got to the box first, and when I looked inside, I saw you were there with just a blanket on.” I can’t help the lone tear. “We were pretty much in shock for a second, and then we sprang into action.”
“What did you do?”
“I got the box inside,” he goes on. “A couple of the guys went running around the station to see if anyone was lurking. Then we had a couple of guys drive up and down streets to see if they saw anyone. But there was no one.” He taps the table with his finger. “It’s like you were dropped off by angels. You were cold.” He shakes his head. “We got you in a warm blanket as we called the sheriff, and then they took you away.”
“Was there any talk about who my parents could be?” I sit here waiting, holding my breath.
“Not one person came to mind. Everyone we thought it could be was still pregnant or with their newborn.” He stops when the front door slams shut and looks down the hallway at a woman coming in, holding a basket in her hand. Her white hair is pulled back, and only when she gets closer do I see she’s in a long skirt with a sweater, her sleeves pushed up.
