Page 54 of Forgotten Dreams
“I know you’re his,” Theo states. “Everyone knows that you’re off-limits.” I open my mouth in shock. “Why do you think no one makes eye contact with you?”
“I thought they were just scared of me.” I put my mug down. “What did you say to them?”
“Didn’t have to say anything to them.” He comes to stand next to me. “I fired one guy for overstepping, and then I was here day and night.”
“I thought that was to finish the job.” I look at him and then Theo, seeing him shaking his head, looking down, and laughing. “Good to know.” I grab my cup. “Now, I’m going to go up and get started with my day.” I tilt my head back and he bends to kiss my lips.
“I’ll call you later, baby,” he says softly.
“Maybe I’ll answer,” I threaten him, “or maybe I won’t.” I walk past him and then Theo. “Please make yourself at home.”
“He’s not going to do that either!” Caleb shouts at my back as I walk upstairs to my room. Ten minutes later, I’m sitting at my desk, still in my robe, when he comes into the room.
“Okay, I’m leaving,” he informs me, and I look over my shoulder at him coming to me.
“Yeah, you said that already,” I remind him.
“I know, but I didn’t get a proper goodbye.” He bends his head and kisses the ever-loving fuck out of me. “Now, it’s goodbye.” He winks before he walks out of the room, and a couple of minutes later, I’m touching my lips where his kiss still lingers.
I don’t have a chance to sit around and think about it when my phone rings, and I see it’s my mother calling. “Hey, Mom,” I answer, putting the phone on speaker as I get up and walk to my closet to get dressed.
“Hey, sweetheart, did I catch you at a bad time?” she asks.
“No, just getting ready for the day.”
“What have you been up to?” she asks, and I can tell she’s nervous about the question.
“I’ve met the fire chief on duty where I was left. I also did a DNA test and found out that my great-great-great-grandfather had twelve children, so that will be a big family tree to work through.” I don’t tell her about the note telling me to stop searching, not really wanting to worry her.
“No closer relatives?” Her voice is soft and she sounds sad for me.
“Sadly, no,” I reply, slipping on a pair of loose jeans, then searching for a shirt and finally grabbing a long-sleeved cream one.
“I do have a list of hospitals and private clinics in the area, and I think I’m going to reach out to them. I had to have been born somewhere.”
“I’m just worried,” she confesses to me. “I don’t want you to get hurt or feel like you aren’t wanted or loved.” I hear her sniffle.
“I’ve been thinking about it the past couple of days”—I pick up the phone—“and just because I find my birth parents doesn’t mean I have to go and meet them. Maybe it’s going to be okay just knowing that I know.”
“Whatever you decide to do,” she encourages, “we will be there supporting your every move.”
“Thanks, Mom.” I close my eyes. “I love you.”
“Not as much as I love you,” she returns with a lightness to her voice.
The conversation doesn’t last much longer since one of my clients calls me. I work past lunch, and finally, at three o’clock, I take out the pad of paper I made with private clinics on it first.
Two of the four are out of business, so I will make a note to see if I can find any information about them before I dial the third. The receptionist answers with a cheery voice. “Hi, I’m wondering if you could help me,” I say, nervously tapping my finger on my desk. “I was given up for adoption twenty-five years ago and was wondering if you had any records of births from that year.”
“Those are confidential,” she says, “but you can go to the county office and ask for the records.”
“Thank you so much,” I reply and disconnect the phone with her, searching up the county records office and then dialing the number. I listen to the woman answer the phone before I speak, “Hi, I was wondering how I would be able to get the birth records from September twenty-fifth, twenty-five years ago.”
“You make your request through email,” she answers. “It might take a day or so for someone to get back to you.” She goes on to give me the email address, and by the time we hang up, the email has already been sent.
The phone rings as soon as I hang up with her, and I see it’s Caleb. “Hey,” I say, putting the phone to my ear.
“Hey,” he replies and I hear the truck door slam. “I got an emergency call and I might be really late.”
