“You do it, then,” she said, her tone bleak.
“What are you two talking about?” Quinn demanded, suddenly anxious. They hadn’t openly mentioned her name, but itwas clear that whatever they were arguing about had to do with her. Why was her mother so upset? And what was it that her father wanted to do? Was this about the puppy she’d been asking for? That was the only thing she truly wanted for her birthday, but if it caused her parents so much distress, she’d just wait a few years until she was able to take care of it all on her own. Quinn grew very still, her eyes shifting from one parent to the other. The tension in the kitchen was thick as her father left the doorway and approached her slowly, his forehead creased.
No, this couldn’t be about the puppy. This was something else. Something serious. Something she wished would just go away, whatever it was. Quinn was only eight, but she knew at that moment that whatever her father was going to say would change everything.Are they getting a divorce?she suddenly wondered. Her heart fell. No, it couldn’t be. They loved each other, and they loved her. She was sure of it. But there were several children in her class whose parents were divorced, and they were shuffled from one parent to the other on weekends and for school holidays. Quinn wanted to cry, but she was a big girl, so she bit her lip instead and forced herself to meet her father’s troubled gaze.
“Quinn, I want you to know that we love you very much,” her father began as he squatted in front of her. “You must always remember that.”
“I love you too,” she replied, her voice shaking with suppressed tears.
“The thing is… Well, this family tree project…” Her father grew silent, his face tense as he searched for the best way to break the news he felt compelled to share with her.
“What is it, Dad?” Quinn cried, now truly alarmed.
“Quinn, we always meant to tell you. We just wanted to wait until you were old enough to understand. Your mother and I adopted you when you were a baby.”
Quinn stared from one parent to the other. Adopted? She’d never for a moment suspected that she wasn’t their child. She even looked like her father; everyone always said so.
“So, who were my parents, then?” she asked, her voice barely audible. She supposed she was glad that her parents weren’t getting a divorce, but this news left her utterly gutted. Her entire existence tilted on its axis, her center of gravity suddenly shifting so alarmingly that she thought she just might slide off and fall into some dark void from which there was no return. If there was one thing she’d been sure of in life, it was that Susan and Roger Allenby were her parents. They were ordinary people, who lived an ordinary life, a life of which she had always been the center. She’d wished for a brother or a sister from time to time, but she loved having her parents all to herself and being the focus of all their love and attention. How was it possible that she wasn’t theirs?
“We don’t know,” her mother chimed in as she reached for Quinn’s hand, but Quinn pulled it away. She felt too betrayed to allow her mother to touch her just then.
“Did they not want me?” Quinn persisted, her voice shaking with apprehension.
“We don’t know anything about them, sweetheart. We only know that we wanted a child very much and were happy when you came along. You made us a family,” her father explained as he searched her face for understanding.
“Did you try to have a baby of your own?” Quinn asked.
“Yes, but we couldn’t,” her mother said sadly. “We tried for years.”
“So, I wasn’t your first choice. You settled for me.”
“No!” her parents cried in unison.
“Never that,” her father continued. “We loved you from the moment we saw you.”
“Right,” Quinn replied bitterly, unable to look at her father for fear of crying. She slid off the chair and ran to her room.
“Tea is in ten minutes,” her mother called out after her, but Quinn just ignored her.
“Let her be, Sue. She needs a little time to think this through,” she heard her father’s voice say.
Quinn spent most of that weekend in her room, reading her book and trying hard not to let the conversation with her parents upset her, but she was upset and confused. Everything she knew about herself was a lie, a fabrication. The school project no longer held any interest for her. These weren’therrelatives. They were the relatives of her parents, people who had no biological connection to her. Of course, lots of people were adopted and lived a perfectly normal life, but to do that she’d need more information. She needed to fill in the blanks in order to make peace with this newfound knowledge.
Quinn finally emerged on Sunday afternoon. Her mum was in the kitchen again, baking Quinn’s favorite chocolate chip biscuits. She’d been trying to cajole her to come out all weekend, bribing Quinn with her favorite foods and the promise of a new bicycle for her birthday. She didn’t want a bicycle. She wanted a puppy, one that would be hers and hers alone. It would belong to her, and she would belong to it; they would be each other’s true family. Quinn sat down at the kitchen table and accepted a biscuit. It was hot, straight from the oven, but she ate it, nonetheless, enjoying the familiar taste of chocolate. At least that hadn’t changed.
“Are you still my mum?” she asked, her voice cracking.
“Of course I am, and I always will be. Quinn, I didn’t want to tell you, but your father is right. You need to know the truth. If we withheld it from you, you’d find out later and then accuse us of lying to you. We felt it was best to be honest.”
Quinn nodded. She didn’t question her parents’ logic; she understood their reasons for finally telling her the truth. She supposed that it would have come as a shock at any age, even if she were a grown-up. Finding out that you weren’t who you thought you were could never be easy.
“Mum, I’d like to know something about my real parents. I love you and Dad, but I’d like to know where I really came from.” Quinn knew it would hurt her mother, but she needed to know. She’d tried all weekend to envision the woman who’d given birth to her, but all she saw was a pale oval where a face should have been. Was she young or older, was she dark haired like Quinn, or had she been fair? Did she have green eyes like her daughter, or did Quinn get those from her father? Had they loved each other, or had she been the result of a mistake that neither person wished to repeat? She’d just recently learned about where babies came from, and it was still a shock to think of two people doingthatwillingly—even more so knowing that the gross act adults indulged in could result in an unwanted child.
“Quinn, I’m afraid we don’t know anything about them at all, and neither does the adoption agency. You were found in Leicester Cathedral. Someone left you in the front pew wrapped in a blanket.”
“Who found me?” Quinn exclaimed, shocked to learn this new version of the truth. Left. Abandoned. Not even given up for adoption, but discarded like an empty coffee cup or a newspaper.
“The Reverend Alan Seaton. He heard a baby crying but thought nothing of it until he came out of the vestry and spottedyou there. He called the police, of course, but they had nothing to go on.”
