A part of her had dreamed of vanishing… of packing her bags and simply disappearing again.
She’d contemplated this for about ten minutes that morning—going as far as rolling out two pieces of luggage from the back of her closet, ready to toss all she could fit inside, but then, she paused. She refused. What about my promise to Martha? What about my relationship with Jack? What about my aspiration of starting a luxury hotel? This was now home. The marathon could not continue.
She pulled away from him and dabbed at her eyes. As she cleared her throat and fumbled through her purse, Jack got up, grabbed a box of tissues, and returned to her. She patted her eyes and nose once again, and tried to sit straight, thighs pressed together. Have some dignity. Clutching her phone, she looked into his gorgeous gray eyes.
“I’m going to play you this voicemail. Then, I am going to explain what’s going on.”
He leaned back, while Diesel got up, stretched, and headed to the kitchen. A few seconds later she heard the animal lapping water from what she assumed was a bowl.
She played the message from the private investigator, then slipped her phone back in her purse.
Jack took a sip of his beer, his face impassive. Waiting for her to say more.
“As you know, I was adopted.” She coughed into her hand. “I came to Alaska because I felt the need to… to run. You told me when you met me that I was a runner, and well, you were right.” She fidgeted with her cuticles before going on. “I am going to make this… outrageous story—because that’s what it is, something straight out of a Ripley’s Believe it or Not book—make sense to you. When they got married, my parents decided to still pursue their careers. To put themselves first. Both were fresh out of law school.
“They worked hard and in no time were prominent attorneys in Manhattan. Well respected. Popular democratic liberals. Not seeing color. Give peace a chance type of people. They were considered good people. Charitable.” She sneezed, then patted at her nose with the balled-up tissue she’d been using. “When they decided to try and start a family, it was more of a struggle than they’d imagined. They were older then, so my mom suffered a few miscarriages.”
“Hold on a sec.” Jack grabbed her empty glass and headed to the kitchen. She heard pouring, then what sounded like food hitting a bowl. Yes, Diesel was definitely eating. She smiled at the chomping noise. Jack returned with a fresh bottle of beer, and handed her a refill of the sparkly, good stuff.
“Thank you…”
He nodded and sat back down.
“Um, so where was I?” She ran her thumb along the glass.
“Miscarriages.”
“Yes. So, my adoptive mother, Angelique, had several miscarriages.” She took a deep breath, feeling a bit light-headed. “They decided to adopt. The process was long and tedious. I was adopted as a newborn. I had no memory of my birth mother, and didn’t know my birth father, either. All I knew was that I was Black. Female. Young.” She reached for her glass, then shook her head, slowly placing it back down. “Years passed, and I was raised well. I told you when we were first getting to know one another, that I resented my mother because of the lack of diversity initially in my life, and other things that you said were small grievances.”
“That’s not exactly what I said.”
“Close enough. Anyway, this isn’t a dig at you, and your interpretation of my childhood. You can think what you want. The point is, there were things that happened that always rubbed me the wrong way. Things … that didn’t make sense.”
“Like what?”
Well, I had seen my adoption papers. I’d seen my baby pictures, too. It all looked normal. However, my parents never seemed to have many answers for me about my background. As attorneys, I basically watched them find out anything and everything about people, use it against them in court, and win cases for their clients. Time and time again. Yet, when it came to me,” she pointed to herself, “they claimed to not know much. I found that very hard to believe.”
“Because they hunt for information for a living?”
“Yes, and the fact that my mother is a very inquisitive person by nature. She would ask me a million questions even about my school day. She was very involved in my life, came to just about every play, became a member of the PTA; the works. It was bad at times, as if she was trying to keep me from something… I felt smothered. I asked her one time, in a fit of rage when I was fifteen or sixteen, why didn’t she adopt a cute little White girl, and she told me because she fell in love with a beautiful little Black girl instead, and that was it.” She smiled sadly. “I always felt like something was wrong though, Jack… like a disconnect. As I got older, I kind of shoved it away, out of my mind. I went on to pursue dance and theater.