Читать книгу Family Found - Bonnie Winn K. - Страница 11

MITCH’S OFFICE appeared even more disreputable-looking under the latest pile of materials. He knew that Laura Kelly wanted answers yesterday, but in truth, investigations rarely moved quickly. And they seldom held the excitement portrayed in television and the movies.

An image of Laura Kelly flashed in his mind. Then again—

The phone intruded. Snatching it up, Mitch was disappointed to learn that a fairly reliable lead had been a dead end. Despite what Laura appeared to think, he had placed dozens of phone calls, while building her personal profile and creating a comprehensive search file. It was the plan, his blueprint. And despite his casual approach to many things in life, he never undertook a case without a well thought-out plan.

The door flew open and Mitch didn’t need more than one guess to know who was behind it.

Laura’s dark hair was thrown back like a banner, and her eyes glistened like polished lapis. She seemed to bring in the rush of the city streets, the whirl of incoming breezes and a touch of captured sunshine. He’d never seen so much contained energy in any other person. But having it all directed at him was a tad unnerving.

“Galveston,” she began by way of greeting. “My parents never wanted to go there. Once, though, I remember coming in the house and overhearing them. They didn’t realize I was inside and I heard them mention Galveston. But as soon as they noticed me, they stopped talking. Do you think that means something?”

“And good morning to you, too, Laura Kelly.”

She waved away the greeting. “Do you?”

“It could be something.”

Her eyes brightened.

“And they could have been discussing a clandestine meeting when they hoped to ditch you so they could be alone.”

Deflated, she slumped into a nearby chair. “I suppose you’re right. I keep replaying reels of my life like some sort of out-of-whack movie theater in my mind that I can’t shut down. In the middle of the night, I’m sure I’ve come on some incredibly important memory and by morning I realize it’s worthless.” Easing back in her chair, she glanced around at the piles of books on the couch and coffee table.

“Phone books?” she questioned, flipping one open, then shoving it aside. “Isn’t that kind of low-tech?”

“Depends on your point of view,” he replied evenly. “Investigative tools range from low-end phone books to high-end computer databases. Don’t discount what you don’t know.”

“Point taken. So, what are we working on today?”

Mitch creased one hand over his forehead. She was using the royal “we” again. And she was becoming a royal pain. As quickly, he remembered the reason behind her insistence and realigned his attitude. He’d be insistent, too, if his son’s life hung in the balance. “I’m following up on some leads.”

She leaned forward anxiously. “Ones that have panned out?”

“Not yet.”

“Damn!” Laura rose in one hurried motion, frustration pouring from every gesture. “That’s not good enough!”

“What do you suggest? You want me to lean on your relatives? Maybe your aunt Rhoda?”

“Of course not! I…I…”

Mitch gentled his voice. “You’re paying for my expertise—trust it.”

She hesitated for a moment. “I suppose I do. I’m just so terribly worried.”

Mitch sighed inwardly, knowing she would feel no peace until they had some answers. And it wouldn’t hurt him to fill her in. “I’m requesting a copy of your original birth certificate. With the sealed records law in Texas, we’ll get a copy of your adopted certificate, but we need the paper trail proving our intent, showing we’ve taken all the steps. We’ll have to have that once we request a court order to unseal the original.”

A contemplative expression covered her face. “You mean I have two birth certificates?”

He nodded. “One filed with the information on your actual birth parents, another with your adopted parents listed.”

“Will that one say I’m adopted?”

“No. That’s part of the sealed records process. For all appearances, the second birth certificate looks like the real thing. Unless you know about the original information, you’d have no reason to suspect it’s been changed.”

“This is a whole new world,” Laura murmured. “I feel like I’m in some sort of strange limbo and I’ll wake up tomorrow and find out this has all been some sort of bad dream.”

“Including Alex’s illness?”

“Especially that,” Laura agreed, the pain in her eyes surfacing.

“I don’t suppose your ex-husband has been much help.”

“As you know, he was willing enough to get tested for a bone marrow match.” She shrugged, a forlorn movement. “But beyond that he acts as though Alex’s illness really isn’t his concern. It’s all I can think about. I eat, sleep and live wondering how we can beat this. But Kevin acts as if—” Laura brought clenched fingers to her mouth, unable to complete the words.

“Maybe he doesn’t know how to express his feelings,” Mitch suggested.

“That wouldn’t be a first,” Laura commented bitterly. “But to ignore his son, to act as though it doesn’t matter whether he survives—”

“It won’t help to torture yourself,” Mitch soothed.

“Why not? I’m the one who chose the worst possible father material as my husband. I’d have done better if I’d blindfolded myself, twirled in a circle until I was dizzy, then stabbed my finger in the direction of the first man I encountered.”

Mitch shifted uncomfortably. “Maybe he feels impelled to hide how worried he is.”

“He never wanted a baby,” she admitted, surprising him. For a moment even Laura seemed surprised that she had allowed the admission. “Alex wasn’t planned. In fact, I didn’t learn I was pregnant until after Kevin and I had agreed to divorce. Still, I always wanted my baby. I considered him a great gift, a wonderful blessing after so much hurt. But for Kevin it was different. He seems to have divorced his feelings for his son along with our marriage. He’s seen him only twice since he was born, and then only at my insistence. Kevin has made it clear he’d prefer to forget Alex altogether, to never see him again.” Bewildered, she raised widened eyes to meet his. “Do all men feel this way after a divorce?”

Staggered by the question, and far too aware of his past, Mitch hesitated. “I can’t answer for all men—and the truth is you could ask a dozen men and get a dozen different answers. I can only speak for myself, but if I ever had a son, I wouldn’t let anything come between us. People get divorced every day. That’s a fact of modern life. It’s not often people can stick a marriage out forever—that’s become kind of a myth. And people remarry, which is okay. But you have just one set of parents. You can’t take that away from a kid.”

If possible, her face blanched even further.

Then it struck him. “Hell, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean the adoption thing.”

She waved away his apology. “It’s all right.”

But Mitch felt an urgent need to make amends, his own experience a painful reminder. “No. I was talking about a father’s responsibility, not being adopted. A man ought to stand by his kid, no matter what. What sort of guy deserts his kid when he’s sick?”

“The kind I married,” she answered quietly.

Mitch realized he didn’t have a spare inch left to cram any more of his foot into his mouth. He’d gone from bad to worse, then worse again. “You know, I was just thinking this might be a good time to do some of the legwork. You want to tag along?”

“Tossing me a bone, Tucker?”

“You up for catching it?”

Her smile was sad but accepting. “I opened this can of worms.”

“And I poked the jagged edge of the tin into your feelings. So why don’t we put a bandage on the morning and get the hell out of here?”

“You’ve got a way with words, Tucker.”

“Does that mean yes?”

The sadness hadn’t left her eyes, but a sliver of light penetrated the darkness. “I suppose so. Good to see you finally admit it.”

He skirted the desk, crossed to the front door and opened it for Laura. “Admit what?”

Faint slyness edged the beginning of a smile. “That you need my help.”

LAURA WASN’T SURE what she had expected. But the musty corridors of a genealogical library were a surprise. Floor after floor of books and records held a wealth of secrets.

Mitch quickly decided he needed the help of a librarian, rather than dig through hundreds of rolls of microfilm on his own.

“We need to see the birth records for March 1970,” he was telling the woman.

“Harris County?” she asked.

“To start with.” He lowered his voice a bit. “And then Galveston County.”

Laura hid a triumphant smile as they followed the librarian to the section of the library with birth records. The helpful woman then explained how they were divided and how to find certain years.

“Are you tracing your family history?” the librarian asked.

“Actually, we’re—” Laura began.

“Yes, we’re working on our genealogy,” Mitch interrupted. “I appreciate your help. After we find my sister’s records, I’d hate to be searching all over the building for Grandma Tucker’s birth certificate.”

The graying librarian laughed. “That’s why we’re here. Let me know if you need anything else,” she added, before moving away.

“Why did you cut me off?” Laura demanded in a quiet voice.

“Because telling people you’re searching for your birth parents closes more doors than it opens. It’s safer to stick to the story that you’re researching family roots.”

Slightly deflated, Laura studied his face. “You mean people won’t want to help if they know the truth?”

“This isn’t a black-and-white issue, Laura. A lot of people believe that digging up the truth only opens buried pain and problems. They feel the birth parents have a right to their privacy.” He held up one hand, anticipating her protest. “Some are even sympathetic to the reasons for a search like yours, yet at the same time are hesitant to cross certain lines. And most of them have heard stories similar to yours that have turned out to be ruses, so they’re cynical. While some legislators advocate opening all the records, some are equally insistent they remain sealed.”

“But the librarian—”

“May or may not be influenced by the debate. Why send up an unnecessary flag, though? In investigative work, it’s always best to be low-key.”

“No shoot-outs unless absolutely necessary?” she questioned dryly.

“Right, Watson.”

She smiled. “As in your trusted assistant?”

He pointed in the direction of an oversize cabinet. “There’s March 1970. When you’re finished, we’ll talk.”

Laura felt her smile draining away. “You want me to dig through the entire cabinet?”

“You said you wanted to help.”

“I do, but—”

“Then start digging.”

MANY HOURS LATER, Mitch glanced at the interior of Laura’s home. It was a modest, middle-income home. And much like her it didn’t reveal a lot. It could be anyone’s home, in Anywhere, America. It was light and airy, but with no individuality. It was so lacking in the personal bits and pieces that revealed the owner’s personality that the living room could be one in a model house.

He had expected her to be tired of his company after a day spent digging through records and tracing old addresses. But she had insisted on bringing him to meet Alex.

An older woman appeared in the doorway. “Hello, Mr. Tucker. I’m Leona Plummer. I care for the baby.”

He rose, extending his hand. “Ma’am.”

She accepted his handshake, a faint light of approval entering her stern expression. “Mrs. Kelly would like you to come to the nursery to meet young Alex.”

He followed, wondering at the austere woman. She seemed an unlikely choice for a baby-sitter. But then, nothing about Laura Kelly had met his expectations.

Entering the nursery, Mitch was struck by the burst of colors. Beautifully hand-painted murals covered the walls. A herd of cuddly stuffed animals populated the room, along with colorful blocks and an impressive collection of children’s books. Unlike the bland living room, the nursery screamed with character.

Laura turned with the baby in her arms. Mitch had steeled himself for a sick child, expecting to see the ravages of disease.

He hadn’t expected bright blue eyes, ones that matched his mother’s. Or chubby arms and legs that waved in obvious delight.

Alex squealed just then. “’Lo!”

“That means hello,” Laura explained, smoothing the soft hair from the baby’s face, dropping a kiss on his forehead.

Surprised yet mesmerized by the transformation in Laura, Mitch stepped farther into the room.

“Hello, little guy,” Mitch greeted him awkwardly. Then he directed his attention to Laura. “He’s looking good.”

She studied Mitch, then responded matter-offactly. “You can’t see his illness yet.” Again Laura smoothed back the baby’s hair. “In time you will—if he doesn’t get the bone marrow transplant, but for now he looks like any other healthy baby.”

“Hey, that’s good, isn’t it?”

“I suppose so. But sometimes it’s hard to convince people how desperate the situation is. They see a healthy toddler and think I’m ringing premature alarms.”

“You don’t have to convince me,” Mitch replied quietly.

Laura met his eyes. “That’s not why I brought you here. I just thought it might make the search more personal. More important.”

“It was already important.” Mitch took the baby’s hand, smiling when Alex curled plump fingers around his. “But I don’t mind meeting the client behind the client.”

Laura finally smiled again, then glanced down at her son. “You haven’t been a client before, have you, punkin?”

Alex squealed in answer when Laura nuzzled his cheek.

“This room is great,” Mitch commented, still struck by the artwork. Characters from fables and ancient nursery tales coexisted with fantasy characters surely drawn from a very fertile imagination.

“Thanks, I had fun doing it.”

Mitch pulled his gaze from the brilliant walls. “You painted this?”

“I wanted it to be special for him.”

“It’s that and more.” Struck again by the variance between the nondescript living room and this dazzling nursery, Mitch whistled. “You must enjoy decorating.”

“I used to.”

“But this—”

Her laugh was a self-deprecatory sound. “This is the only room in the house I’ve decorated.”

That explained it.

“When Kevin and I divorced, I left our house and everything in it.”

“That’s a rather unusual move, isn’t it?”

“For the woman you mean?” Laura concluded accurately. “It’s true. Usually men are the ones most willing to leave everything behind, to step away from any reminders of their past. But I didn’t want anything from what we’d shared.” Her grip tightened on Alex. “Except this one, of course.”

Mitch grinned. “It’s clear you got the best part of the deal.”

Surprise and something else he couldn’t quite decipher entered her softening eyes. “Absolutely.”

Alex squirmed just then, craning his head in Mitch’s direction. It almost looked like the kid was reaching toward him.

“Seems he wants you,” Laura said in surprise.

“I don’t—”

But before he could protest, Laura was handing him the toddler. Warmth, the fresh aroma of talc and softness assailed him. Awkwardly, Mitch held the baby, not certain what to do with him. His experience with children was a total zero. He turned Alex toward him, positioning him so that he could hand the child back to his mother. Just then Alex smiled. Not one of those vacant, meaningless smiles. Their eyes connected, Alex’s toothy grin one of delight.

And something warm crawled through Mitch’s insides. Something that scared the life out of him.