Chasing Abby (10 page)

I take another step toward her, making no attempt to wipe the tears as they slide down my cheeks. I look her in the eye and her lip trembles as the tears begin to fall.

Chris was right. Even with Chris’s brown eyes and his nose, she looks like me. It’s her blonde hair, the shape of her face, and the uncertainty in her eyes.

“I’m so sorry,” I whisper. 

I don’t know any other way to apologize for the choice I made. A choice she probably knows nothing about. But it’s all I want to say. It’s the one thing I think she’s probably needed to hear from the moment she found out she was adopted.

I wish I knew how she found out. I want to know everything about her and I want her to know everything about us. If I’m being perfectly honest, I want to pretend like the last eighteen years never happened. Like she’s been with us all along. I know that can never happen, but I want to believe that this gulf between us is not permanent.

I reach forward slowly until my hand is suspended halfway between us. She stares at it unblinking, her whole body quivering like a leaf. And she’s about as thin as one. She’s smaller than me and I’m only five-foot-six. I press my lips together as I think of how this is probably due to her heart problems.

The house is so quiet as I wait for her to take my hand or not. Finally, her hand inches forward, slowly, through the distance between us, through the years that have separated us. 

I take her hand in mine and she looks up at me, unsure what to do. 

I can’t shake my daughter’s hand. That would be cold, especially when I haven’t seen her in more than seventeen years. But am I allowed to think of Abby as my daughter?

I don’t know the answer to that question, and I don’t care. I pull her into my arms and she lets out a soft puff of air as I squeeze her tight, as if she were holding her breath.

She’s so thin, but soft and warm, just the way I remember her. And she smells like a peach blossom. She buries her face in my shoulder, her shoulders bouncing as she sobs silently. I hold on tighter, hoping I can convey how much I’ve longed for this moment.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” I whisper. “I’m so happy you came… So happy.”

Something about these words causes a shift and her sobbing stops. She draws in a long, stuttered breath, then she pulls away from me. The whites of her eyes are so red it makes my heart ache. 

She takes a step back, shaking her head as her gaze falls to the floor. “I don’t know what I’m doing here.”

Chris steps forward so he’s at my side. “That’s okay. We know this must be very difficult for you.” He looks over his shoulder at Junior and snaps his fingers. “Go upstairs and get your brother.”

Abby glances up from the floor every few seconds to look at Chris and I think I know what she’s thinking. 

“Abigail, you probably don’t understand any of this right now,” I begin, desperation taking hold as I try to think of the right thing to say to make her stay. “But I promise I’ll tell you—
we’ll
tell you anything you want to know.
Anything
.” 

Please just stay.

The young man who came with her steps forward so they’re standing next to each other and she immediately turns into him, as if they’re magnetized. He wraps his arms around her shoulders and she presses her forehead into his chest as she clutches the front of his shirt. I turn away, wishing I could cover my eyes. I can’t watch. It hurts too much to see how much we’ve hurt her.

Chris comes up behind me and gently grasps my arms to turn me around, so I can face Abby again. To face what we’ve done. What
I
did.

“Abigail,” Chris begins. “We know you—you and Caleb don’t owe us a single second of your time. But we’ve been waiting for this day for so, so very long. And we’re beyond ecstatic that you’re here now. Please just give us a chance to explain… everything.”

I don’t know who Chris is referring to when he says Caleb, but I think it might be the young man holding Abby. He loosens his grip on her and she wipes at her face.

“Are you okay?” he whispers to her. “Do you want to go?”

Please don’t go.

Abby sniffs loudly then turns back to us. “I don’t know what I expected. I—”

The sound of footsteps descending the stairs gets our attention and all four of us turn toward the staircase. Junior comes bounding down the steps first, wearing a soft smile that fades when he sees the serious looks on all our faces. Following close behind him, I’m not at all surprised to see Ryder coming down in a white T-shirt and blue pajama pants, his blonde hair sticking out in all directions and carrying his guitar in one hand. He always uses that guitar to get himself out of trouble. He must have done something wrong.

“He was still sleeping,” Junior says when he reaches the foyer. 

“No, I wasn’t!” Ryder protests, descending the last few steps. “I was just lying down.”

“With your eyes closed and drooling all over yourself?”

Abby and Caleb chuckle and my heart jumps at the sound of her laughter. Junior smiles at her and Caleb, pleased to see he’s provided them with some amusement. But Abby’s not laughing anymore. Her eyes are fixated on Ryder as he heads straight for Chris to hand him the guitar.

“Can you tune it for me, Dad?”

“Sure. Just hang it up in the studio. I’ll do it later.” Chris musses up Ryder’s hair as he heads for the kitchen with a smile on his face. Chris turns to me, unable to hide his smile. “He was up late playing video games again. That’s why he was still asleep. I’ll talk to him later.”

I shake my head. “Ryder, come back here!”

He groans as he spins around and walks toward me. “What?”

“Don’t take that tone with your mom,” Chris warns him.

His gaze falls toward the floor. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay, sweetie,” I say, grabbing his guitar and handing it to Chris. Then I grab Ryder by his shoulders to position him in front of me. “Abby—Abigail, this is your other brother, Ryder. I think you met Chris Jr.”

She stares at him for a while before she speaks. “It’s nice to meet you, Ryder. Do you know who I am?”

Ryder looks up at me with a question in his eyes. He wants to know if it’s okay to tell Abby what he knows. I nod and he turns back to her. 

He nods vigorously. “I know you. My mom and dad talk about you
all
the time.” He starts counting off on his fingers, the way he always does when he’s going to say things in a list. “They showed us a bunch of pictures. They showed us videos. They told us to be nice to you. And they said you look like me.”

Chris shakes his head and grabs Ryder by the back of the neck. “Stop being a smart-ass and go give your sister a hug.”

Abby smiles as he steps forward and wraps one arm around her waist. 

“There. Can I go now?” he asks, looking over his shoulder at us with his arm still hooked around his big sister. And now it’s so obvious how much they look alike. It’s almost frightening.

Abby laughs at Ryder, but Chris shakes his head. “You’re treading on thin ice, boy. I know you were up late again.”

His shoulders slump. “Sorry.”

“You’re lucky we have guests here,” Chris replies. “Otherwise, you’d be grounded for a week.”

I can’t help but smile as I watch him being chastised. He never lets go of Abby. Ryder is the most affectionate of the kids, so it doesn’t surprise me. But the guarded smile on Abby’s face as she looks down at the messy blonde hair on the top of his head fills me with so much joy. 

“So I’m not grounded?” Chris shakes his head and Ryder’s face beams with relief. He gives Abby a two-armed hug this time then looks up at her. “Thank you!”

Junior is back from the kitchen with a Pop-Tart in his hand. That boy never stops eating and he never gains weight.

“Hey, why don’t I get a hug?” he mumbles through a mouthful of food as Ryder races past him into the safety of the kitchen.

“Because you talk with your mouth full,” Chris replies.

Junior swallows his food and goes straight to Abby. She pats him on the back as she gives him a friendly hug. 

He’s smiling as he turns around, then he puts on his best begging face. “Can we go to the beach house now? Please?”

“No, we don’t even—” I clear my throat as it begins to thicken. “We don’t know how long Abby is going to be here.”

My hand flies up to cover my mouth as I realize I called her Abby instead of Abigail. Chris flashes me a look, then he tries to play it off like nothing happened.

“Will you stay for lunch at least?” he asks Abby. “Your sister, Jimi, will be here in about an hour. I know she’d love to meet you.”

She lets out a small sigh. “Sister?” She whispers this word, but I can hear the awe in her voice. “Yeah, okay… I guess I can stay for a little while.”

I turn to Chris, expecting to see him grinning the way I am, but his smile doesn’t reach his eyes. His gaze is locked on Abby and I realize he’s the only one who hasn’t given her a hug yet. It must be killing him.

I wonder if maybe I should say something, but when I look at Abby, I see that something has passed between them. She’s crying again. He steps forward and she goes right into his arms.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

I
SHOULDN
’
T
BE
HERE
. I’m a bad daughter. My parents would be so hurt if they knew I was standing in this house, seeking comfort in the arms of my biological father. But there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.

My tears come so fast, they quickly soak through the patch of T-shirt where my face is buried in his chest. This man whom I never knew, yet I feel like I’ve known him all my life. At least, I should have known him.

Maybe then I wouldn’t have felt so different. So alone. I chose to major in business at NC State because my mom scoffed at my suggestion that I should major in music. And now I see that she didn’t discourage me because she thought pursuing a career in music is impractical. She’s known who my biological father is all along.

My brother plays the guitar. My father is a famous musician. And he gives the warmest hugs.

I push away gently as this shameful thought crosses my mind. “I’m sorry. I just…” Caleb steps forward and wraps his arm around my shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. “I’ve been begging my parents to tell me your names and… now I know why they didn’t and I don’t know if I’m more angry or glad. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to be sorry. Actually,
I
apologize that I didn’t introduce us by name. I’m Chris and this is Claire.”

 “I… I know who you are,” I say, suddenly feeling a bit embarrassed. 

Now I understand why my mom always tells me to change the song when she passes by my room and hears me listening to a Chris Knight song. I thought she just didn’t like his music, though I did find a couple of his old albums in the music library on her laptop. I just assumed she had grown out of that kind of music.

He smiles at me and I get a weird feeling as I recall how I once discussed his hotness with Amy when we were talking about handsome older men. That is so gross. I think Amy even talked about the things she would do with him.
Blech!

“You know, you can call us whatever you want. You can call us Chris and Claire. You can call us Mr. and Mrs. Knight. You can just say, ‘Hey, turkey!’ whenever you see me. Whatever makes you comfortable.”

Claire smacks his arm then shakes her head. “You can call me Claire or whatever you feel most comfortable with. I… I grew up in the foster care system, so I never really knew how to address the foster parents who took me into their homes. I understand this is probably very weird for you.”

I nod and press my lips together to keep from getting emotional. How is it that these people whom I’ve never met already know me so well? 

“Did my parents talk to you about me?”

Chris’s face screws up a little as he shakes his head. “No, they didn’t communicate with us at all after your first birthday. The only contact we had with them were the photos and videos we exchanged through a safe-deposit box.”

“I saw those,” I whisper, thinking of the picture I saw of my sister holding a photo of me.

Claire tilts her head. “Do you have the pictures with you? We can go through them with you, if you’d like.”

I shake my head. “I don’t have them.”

I don’t feel good about this lie, but there’s no way I could sit by and quietly listen as she explains to me all the happy memories that go with each photograph. But there’s no nice way to explain that. And, for some odd reason, I really want to be nice to them.

I want to be worthy of the love they have obviously carried for me all these years.

Chris nods toward the kitchen. “Come on. I’ll make you guys some lunch.”

Caleb finally speaks up. “We just ate a couple of hours ago.”

“Actually,” I begin. “Do you mind if I go outside to make a phone call?”

“You can make a phone call in here,” Claire replies quickly. “I mean, unless you want some privacy. Of course, go ahead. We’ll… be right here.”

I look up at Caleb then nod toward the front door. He leads the way and we head outside. I know she’s not behind me, but I can feel Claire’s desire to come after me. Even from across the room and with my back turned. Her desperation is palpable.