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“How long?” Kaley asked.
“Since before my mom died, and I was five when it happened.”
“How did she die?”
“In a car crash. I was too young to hear the specifics, and I never asked about it later. Soon after she died, Dad boxed up any reminders of her, and that was pretty much the end of it. She was a wife and mother who no longer existed.”
“That’s sad,” Kaley said.
Victoria thought so, too. It also explained why his childhood home had been devoid of pictures or mementos.
Kaley turned quiet. Thinking, it appeared, about Ryan’s family. Then she asked, “Did your dad ever date anyone after she was gone?”
“There were a few women, but nothing serious. Mostly he kept to himself.”
“My dad hasn’t dated, and if he has, then it hasn’t gone well. He never brings anyone home. I don’t think that’s healthy.” She turned to Victoria. “Do you?”
Victoria frowned. She rarely dated, and the boy she’d once loved was still alive—and seated right across from her, of all things. “People need time to grieve.”
“It’s been seven years.” Kaley was frowning, too. “I want my dad to have someone in his life.”
“I know, but he has to want a relationship. And contrary to popular belief, there’s nothing wrong with being alone. My parents think that I should be married by now. But we all need to do what’s right for us.”
Victoria could feel Ryan watching her. He’d obviously never been involved in a discussion like this. But he hadn’t remained alone, not the way she had. He’d been married and divorced in the time frame that she’d been determined to stay single.
Kaley said to her, “What if someone doesn’t know what’s right for them? What if my dad doesn’t know?”
Victoria replied, “You need to trust him to find his own way. He’s an amazing guy, and he’s done a wonderful job raising you. When the time comes for him to date, he’ll handle it just fine.”
“I hope so.”
They finished eating, and Victoria cleared the table, grateful to keep busy.
“Should I go get the stuff from the attic?” Ryan asked Kaley.
“Definitely.” The teenager sounded anxious to get started on his side of the family tree.
He left the room and returned with a battered box. By now, Victoria was at the sink, rinsing dishes and getting them ready for the dishwasher.
He and Kaley sat down and began rummaging through the contents of the box. Kaley had a spiral notebook and pen beside her, preparing to catalog items of interest.
Were there pictures of Ryan’s ex amid the stacks of stuff they’d dumped on the table? Or documents associated with her, such as his marriage certificate or divorce decree? Or did the box contain only things from his childhood, the hidden-away mementos his dad had stored?
Ryan said to Kaley, “This is my mom. It’s a little faded, but it’s her.”
Curiosity piqued, Victoria forgot about Ryan’s ex and focused on his mother. She dried her hands and wandered over to the table and stood behind Kaley’s chair. “Can I see, too?”
He showed it to both of them.
The woman in the Polaroid appeared to be in her late teens, probably around Kaley’s age, and was dressed in shimmery 1970s garb. Tall and thin, with long brown hair and a natural smile, she represented the free, fun sign of her times.
“Her maiden name was Margaret Dodd,” Ryan said. “But she went by Molly.”
“She was pretty,” Kaley said. “She looks happy, too.”
He studied the image. “She was from the Paiute Nation, but I never met any of her family. I asked my dad once why no one from her side ever came to see me. He said that she’d been raised by an old aunt who’d already passed on.”
“What band was your mom from?”
“I have no idea. The Paiute are divided into three groups, with quite a number of tribes among them. I assume she was registered with one of their federally recognized tribes, because when I signed the adoption papers for you, my dad said that he would provide the documents they needed for the Indian Child Welfare Act. At the time, I didn’t think about what that meant. But later I realized that he’d probably given them my mom’s registration papers and whatever else they required to prove what tribe I was connected to.”
Kaley took Molly’s picture and put it with her notebook. “I’m going to find out more about her.”
Ryan uncovered more snapshots of his mom, some of which he and his father were in. Molly was a bit fuller-figured than her earlier self, but just as pretty. Victoria felt an uncomfortable tug at her heart, seeing Ryan as a wide-eyed toddler, clinging to his dad, who was a much younger, gentler version of the man Victoria remembered.
“What was your dad’s name?” Kaley asked.
“Kevin. Kevin Gregory Nash,” he amended, reciting his father’s full name.
As the research session continued, Victoria was compelled to stay where she was, standing beside the table, allowing herself to become immersed in Ryan’s roots.
Would things have been different if his mother had lived? Would Molly have encouraged Victoria and Ryan to keep Kaley? Would she have been someone Victoria could have confided in?
Questions with dreamy answers.
Victoria wanted to believe that Molly would have been supportive, comforting her in a way that her own parents and Ryan’s dad had been incapable of. She even imagined putting her head on Molly’s shoulder.
“Look what I found,” Kaley said.
Victoria snapped out of her daydream. Apparently Kaley had reached into the box and discovered a high school annual. Victoria inspected the cover and noticed that it was from Ryan’s senior year. By then she’d already moved to California. Naturally, she was curious to see his senior photo, certain that Kaley would search for it.
As predicted, the teenager paged through the yearbook, stopping when she found her prize. “Wow. Check you out, Ryan.”
“Yeah, check out how awful I look.”
No, Victoria thought. He was young and handsome, just as she remembered, with his straight dark hair and exotic features, but she understood what he meant. He seemed lost in the picture, with a smile that didn’t embrace his eyes.
He said, “That wasn’t good a time in my life.”
“Because of what happened with me,” Kaley said.
He nodded.
The girl softly asked, “What did your dad say about you not going to the hospital?”
“He got raging mad. He thought it was terrible. And for once he’d been right to yell at me. By then I was used to it, though. He was always on edge about something, always bitching me out.”
“I’ll bet he was so grumpy all the time because he missed your mom.” Kaley offered her take on the situation. “But he still should have been nicer to you. My dad has always been nice to me.”
Victoria was incredibly thankful that their daughter had been adopted into a loving home. But that didn’t change the past. It didn’t change the ache that Ryan’s senior photo caused, either.
Kaley closed the annual and said to Victoria, “You never showed me the yearbooks you were in.”
“Because I don’t have them anymore.”
“What happened to them?”
Before Victoria could respond, Ryan interjected. “She probably got rid of them on purpose.”
Victoria sighed. “You’re right, I did. I tossed out everything associated with that era. It was easier to start over, especially after I moved.”
He made the same admission. “I didn’t keep the yearbooks you were in, either. That’s the only one I still have.”
Kaley shook her head. “You guys were so dramatic, throwing things out. But you’re both kind of sweet, too, in your own weird way.”
Ryan laughed a little, maybe because he didn’t know what else to do. Then he said to Victoria, “I always thought you were sweet.”
She shrugged, trying to appear unaffected by their emotional weirdness. “What can I say? I was a nice girl.”
“And you smelled really good.”
“That’s not the same kind of sweet.”
“I know, but you always smelled like dessert or something.”
Because she used to douse herself in vanilla-scented lotion. “I wore too much fragrance.”
“Not to me.”
Instantly, she was reminded of him burying his nose in her sugary skin. Oh, the memories that evoked: curling up in Ryan’s bed when his dad wasn’t home, slipping her greedy hands into his half-undone clothes, closing her eyes while he peeled hers off. Even now, her eyes were starting to drift closed, until she realized that Ryan was looking at her.
She told herself to get a grip. But it didn’t work. She couldn’t get her memories under control. “I think I should go now.”
He made a puzzled expression. “Go?”
“To my room. To get some work done.” She needed to escape. If she didn’t, those intimate feelings would only get stronger. “You two have fun with the rest of the family tree.”
“Okay. See you later.” Kaley handled her impeding departure with ease. But she’d already shifted her attention back to the box, unaware of Victoria’s discomfort.
Ryan noticed, though. She could feel him watching her.
She walked away, praying for the strength to make it through the rest of the week without feeling more for him than she should.
* * *
Ryan and Kaley stayed in the kitchen and finished going through everything.
Afterward, she said, “I’m going to go get my photo album now.”
“Sounds good.” He was eager to continue spending time with her. But he was disappointed that Victoria had left. It had been nice to have her nearby. But she was skittish around him. One little smell-good remark and she’d made a mad dash for the doorway.
Kaley left to get her photo album, and he stood up to stretch his legs.
She returned, and they resumed their seats. He braced himself for the newborn pictures of her, which he assumed would be on the first page.
He assumed right. As he gazed at the images and studied her cap of dark hair and scrunched-up little face, he wanted to zap back in time and hold her as close as he possibly could.
“You were beautiful,” he said. He imagined that she would have felt small and soft in his arms.
“I think I look kind of goofy.”
“No. You were beautiful. Absolutely perfect.” He lifted his gaze. “You still are.”
“Thanks.” She got a little shy, ducking her head.
He realized that without Victoria in the room with them, they didn’t know quite how to behave. He and his daughter were strangers.
She turned the next page. “This is me and my mom and dad. I think I was about three months old here.”
Her parents were an attractive couple: the mom was a summer blonde and the dad was tall and dark. Ryan envied the happy looks on their faces. But then he reminded himself that the mother was gone and the father was alone and missing her.
He said, “Victoria told me that your mom’s name was Corrine and that she was adopted, too.”
Kaley nodded. “She never knew her birth parents and always felt as if something was missing from her life.”
“Did she ever try to find them?”
“Yes, but nothing ever surfaced. She was really upset later when she discovered that she couldn’t have kids. She wanted a baby of her own more than anything. But then she decided that not being able to conceive meant that she was destined to adopt.”
Ryan glanced at the picture of Corrine and Eric, imagining them in his mind: their love for each other, their determination to become parents.
Kaley said, “When they first started the adoption proceedings, they were only interested in open adoptions. Because of the way my mom felt about her childhood, they wanted the birth mother to be involved in their baby’s life. The birth father, too, if he was around. Lots of times the dads aren’t.”
That struck a guilty chord. In the end, Ryan had been one of those dads.
Kaley continued, “After a couple of years, they were still waiting for a newborn. But they were warned that it might take a while. Then finally the adoption agency called and told them that there was a baby coming up who was part Native and had to go to a Native home, which would put them at the top of the list since my dad is registered with the Cherokee Nation. But they had to agree to a closed adoption or not take the baby.”
“So they agreed,” he said, stating the obvious.
“Yep. Later, when I was old enough to understand, Mom said that if I ever wanted to search for my birth family or learn more about my roots, she would help me.”
“But that never interested you until now?”
“I didn’t see the point. I had great parents. What did I need another family for? Even after Mom died, I didn’t think it mattered.”
“Then what changed for you? Why did you search for Victoria and me?”
“Everything seemed different after I turned eighteen. Maybe it’s the being-an-adult thing and getting ready for college. It’s like I’m someone new. Only sometimes I’m not sure who that person is.” She wrinkled her forehead. “Does that sound dumb?”
