Page 80 of Forgotten Dreams

“It’s Brendan.” I raise my eyebrows. “The genealogist.” She presses the green button and then presses the speaker button. “Hey, Brendan.” I listen to her fake voice. “This is a surprise.”

“I’ve been doing a bit of digging around,” he says, “since you called me, and I think I found your birth father. His name is Carl Boston.” She goes almost lax in my arms. “The ages add up, and from the information I found online, he’s got his own business in woodworking. I’ve sent his information to you. Let me know if you need anything else.”

“I will, Brendan,” she replies. “Thank you so, so much for all your help.” She disconnects.

“Could this be it?” she mumbles as she opens an email. “Carl Boston,” she says his name again. “CB Woods.”

I look up, my brain going through all the names I know in the area and gasp. “He did your library cabinets,” I whisper, and her eyes go even bigger.

“What?” she asks me as I take my phone out of my pocket and pull up the emails I had going back and forth with him.

“Carl Boston.” I turn my phone to her so she can see the invoice. “Wow.” I shake my head. “What a small world.” I look back at her. “What are you going to do? Will you call him?”

“I don’t know. I feel like I have to, but then again I’m not sure I’m ready for the other side. He might not want anything to do with me.”

“I’ll call him,” I tell her. “I’ve been talking to him about other jobs, so it won’t be…” I trail off. “I have no idea. What if he didn’t know?”

“Oh my God,” she says, putting her hand to her mouth, “what if she never told him?”

“Only one way to find out,” I declare, and she nods as I start to dial the number. “I’m so nervous,” I admit. She rolls her eyes and stops when he answers the phone after one ring.

“Hey, Caleb,” he answers right away, “how’re you doing?”

“Hey, Carl,” I reply, “I’m good.” I close my eyes. “Listen, I’m calling, and it’s going to be really strange, but I have a couple of questions to ask you.”

“This sounds serious.” He laughs. “If you are calling to ask me to build you one of those sex contraptions where you tie a woman up, I’m going to have to say you are not going to get it from me.”

I look at Sierra, who rolls her lips and tries not to laugh out loud. “Nope,” I say, “definitely not calling for that.”

“Then nothing can be strange,” he replies. “Whatcha got for me?”

“I was…” I try to think about how to word this, but there aren’t really very many ways to do this, so I shoot straight. “I’m wondering if you ever dated a Fiona Dyson?” I ask and you can hear the silence through the phone and it’s deafening.

“What is this about?” he quickly says, his voice going tight, the humor now gone.

“I know this is going to come out of left field, but my girlfriend, her name is Sierra.”

“Okay,” he responds, and I can tell he’s not following.

I look at the phone, and before I say anything else, Sierra starts. “Hi,” she says softly, “I’m Sierra.” Her voice is a whisper. “I’m searching for my birth parents who gave me up for adoption twenty-five years ago.”

“I’m sorry, come again?” he says.

“Twenty-five years ago, I was left at a fire station. I’ve been tracking my DNA, and well, I traced it back to either Fiona or Sonia Dyson.”

“You were left at a fire station,” he repeats the words, and it feels like each word stabs him in the heart. “I thought you were…” His voice trails off. “I had no idea.”

“I don’t want anything from either of you,” she explains. “I just want to know where I come from.”

“Your mother,” he says and his voice quivers, “was the love of my life.” I can feel it soar through him, whatever happened between the two of them, he never moved on. “The two of you were the loves of my life.” You can hear the anguish in his voice. “Where are you right now?”

“I’m…” She trails off, and I cut into the conversation.

“You built her the shelves for the library.” The gasp that comes out of him fills the phone.

“Is the delivery address on the bill?” he snaps out.

“It is,” I confirm to him.

---