Page 3 of Kansas Keeper
Cringing at the sound of hearing those last words out loud, I hope it sounds more like a promise than a threat to the inhabitants of this home.
I’d been hopeful for some type of response when I saw the shadows of two feet standing just on the other side of the doorway, but none comes, so I reluctantly turn to leave.
Tomorrow will be better, I promise myself as I trudge to my car.
Once I’m seated behind the wheel, disappointment and exhaustion overtake my body as I allow the dry sob to emerge from deep in my throat. Even though I had tried to keep the hopes at bay that I might be able to hug my child tonight, I obviously hadn’t been successful with that mission.
When my tears finally subside, I start the car and drive away from my heart for the second time in my life.
3
BECKETT
Every instinct in me says to completely stonewall the blasted woman threatening to intrude into Embry’s life. If I ignore her long enough, maybe she’ll just go away and leave us alone. Even as I think it, I know it isn’t likely, but one can hope.Right?
I already lost Sandra. I can’t lose Embry, too. I wouldn’t survive it.
Logic tells me that the woman signed away all of her parental rights before the adoption, but I’ve heard that biological parents sometimes get preferential treatment in the court system.
Google provides conflicting answers, and it’s too late to call an attorney.
Since I’m obviously not going to get any sleep anyway, I decide to retrieve the book she left on the front porch. Maybe it will give me some ammunition to use against her if this battle ends up in court.
I close one eye and use the other to peer through the peephole to make sure the woman is truly gone before stepping outside. Even though I heard her car start and saw the headlights wheel around a while ago, the last thing I need is to have another run-in with her tonight––or ever.
When I settle back inside on the couch, I glare at the cover of the book, entitledThe Gift of Goodbye: Letting Go with Love.
It’s obviously a book about the choice to put a child up for adoption. I’ve always felt grateful to Embry’s birth mother for making the decision to have her. I told myself that she must have done what she felt was right for her baby girl, and Sandra and I always did our best to make sure that we lived up to the hopes she must have had about giving her child a better life with another family.
Tossing the book on the coffee table, I decide that giving Embry’s birth mom the benefit of the doubt was much easier when she was just a hypothetical being that lived in my imagination. Seeing her as a living, breathing human being with the potential to sue for custody of my daughter shifted her from a martyr to the villain in the made-up scenarios in my head.
Folding my hands behind my head, I stare up at the ceiling tiles and tell myself to sleep. Since I hadn’t even bothered to turn out the lights, I don’t know who I was trying to fool into believing that I might actually get some shut-eye tonight.
My mind whirs with so many worries that I eventually give up counting ceiling tiles and snatch the book back.
Despite how much it pisses me off, I’m curious what message the woman is trying to give to my daughter with this book.
Steam practically erupts from my ears when I see the handwritten message inside the book. The woman is obviously trying to weasel her way into Embry’s life.
“Too little, too late,” I mumble to the empty living room.
It’s tempting to shut the book again and set it aside for good, but the woman’s signature on the inscription catches my eye. The name is somehow familiar, but I can’t quite put my finger on why.
Suddenly, it dawns on me. I close the book and stare at the front cover. There in large gold foil letters is the name Mara Gold.
Mara is a unique and lovely name. Is it a coincidence that the woman who showed up on my front porch tonight claiming to be Embry’s mom shares the same first name as the author of this book?
Unable to stop myself, I flip over the hardcover book and am greeted by the haunting, beautiful, and familiar eyes of the book’s author.
Dammit!She wrote an entire book about the hardships of giving a child up for adoption. That doesn’t sound like someone who will slink away in the night without putting up a major fight for her newly rediscovered daughter.
As much as I don’t want to get to know Mara or empathize with her, I know I won’t be able to resist reading her story.
Telling myself that it’s to my benefit to look for tidbits of information that I can use against her and that I wouldn’t be able to sleep anyway, I dive into her book.
4
MARA
