Page 7 of Kingdom of Chaos
“I need to know,” I say. “Do you know who my birth parents are? Could what Mr. Brone, Kerrim, said be true? That I’m a human instead of a creature?”
My mom sniffs and wipes her eyes with the back of her hand. “Let’s go sit down in the living room. We have a lot to talk about.” She looks over at my dad. “Can you get it?”
He nods and leaves the room, and I follow my mom into the living room. The shelves littered with books and potted plants, my favorite parts of this space, offer a small sense of comfort as I sink into the worn leather couch near the window. My mom sits beside me, and my dad joins us a moment later, carrying a small wooden box clasped between his large hands. He sets it gently on the coffee table and takes a seat in the armchair across from us.
“Your mom and I tried for years to have a baby,” he begins, the pain of that time still visible in his expression. My mom gives him an encouraging smile, and he continues. “This was back when we lived farther west, near your grandmother. One night, we were contacted by someone who said they knew we were trying to start a family and asked if we would be interested in adopting a baby girl.”
“It all happened so suddenly,” my mom adds. “It was a private adoption. We were told the baby needed a home rightaway, and the paperwork had already been drawn up if we were willing. We said yes, and it felt like almost the next moment someone was at our door with a bundle in their arms. We didn’t even have a crib for you that first night.”
Her face brightens with the memory. “But that didn’t matter. The moment we laid eyes on you, we fell so completely in love, we didn’t want to let you go. We took turns holding you all night. Just cuddling you and counting your perfect, tiny fingers and toes. You were a miracle. Our miracle.” Her eyes shine with unshed tears, but her smile is radiant.
My dad smiles, tears gathering in his eyes for the second time today. “You were the most perfect little chubby baby. When you grabbed my finger, your tiny hand could only wrap around half of it. We knew in that moment that you were meant to be ours, and we were meant to be yours. We never questioned that.”
My mom reaches up and wipes a tear from my cheek, and that’s when I realize I’m crying, too.
“Who brought me to you?” I ask, my voice soft. “What did they tell you about me?”
My parents exchange a somber look.
“We don’t know,” my dad admits.
“How is that possible?” I ask, confused.
“A fae woman brought you to us. We’d never met her before. She said you’d been abandoned and needed a home. After the papers were signed, she left you with us. We never saw her again.”
“What?” I don’t know much about adoption, but I know that’s not how it’s supposed to work. “Did you try to find her?”
My mom nods. “Yes. We tried. But we didn’t have much to go on, and we were afraid that if we made too much noise, someone would take you from us.”
I lean back into the sofa, my mind spinning. “What about the paperwork? All the legalities?”
“She had everything prepared. Including a birth certificate with our names on it. Legally, you were already ours,” she says.
“But, what if I’d been kidnapped or something? What if I had a birth family out there looking for me? Without any history, how do you know I wasn’t brought to you by nefarious means?”
My mom chews her bottom lip and glances at my dad.
“We should have considered all of that,” he admits. “We probably should’ve done a lot of things differently. But to be honest, everything felt so right in here”—he taps his chest—“that we didn’t really think about the consequences. We moved to Everton shortly after you arrived, and because of the blend of red and brown in your hair, everyone just assumed you were our biological child. And we never corrected them.”
“Wait. What about Grandma? Does she know?”
“Yes, your grandmother knows,” my mom says. “You don’t have any aunts or uncles, and your other grandparents have passed. We made new friends when we moved and opened the business.”
“The birth certificate we were given has our names on it as well,” my dad adds. “No one knows about your adoption except your grandmother and us.”
“And Kerrim,” I add, unable to even think of him as Mr. Brone anymore.
Taking a deep breath, I force myself to readjust my reality. “So then, it’s possible what he said is true. I’m not a creature.”
“Hold on,” my dad says. “We don’t know that.”
“Don’t we?” I ask, arching a brow. “I never developed creature powers like I should have. No doctor has ever picked up so much as a speck of magic in me. And on top of that, I saw the portal open with my own two eyes when I grabbed Shadow Striker. I saw Becks and Mr. Brone go through it, and I saw it close behind them. That’s real. And right now, everything points to Kerrim’s claims being real too.”
My mother clasps my hand. “I’m so sorry for what you went through. Chaos was diabolical. I’m here—” She glances at my dad when he clears his throat. “I meanwe’rehere if you want to talk about anything. And I understand if you can’t right away, but I hope someday you can forgive us for what we did.”
Forgive them? For loving me? Raising me? Being responsible parents who only wanted the best for me?
Finding out I was adopted is certainly a shock, and I’m not happy I found out from someone else, but I’m also mature enough to understand where they’re coming from.
