Chapter 16

ANNA

We’re lounging in the living room, eyes glued to the TV, watching ~Paw Patrol~ with Olivia. She’s absolutely smitten with this show. I don’t mind it, really. It’s all about lending a hand, and that’s a lesson I can get behind.

It’s barely past two in the afternoon. Olivia’s naptime is fast approaching. Honestly, I could use a nap myself.

“Food!” Jessica’s voice echoes through the house. We all rise and head for the kitchen.

“Pizza!!” Olivia squeals, darting toward the kitchen like a mini Kevin from “~Home Alone~.”

“That kid sure loves her pizza.”

A memory tugs at my lips, coaxing a smile. Olivia’s first encounter with pizza. She was just a year and a half old. By the time she was done, her face was a pizza slice itself.

“Hold on,” I say, reaching for her bag to pull out a bib.

“A bib?” James questions.

“You’ll thank me later.”

“Here you go, sweetheart,” I say, fastening the bib around her neck.

She dives into her slice, all the table manners I’ve taught her forgotten.

~Pizza face~…

“Wow,” James bends over, laughing.

“That’s a sight,” he points at her, still laughing.

I remember reacting the same way the first time I saw her devouring pizza. He’s laughing so hard he topples off his chair onto the floor. The loud thud draws Olivia’s attention to her daddy, who’s sprawled on the floor, still wheezing with laughter.

“Daddy! Oh no,” she exclaims, scrambling off her chair.

We didn’t bring her high chair, so she can climb on and off without help. We’ll need to get another one for when she’s here. She toddles over to her daddy and squats in front of him.

“I’ll help you, Daddy.” She leans in, peppering his face with kisses, smearing pizza all over him.

“Olivia!!” he yelps, making me burst into laughter.

“What?” she looks at him, puzzled. She steps back, oblivious to what she’s done.

“That was very sweet of you, baby girl,” I tell her. She beams at me and clambers back onto her chair.

“Why are you encouraging this?” he asks me, a hint of annoyance in his voice.

“She was just trying to help you. You did fall, J. She was being kind. And I did warn you.”

We continue eating our pizza, chatting about this and that. I turn to Olivia.

“Hey, sweetheart. Daddy and I need to step out for a bit. You can stay here and play with Grandpa and Grandma.”

“Okay,” she replies, unfazed by our impending departure.

James looks at me, eyebrows raised. “Ouch,” he says.

“Yeah. Ouch.”

When did it become so easy? She usually struggles when either of us leaves. When did she grow up so fast?

“She’ll be ready for a nap in about half an hour,” I tell Jessica and David.

“Just put her to bed and keep an eye on her. She’ll try to come downstairs if she wakes up—even with a baby gate,” I caution them.

Jessica tilts her head as if to say, “I’ve raised two kids, I know what I’m doing.”

I raise my hands in surrender. “Alright. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“Go.” They shoo us out of the house and we head for the car. School lets out in about fifteen minutes, which is perfect since it takes us that long to get there.

“You ready?” James asks me.

“Can’t be worse than this morning,” I reply.

“True.”

I climb into the car, still chuckling at my own joke.

“It was really that bad, huh?” I ask him.

“It really was. I knew bringing Dad was the right call. I knew Becca was going to be a nightmare. I can’t believe she’s your biological mother.”

I shake my head, finding it hard to believe myself. I’m nothing like her.

“Me neither.”

I’ve learned from my mistakes—not that my baby is a mistake. But I’ve grown up. She just brushed the whole thing under the rug, like I was a problem that disappeared when she gave me up. Where’s the maternal love?

Fifteen minutes later, we pull up at the high school. We park the car and head inside just as the school bell rings.

“God, this brings back memories,” I say as we navigate the familiar corridors. Students spill out of the classrooms, and I see that nothing has changed.

I can spot the different cliques as we weave through them. The jocks are huddled near the gym. Some are trying to charm an innocent girl, while others are flirting with a girl in a very short skirt.

The nerds are over there, sporting the same geeky t-shirts they did five years ago. Even the goths are still here.

“Where’s the history classroom?” I wonder aloud. James just shrugs.

I approach a random student. “Hi,” I say to a shy girl who reminds me of my younger self. She’s beautiful, shy, and clearly unaware of her own worth.

~Yup, just like me.~

“Hi.”

“Could you tell me where Mr. Williams’s classroom is, please?” I ask her. She nods.

“It’s room 100,” she says. “Do you know where that is?”

I nod with a smile. “Nothing ever changes in this town,” I tell her, a hint of sarcasm in my voice.

“That’s why I’m getting out of here,” she replies.

“Good for you. Trust me, it’s worth it,” I tell her. She looks at me, curiosity in her eyes, but I know she’ll understand.

I thank her and head toward room 100. It’s just four classrooms down, so we get there in no time. James knocks on the door.

“Yes?” a voice responds.

James steps inside and I trail behind him. ~You’ve got this,~ I reassure myself. But my nerves are on edge. This is even more intense than this morning. What am I supposed to say to him?

~“Hey, you don’t know me, but I’m your kid?” How does one even start this conversation? Why didn’t I think this through?~

~

“A?” James glances back at me.

“Right behind you, sorry,” I respond.

We continue inside and I shut the door, locking it from the inside.

“You’re James Brown, aren’t you? The CEO of JB Corporate?” Mr. Williams asks James.

“That’s me,” James confirms. Mr. Williams extends his hand and James shakes it.

“I can’t believe it. I’ve always admired you. You came from this small town and built such a successful company. Your parents must be so proud,” he says.

James nods. “They are. But they also know I couldn’t have done it without her,” he says, stepping aside to gesture towards me.

Mr. Williams’s eyes widen in surprise. He’s young and good-looking. His wavy brown hair is similar to my own curls. His brown eyes meet mine.

“Rebecca?” he asks, taken aback.

“No, no. I’m Anna,” I correct him, shaking his hand.

“Anna? Have we met before?”

I nod. “You were my history teacher a few years ago,” I tell him.

~This is one way to break the ice.~

~

“What brings you here, James?” he asks, looking at James with admiration.

I understand why—James is a success story. He lived the dream of every student here: escaping this town and making it big.

“I’m not here for myself, Mr. Williams. I’m here to support Anna,” James explains.

“Support? Okay…,” he replies, looking slightly confused.

“You knew Rebecca Johnson?” I ask him, and he nods.

“Yes, she was my girlfriend a long time ago. Why do you ask?”

My fingers start to shake.

“This is harder than I thought,” I admit to James, looking into his eyes. James takes my hands in his.

“You’re doing great,” he reassures me, kissing my forehead. I close my eyes and take a deep breath.

“So, this was about twenty-two years ago?” I ask Mr. Williams.

“Yes, thereabouts. Why do you ask, Anna?” he asks, his tone becoming more urgent.

“Rebecca is my mother. She told me that you’re my father,” I confess in a whisper.

His face goes blank.

“Your mother...your father?” He laughs and shakes his head.

“That can’t be. She wasn’t pregnant,” he protests. I understand his shock.

But I feel deflated. Why can’t anything be simple? How did Becca manage?

~“Ruby took me in...~

~That’s it!~

“Did she leave town for a while or something?” I ask, trying a different approach.

~Becca wouldn’t lie, would she?~

“She did disappear for about a year,” he admits, then looks at me. “She moved in with her sister, if I remember correctly.”

I nod. So that’s how she did it.

“I was adopted by her sister, Ruby, and her husband, Peter. I just found out today that Becca is my biological mother,” I explain.

He runs his hands through his hair. Then he looks at me—really looks at me. I close my eyes and sigh.

~Please let this go well.~

Then I see it, the recognition in his eyes.

“Oh, God,” he murmurs, tears welling in his eyes.

“I know Becca didn’t tell you anything. And I don’t want anything from you, just to be clear. I know this is a lot to take in, but I need your family’s medical history,” I explain. His eyes snap up to meet mine.

“Of course.”

“I understand if you don’t—” James and I start to say at the same time.

~Did he just agree?~

“Wait, did you just say ‘of course’? You believe me?” I ask him, surprised.

~This is going smoother than this morning.~

“Of course I do, it all makes sense now. And you have my eyes. The determination in them, that’s all me,” he tells me with a proud smile.

“Can I ask why you need it? I’ll tell you whatever I can, I’m just curious. I hope you understand,” he says, his smile calming.

~I feel so comfortable with him. He’s willing to help? He believes me? I can give him the answers he wants. I can do that. It’s the least I can do considering I just turned his world upside down.~

~

“My daughter,” I answer, my voice shaking.

“You have a daughter?” he asks, shocked. Not only does he have a daughter, but he also has a granddaughter. Yeah, that’s a lot to process.

“~We~ do,” James corrects him. Mr. Williams nods at James, finally understanding why he’s here with me.

“She’s three, and she’s sick,” I tell him, tears welling in my eyes. “The doctors can’t figure out what’s wrong with her,” I explain.

“I just need to know your family’s medical history so we can help her.”

“She’s sick? God… You’re twenty-one, that means you were eighteen when you had her.”

I nod. “Like mother, like daughter, I guess,” I say with a weak smile.

He runs his hands through his hair.

“I had no idea,” he says, regret in his voice.

“Like mother, like daughter,” James echoes, shooting me a pointed look.

“Hey! I tried to reach you!” I defend myself, smacking his arm. I had hoped—we both had—that we were past this.

“I get it, A. I’m just not over it. It would’ve made things easier for you.”

“It’s water under the bridge now,” I reassure him, giving his hand a comforting squeeze.

~I don’t need any more drama today.~

~

“What happened?” Mr. Williams asks, his eyes filled with concern. His gaze is so intense, it makes me want to spill my guts.

“I got the boot,” I say, shrugging it off like it’s no big deal.

After repeating my story so many times, it’s starting to feel like the norm.

“WHAT?!” he explodes.

Well, now I know where my fiery temper comes from.

“They’re devout,” I explain, trying to cool him down.

“That doesn’t make it okay,” he insists.

“No, it doesn’t,” I agree. “I’m aware of that.”

He nods, probably relieved that I’m not the type to take things lying down.

I won’t let anyone push me around. And I’m not afraid to speak my mind, much to my parents’ chagrin.

“Yeah, and then Becca gave her the boot too,” James chimes in. I give him a playful punch in the chest.

“What did she do?” Mr. Williams asks, shocked.

“Yeah, I know. It’s a lot to take in.

“A random girl shows up out of the blue, tells you she’s your daughter, and oh, by the way, she has a daughter too. Then Mr. Chatty over here starts blabbing about my past,” I say, and he seems to relax a bit.

“I’m okay, I made peace with everything a long time ago. The past is the past. All I care about is getting my baby healthy again.

To do that, I need some answers. And you know what… we’ve only been here for five minutes, and you’re already willing to help. You didn’t freak out or bombard me with questions—you just want to help. I can’t tell you how much that means to me.”

He nods. “Of course I want to help. If there’s something I can do, why wouldn’t I?”

“This conversation is a breeze compared to the one I had this morning, and I just turned your world upside down. Thank God I inherited that from you.”

He chuckles and his smile lingers. “What was the conversation this morning?”

“I had a fifteen-minute argument with my parents just to get some answers, only to find out that my aunt is actually my mom.

“Then I had to go toe-to-toe with Becca for half an hour just to get your name. We even had to threaten her with legal action.”

He rolls his eyes. “Always the drama queen.”

“Thank God I didn’t inherit that,” I say, laughing.

We’re in the middle of our conversation, laughing and talking, when there’s a knock at the classroom door. Mr. Williams unlocks the door and swings it open.

He sighs. “Rebecca.”