“It’s clear as day. She sounds awesome. What does she do?”

Did I love Autumn? I mean, I knew I liked her and enjoyed the time we spent together, but what did I know of love? It was something I’d never experienced before.

“She’s a. . .well, she was an event planner. She was fired by her douchebag ex and came back home. I actually met her the day I arrived in Ashfield.”

“Aw, that’s adorable.”

“Thanks,” I replied wryly, then gulped down the last sip of my beer.

The server brought the check and I grabbed the black folder before Sadie could attempt it. The girl even huffed with her arms crossed tightly against her chest. Like she was ever going to get to pay for this meal.

“Before you go, I have something for you. It’s from our mom.”

She dug around in a large bag dangling from the back of her chair, then she held out a well-worn letter.

My baby boy,

If you’re reading this, then I can only hope that you have forgiven me. I spent many agonizing years wondering if I had done the right thing by giving you up. I was a baby myself when I had you and knew that I couldn’t give you the life you deserved. I can’t regret my decision, but I can regret not ever getting to hold you one last time. You were one of the best things that ever happened to me.

We all have tough choices to make and we can only hope that time heals the wounds left behind by our decisions.

I’m not sure what I intended with this letter as I know you’ll never read it, but I just felt like you should know that I’ve thought of you every day of my life and will continue to do so when I pass along.

I love you, my sweet baby boy, and I hope you take the time to give your love to those who are important to you.

Sincerely,

Mom

“When-” I coughed, clearing my throat. “When did she write this?”

Sadie replied somberly, “I’m not sure. I found it stashed away with her things when I was cleaning out the house. I think she wrote it after you were born, though. It was nestled in a folder with some of your delivery items.”

“Delivery items?”

“Yeah, like the hospital bracelet, cap, blanket. I think there is a copy of your footprint there too. After I did the genetics test, I became curious and dug through some of her boxes. I felt it was better to tell you in person than over a letter or text. There’s more too, of her things, I mean.”

“Can I see?”

“Yeah, of course. I actually still live in the house. It’s not a long drive to the university and it made more sense to keep the house for now.”

“Okay, I’ll follow you there.”

Standing from the table, I noted that Sadie was taller than most girls, and that drew a certain amount of attention as we exited together. Pulling the brim of my hat farther over my face and flipping the collar of my jacket over my neck, I did my best to duck out of everyone’s watchful eyes.

Unfortunately, there were a few photographers lingering outside the restaurant who flashed their cameras at us as we dashed across the street. As if fate took pity on us, Sadie’s car was parked only one spot over from my rental.

I’d told her to go straight home after she logged her address in my phone, and I did my best to drive around until I thought I was no longer being followed.

Thirty minutes later, I was sure no one was tailing me and I arrived at the small brick ranch-style house settled on a small lot in an older neighborhood. Sadie stood outside along a picket fence that needed a fresh coat of paint gnawing on one of her fingernails.

“Think anyone followed you?”

“Naw, I think we’re safe,” I replied as I followed her into the house. The living room looked clean and well lived in. It looked like a home that had been filled with love.

“I haven’t said it yet, but I am sorry about your mom.”

“Thank you. The cancer was fast and aggressive. It felt like one day we had a diagnosis and the next I was saying goodbye. The only positive is that the doctors said she didn’t suffer much.”

“That’s good.”

We stood awkwardly in the space, like we had at the restaurant when we initially met.

“I put her things on the kitchen table on the off-chance you wanted to come see them.”

“Good, good. Show me the way.”

Stacked plastic containers covered the wooden circle dining table. Despite being mismatched, the chairs complemented the space.

Sadie walked over to the refrigerator, leaving me at the table, and asked if I wanted a bottle of water while I sorted through some of the items. After agreeing, I lifted the top of the first box and got to work learning about a woman I never had a chance to meet.

“Wow,” I said, holding up a framed picture of our mother with a tiny baby Sadie swaddled in a blanket while she rocked in a chair.

“Mom and her parents had a rocky relationship after you were born. They came around after she finished college all on her own merit, but they died in a car accident before I was born.”

“Who took the picture?”

“A neighbor, I think. Mom wasn’t sure who my father was. Someone she met at a work conference was all she ever told me.”

Placing the picture back in the box, I turned my head toward Sadie. “I’m sorry you don’t know who your father is.”

“Thanks, but you can’t miss what you never had,” she said, the corners of her smile downturned.

“True. So, tell me what I’m going to find in the rest of these totes.”

The sunlight of late afternoon was swallowed up by the darkness of night as it snuck in. The light over the table was the only illumination in the room as we went through the last box. It was cardboard, worn and weathered.

“This is the only one I didn’t go through completely yet. Emotionally, I could only handle one a week or so. But just from opening the lid and finding the baby things, I knew it wasn’t a box meant for me.”

Folding back the lid, a musty scent overwhelmed my senses. As Sadie had mentioned, a few baby items rested on top, but what surprised us both were the newspaper articles about me when I accepted the hockey scholarship in college and following my career. We could tell that it hadn’t been touched in years, but somebody had added to its contents.

“Do you think she knew?” I asked Sadie, who had earlier said that her mother had never mentioned having another child.

“Maybe. You bear a striking resemblance to our grandfather. If she wasn’t certain, maybe she hoped that it was you. It maybe gave her hope that she had done the right thing by giving you up.”

“Yeah,” I said with a choked back cry.

“How about I give you a minute? I’ll grab us a beer from the fridge in the garage.”