Chapter 30
I sat on the floral-patterned couch, running my fingers over the worn fabric as a purring cat pressed against my legs. From the kitchen came the sounds of movement: cupboards opening, cups clinking against a counter, and the rush of water from the tap.
The living room felt cozy in the way only an old house could. It was dated, yes, but in a comforting way. A deep green rug stretched across the floor, and thick curtains framed the windows. Family pictures covered the walls—faces of people I didn’t recognize, except for a few that had a little girl in them. A girl who could have been me.
Little figurines filled the shelves—dolls, which were a bit creepy, but also porcelain animals.
Especially little pig figures.
My gaze remained on those pigs. A small grouping of them sat on the side table next to the couch, their cheerful faces frozen in place. They were just like the ones I used to collect—the same ones my father had given me.
Kelly returned, carrying a small tray and holding it steady with both hands. The aroma of coffee reached me before she set it down on the side table next to me.
“Here’s your coffee,” she said with a smile. “I baked cookies yesterday. If I had known who would be knocking at my door today, I would have baked them fresh this morning.”
I reached for the cup and one of the cookies. “Oh, these look amazing,” I said, biting into one. I’d never had much of a sweet tooth, but these tasted like something special. Maybe it was because they came from my grandmother. Or maybe theyreally were that good. “Wow,” I murmured, brushing a crumb from the corner of my mouth. “These are incredible.”
Kelly’s smile deepened. “My great-grandmother’s recipe. The secret is browned butter, a little espresso, and letting the dough chill overnight. Your dad loved them. So did you.”
She eased into a chair across from me, watching quietly as I ate. The silence between us felt heavy but not uncomfortable, just full of things neither of us knew how to say yet.
“I’m sorry for just showing up like this,” I said at last. “I tried calling, but it must have been a disconnected number.”
Her hand lifted to her mouth. It was trembling slightly. “Oh, goodness. Please don’t apologize. I can’t believe God brought you back to me.” Tears welled in her eyes.
I sat there holding my coffee, unsure what to do. My throat tightened when I saw her shoulders shake. My own eyes blurred, and a tear slipped free, landing straight into the cup I was holding.
Kelly wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand. “I’m sorry,” she said softly.
I shook my head. “No, I’m sorry for causing trouble.”
She glanced at a framed photo on a nearby table. It showed a young man holding a baby, his arms awkward but protective. He couldn’t have been older than eighteen.
“When your dad died, I felt it,” she said quietly. “That very moment, even though he was far away. Even before the call came to tell me that he’d overdosed. It felt like part of me had been torn out, and I just knew.” Her voice trembled. “But I never felt that with you. I always knew you were still alive. And I prayed every single day that you’d find your way back to me.”
A faint smile tugged at my mouth. “Do you know what happened back then?” I asked. “If it’s too painful, I understand, but it’s the one piece I’m missing about myself. What happened before Cynthia brought me to the Breakers?”
Her expression darkened. She pinched her lips together and took a long sip of coffee.
“I could come back another time,” I offered quickly. My stomach knotted with guilt. I hated the thought of barging in here and upending her life. I knew how it felt.
“Oh, no, please don’t leave,” she said quickly, almost panicked. “Of course I’ll tell you everything I know.”
I nodded as one of the cats leaped into my lap. It was the same one that had been following me since I’d walked through the door. Its fur felt rough beneath my fingers, its body bony and frail. One of its eyes was clouded white, but the purr rumbling out of it was strong.
“That’s Princess,” Kelly said warmly. “You were allergic to dogs, so we got you a cat. When your dad went to prison”—her voice faltered, and she drew in a slow breath—“you struggled after that. Princess helped you so much.”
I looked down at the cat, stroking her gently. “This cat is mine?”
Kelly nodded. “Twenty-five proud years old. It’s like she was waiting for you to come back. You and her were inseparable. School was hard for you back then. Cynthia dropped you off and picked you up constantly. There was never any stability. You had trouble making friends, but Princess...” She smiled softly. “She was always there and loved you.”
The cat’s purr vibrated against me, steady and warm, like the only thing in the world that could ever mend me. I gave her some extra cuddles, then focused back on my grandmother.
“How did Cynthia and my dad meet?” I asked quietly.
Kelly stood and set her coffee down. “Hold on a moment.” She crossed the room to a cabinet and pulled out a thick yearbook. When she came back, she glanced at me with a hopeful look. “Mind if I sit next to you?”
“Of course not,” I said, shifting over to make room.
