I squeezed her hand, trying to lend her the small sense of calm I had at this moment. “We’ll do our best.”
Our gazes held, a dozen years of history shrouding our shoulders as we stepped up the sidewalk, headed to the stately front doors, hearts in our throats.
She gnawed on her bottom lip when I tried the knocker and waited.
Nothing.
Silence.
Stifling silence.
I was about to lift a hand to the doorbell when the soft click of a lock sounded and the door cracked open.
“‘Allo?”
“Hi, my name is Augusta Belle Branson. Do you by chance know anyone by the name of Victoria Hill?”
I watched, riveted. The gentleman standing behind the door was slim, a sort of worried look crossing his features.
“She doesn’t live here anymore,” he muttered, closing the door.
“Wait!” Augusta Belle pressed both her hands to the worn wood, eyes wild as she tried to peek into the window that decorated the top.
I knocked again, calling calmly, “We’d just like to ask a quick question. We’re not even sure if she’s who we’re looking for, but if you could just hear us out for a minute—”
The door cracked open again, haunted, dark eyes lingering on us before he opened the door a little farther, stretching to his full height and taking a deep breath. “Victoria Hill was my wife. She’s gone now.” He swallowed, and I sensed something painful had hit this family. “An accident last year.”
“I’m so sorry for your loss,” I offered. “I guess there’s no easy way to say this, but Augusta Belle here found a folder with some important information, your wife’s name the only thing pointing us in this direction.”
“What is it you’re lookin’ for, exactly?” He crossed his arms, patience seeming to wear thin already.
Augusta Belle stepped forward, straightening her own spine before locking eyes with the man. “I had a baby at a place named Our Lady of Sacred Heart, and that baby was adopted. That was nine years ago.”
The instant the word was out of her mouth, his eyes fell, turning to a look of defeat before his shoulders slumped and he stepped aside, door opening up to a simple entryway beyond. “I knew this day would come.”
“Oh my God,” Augusta Belle murmured, stepping into the entry to see a framed school photo of a little boy, his smile subtle, eyes twinkling with mischief, and a spray of freckles across his cheeks.
He was gorgeous.
“Is this him?” she asked, fingertips hovering just above the glass of the photo, tears welling in her eyes.
The man nodded. “Jack Christopher. He’s at school now, but…” His eyes were trained on mine. “Maybe later we could arrange a meeting?”
“A meeting?” my girl whispered.
The guy shrugged. “Jack’s been askin’ about his birth parents for a while. We just didn’t have a way of finding anything out about…” He paused, watching Augusta Belle as she moved down the hallway, devouring more photos of the little boy she’d loved and lost. “Met the kid’s grandpa the night we picked up Jack. We asked him for anything he could tell us about the family, but he was so mum. Left us with an address to send updates, and we did, a few times, but never heard back. Figured the family wanted to move on…”
Augusta Belle’s silent tears left trails of salt down her cheeks as she lingered at the same photo she’d found in her dad’s attic—same chubby thighs and bright smile, only a larger version. “He looked like a happy baby.”
“I’m sorry, guess I should introduce myself. I’m Calvin Hill.” He thrust a hand out to me, and I shook it. “Jack was such a happy baby. We tried for so long to have a baby, and then when he came along…” He glanced at Augusta Belle then back to me. “Well, he was so much more than we ever could have dreamed for.” He swallowed, eyes landing on a family photo of the three of them, Jack a few years younger than he was now, smiling gleefully in his mother’s arms. “Losing his mom was hard on him. He’s struggled at school, just hasn’t been quite the same. I’ve got some family that helps out when they can, but nothing can replace a mother’s love.” He halted, as if he’d said the wrong thing, when Augusta Belle’s gaze trained on him.
“I can’t believe it was so easy. That all this time, he was right here…” She covered her face, and I pulled her into my arms, rubbing her back and trying to soothe away the long-buried ache.
“We offered, well, welcomed your dad and the whole family to come down and get to know Jack Christopher. Sacred Heart offered a closed adoption, but we were so happy that any baby was…available at all… Well, we woulda taken anything, I think.”
Her eyes watered as she looked up at the man. “That night… You said my dad was there?”
He nodded. “We picked Jack up at Sacred Heart when he was three days old. Your father is the one who passed him into my arms.”
