“Really?” A pleased flush hit her cheeks.
“So like her. I used to be so jealous you looked like her.”
“No way.”
“Yes way.” I released her and settled back against the couch.
“But you’re beautiful.”
“Thank you, sweetie. I think it was more about a connection to Mum, you know. I never knew my birth mother so Mum’s all I’ve ever known.”
Mor looked away, her smile falling. “Do … do you think about her? Your birth mum?”
Something about her tense demeanor worried me. “I … I do.”
“Did you ever ask Dad about her?”
“What do you mean? Like about who she was and stuff?”
She nodded, still not meeting my eyes.
“When I was younger, all the time. But when Mum came into our lives, I … I didn’t want her to feel like I didn’t accept her as my mum, so I stopped asking about Francine.”
Mor met my gaze again. “Aren’t you curious about her?”
“I did a little digging when I was your age,” I admitted, because I hadn’t told anyone about it. Not even Lewis. “I found out what her parents did for a living. Her parents died not long after Francine died. She didn’t have any siblings. There was very little information, to be honest. The rest I got from Dad when I was a kid. That Francine died of an aneurysm in her sleep. That they were university sweethearts. That they were in love. I guess that’s all I need to know.”
I felt sad about it. For her. That she’d missed so much. That I didn’t get a chance to know this person who made up half of my DNA. To know if there were reasons I was the way I was or if it was all nature or all Adair. I felt horrified for Dad and how it must have been to wake up to find her gone. I knew that must have scarred him forever.
But I also knew that Francine wasn’t the love of his life. Not that Dad had ever said so. He’d loved her, yes. He’d grieved her.
I knew firsthand that Dad was madly, desperately in love with Regan. I’d watched it happen as a child when she came into our lives as our aunt Robyn’s sister and then as our nanny.
For years, I’d secretly longed to find someone who would look at me the way my dad looked at Mum.
I grew up in a house with so much love, and I guess that’s all I needed to know.
“That’s it?” Mor asked. Her voice shook a bit.
Suspicion flickered through me. “Mor … do you know something?”
“I… I overheard something. And I thought maybe Lewis would have told you. Maybe he did and you don’t want to mention it to me.” Her expression was hopeful.
My stomach, however, was in knots. “Lewis hasn’t told me anything about our birth mother.”
Mor looked like she wanted the floor to open and swallow her. “I … I think this is something you should know, but I don’t want you to hate me for telling you.”
I grabbed her hand and squeezed. “I could never hate you.”
She nodded, biting her lip. After a few very long seconds, she spoke again. “I overheard Mum and Dad talking last year. Dad was telling Mum that he had a chat with Lewis about your birth mum. That he’d told Lewis the truth about Francine.”
Blood whooshed in my ears. “What truth?”
“That … that … well … there was some man who hurt you when you were a kid. Tried to take you.”
Sean McClintock.
Even though I was young when it happened, it had been so traumatizing I’d never forget it. Or his name. The same year Mum’s ex-friend tied us up in the annex, another man tried to kidnap me from school. Sean McClintock. Whenever I think back on that year, I’m amazed at my resilience as a child. Because that shit was fucked up.
