They were quiet when the waitress brought a carafe of coffee to the table and filled their white diner-style mugs. He watched Lark add cream from the pitcher drop by drop, until the color suited her. He remembered she was precise about her coffee.
“It’s odd how I recall little things about you,” he said, nodding at the cup in front of her.
“Is that so?”
“The way you drip cream into your coffee, for one thing.”
“My coffee habits and my huge appetite. That seems especially odd because we never knew each other well.”
“I know,” he said, suddenly filled with regret, “and I’m sorry.”
She frowned. “For what?”
He responded with a one-shoulder shrug. “I’m not sure. Maybe I’m sorry we weren’t closer, or I regret that you went through so much.” He hesitated to find the right words. “I didn’t do as much as I could’ve.”
She averted her eyes and took a few sips of her coffee. His words seemed hollow, even to him. He could only imagine how ridiculous they must have sounded to her ears.
“I shouldn’t have jumped into the past like that,” he said. “Not when there’s something so immediate to talk about.”
“It’s natural, I suppose. I shuffled through some memories myself last night.” She smiled. “I’ll admit to spending a restless night. I guess I managed a couple of hours sleep. Evan was at his father’s house all weekend, so I was alone. He’ll come home after school today.”
Home was Lark’s house, just like Andi’s house was Brooke’s real home. He wondered if Lark’s ex was as resigned to that as he was.
After their omelets and muffins arrived, Lark squared her shoulders. “I’m calling this meeting to order.”
“No more small talk, huh?”
“Another time. I’d really like to find out more about your life, but my stomach is flip-flopping—and growling.” She tensed her shoulders and then released them. “I’m nervous. I’ll be okay when we get on with whatever we need to do.” She turned her head and glanced at the table for four behind her.
“Are you checking the place for someone you know?” he asked.
“Am I that obvious? But I’ve been silent for eighteen years and will stay that way, at least for now.”
“No explanation needed.” Lowering his voice, he asked, “I assume you went to Perrie Lynn’s website?”
She nodded vigorously. “I saw exactly what you were talking about.” She stared out into the crowded café. “She’s simply breathtaking. There’s no other word for her. And she definitely reminded me of you, and not just the hair and skin. There was something else. An expression, maybe an attitude. Even in the photo she exuded an air of confidence.”
He chose not to probe further into what she’d just said. Yes, he’d been a fairly confident twenty-year-old back when he and Lark were seeing each other. He was considered a good-looking guy, and he’d made his way through college without a lot of drama, at least until what happened with Lark. Up to that point he’d been carefree, with his eyes on the future, specifically his career plans.
“I think we could make a good case for exploring this further based solely on her resemblance to us,” Miles offered, “but the other details line up perfectly, almost too perfectly. If there is such a thing.”
“It’s premature to start thinking of this precious girl as our daughter, Miles, but we have a place to start. From the beginning, I’ve always known I’d do what I could to prepare for her eighteenth birthday, a landmark year in adoption terms. So I’m ready.”
“What do you mean by ‘prepare’?”
She frowned. “I’ve registered with the adoption agency and it’s cross-referenced on a state list. If our child decides she wants to look for me now that she’s old enough to make her own decisions, I made sure I could be found.”
That felt like a blow. Irrationally, he was hurt. “You mean, you’ve already begun a process to find her.”
“Well, yes, in a way. But it’s not a matter of me finding her,” she explained. “As I said, if she looks, she’ll be able to find me—easily.”
Still nursing an open wound, he asked, “Would you have told me if she’d found you?”
“Of course, if that’s what she wanted.” She dropped her fork, letting it clatter on the plate. “I can see from your pained expression that I’ve upset you. But I think you’re getting the wrong impression.”
“Then fill me in.” His voice had turned cold, but he couldn’t help it.
“Statistically, adopted kids tend to think of searching for their birth mothers first.”
Good point. “I suppose that’s true.”
“It makes sense when you think about it.” She spoke in a low voice. “Adopted kids, girls and boys, tend to think about the woman who actually gave birth to them more than they think about their father.”
She leaned forward, her tone earnest. “Many people search, especially as young adults, because if they don’t, they always wonder. The first step was providing my information to the adoption agency, and with their cooperation, to the state office that responds to inquiries. But I’d never have disrupted this young woman’s life by popping up unannounced.”
She picked up her fork and jabbed the air for emphasis. “I’ve always hoped she’d look for me. For all we know, now that she’s turned eighteen...”
She didn’t need to finish the sentence, and he nodded to acknowledge he understood. The image of the graceful skater, so triumphant in her medal win, flashed in his mind. He couldn’t see that focused girl taking a detour to search for biological parents, not while she stood in the very spotlight her adoptive parents undoubtedly had worked hard to help her reach.
“We can’t assume she’d search right now,” Miles said, giving voice to his doubts. “From what I understand, which is based on what the TV commentators said, she trains every day to prepare for the next event.” He paused. “I won’t do anything on my own, by the way. Whatever we do to locate our child, I want us to do it together.”
She raised her eyebrows. “In contrast to what I’ve already done, you mean?”
“I don’t want to be petty about it, but it’s just that I thought of you first when this possibility became clear. I wouldn’t have checked it out without talking to you.”
“I see.”
“And it’s apparent you would have plunged in alone.”
“Yes, to be honest, I would—I did.” She bit the corner of her lower lip. “But, Miles, I haven’t ever told anyone about our daughter.”
“I’m not anyone. I always thought that having the baby was something we went through together. If you were talking to that agency we worked with, you should have called me to see if I wanted to be included.”
Her eyes opened wide in surprise. It was clear she didn’t share his stance on that. She pushed a slice of bacon to the side of her plate and focused on buttering a chunk of the muffin.
“Your silence speaks volumes, Lark.” He’d never expected this wave of reproach, even anger, that was coming over him now.
Raising her head, she stared boldly into his eyes. “Okay, to be perfectly honest, until now I’ve felt entirely alone with my secret. But starting today, we’re together in this.”
He