“You never thought about her before? That’s unusual for an adopted child.”
“I thought about her occasionally, but not with any real intensity. On my birthdays, I would wonder if she remembered the day I was born, and if she missed me. But suddenly, after twenty-seven years, I have this nagging sense of urgency, and I’ve even started to dream about her at night. It’s as if time’s running out for me to find her. When I’m awake, the feeling of urgency isn’t so strong, but I keep asking myself how she’d feel if she knew her daughter was about to get married—“ Emily stopped abruptly.
Fortunately, Dylan misinterpreted the reason for her sudden silence. “It’s not surprising that you should start questioning the circumstances of your birth now you’ve reached the point in your life when you might have children of your own. Even so, before I agree to proceed with the investigation, I’d like to reassure myself that you’re aware of the risks involved.”
“Risks?”
“Emotional risks, chiefly. Although sometimes there are practical risks, too.”
“I’ve considered the risks,” Emily said. “I realize this search will impact my adoptive parents as well as me. Obviously, I don’t want to hurt them—”
“Have you told them what you’re planning to do?”
Emily shook her head. “No, not yet.”
Dylan sent her a quizzical look and she acknowledged his tacit question with a rueful smile. “I’m not chickening out. Honest. I don’t think they’ll be hurt by the idea that I’ve chosen to look for my birth mother, but they’ll be…anxious. Why worry them needlessly? Carolyn says your success rate in finding missing family members is very high, but even you must have the occasional failure. I didn’t want to get everyone worked up over something that might fizzle out into nothing.”
“You have a point. But we’re proud of our record, even though we’ve only been in business a short time, so I’m optimistic that we can find your mother. However, there are still a couple of warnings I need to run by you before we start the investigation. Until quite recently adoptions were governed more by custom than by law. Nowadays, most states insist on full disclosure, and open adoptions are the norm, with all the important facts on the table. But thirty years ago, case workers figured birth records were closed forever, and nobody was going to be hurt if they polished the truth to make it more palatable to adoptive parents.”
“I just want to know who my mother is and why she chose to give me up for adoption,” Emily said. “I’m prepared to face whatever you find.”
“Are you certain? Even if it turns out that you were born while your mother was in prison? Or maybe she had so many sexual partners nobody has any idea who your father is? Or how about if she’s a married woman, living in the suburbs with a second family and children she chose not to give up for adoption? How badly is that going to hurt you? Then there are the practical risks I talked about. You’re a successful professional woman, with wealthy parents. What if your adoptive mother hits you up for money?”
“Actually, I’ve thought about all those possibilities, and I’ve decided I want to know the truth, whatever it is,” Emily answered without hesitation. Surprisingly, a fierce desire to find her birth mother was one of the few emotions she could still feel through the numbness induced by Michael’s rejection.
She realized she was gripping the edge of the desk, and she uncurled her tense fingers. “I appreciate the warnings, Dylan, and I’m prepared to face the worst, but I don’t think I’ll have to. The adoption agency provided some pretty specific details about my background. They said my birth mother was a nineteen-year-old student at the University of Texas. My father was also a college student, although he was a couple of years older. They had a brief affair, but by the time my birth mother found out she was pregnant, my father had already graduated—”
Dylan shook his head, interrupting her. “Emily, every client who walks through these doors seems to have been told a version of the same story. Middle-class couples were more willing to adopt babies from middle-class backgrounds, so that’s what the agencies provided—babies supposedly born to innocent young girls who had made a mistake. The truth might really have been that the birth mother was an illegal immigrant toiling in a factory sweatshop and boosting her income by working as a prostitute, but somehow she always got transformed into a college student who made a mistake.”
“Sometimes it must have happened that way, though. College students do have unplanned babies.”
“Yeah. Sometimes. Not as often as you might expect.” Dylan leaned forward, his gaze intent. “I had a case where an older woman found out the truth about her past and wished she hadn’t. The illusions of a lifetime were badly shattered and she’s coping with information she’d have preferred not to have. Let me give you one last warning, Emily. Don’t open the box unless you’re one hundred percent sure you want to see the contents.”
Emily knew adoption agencies often lied about the circumstances of the birth parents…knew that her mother might be someone society would deem unworthy. Her dubious genetic heritage was one of the reasons she had always been so anxious not to disgrace Raelene and Sam. She didn’t want to give people cause to whisper that bad blood always tells in the end. But the time had come in her life when she needed to replace comforting myths with the truth.
“I’m prepared for whatever you find out,” she said quietly. “I want to open the box.”
“Okay, I believe you.” Dylan relaxed and gave her a warm smile. “Now I’m finally going to quit with the dire warnings and tell you one of my favorite adoption stories. Almost the first client this agency had was a man in his forties. His adoptive mother had just died, and he’d decided to start a search for his birth mother. We found her without too much difficulty, and they had a great reunion. It turned out his birth mother had been widowed a year earlier and had been looking for her son ever since. But it gets even better. Yesterday, I had a phone call from my client. His birth mother and his adoptive dad have just gotten engaged and he called to invite me to the wedding. Isn’t that a great story?”
“It sure is. It’s the sort of fairy-tale ending every adopted child dreams of.” Emily concentrated on feeling happy for the bride and groom, and not wallowing in self-pity for herself and her broken engagement.
“I have a bunch more great adoption stories, but with your tight schedule, I guess we need to get down to business.” Dylan’s manner became brisk. “I’ll need your birth certificate and the name of the agency that arranged the adoption. I assume you can give me that much?”
Emily nodded. “I sure can. The adoption was arranged through the Lutheran Family Services. Unfortunately, their records were all destroyed in a fire, and the agency itself is no longer in business, which is why I couldn’t take this investigation any further myself. I didn’t know where to start.”
She laid a brown envelope on the desk. It contained the meager records of her adoption. “Other than the story I told you about both my parents being students at the University of Texas, I don’t have any leads to give you, I’m afraid.”
“Don’t worry. It’s my business to generate leads. That’s why we charge the big bucks.”
Emily acknowledged his smile. “Yes, Carolyn already provided me with your fee schedule. It took me a couple of days to recover, but I’m no longer in a state of total shock.”
“Good.” Smiling, Dylan pushed back his chair and rose to his feet. “Don’t worry, Emily, we earn our high prices. We’ve traced birth parents with less information than you’ve given me, and