“I’ll need something to go on,” I said, reaching for my notebook.
Emily sat up straighter. “I was born in this town. I’ve never moved, never been sent anywhere else.” She took a breath.
“My birthday is February 15, 2009.”
I jotted it down.
“Is that enough?” she asked, her fingers gripping the edge of her sweater.
“I’ll do everything I can,” I promised.
She hesitated, then pulled a few crumpled bills from her pocket. “I have some money, but not much.”
It wasn’t even close to what I needed, but that didn’t matter.
“If I find her, then you can pay me,” I said.
Her lips trembled. “Thank you.”
She stood to leave.
“Wait.
How can I find you?” I asked.
She scribbled an address and handed it to me. “My foster home. I’ll be there.”
I nodded, and she walked out.
The next morning, I wasted no time.
It had been a long time since I had worked on a real case.
Even though I knew I wouldn’t make any money from this one—I couldn’t, in good conscience, take money from an orphan—it still felt good to have a purpose.
The first place I went was the hospital. Our town had only one, which made things easier.
If Emily’s mother had given birth there, the records would be somewhere inside.
One advantage of my former job was that I had connections everywhere. The hospital was no exception.
I knew exactly who to talk to—Camilla.
She had been a nurse for years, and we had met back when I was covering a story about harassment in hospitals.
She had been a source then. Since that day, she’d been a friend. As soon as she spotted me, she put down her clipboard and grinned.
“Sara!” she said, pulling me into a quick hug.
“What brings you here? Please don’t say trouble.”
“I need your help,” I said, leaning in slightly.
Camilla raised an eyebrow. “Of course you do.
You never just stop by to visit an old friend, do you?”
I crossed my arms. “You were literally at my house for dinner last week.”
She smirked. “Fine.
What do you need?”
“Birth records. February 15, 2009.”
She blinked. “That’s specific.
Should I be worried?”
“Nothing illegal. I just need to find a name.”
Camilla folded her arms. “That’s doable, but make it fast.”
I hesitated.
“The baby was given up, probably in secret.”
Her expression changed. “Sara, you know I can’t just hand you confidential records.”
“Please,” I said. “Just a quick look.
No one will even notice.”
She studied me, then sighed. “You have ten minutes.”
I smiled. “Thank you.
I owe you.”
She rolled her eyes. “You owe me for life.”
She led me through a narrow hallway to the hospital archives. The air smelled of dust and old paper.
Camilla pulled out a thick folder labeled 2009 – Abandoned Newborns and handed it to me.
“Be quick,” she whispered.
I flipped through the pages, my fingers trembling.
February 15. My eyes locked on the mother’s name. My breath caught.
No.
This couldn’t be real.
I shoved the file back and hurried out.
Camilla stood by the door. “Sara, you’re as pale as a ghost. What happened?”
“I’ll explain later,” I muttered, pushing past her.
I needed air.
I stood outside a house I had never seen before. The air felt heavy, pressing down on me.
Emily’s case had become the hardest of my career. Too personal.
Too close.
I stared at the door. My hands felt numb. I couldn’t bring myself to ring the bell.
I took a breath and reached for the doorbell.
My hand hovered over it. I could still turn around, pretend I never came. But that wasn’t an option.
Not for Emily.
I pressed the button. The chime echoed inside. Footsteps approached.
The door opened, and I saw her.
Her face paled.
Her lips parted in shock. “Mom?”
I swallowed hard. My throat felt tight.
“Hi.”
Meredith blinked. Her fingers tightened around the edge of the door. “What are you doing here?
I thought I made it clear—I don’t want to see you.”
I met her gaze. “I wouldn’t have come if this were about me.”
Her eyes darkened. “Then why are you here?”
I took a deep breath.
“For your daughter.”
The color drained from her face. Her whole body tensed. “How… how did you—” She couldn’t finish.
Her breath hitched.
Tears filled her eyes. Then, without a word, she stepped aside and let me in.
The kitchen was small but neat. She moved stiffly, as if her body wasn’t sure what to do.
She pulled out a chair and sat down.
I stayed standing for a moment, then sat across from her. Silence filled the space between us.
“Her name is Emily, if you’re wondering,” I said. “No one ever adopted her.
She’s been living with foster families. She came to me to find her mother, but I never imagined—”
Meredith squeezed her hands together. “Please stop,” she whispered.
I waited.
“I have regretted it my whole life,” she said, her voice breaking.
“I tried to forget. I told myself it was the best thing. That she’d have a better life without me.
And now you show up out of nowhere to remind me what a terrible person I am.”
“You’re not terrible. You were a child yourself when she was born. I just don’t understand how you hid it.
How did your father and I not know?”
“I wore loose clothes. My belly wasn’t that big. And I planned to give birth in another town, but you and Dad went abroad for your work right before it happened.
So it all worked out,” she said.
“Tell her I couldn’t be found,” Meredith said suddenly.
“Why?” I asked. “Meredith, I’m a mother too. I know what it’s like to lose a child.
Nothing is more painful than that.”
She lowered her gaze. Her voice trembled. “How can I face her?
She’ll hate me.”
I let her words hang in the air. “Maybe,” I admitted. “But even so, she wanted to find you.
That means something.”
Meredith wiped at her eyes. “What if she doesn’t want me?”
“She wants answers. She wants to know where she came from.
You owe her that.”
She looked away. I knew she resented me. But I reminded myself—this wasn’t about us.
It was about Emily.
“I have her address,” I said. “Do you want to see her?”
Meredith hesitated. Then, slowly, she nodded.
We drove in silence.
The streetlights flickered as we passed. When we reached the house, Meredith didn’t move. Her fingers dug into her lap.
“Aren’t you coming?” she asked.
I shook my head.
“This is between you two.”
She looked down. Her voice broke. “Mom… I regret cutting you out.
I was ashamed.”
I turned to her. “You are my daughter. No matter what, I will always love you.”
Her face crumpled, and she reached for me.
I wrapped my arms around her, holding her the way I had when she was little.
“What you’re doing is important,” she whispered. “People like Emily need you.”
I smiled, brushing a strand of hair from her face.
Then she stepped out, walked to the door, and knocked.
A moment later, Emily appeared. They stared at each other.
Then Meredith took a breath. Emily took a step forward.
They talked. They cried.
And then Emily wrapped her arms around her mother.
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Source: amomama
