The Letter by M. J. Padgett

Author:M. J. Padgett [M. J. Padgett]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: MJ PADGETT BOOKS LLC
Published: 2022-06-15T00:00:00+00:00

Missing Pieces

“So, this looks promising.” Zara slid the laptop in front of me. I glanced at the page, a website for a local agency that helped adopted children find their lost relatives.

“Can’t hurt to try, I guess.” I began typing in my information, trying not to get my hopes up too high. The odds of finding my brother, especially with so little information, were slim to none. I finished with the account registration, and a small bell on the upper left corner flashed. “Huh, it says I have an alert already.”

“Probably just one of those confirmation emails or something.” She looked over my shoulder as I clicked on the flashing bell. We both read the information, and we both said the exact words at the same time. “Oh, my goodness.”

There it was, a profile that linked me to my long-lost brother. His hair was dirty blonde, our eyes were practically the same shade, and his facial features were almost an identical, masculine version of mine. But his last name, not surprisingly, was different. Brandon Forrester. It was strange to think my last name might be Forrester. Penelope Forrester. If I was right, and I thought I was, my name was Penelope Forrester. I looked over the information listed under his search.

Name: Brandon Forrester

Address: Contact for information

Phone: Contact for information

[email protected]

Description of relative: Penelope Forrester, possibly known as Penelope Scott, Penelope Garrett. Twenty years of age, blonde hair, brown eyes, possibly living in Alabama, Louisiana, Mississippi, Kentucky. Last seen at her home in Brentwood, Kentucky. Missing since 2009.

“Why does that say ‘missing?’” Zara asked, pointing to the description. “That can’t be you. It has to be a coincidence, right? It says Scott, not Scottsdale, so… who knows?”

I wanted to believe it was a mistake, that I wasn’t a “missing person,” but with a name like Penelope Scottsdale, it was highly unlikely that I wasn’t the “Penelope Scott” referenced. “I don’t know. Should I email him?”

Zara studied his picture intently. She bit her lip and reread the page, then decided. “I think so, yes. Better to know the whole truth now, isn’t it? How much worse can it be than what we lived through?”

I sucked in a breath and clicked on the link. Once the page loaded, I was terrified into a frozen position with my fingers hovering over the keyboard. Zara, being far more in tune with me than she cared to admit, pulled the laptop from under my hands and typed a short email.

Mr. Forrester,

I recently came across your profile, and I believe I may be the person you are searching for. Please contact me at the phone number or email address provided at your convenience.

Sincerely, Penelope Scottsdale

She tapped the send button, and that was that. We both sat staring at the screen in anticipation. Why I’m not sure. It’s not as if he sat by his computer all day waiting for his long-lost sister to respond to his search ad for her. Zara slid her chair back and stood cautiously.

“Are you still in pain?”

“Yeah, it feels like I did a million crunches.

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