Wicked Beautiful by J.T. Geissinger

Author:J.T. Geissinger [Geissinger, J.T.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780996935807
Publisher: J.T. Geissinger, Inc.
Published: 2015-11-30T05:00:00+00:00

* * *

The next day at ten after three, my mother and I sit in a parking lot, watching the outpouring of students that bursts from the school doors after the end-of-day bell.

The school is a good one—a private one—a sprawl of red brick and majestic white columns set on a lush, landscaped green hill on the good side of town. It looks like something out of a movie set. Like a spy, I’m peering at it through a pair of binoculars.

“We’re too late! We missed her!”

In the passenger seat, my mother squints into the bright afternoon sun. “No, she hasn’t come out—” Suddenly she clutches my arm and points. “There!”

I follow the direction she’s pointing, and my heart stops dead in my chest.

Emerging from the shadows of the building into the warm afternoon sunlight is a girl. She’s tall, honey-blonde, leggy, dressed in the school uniform of white shirt and navy plaid skirt, carrying a stack of books in one arm.

My daughter—my beautiful daughter, the beautiful stranger—lifts her hand to shade her eyes from the sun.

My voice choked, I say, “She’s so tall. When did she get so tall?”

“Children grow like weeds. The last time you saw her she was, what? Ten? Now she’s fifteen. A young woman.”

Fifteen. The age I was when I met Parker.

Two years before my life imploded.

I lift the binoculars and stare through them again. Viewed closer, Eva is even prettier. She has her father’s dimples, his easy, long-limbed grace. I watch breathlessly as she waves to a few friends, then skips down the steps, turns a corner, and disappears.

It’s not until I take the binoculars from my eyes that I notice the wetness on my cheeks.

My mother and I sit in stifling silence until I can compose myself. She politely keeps her gaze turned away. After most of the cars have left the parking lot and the doors to the school have been shut, she says quietly, “Robert died.”

My head jerks around. I stare at her. “Eva’s adoptive father? When?”

“Last year. He was hit by a drunk driver.”

“Mama! Why didn’t you tell me?”

My mother finally looks at me. Her eyes are full of sympathy, and it makes me furious.

“Why, mija? What could you have done?”

“I’m sure I could’ve done something—”

“No.” My mother’s voice is firm. “You could not.”

Even through my anger, I know she’s right. What could I do? Eva doesn’t know me, has never known me. I gave her up when she was only minutes old. I never even got to hold her. The doctor took her from my body and whisked her away, into the care of the agency my mother chose to handle the adoption. I’ve only ever been a part of her life like this, hovering out of sight, stealing glimpses of my own child like a thief.

Even this is more than I should have.

The adoption was private, the records sealed. But long before I had Tabby on my payroll, I had someone else who hid and unearthed information for me.

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