Page 19 of Dream a Little Dream

Elizabeth blinked, trying to reconcile the information with her overly large heart that was probably bleeding for me this very second. “Savvy, I’m so sorry. I can’t believe I didn’t know any of this.”

I covered her hand. “Don’t take it personally. I didn’t tell anyone but Jonathan and a few of my coworkers.”

“And you didn’t even have your sweet Lindy when you came home.” She shifted into her feisty mode. I’d seen it before during cornhole tournaments and Tuesday night bowling. Her team, the Ballbusters, didn’t mess around. “You should have come to me with this. We could have eaten popcorn all night. Downed a bottle of red wine while we cursed out medical dramas on the TV.”

I realized she was right, but I was someone who had trouble asking for help. After a life filled with grief, I’d learned to carry my sadness on my own. People got tired of feeling bad for you. “I’ve always been a pull myself up by the bootstraps kind of person,” I confessed. “I think that’s what I was doing.”

“Childhood trauma,” Jonathan said, nodding along. “Abandonment issues, which I’m sure this didn’t help.”

“Don’t therapize me while I’m having martinis. Besides, it’s all good now,” I added. “Speaking of childhood, I should probably tell you both that I don’t know who my biological father is.” Damn, those second drinks sure did loosen lips. Where had that sprouted from? Possibly because Elizabeth’s kind offer had softened my heart. Eating popcorn all night and cursing at fake doctors sounded downright wonderful.

The table went still. My two friends exchanged a fully shocked look and my cheeks went warm with embarrassment. My blurt was out there now. No going back. “Yeah. Not a big deal. But,yeah.”

“What are you talking about?” Elizabeth said gently. “You’re wondering if your dad was actually…your biological parent?”

I took a beat. “He wasn’t. I read the firsthand correspondence between them that confirmed it.” I raised a shoulder. “Maybe they were waiting for me to get a little older to break the news. Maybe they were never planning to. I’ll never know.” My gaze immediately dropped to my drink, emotion welling and threatening to take over. I fought hard against it. Jonathan had yet to speak.

“Why do I feel like a loser twice over now in this conversation?” I added a laugh to ease the tension. Before I could continue my train of thought a moment longer, two arms were around me. Jonathan’s. The warmth and tightness of his squeeze sent a wash of calm through my entire body. God, I needed that. I relaxed into him, my safe friend, aware that there were tears in my eyes, obscuring my vision. He had me. These two people truly did care. Wordlessly, I covered his arms with mine and held on, this time not running from the emotion.

“It’s okay,” Elizabeth said. I met her gaze across the table and offered a wobbly smile. She’d gone all misty, too. “We have you. You don’t have to keep up any of those walls, okay?” I reached for her hand, and she gave it a squeeze, her words making me want to sob. After months of holding it all in, this was the first time I’d confessed the truth about my parents to anyone.

“Thank you,” I managed in a rasp before sucking in oxygen. Not my prettiest moment. I caught the tear that fell with the back of my hand, realizing my entire cheek was wet. “I don’t know where any of that came from. Pardon my public waterworks.”

“Well, I know,” Elizabeth said. “You’ve been carrying a heavy load and you just laid down a portion of it to your friends. It’s exactly what you should be doing. In fact, do it more, okay? Bad day at work? Call me. Call Jon.”

“Okay,” I said, reaching for a napkin to dry apparently my entire face.

Jonathan nodded and returned to his stool. “Tell us what you read.”

“Oh, the letters.” I recounted the story of my parents’ courtship piece by piece, including my dad’s pledge to love and raise me as his own. At the end, I placed my empty drink on the table. “So, the remaining question is, if Bradley Potter wasn’t my father, who is?”

My friends, who’d scarcely moved a muscle as I recounted the story, came alive at my question. “You have to find him,” Elizabeth said emphatically.

“Only if that’s something you’re interested in,” Jonathan said cautiously. He always had looked both ways before crossing a street. “But it is, right? I mean, you want to know?”

“I’m not sure I do. Why go asking the universe for trouble?”

They exchanged a look, as if checking in with each other, likely out of their depth. Couldn’t blame them. I was, too.

“I think you play it by ear,” Elizabeth said. “Doesn’t have to be today.”

“Good point,” I said. “I can start that search any time I want or not at all.”

“Exactly,” Elizabeth said. “And this doesn’t change a single thing about you. You’re the same person you always were.”

But was I?

As I walked home that night, it felt like something had been unleashed that I couldn’t rein back in. Just as I’d feared, saying the words out loud forced me to look at my situation head-on. Maybe for the first time. I turned right onto Lonesome Dove Lane and laughed at the irony. “Won’t be staying long,” I told the houses I passed. Canary Park was a much happier street, and I was glad I’d chosen to call it home. In between, I couldn’t stop thinking about who my father might be. Was he right here in town? Across the country? Had we ever met? Did he even know about me?

I had a sneaking suspicion I was going to deal with all these swirling questions sooner rather than later. “Oh, please be later,” I mumbled as I arrived in my driveway. “I just need calm waters for a while. Can we do that?” I asked, peering up at the darkened sky. “No more ripples. Thank you! Plate is full. Gonna rest now!”

I stared at the stars and nodded with finality. Yep. That should do it.

* * *

I hated having to rush. The chaotic fury that descended on me when time was of the essence was perhaps my least favorite state of being. I added cushions to travel times, sat in parking lots in advance of any given appointment to ensure I dodged the pressure-filled drive to the venue. However, Elizabeth called to report that Eileen, who usually handled the turnovers for me at the Airbnb, had called in sick with the flu.

“I’m so sorry,” Elizabeth explained. “I’d do it myself, but I’m booked driving Mrs. Gray to her cardiology appointment.”

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