Page 40 of Christmas at Pine Ridge Inn
“I understand,” Lila said finally. “And I’m sorry for assuming—”
“Don’t apologize, sweetheart. Your instincts weren’t completely wrong. I would love nothing more than to claim you as my daughter.” Carol gave her a loving smile.
As Lila reached out to hug her, she couldn’t help wishing Carol was her mother. Not just so the mystery would be solved but because she’d genuinely grown to love her.
“Get some sleep, sweetheart. Tomorrow is Christmas and your birthday. Let’s make it a day worth celebrating.” Carol squeezed her shoulder. “Whatever happens, you’ve found a family here who loves you. I hope you know that.”
As Lila made her way upstairs, disappointment weighed heavy in her chest. She’d been so certain Carol was her birth mother, had built up the possibility until it felt real. Now, not only was she back to square one, but it was largely out of her control. She would have to wait for her mother to come to her.
In her room, Lila sat on the edge of the bed and stared out at the snow-covered town. Somewhere out there was the woman who’d given her life, and now she knew Lila was looking for her. But in a way, Lila felt no closer to finding her than she had when she’d first arrived in Pine Ridge.
Fourteen
Lila had barely slept. Every time she’d drifted off, she’d jolted awake thinking about Carol’s words: “I do know who your mother is.” Someone knew she was here and was deciding what might happen next. Knowing someone was out there debating whether they wanted to meet her was worse than having no leads at all.
She’d spent most of the night staring at the ceiling, wondering who her birth mother could be. Had she been too young to raise a baby on her own? Had she never wanted children and gotten pregnant by accident? Had she ever regretted her decision?
Around five-thirty, pale light filtered through her curtains. Lila pulled them back to find fresh snow falling on the already white landscape, the world hushed and pristine in the pre-dawn quiet. Movement in the yard below caught her eye.
Brady was outside, methodically shoveling the walkway from the inn to Main Street. Even in the dim morning light, she could see the rhythm of his work. Watching him made somethingin her chest ease slightly. At least she had someone she could confide in about everything. Sure, she could call Jenna, but she was no doubt having a busy Christmas morning with her own family. It was Brady who knew Carol and how badly Lila had begun to hope she was her birth mother.
Lila pulled on warm clothes and made her way downstairs. The lobby was quiet except for the soft ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner. She grabbed her coat from the hook by the door and stepped out into the crisp morning air. Her breath formed small clouds that reminded her of a locomotive as she made her way down the newly shoveled path.
“Merry Christmas,” Brady called when he saw her approaching. Snow clung to his dark hair and the shoulders of his coat. “And happy birthday.”
“Thank you. Merry Christmas to you too,” she said, although without the same enthusiasm with which he’d delivered the greeting.
When she reached him, he leaned down and kissed her on the cheek. “You’re up early.”
“Couldn’t sleep,” she admitted.
“Tell me about it while we feed the horses?”
“Sure. I could use the distraction.”
She followed him silently around the corner of the inn toward the stables.
The barn was warm and fragrant with the scent of hay and horses. Thunder nickered softly when he saw them, and Buttercup tossed her golden mane in greeting. There was something soothing about the simple routine of filling water troughs and measuring out grain. And running her hand down Thunder’s nose had a calming effect.
“So,” Brady said after they’d worked in companionable silence for several minutes, “how did your conversation with Carol go last night?”
Lila leaned against Thunder’s stall, watching the horse eat. “She’s not my birth mother.”
Brady paused in his work with the feed buckets. “I’m sorry. I know how certain you were.”
“The worst part is that she knows who is.” Lila’s voice came out smaller than she’d intended. “She said she’s contacted my birth mother and that it’s up to her whether she wants to reveal herself.”
Brady set down the bucket and moved closer, his expression concerned. “So, your birth mother knows you’re here?”
“Apparently. Carol said I needed to give her time to process the news.” Lila wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly feeling vulnerable. “What if she decides she doesn’t want to meet me? What if seeing me would just bring up painful memories she’d rather keep buried?”
“Or what if she’s been hoping for this moment for thirty-four years?” Brady’s voice was gentle but firm. “Lila, you can’t know her reasons for the original adoption or how she’s felt about it all these years. Maybe she’s been waiting for you to find her.”
“Carol said essentially the same thing last night.” Lila managed a small smile. “She also said she would have been lucky to have me as a daughter, which was incredibly sweet but also made me realize how much I’d started picturing it was her.”
Brady reached over and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, his touch gentle. “Carol’s not wrong. Anyone would be lucky to have you in their life.”
The simple statement, delivered with quiet conviction, made tears prick her eyes. “I don’t know what to do now. Just wait and hope she decides she wants to meet me?”
