Page 67 of Freedom's Kiss
The buzzer on the stove rang, the jolt of it breaking their connection.
“Garlic bread is done.” Adam smiled at her, the hint of panic that had risen when she’d said they needed to talk having receded. She let him go, hating that she let an opportunity pass but also a little relieved.
He put on an oven mitt and pulled a baking sheet from the heat.
“So a tiny house, huh?” Small talk would have to cut the tension.
That persistent whisper roused her conscience. Tonight wasn’t for light and airy, no matter how much they both craved it. If she didn’t help him dig himself out of the press of guilt and self-condemnation, he’d bury himself alive with it.
“Yeah. It’s relatively new to me, but since I don’t really need a lot…” Again, he let the rest of his sentence die. A bit of the tension she’d kissed away came creeping back through his shoulders as he dished up two plates of thin noodles and sauce made from fresh tomatoes. He handed her a plate, and they sat at the built-in bench and said grace.
A kick of roasted garlic flavored the tang of bursted tomatoes as Olivia took her first bite. She held back a groan. The man had a way with flavors, that was for sure. Dabbing her mouth with a napkin, she looked at him. “This house is as new to you as that beat-up car you drive around. As new to you as your new career, even, isn’t it?” Maybe she could get him to open up.
He twirled pasta around the tines of his fork and shoved the bite into his mouth.
“I saw a picture of you at your mom’s house,” she continued. “Gelled hair and fancy suit standing in front of a very expensive Porsche. Not really a man living the tiny-house lifestyle.”
He chased his food with a drink of water, giving her a profile-only view.
“Things change.”
“Adam.” She said his name softly. He had to see it. Had to see how he had become both judge and jury of his own life, sentencing himself to a prison of his own making.
He stood, walking his plate back to the kitchen and returning with a laptop. He set the computer on his thighs and booted it up. “The reunion database is pretty straight forward, but we should probably get your name on the registry as soon as possible.” He typed FARR into the search engine and clicked on one of the hits.
The adoption information center came up on the screen. He clicked a few links, and then the sound of a printer and the spitting out of paper filled the small space. Reaching over, he retrieved the paper and handed it to Olivia. “We need to fill this out and mail it in. Unfortunately, everything I read seems to say the process may take a few months. They need to verify your eligibility and run your info against some agencies.”
Olivia stared down at the paper, silently reading the info they wanted her to fill in. She looked up at Adam, despair turning her resolve to gelatin. “They want my name at birth and even the number at the top right-hand corner of my original birth certificate? I don’t know those things! If I knew those things, wouldn’t it be easier to find my birth mom?”
“We’ll fill it all in to the best of our knowledge. Just because some birth certificates change the date of birth and the baby’s name, doesn’t mean all do.”
She took the pen he offered and began filling out the info. If anything, the process made her feel even more lost. Who didn’t know the day they were born? Or if their name was really the first name given to them? She could be a Rachel or a Zoey for all she knew.
Now panic feasted on her.
As if sensing the rise of emotion and increase in her breathing, Adam slid closer and pulled her to his side. “It’s going to be okay. This doesn’t change who you are.” His thumb caressed half-moons into her upper arm.
Olivia took a deep breath and held it hostage in her lungs.Everyone is adopted. She let her breath out. She’d realized that particular truth the night before when, yet again, she couldn’t sleep. She’d pulled her Bible off her nightstand and opened the pages at random. Ephesians 1:5 had never made such an impression on her before. She’d spent the next twenty minutes reading the verse over and over, knowing she’d need its power on this new journey she trekked.
God decided in advance to adopt us into his own family by bringing us to himself through Jesus Christ. This is what he wanted to do, and it gave him pleasure.A notation at the end of the verse had her flip to 2 Corinthians 6:18.
Olivia closed her eyes as she let the peace of the verse wash over her.And I will be your Father, and you will be my sons and daughters, says the Lord Almighty.
Opening her eyes, she found the clawing panic had left, and she was able to smile. “You’re right. It doesn’t change who I am.” She finished filling out the form, then folded it in thirds to fit into an envelope.
She wished she could say the peace of those verses stayed with her, a new and integral string enmeshed in her DNA, but that would mean the residual anger she still felt toward her parents, not to mention the tremor that coursed through her when she thought of meeting any of her blood relations, would be totally gone, wouldn’t it? And that wasn’t the case. Yes, the reassurance of belonging to a bigger spiritual family helped her charter the new waters she found herself in, but the knowledge didn’t take her feet from that path.
She snuggled her temple into the crook of Adam’s shoulder, relishing the way his closeness made her feel cherished, and the weight of his arm offered solid assurance. He knew she wasn’t going to push him to face something alone, didn’t he? She’d be by his side. Hold his hand.
“Adam, I think—”
His chest rumbled with a chuckle, and she placed a hand on his abs to push herself up and look in his eyes.
“What’s so funny?”
Forced mirth tightened his mouth even though it curved in a smile. “Thinking about Trent. Wondering how he handled breaking the news to Mom that I was missing game night tonight.”
“Should you text him and make sure he’s still alive?”
