Page 81 of Freedom's Kiss
Olivia let her lungs release the bubble of air she’d held hostage. Some of the tension she’d been holding along her shoulders escaped with it.
I can’t believe it. My sister.
Amy pressed both palms to her cheeks, shaking her head. “I can’t believe you’re here. I’ve finally found my sister.”
Lily’s voice entered Olivia’s head, cautioning her from getting attached before she ran a DNA test to confirm familial relations.
Lily wasn’t there. She couldn’t see what Olivia saw. Feel what Olivia felt. Know, in her heart, what Olivia knew.
Amy Kinnard was her sister.
Dad touched her lightly on the arm, his eyes warm and soft. “Mom and I are going to grab a snow cone right over there.” He pointed to the vendor selling flavored shaved ice, his unspoken subtext—we’re here if you need us.
Olivia smiled and nodded.
Amy hooked a thumb over her shoulder. “I have a blanket set out in the shade, where we can talk.”
Eileen kissed Olivia’s cheek before she turned and followed her husband.
Amy looked at her expectantly, and Olivia grinned. “Lead the way.”
Amy’s blanket wasn’t far, but she’d found the perfect spot under a tree with branches wide enough that they lent much-needed protection from the sun. Olivia leaned against the trunk and crossed her legs as Amy jumped in and started sharing all about her life. She was a sophomore at UCF, but right now most of her classes were online. She wanted to be a nurse and spend the first few years out of school traveling before she settled down. She was dating a guy named Brad, but it was more casual than serious. She had a peanut allergy. Did Olivia have any allergies?
No, she didn’t.
Amy’s tone changed as she moved from the generic to the personal, about when she’d first found out she had a sister, how their mom had told her. Olivia found herself playing with the edge of the blanket, running her index finger across the wool fibers and concentrating on how the strands would lay one way and then the other.
Amy grew quiet, and Olivia looked up to find her sister’s gaze riveted on Olivia’s fidgety fingers. Some of the excitement and exuberance had worn out of Amy’s voice and expression to be replaced with a compassionate understanding.
“Mom does that, too, when she’s nervous or anxious or overwhelmed. Sometimes just when she’s bored. She’ll work her finger over the seam of her pants or a cushion…anything really, as long as it’s within reach and she thinks no one will notice.” Amy raised her eyes and peered into Olivia’s. “Am I making you uncomfortable? I’m sorry if I am.”
“No! No,” she said at a less desperate decibel the second time, folding her hands in her lap. “Nothing like that. It’s just…” She looked away. Watched a group of women as they strapped shakers of some sort to their calves.
“Just?” Amy prompted.
Olivia shrugged. She didn’t want to say anything unkind about Amy’s mom.Theirmom. But every beat of her heart echoed an unanswered question.Why didn’t she want me?
“Did she…” Olivia licked her lips, kept watching the group of women in the distance. Her questions would be easier to ask if she didn’t have to look into Amy’s open gaze. “Did she ever explain why…” Her voice shook.
“Why she put you up for adoption?” Amy asked softly.
Olivia nodded. She inhaled a deep breath, hoping doing so would push down the emotion that wanted to leak out of her eyes and clog her throat like cotton.
“Yes, but…” Amy’s head tilted, considering. She flashed a glance to the same group of women Olivia had been studying. “Would you like to meet her? Hear her explain it to you?”
Olivia straightened and swiped at her cheek. “She’s here?”
For the first time that day, Amy hesitated. Cautious. Like she just realized that the territory they’d uncovered could possibly be riddled with land mines. Even so, she pressed on. “Yes. But she doesn’t want to force anything that you don’t want. The ball is in your court.”
Olivia continued to watch the women. Half a dozen, each dressed in a matching costume of moccasins, leg shakers, and red skirt with three yellow stripes near the bottom. Somehow, she knew. Intuition or something. Maybe they shared an unseen bond, one forged in the womb when her body fed and gave life to Olivia’s, that murmured to her spirit and tugged gently enough to make her pay attention.
“She’s over there, isn’t she?” Olivia scrutinized the face of each woman, wondering if that same unexplainable nudge would alert her to the one who’d given her life.
“Yes,” Amy breathed.
Half hidden behind another, one woman stared back at Olivia. Her face gave nothing away, but even the distance couldn’t disguise the regret shinning from her eyes. Conviction and recognition gripped Olivia’s heart.
My mom.
