Chapter 26 – January 24, 1976
I can’t sleep, so I re-read the letter Marc smuggled from my parents last month. It’s full of advice, affirmations, and love, along with an instant photograph of the two of them. They’re smiling with their lips, but not with their eyes. They’re not whole; none of us will be until the four of us are back together.
Marc couldn’t find my sister. He thinks she’s in a new foster home, but he can’t even confirm that. He did his best without giving anything away, but my heart still aches, not knowing where she is. Every night, I look up at the moon and hope that she’s doing the same, that the moonlight will help us find our way back to one another.
I carefully return the letter and photo to my nightstand and step out of bed. I open my door quietly, hoping I can retrieve a glass of water without waking anyone. However, when I step into the hallway, I hear the sounds of a tense, whispered conversation. I creep closer.
“The adoption agency refused to comment?” Rich hisses.
Marc sounds exhausted. “They said they can’t speak about specific cases. They suggested that I contact the foster care agency directly if I felt there was impropriety.”
“Don’t they realize you can’t do that?”
Marc takes a deep breath. “I think the agency is a front, Rich; I can’t find any information about it.”
“You think it’s a shell? Like for Lorez and Roy?”
“That’s my working theory, yes. Unfortunately, there’s no way to prove it.”
Marc sighs heavily. “Rich, my editor is pulling the plug.”
Rich’s voice is a hard whisper, a sound I’ve never heard from him. “We can’t let it die, Marc. You know there’s a story here. You can feel it.”
“I do, and I can keep investigating, but I won’t have the backing of the paper or its resources.”
There’s a long silence before Marc finally asks, “Did you talk to Will?”
“He’s as stubborn and incorrigible as ever. He refuses to believe that this adoption is illegitimate. He’s convinced he did the right thing.”
Marc groans quietly. “What’s the next step?”
Another tense silence hangs in the room for several seconds.
“I’ve asked Noah to call him,” Rich says.
“Pilip’s adoptive father?” Marc asks, unable to mask his surprise.
“Maybe someone who went through the same thing can connect with him, convince him.”
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
Rich sighs, “No, but at this point, it’s bad ideas or no ideas, and Deere deserves to spend his childhood with his family.”
“I agree, but if Will wants to fight you, he has cause; he’ll win. If he files for a restraining order, that’s checkmate. You won’t be able to see Deere again, and–”
“What?!” I choke, emerging from the shadows’ safety.
Marc drops his head and curses under his breath.
Rich stands, and I expect him to ask me what I’m doing awake, but he doesn’t. He simply guides me to the couch, sits next to me, and strokes my forehead, pushing the bangs away from my face.
“The night of my high school graduation," he starts, "I was driving home after dropping my friend Debbie at her house. I was less than a mile from my driveway when a car ran a stop sign and slammed into me. The next thing I remember is the paramedics closing me into the back of an ambulance.
“I knew I was hurt, but one of the paramedics said, ‘Hang in there, kid. This isn’t how your story ends.’ That became my mantra, and in the last nine years, it’s never failed me.”
He tilts his head to make eye contact with me. “I made you a promise that I would do everything possible to reunite you with your family. That’s not a promise I intend to break. Our story doesn’t end with me walking away from you, Deere. No matter what happens, we will always be in one another’s lives.”
I rest my head on his shoulder, as he starts to sing, “He's the one who must decide who's to live and who's to die, and he never sees the writing on the wall.”
He gently squeezes my shoulder, and I snuggle a little closer. “This isn’t how our story ends, Deere. This is only the beginning.”
I fall asleep against his shoulder, but an hour later, he wakes me enough to walk me back to my room. He tucks me under the sky blue sheet and patchwork quilt.
“Nothing in this world could keep me away from you, Deere.”
Then he turns off the lamp and shuts the door.
***
The next morning, he’s driving me back to the Russells’ house with his usual vigilance.
“Is your wreck why you’re such a cautious driver?” I ask.
He smiles slightly. “Pieced that together, did you?”
I love when he says things like that, and I smile as I stare out the window.
He clears his throat. “Deere, we need a plan.”
I turn to look at him, but he keeps his eyes on the road, checking his mirrors.
“A plan for what?” I ask.
“I want to be honest with you. I’m not sure what else I can do, Deere. No one in the Canadian foster care system wants to take accountability. I talked to the Russells without consequence. I talked to Lorez, the lawyer, directly. I tried to involve the Canadian and American police.” He sighs. “I even contacted congressmen.”
He shakes his head as he clicks his blinker to turn right. “I’ve failed to convince anyone.”
I feel the tears sting my eyes. “Are you giving up?”
He glances at me in the mirror. “My conscience would never allow that.”
He takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry you heard what Marc said last night, but he’s not wrong. If Noah can’t convince Will, he might be so angry that he files a restraining order, which means it will be illegal for you and me to spend time together.
“I’m hoping if he does that, I can convince the judge to look closer at the actual adoption, but if I can’t do that, I think I’m out of options.”
“So, we need a plan for if you run out of options?” I ask.
“Yeah, I’m afraid so.”
“I’ll run away.” I say confidently.
“You can’t run away, Deere. Even if you did, where would you go?”
“I’ll run back home.”
“It’s over a thousand miles, Deere.”
“I’ll hitchhike.”
He smiles just a little. “It’s nice to know this ordeal didn’t completely extinguish the flame of innocence.”
I turn back to the window. “So what do we do?” I whisper.
“Marc is going to talk to his friend who knows Nya. We might be able to reunite you and your parents, but you probably couldn’t live at your old home for a few years.”
He glances at me. “Don’t worry about the details. Leave those to the adults.”
“I don’t understand, Rich.”
He nods. “I know. That’s for the best. Here’s what you do need to know. If things fall apart, and Will really does file a restraining order against me–if the worst case scenario happens–I want you to meet me at your house on February 22 at 2:22 a.m.–one month from now. Meet me on two twenty-two at two twenty-two. That’s easier to remember. Do you understand?”
“You’re going to help me run away?”
He bites his lip. “Only pack sentimental items; leave everything else. Do you know if your parents have your original documentation? Your identification documents?”
“I think so.”
“I really don’t want it to come to this. God, please let someone listen to reason.”
“What will happen to you if we’re caught?”
He reaches behind him and pats my shoulder before returning his hand to the steering wheel. “Don’t worry about me, son. You just take care of yourself.”
“Maybe I should just stay here,” I sigh.
“Is that what you want?”
I shrug, but the thought of not seeing my family for several more years immediately provokes tears.
Rich looks at me in the mirror. “You’re going home, son–one way or another.”
My voice breaks. “Do you think my family misses me as much as I miss them?”
He blinks quickly. “I haven’t seen my eldest daughter in nearly five years, and I miss her every single day. My heart won’t be whole until she’s with me again. Trust me on this; your family feels like they’re missing something as essential as oxygen.”
Three blocks from the Russells’ house, Rich pulls into the parking lot of a grocery store and parks but doesn’t kill the engine. “You are missed, you are loved, and you are cherished.”
I unlock my booster seat and throw my arms around his neck. He hugs me tightly, and I feel a few tears fall down my cheeks.
“None of this is your fault. Remember that.” He strokes my hair. “You deserve good things.”
After a few minutes, I compose myself. “Two twenty-two at two twenty-two.”
He looks into my eyes and brushes my tears away with his thumbs. “Only if everything goes wrong.”
I nod. “Someone else will listen, Rich. Someone will understand.”
He smiles slightly as we rebuckle. He turns on his blinker and looks both ways. “Keep having faith in humanity, Deere. Faith and love reproduce, and their ripple effect can save lives.”