Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 102620 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 513(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102620 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 513(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
I close the book and put it beside me on the floor, taking the newspaper from that day with their wedding announcement in it and placing it on the other side of me. I grab the next item in the box, a white envelope. I open the flap, seeing it’s little flower petals. Putting it aside, I grab the brown envelope under it that has wedding vows written on the top. I put it with the newspaper article before I go back and see the photo album and mumble, “Yes.” I pick it up and spot a gray lockbox under it. I pick up the silver handle, and it weighs almost nothing. I look and see it needs a key and wonder why the fuck it would be in this box. Putting it aside, I open the photo album, taking out the picture I was looking for. It’s the one where she’s facing the camera, but my father is looking at her. The expression on his face is between he’s the luckiest guy in the world and he would die for her. It was always one of my favorite pictures. She always took it out of the album when I was younger, and we would flip through it. I place everything back in the box except for the newspaper clipping, their vows, and the gray metal box. I hold everything in one hand as I grasp the ladder with the other.
I walk down the steps to the kitchen and the drawer where my father keeps all the keys. The ring of keys has about twenty keys on it from the padlocks around the house to extra keys for the shed and then the pool house. There is even a couple for the garage door and the two side doors to the garage. I look on the key ring, searching for a small key. When I see it, I slide it in and turn it to the left before pulling the top up.
The first thing on the top is a newspaper article. I open the folded paper that was once white and is now tinted a soft yellow. “Hours-old Newborn Left on Fire Station Steps.” I gasp out as my eyes scan the article, putting it to the side. My heart speeds up faster than it should, as if my body knows something is about to happen, but my head doesn’t.
Two pictures are in the article. One is of a fireman squatting down in front of a cardboard box with a baby wrapped in a white blanket sleeping inside of it. The other is with a nurse in a rocking chair giving the same baby a bottle. I put it to the side, seeing two Polaroid pictures that must be the same baby in a wicker basket. I lay them down softly and only then do I see a white folded paper. I pick it up at the same time I hear the sound of car doors shutting. I look at the side door leading to the mudroom right off the garage.
Turning back, I’m about to unfold the paper when another Polaroid picture slips out and lands on the counter in front of me. It’s of my mother sitting in the same chair the nurse was sitting in, with the baby in her arms. The wicker basket sits on the hospital bed beside her as she looks down at the baby in the blanket. My hands tremble when I unfold the triple-folded white paper.
Both of my hands shake when I see the top of the paper. “Certificate of Adoption.”
I don’t know why it feels like the room is spinning around me like it does in movies. My eyes scan the paper when I see the name Jane Doe, and the birthday is today’s date, just twenty-five years ago. The gasp that comes out of my mouth echoes in the room. My hand goes to my mouth as I see teardrops falling onto the paper, not realizing they are coming from me. My eyes scan down to the next line where it says Birth Mother’s Name: Unknown and the same for birth father’s name.
I move down and see the line for the child’s name after adoption. There, in bold letters, is my name:
Sierra Rose Davidson.
I hear my mother’s and father’s voices coming into the mudroom. “You are going to tangle the balloons,” she scolds him as they walk into the room.
The smile on her face falls when her eyes go from me to the box. My father takes a step toward me. “Is this true?” I hold up the paper, my heart shattering in my chest, making it hard for me to catch my breath. “Tell me.” My voice rises. “Is this paper true?”
Chapter 2
Sierra
My hands going into fists, my fingers gripping the white paper in my hand so hard the sound of it crinkling fills the room, as well as the sound of my breathing. Or maybe that only echoed in my ears, along with the thumping of my heart.