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 follow him past the living room with one brown couch that seats three people. A dinner tray with remotes on it is right next to a brown La-Z-Boy. There are pictures of him in uniform on the wall from many years ago. Then another one of him in the same uniform but with a woman wearing a wedding dress beside him. Then the pictures go from black-and-white to color. Pictures of him with what must be his children and then grandchildren. I step into the small kitchen and see an L-shaped counter with a fridge and stove tucked into it and a sink facing the window in the room. A small round table with four chairs is pushed almost to the wall, facing the counter. He pulls out a chair before hanging the cane on the table and then plopping the box down right next to a glass that looks like iced tea. “You want something to drink?” He looks over at me, and I shake my head, not sure if I should join him and sit at the table or just stay standing. He sits down at the table and then looks at me. “You going to stand there all day looking at me, or are you going to sit down?”
I roll my lips, trying not to laugh at him as I pull out the chair closest to me before sitting down. “Thank you for meeting with me, Mr.—” I start, not sure what to call him because I don’t know his fucking name.
“Bruce.” He opens the box of donuts and looks at all of them before choosing one, taking a bite and then reaching for a napkin to wipe his mouth. “So you have questions, do you? What questions do you have?”
I rub my hand down the front of my pants, wiping the clamminess off. “Yes, just a couple.”
“Well, I’m not getting any younger. So get to it.” He looks at me as he takes another bite of the donut.
“In the paper, it said that you found me, but you didn’t know how long I had been out there.” He nods.
“We were sitting in the crew mess. A couple of the guys were playing cards. A couple were sitting around shooting the shit. It was a slow night.” He looks down at the donut. “Then I heard it…” His voice trails off. “The sound of a baby crying. It was after midnight, so we all looked at each other, not sure we heard what we heard until it got louder.” He looks over at me, and I can see he remembers it. “We all got up and walked toward the door. Back then, the station was smaller.” He turns his eyes now as he picks up his tea. “I got to the box first, and when I looked inside, I saw you were there with just a blanket on.” I can’t help the lone tear. “We were pretty much in shock for a second, and then we sprang into action.”
“What did you do?”
“I got the box inside,” he goes on. “A couple of the guys went running around the station to see if anyone was lurking. Then we had a couple of guys drive up and down streets to see if they saw anyone. But there was no one.” He taps the table with his finger. “It’s like you were dropped off by angels. You were cold.” He shakes his head. “We got you in a warm blanket as we called the sheriff, and then they took you away.”
“Was there any talk about who my parents could be?” I sit here waiting, holding my breath.
“Not one person came to mind. Everyone we thought it could be was still pregnant or with their newborn.” He stops when the front door slams shut and looks down the hallway at a woman coming in, holding a basket in her hand. Her white hair is pulled back, and only when she gets closer do I see she’s in a long skirt with a sweater, her sleeves pushed up.
“Bruce,” she says his name, then looks at me and back at him. “Who do we have here?” He turns to her, but she doesn’t give him a chance to say anything because she gasps. “Are those donuts?” She walks over to the table, and then looks at him with a glare and then looks at me. “Did he tell you to bring these?”
“No,” I lie for him, and I’m only doing it because he took the time to talk to me. “I came to ask him a couple of questions, and I didn’t feel right coming empty-handed.”
“I don’t believe you,” she retorts to me, putting the basket on the table and then closing up the box of donuts. “Here”—she holds out the box—"you take these home.” I lift my hand and take the box from her.