Ending with Forever by Lan LLP Read Free Book Online Page B

behind his back. The last thing I want to do is hurt his feelings or have him think I’ve betrayed him.
    After years and years of debating, I finally gathered enough courage to do this. Ms. Polly told me it’s only natural for a child to want to be with his or her biological mother. “There’s a strong bond between mother and child that can never be broken. No matter what has caused the separation,” she explained to me many years ago, and I believe her wholeheartedly. She still mourns over the loss of her husband and only son from a tragic accident. Ben had just turned twelve, coming home from a soccer game with his father. They died immediately upon impact with a semi-truck, leaving Ms. Polly heartbroken and without any closure. This may be the reason why she’s always been very encouraging whenever I mention the need to find my birth mother. 
    The anxiety is thick and unmistakable. I can hardly contain the thrashing in my chest as the miles decrease. My mind is racing faster than this speed demon I’m driving. The same questions I’ve asked myself for years continue to cycle over and over in my mind, and in a few minutes, I will hopefully get my answers from a woman who gave me life and then gave me up. Unlike most adopted children, I’m not poisoned with hate or resentment for my biological parents. Why would I be? I live a luxurious life that most can only dream about. I’m just curious. I want to know why. There has to be some logical or selfless explanation—at least that’s what I’ve been convincing myself for years.
    I’m thankful Miller emailed me her contact info so I could call and set up this phony meeting about her late husband’s unclaimed insurance money. She didn’t seem overly excited about a small fortune heading her way. In fact, she was choked up when I mentioned her late husband’s name, Jacob Hanover. I don’t know what it was about the sadness in her quivering voice, but it ripped at my heart which is something that has never happened to me with Mimi.
    “You have arrived at your destination. 1131 East Franklin Street is on your right,” the GPS voice tells me as I slowly step on the brake, letting the car roll to a complete stop. Holy fuck. I’m here. The woman I’ve never called mom is sitting in that house waiting for me. You can do this. You’ve wondered about this moment for as long as you can remember. I pull my car into a gravel lot in front of an old, two-story farmhouse with a white wraparound porch and two shabby rocking chairs. The dilapidated red barn behind the house looks like it’s seen better days with one broken door hanging on rusted hinges and an enormous hole in the roof. I kill the engine, seal my eyes, inhale a big breath to inflate my lungs to full capacity and then release it with as much anxiety as I can blow out. When I open my eyes, I see a thin woman with wavy brown hair poking her head out the front door. Is it her? Is that my mother? I crack the car door open and a bone-chilling breeze courses its way over my collar and into my chest. Damn, it’s a freezing cold November day. I’m shivering from head to toe but it’s not from the coldness alone. The anticipation is killing me. I step out, square my shoulders and head toward the woman who’s still studying me with her suspecting eyes. The tiny gravel pieces crush under my feet as I continue a steady pace.
    “Hello, I’m Wesley Montgomery,” I introduce myself at the bottom of her steps, keeping my distance so I wouldn’t scare her. My voice is projecting braver than what I’m actually feeling inside while I behold her timid face, lack of makeup with pale lips. I’m used to seeing women, especially Mimi, with lips painted a scarlet color. My eyes lock on her with intensity. I think I’m afraid I’ll lose her again if I look away. Clearing my throat I remind, “I spoke with you yesterday. Are you Mrs. Hanover?”
    She slips in front of the white door that she was hiding behind and beholds