How the hell does she expect me to get past this? How does my mom? Both of them know how important this is to me, and once again, they’ve conspired together on what is best for Madison. It happened when I was sick, and now it’s happening again.
Well, I’m sure as hell not going to let this go.
Shoving the letters to the side, I get up and get dressed.
Peyton is standing at my front door getting ready to ring the doorbell when I open it.
“Are your mom and dad home?” She glances past me.
“No. Why?”
“Kelsey is Mrs. Dosek. I looked her up.”
“I know.”
Peyton steps back. “You know?”
“She’s also my mom.”
Peyton’s eyes go wide. “What are you going to do?”
“Meet her.”
Nineteen
The envelope with the last letter is nearly crumbled in my mittened hand. My mom’s address is on the top left-hand corner and I’ve been walking blocks looking for the right number. All of these townhouses or brownstones look the same. Five story, brick homes, lined up in a row.
At least it’s not cold out. All I bothered with when leaving the house was a thick sweater, hat and mittens. Then I grabbed a cup of coffee once I got off the subway as I started walking the street where my mom is supposed to live.
I miscalculated on the numbers – by about ten blocks from the stop I picked. But that’s okay. As much as I want to confront Kelsey, my nerves are setting in.
There is hardly anybody out. Then again, it is a holiday. Family time. People are probably snuggled in their homes watching the parade on TV, or actually at the parade like my family.
Shit, I don’t even know what time it is. Mom took my phone and I don’t own a watch. Not that the time matters anyway. There isn’t exactly a convenient time to go meet your mother. Well, we have met, except this time I know who she really is. Who I really am.
A door opens about half a block down the street. I know I’m close so I stop and see who it is. Three boys run outside followed by the guy who was with Mrs. Dosek at the music competition.
My heart skips and then starts pounding, and I take deep breaths before walking toward them.
Kelsey comes out last and locks the front door.
“Why do we always go to Uncle Dylan’s for Thanksgiving?” the middle one whines.
His name is Ethan, and if my math is right, and could very well not be, he’s seven.
I’m so close that I can hear everything they say, but they don’t even know I’m here. They haven’t looked in my direction since they came out.
“Because last time your mom cooked a turkey, she nearly killed us,” Mr. Dosek laughs.
“Nobody got sick,” Kelsey argues.
“That’s because we realized the turkey was raw in the middle before it was too late.” Mr. Dosek grabs the hand of the youngest, Gabe.
“Patty says that Uncle Dylan isn’t really my uncle,” the oldest boy, Liam, informs his father.
“Tell your friend that family is more than blood.” Mr. Dosek ruffles his son’s hair.
Since she is my mom, does that make him my stepdad? Those are my half-brothers. It’s odd. I read about them in her letters but didn’t make the connection of who they really are to me.
I hate them. They had her from birth. She didn’t hold them for just a millisecond and then hand them over to a stranger.
I got why she did it. I really do. But, dammit, it hurts that she kept them and not me. That she loved them, tucked them in at night, read them stories, and didn’t do any of that for me.
“And, sometimes blood isn’t family,” I say.
Mr. and Mrs. Dosek slowly turn. Kelsey’s eyes go wide. Do I call her Kelsey, Mom, Mrs. Dosek?
“Miss Cross?” Kelsey glances around. “Are your parents with you?”
That depends on your definition of parent. “No. I’m here on my own.”
She steps away from her real family and comes toward me. “If this is about the lessons, I can’t help you right now.”
I wish it were as simple as a few lessons. It used to be, but not anymore. I open my mouth to answer her, but words fail me. What the hell do I say to her?
Her dark eyes go wide. “Are you okay, Miss Cross? Can I call your mother?”
That one almost makes me laugh.
“Are you lost? Can I help you get somewhere?”
“No. I’m where I want to be.”
Kelsey, Mom, Mrs. Dosek bites the corner of her bottom lip for a minute before she speaks again. “You shouldn’t be here.”
I study her. Really study her, and I see myself in her features. Besides the dark curly hair, our mouths are the same. I never saw it before. But, I hadn’t been looking either.
She fishes her phone out of her pocket and calls someone then holds out the phone.
“Kelsey?” my mom sounds frantic. I’m glad Kelsey has it on speaker so I can hear their lies, but my stomach knots at her panic.
“Madison just came to see me.” Kelsey’s eyes meet mine. “She’s right here, and we are on speaker.”
“She found the letters.”
All color drains from Kelsey’s face.
Twenty
Her eyes are locked on mine while she talks to my mom on the phone. My parents are coming to get me, which isn’t a shock, but I still have time to get some answers.
“Cat’s out of the bag now,” I say when she hangs up.
“Let’s go inside.” Kelsey gestures toward the house and then turns to her husband. “Can you take the boys to Dylan’s?”
“Are you sure?” he asks quietly, searching her face.
Kelsey gives a quick nod. Are there tears in her eyes?
We go into the house, and I’m struck by the baby grand piano in the center of the room. The walls are covered with full bookshelves, music is stacked on a
