“You didn’t want to be a doctor, like your father?”
“I liked to build things. Engineering seemed a better fit. My parents didn’t care. They just wanted me to find something that I liked doing.”
“That was good of them,” she said, thinking of parents she’d known who’d pushed their children to be what they wanted them to be, or tried. Chris Dean came immediately to mind.
“They were wonderful people, Maggie. Very fair, always, about everything. Try everything, but you get to decide what you like and what you don’t. I was their only child, and they gave me a great life.” His voice carried the weight of his emotions, his love for the parents who raised him, and his sadness at having lost them. “That’s what I told Brett, and what I want you to understand, too. My wanting to connect with you and with Brett is not a reflection on them. I couldn’t have had better parents. I’m not looking to replace them.” He paused and took a few seconds to compose himself, his emotions so close to the surface. “I just want you to understand that. I loved my parents. I still do. Always will.”
“Of course you do—and you will. You should. I understand completely. I don’t have words to tell you how grateful I am to them.”
“I was afraid you’d think I was searching for you because I was hoping to find something better because they weren’t good parents.”
“I never thought that for a minute, Joe.”
The waitress delivered their meals, apologized for the delay, then topped off their ice teas. “Anything else I can get you?” she asked, and they both declined.
They made small talk while they ate, but when they finished, Joe took his phone from his pocket and scrolled across the screen, a smile on his face. “You asked how I knew you were you.” He passed the phone to her.
The face of a little girl with curly blonde hair and huge eyes—blue like Brett’s, not green like hers—filled the screen. “Lulu looks like you.”
“Oh, look at her.” Maggie zoomed in on the picture. “Actually, she looks so much like my daughter Grace at that age. She’s thirty-two now and dark haired, but she was blonde when she was a child.”
“So you have two daughters? Natalie and Grace?”
Maggie nodded as she returned the phone to Joe. He scrolled some more, then held the phone out to her again. “My son, Jamey. He definitely resembles his mother.”
The boy had sandy blond hair and dark eyes. He stood in front of a lacrosse net, a stick in his hand, a broad grin on his face.
“He’s very handsome, Joe.” Maggie gave him back his phone.
Joe nodded. “Yeah. He’s a good kid. Smart and kind and good natured. Heck of an athlete, too.” He smiled. “Brett picked that up right away by the way he’s standing. He’d scored three goals in that game. His best day ever.”
“He looks very proud of himself.” She picked at a lone strawberry she’d left on her plate, trying to decide how to ask her next question.
“And you look like you have something to say. Go on. You can ask me anything,” Joe assured her.
“I was just wondering why now. Why you waited all these years to look for us.” As soon as the words left her mouth, Maggie knew the answer. He’d lost everyone—his parents and his wife. He was looking for a connection to someone beyond himself and his children.
“Like I said, I’m an only child. I always knew I’d been adopted—my parents never hid that from me. But once they were gone, and Josie, my wife, was gone, I felt the kids and I were adrift. My son, my daughter—they had no cousins, no aunts or uncles. No one they could look to for . . .” He held his hands palms up in front of him while he searched for the words he needed.
“People who maybe looked a little like them? People with whom they shared a common background?” she offered.
“All of that. It took me months to get up the nerve to have my DNA tested at that genealogy site. When the results came back, I hit pay dirt. I found you both.”
Joe grinned, and in his smile she saw Brett. For a moment, it dazzled her.
“Beginner’s luck,” he said. “You know how it went from there. Brett’s sister, Jayne, popped right up. I contacted her because I wasn’t sure how she fit into the story, since she was identified as an aunt. She got back to me pretty quickly. She said she knew who I was looking for, and if it was okay with me, she would have him contact me. And he did.” Joe was still smiling. “Then Natalie popped up as a sister, and I almost couldn’t believe it. The thought I had a sister . . . I can’t explain what that meant to me.” Joe paused. “Do you have any siblings?”
“I had a sister. Sarah.” Maggie explained the circumstances of Sarah’s death.
“My son has extreme sensitivity to insect stings, but I don’t know how serious he takes it. I should make sure he always has his EpiPen with him. His sensitivity doesn’t seem as serious as your sister’s, but still . . .”
“Safe, not sorry,” Maggie said.
“Yeah.”
“So now you know you have sisters. And I know I have a grandson and another granddaughter. How amazing.”
“I hope you want to meet them someday.”
“You’re kidding, right?” Maggie laughed. “Natalie has Daisy—she’s three. Grace is divorced and has no children. Do I want to meet your kids? Oh yeah.”
“I’ll need to explain to them who you are, who Brett is. He’s said he’d like to meet them, too.” He finished the tea in his glass and shook his head to decline a refill when the waitress appeared at the table with a full pitcher. “I want to know more about you.”
Maggie told him about growing up in Wyndham Beach, how
