Lost and Found Father. Sheri WhiteFeather

mom used to make, and she wants to try her hand at it.”

      Ryan had been in kindergarten when his mother passed away. His memories of her were practically nonexistent. “Maybe the two of you can do some baking while you’re here.”

      “Maybe we can.”

      Being a new parent was different for Ryan than it was for Victoria because Kaley still had a father. Already he was nervous about the plans they’d made for tomorrow. “My contribution to the family tree will probably suck. My dad never talked about our relatives. I probably won’t even know who’s who.”

      “Don’t worry about it.” She eased his concern. “My side hasn’t been all that riveting, either.”

      “At least your parents are still around.”

      “Yes, and with the same detached attitude.”

      Ryan nodded in understanding. Neither of them had come from nurturing homes.

      She said, “My parents weren’t receptive to the idea of me searching for Kaley. They were worried that it might turn out badly. And now that I found her, they’re still not overly supportive. Nor have they made a genuine effort to get to know her or help with the family tree. I think they’re still under the belief that adoptions should remain closed.”

      “I remember how adamant they were about that.”

      She nodded. “So was your dad.”

      True, but it wasn’t his dad who’d stopped him from going to the hospital. Ryan had made that mistake himself.

      “Kaley’s mom was adopted.”

      He blinked, cleared his mind. “Really?”

      “Kaley can tell you more about her. Mostly she’s the reason that Kaley wanted to find us. I think the family tree was influenced by her, too. Her name was Corrine. There are pictures of her in Kaley’s photo album. And some of Eric, too.” She paused, as if to collect her thoughts. “Corrine was the love of Eric’s life. Sometimes his voice still quavers when he talks about her.”

      A sense of sadness crept over him. “Are there newborn pictures of Kaley in the album?”

      “Yes. The hospital took some and gave them to her parents.” Silent, she glanced away.

      Ryan suspected that she’d slipped back to being the girl he’d crushed, reliving the moment.

      “I’m sorry I hurt you,” he said. “If I could change it, I would.”

      She didn’t meet his gaze. “It turned out all right. Kaley is here with us now.”

      “Yes, but it’s still haunting us. You can barely stand to look at me, and I barely know what to say to you.”

      Defying his comment, she shifted her gaze, staring straight at him. “I’ve looked at you plenty.”

      “And you’re still seeing me for who I was, not for who I am.”

      “Please, Ryan. I don’t want to dwell on the past. What’s done is done, and I accept your apology.”

      A painful acceptance. Her voice was shaking, making him think of Eric and his dead wife. Had Ryan killed a part of Victoria on the day their daughter was born? Did her hurt go deeper than it should, deeper than a place even Kaley could reach?

      With his burden worsening he said, “I think I need to tell Kaley the truth before she shows me the album.” If he didn’t, he would feel like a fraud, looking at pictures of the infant he should have cradled in his arms. “In fact, I should probably tell her tonight.”

      “Do you want me leave the room when you explain it to her?”

      “God, no. I want you to hear the truth, too.” He needed for her to hear it.

      “I already know what happened.”

      “But we never discussed it.” Since she’d refused to speak to him after Kaley was born, and he’d been too ashamed to try to make amends, he’d kept his distance. After she moved away, he’d sunk deeper into himself, barely talking to anyone at school. By the time college rolled around, he’d been eager to get out of town and never come back. But after he’d earned his DVM, he’d changed his mind and resumed his life here.

      The doorbell rang, signaling the pizza delivery. Grateful for the mental reprieve, Ryan jumped up to answer it.

      He paid for the food and put it on the coffee table, along with some paper plates, sodas and napkins. Victoria didn’t say anything about his decision to eat in the living room. But that was where he took most of his meals.

      Kaley came downstairs, having heard the doorbell, too. Her new best friend, Pesky the bulldog, was following her.

      “Pizza looks good,” she said.

      “Help yourself.” He noticed that she still had the buttercup in her hair, making his heart do the daddy thing and skitter around in his chest.

      Kaley sat beside him, then took two slices. Victoria chose one, which she picked at, removing the toppings and sampling them first. But she’d always eaten the crust last. She did that with sandwiches, too. As Ryan watched her, he wondered if his memories of her would be as vivid if she was merely his high-school sweetheart and not the mother of his child. Was she cemented in his mind because of Kaley? Or would Victoria have made a lasting impression either way?

      He finally turned to Kaley and said, “There’s something I need to tell you.”

      She tilted her head. “About what?”

      “The day you were born. I wasn’t at the hospital.”

      She kept the pizza plate on her lap. “How come?”

      “Because I couldn’t handle it.”

      “That’s okay.” She took a casual approach. “A lot of people who give up their babies for adoption think it’s easier not to see them.”

      “There’s more to it than that. I promised Victoria that I would be there. I gave her my word, and I had every intention of keeping it. But when the day came, I panicked.”

      Kaley went silent. Victoria was quiet, too. Both listening to what he had to say.

      “It was around five in the morning, and the phone rang, dragging me out of a restless sleep.” He’d been restless the entire nine months, aware of every moment of every pregnant day. “My dad answered it, and after he hung up, he came into my room and said that Victoria was in labor.”

      Kaley brought Victoria directly into conversation. “Was it you who called?”

      “No, it was my mother.” She didn’t elaborate, allowing Ryan to continue.

      The scene unfolded in his mind, colorful yet choppy, like patchwork pieces of a torn quilt. “Dad didn’t say anything else to me. He left the house to go to work. It was a school day, but he wasn’t expecting me to go to school. He assumed that I would take my truck and head over to the hospital, which was what I planned to do. I had an old Ford that he’d overhauled for me. Dad was a mechanic.” He mentioned those details because they were part of the memory. “I got ready and went out to my truck with these two little teddy bears that I’d been keeping in my drawer. One was for you and the other one was for Victoria.” He shifted his gaze to the mother of his child. “I bought them about a month before. I figured the new parents could give Kaley hers, and I was thinking that you’d keep yours and always know that you had the same toy as our daughter.”

      She swallowed, as if a lump had just formed in her throat. “What happened to the bears?”

      “I kept them for about a year, torturing myself with them, I guess. Then when I went off to college, I donated them to the Goodwill. I didn’t know what else to do with them.”

      “I wish you still had them,” Kaley said.

      “So do I. Then I