Page 101 of Lucas & Melissa Falling in Love
“Nervous?” he says.
I nod. “Did she give you any idea about the lead?”
“Only that she’s located a woman who might be your mother. I confess I’m feeling anxious for you.”
I nod and take his free hand, feeling more like I’m going to my execution than a meeting. We make the rest of the trip in silence and ride the elevator to Benchmark Investigations offices alone.
“We seem to meet here only on off-hours,” I say.
“Nature of the business,” he says and pulls me into his side as we exit the elevator and walk through the lobby as before. Barbara meets us at the door and ushers us to her office as before with no more than a nod.
“I’ll get right to it,” she says, sitting behind her desk. “We tracked a woman who had a baby in a hospital in a very pricey upstate hospital. What made this woman and baby interesting was not only the date of birth, which fits, and the description, but also the conversation we had with a nurse who was there at the time. She insists she remembers this woman because she was strikingly beautiful and inconsolable. She remembers that an older man who was clearly the baby’s father came to visit her. There’s no official record of who the baby’s father was, but the mother’s record is clear and authentic. With some follow-up, it will very likely lead us to the woman.”
“But how will we know if she’s . . . my mother?” I force the words as my pulse goes wild, out of control. Even Lucas’s tight hold on my hand doesn’t calm me. I take a long slow breath as I listen to her answer.
“This is the most interesting part. The baby had a birthmark. The nurse remembers because it matched the birthmark on the mother.” Barbara lifts her hand to touch the spot on her neck behind her right ear. “Do you have a birthmark in this spot, Ms. Cooper?” she asks.
My chest tightens and drums loudly. Lucas’s eyes are watching me, so I school my features as best I can. I force myself to answer.
“I forgot all about it. I had it removed when I was eighteen so I could wear my hair up. My parents—I mean my real parents—were a little squeamish about it, but it was no big deal.” I lift my hair to show them the spot where the birthmark had been. Behind and below my right ear, near the nape of my neck.
“What color was it? How big was it?”
I tell her. My voice sounds calm. I’m in Melissa survival mode now, hiding everything, holding the shivering nerves still and holding whatever is roiling in my stomach down.
She nods, not smiling. Lucas ropes his arm around me. At this moment, I don’t mind his maxo-posessiveness. I want him to hold me. The vibrations of his authoritative control calm me, infusing me with that convincing, if false, sense that nothing bad can happen while he holds me in his arms. The vague notion that the sense resembles that of a little girl being consoled by her father flees through my mind, chased away by raw need.
After all, Lucas bears no resemblance to a father figure in my mind. I can truly reassure myself of this fact. No matter that my imagined father figure is a murky one, shadowy and ungraspable all my life.
Barbara nods.
“I’ll confirm the woman’s current whereabouts and make contact. I’ll let you know when I do.”
“How long?” I say, sounding mechanical.
“It’s impossible to predict. It depends on whether she’s stayed in the area or not.”
“She did. I mean she would have. She was my father’s mistress and he was in New York City.”
“That’s a distinct possibility.”
I give the woman brownie points for diplomacy. She knows how to be noncommittal without being offensive. A good skill to have.
“Thank you for keeping us updated. We’re pleased with your progress,” Lucas says and then stands. I stand too. When he holds my elbow, I’m ambivalent about taking it. Though about ten minutes ago it felt like the most natural thing in the world, right now, thinking about how my birth mother completely subrogated herself to my birth father, I can’t do it. I can’t take Lucas’s arm right now and instead I follow a step behind as we leave the office. At the door he waits for me and I precede him out to the elevator.
“How do you feel?” he says.
I’m almost surprised he doesn’t know. He’s a genius at reading me and I find it disconcerting that he has to ask.
“How do you think?” I say. “Mixed.” The elevator doors open and I’m ashamed of my snappishness. “Look, I’m sorry. It’s just that, well, I’m not too sure about my mother—my birth mother I mean. She’s not the most admirable person.”
“It appears that way, but maybe we should give her a chance. We know so little.”
“We?”
He smiles. “In for a penny. I’m going through every gut-wrenching, roller-coaster turn of this process with you, right along your side, and feeling it.” The elevator zooms down fast. He takes my chin in his hand the way he does, to get my full attention as if there’s any other kind of attention where Lucas is concerned. I wonder if he knows how big his presence is, how dominating he is?
“I have a stake in this, Melissa. Not the same as yours, but it affects you deeply, therefore it affects me deeply. When you get cut, I bleed.” The elevator doors open and I’m almost too stunned to get off. Who says that—and means it? Luckily there’s no one in the lobby waiting on a Saturday afternoon and Lucas leads me outside. I let him this time.
