Total pages in book: 41
Estimated words: 38439 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 192(@200wpm)___ 154(@250wpm)___ 128(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 38439 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 192(@200wpm)___ 154(@250wpm)___ 128(@300wpm)
I sighed. Might as well get this first part out. It was kind of like taking off a Band-Aid. If I did it quickly, it wouldn’t hurt as badly. “I was an abandoned child. From birth. I was left with the sisters at a Catholic group home. When that happens, if no one comes to claim the child, the sisters name it. They named me Hope. My last name, Hamilton, came from the county I was born in. Not in Indiana, but Ohio. As I got older, the group home where I lived became hopelessly overcrowded. Because my guardian was set up through the Catholic organization and I was easy to move because I was older and understood what was happening, I got transferred to a home in Evansville.”
“If you were abandoned as an infant, why weren’t you adopted out? Isn’t it easier for a baby to be adopted than an older child?”
“I’m sure it is. But I was sick. Apparently, I was hooked on meth from birth. I spent about two months in a neonatal ICU going through detox. After that, there were developmental delays. I guess not many prospective parents are willing to take on a baby like that. At least --” I shrugged, trying to act if it didn’t matter to me one way or the other when it was deeply shameful and painful for me to think about. “-- No one was willing to take me on.”
I was silent for a while. Telling this was harder than I’d expected. “Can we do this another time? I don’t --”
“We’re doing it now, honey. How can I make the telling easier?”
Yeah. I wasn’t touching that one. “You can’t. Other than not making me tell it?”
He stood, taking a long pull of his water. I could feel him watching me. When he set the bottle on the nightstand, he nodded at mine. “Drink.” I did, the cold water soothing to my dry throat. Dry from sleep. Raw from the crying I’d done earlier.
When I finished, he reached for it, setting it on the nightstand next to his. Then he sat on the bed next to me. I realized that he no longer wore his jeans and motorcycle boots, but soft, cotton pants and a T-shirt. Instead of merely sitting next to me, he pulled me into his lap. like I’d sat before after my bout of grief.
“There.” He tightened his arms around me. “You seemed to like it before.”
“It’s nice,” I whispered.
“Good.” He squeezed once, then kissed the top of my head before resting his chin there. “Now. Tell me, Hope.”
“There’s not much to tell, really. I was struggling in school, not that anyone cared. All they wanted was for me to pass with the minimum. It didn’t matter if I did well, I just had to pass. It was embarrassing to always be in the slow classes. It’s not supposed to be differentiated, but kids know. Special reading. Special math. Basics were difficult. Not because I didn’t understand it, though. I had trouble putting it on paper. I could solve out loud any math problem they put in front of me. I could read but answering questions about what I read was hard. I knew the answers if they read it out loud to me, but it all got messed up going from my brain to my hands or something.
“Anyway, the sisters decided I needed to prepare for life outside of the home. I had to be able to hold down a job so I could have a place to live. When I was thirteen, they got me a job after school as a volunteer at one of the nursing homes the church had. I passed out magazines or books. Talked with the residents there. Played games with them. Helped them eat if they had difficulty. Helped them to the bathroom. That kind of thing. I met your mother my second week there.”
“How long did you work there?”
“I volunteered until I turned sixteen. Then I worked until your mother died two weeks ago.”
“Why didn’t you contact me when she passed? Or better yet, why didn’t the nursing home?” He didn’t sound angry, but I thought he might be a bit hurt that he hadn’t known.
“I didn’t contact you because I didn’t have a way to. She didn’t say anything about having your phone number. Just told me where you’d be.”
“I’ve only been here a month, Hope. Until then, I was in Evansville.”
“I know. She told me your son, Aiden, knew where you were and would help me get to you.”
“Why didn’t Aiden call me?”
“Because Mrs. Wagner told him not to. When I came to him, he tried to tell me it wasn’t a good idea. He said you’d been through a rough time recently and wouldn’t welcome me like I was expecting.”