Chapter 35
Facing the Past Together
Kate
The day arrives faster than I expect.
I wake up Saturday with my stomach in knots, staring at the ceiling. Beside me, Grayson is already awake, his hand resting on my shoulder.
"You okay?" he asks.
"No." I turn to look at him. "But, I'm doing it anyway."
He pulls me close and presses a kiss to my forehead. "That's my girl."
—
Grayson arranged everything.
He drove to Seattle yesterday to pick up my mother and Emma, bringing them to a hotel in town so they could rest. He hired a car service to bring them to the cabin this morning. He even had Mrs. Patel stock the kitchen with tea, coffee, and homemade cookies.
"You didn't have to do all this," I told him last night.
"Yes, I did." He cupped my face in his hands. "You need to focus on the conversation. Let me handle everything else."
Now, standing in the living room at ten to eleven, I'm grateful.
Because I can barely breathe, let alone think straight.
Grayson comes up behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist. "They'll be here in five minutes."
"I know."
"Do you want me to stay or give you privacy?"
I turn in his arms. "Stay. Please. I need you here."
"Then I'm not going anywhere."
The sound of tires on gravel makes my heart jump.
They're here.
I watch through the window as a black car pulls up. The driver opens the back door, and Emma steps out first. Dark hair, kind eyes. Jeans and a sweater, casual but put-together.
Then, my mother emerges.
Sarah Mitchell.
I haven't seen a photo of her since Emma showed me one last month, but seeing her in person is different. Late forties, graying brown hair pulled back in a ponytail. Blue cardigan and slacks. She looks nervous. Terrified, actually.
She looks like me.
Or, I look like her.
Same heart-shaped face. Same hazel eyes. Same way of twisting her hands when she's anxious.
"Breathe," Grayson murmurs in my ear.
I realize I've been holding my breath.
There's a knock at the door.
Grayson squeezes my hand once, then goes to answer it.
"Emma. Mrs. Mitchell. Please, come in."
They step inside. The cabin feels both too small and too big at once.
Emma smiles at me, warm and steady. "Hi, Kate."
"Hi." My voice comes out smaller than I intend.
My mother hasn't moved. She's standing just inside the doorway, staring at me with tears already on her face.
"Kate," she whispers. "Oh, my Kate."
And just like that, I'm crying too.
Grayson guides us to the living room. Emma and my mother on the couch. Me in the armchair, Grayson standing beside me with his hand on my shoulder.
Mrs. Patel's cookies sit untouched on the coffee table. No one can eat.
The silence stretches.
Then, my mother speaks.
"I don't know where to start," she says, her voice shaking. "I've rehearsed this a thousand times. Now that you're here, I can't remember any of it."
"Start with the truth," I say quietly. "That's all I need."
She nods, wiping her eyes with a tissue Emma hands her.
"I was seventeen when I got pregnant with you," she begins. "Your father was nineteen. We were young and thought we could handle it." A short, bitter laugh. "We couldn't."
Emma reaches over and takes her hand.
"We struggled for two years. Barely making rent. Trying to keep you fed. And then I got pregnant again. With Emma." She looks up at me. "Your father panicked. Said he couldn't handle another baby. And he left."
"He just...left?"
"Two weeks after I told him. I never heard from him again."
Grayson's hand tightens on my shoulder.
"I tried," my mother continues, her voice breaking. "I was nineteen, working two jobs, caring for a two-year-old while pregnant. We were going to end up on the streets."
Tears stream down her face. Mine, too.
"Someone from social services came to check on us. Saw the state we were living in. They said I had two choices—give up one of you, or lose both of you to the system."
Emma is crying now, too.
"It was the hardest decision I've ever made," my mother says. "I chose to keep Emma because she was younger. I thought it would be easier for you as a baby to bond with a new family. I thought I was doing the right thing."
"But you weren't," I whisper.
"No." She looks at me with such pain in her eyes. "I wasn't. I gave you up, and I've regretted it every single day since."
The room is silent except for crying.
"I kept records," she continues. "Photos from when you were born. The few months I had with you before I had to let you go. Letters I wrote that I could never send. I wanted you to know—if you ever came looking—that you were wanted. That you were loved. That giving you up destroyed me."
"Then, why didn't you come looking for me?" The words burst out before I can stop them. "When you were older? More stable?"
Her face crumples. "Because I was a coward. I was terrified you'd hate me. I convinced myself you were better off without me."
Emma speaks up, her voice gentle. "She talked about you every day, Kate. Every birthday. Every Christmas. You were never forgotten."
I wipe my eyes, trying to process everything.
"When I found the records after your foster mother died," Emma continues, "I knew I had to find you. To give you the choice."
"I spent months working up the courage," my mother says. "Even after Emma found you, I was terrified. What if you didn't want to know me?"
"You did hurt me," I say, and my mother flinches. "Growing up in foster care, never knowing where I came from, always feeling like I wasn't wanted. That hurt."
"I know. I'm so, so sorry."
"But, I also understand." I take a shaky breath. "You were a teenager. Alone. Trying to survive. You made an impossible choice."
My mother looks up, hope flickering in her eyes.
"I don't know if I can forget what it felt like growing up," I continue. "The loneliness. The feeling of not belonging. But I can forgive you. Because you did what you thought was best."
She stands suddenly. "Can I... may I hug you?"
I stand too. Nod.
She pulls me into her arms, and we both fall apart. I'm crying into her shoulder. She's holding me like she held me when I was a baby. Emma is crying across the room. And Grayson is there, steady, making sure I don't fall.
"I'm so sorry," my mother keeps saying. "I love you. I've always loved you."
"I know," I whisper. "I know."
We stand there for a long time. Years of pain and longing and regret pouring out in tears.
When we finally pull apart, she cups my face in her hands.
"Look at you," she says through her tears. "Look at the incredible woman you've become. Emma told me about your job, your engagement. I'm so proud of you."
"Thank you," I manage.
"Your father would be too," she says. "If he had any sense, which he clearly didn't."
I laugh despite myself.
"I'm saying it because it's true. He walked away from the best thing that ever happened to him. You."
Emma stands, coming over to hug us both. "We're family," she says. "Finally, we're family."
And just like that, something in my chest loosens.
—
We spend the next three hours talking.
My mother tells me about her life after I was gone. How she eventually got stable. Found a good job. Raised Emma. How she never married, never had more children, because the guilt never left her.
Emma tells me about growing up knowing she had a sister out there somewhere. Always feeling incomplete until she found me.
I tell them about foster care. The good families and the bad ones. Learning to be independent. Building a life despite the odds.
And I tell them about Grayson.
About the espresso machine disaster that sent me to Maple Glen. About the grumpy billionaire who became the love of my life. About finding home in the last place I expected.
My mother holds my hand through all of it, squeezing when the stories get hard.
Grayson stays nearby, bringing tea and coffee, giving us space to heal.
By the time the afternoon light starts to fade, I feel different.
Lighter. More complete.
"Will you come to the wedding?" I ask suddenly. "Both of you?"
My mother's eyes widen. "You want us there?"
"Yes." I look at Emma, then at my mother. "I want you to be part of my life."
"It's more than okay," my mother says, crying again. "It's everything."
Emma grins. "I already bought a dress."
I laugh. "Of course you did."
—
When they finally leave—with promises to return in two weeks for the wedding—I feel exhausted. But peaceful.
Grayson closes the door behind them and immediately pulls me into his arms.
"You okay?" he asks.
"Yeah." I rest my head against his chest. "I think I am."
"You were incredible in there."
"I was terrified."
"But you did it anyway. You faced your past. You listened. You forgave." He pulls back to look at me. "You're stronger than you know."
I think about that. About everything I've been through.
The foster homes. The loneliness. The fear that I'd never belong anywhere.
And then, I think about what I have now.
A career I love. A town that's become family. A man who sees all of me and loves me anyway.
And now, a mother and sister who want to be part of my life.
"I used to wonder if any of my foster families really cared," I say quietly. "If I mattered to them."
"You mattered," Grayson says firmly. "You always mattered."
"I know that now. But for so long, I felt like I was just passing through everyone's lives. Never really staying. Never really being chosen."
"And now?"
"Now I realize all of it—every struggle, every hard moment, every time I felt alone—it was leading me here." I look up at him. "To this cabin. To Maple Glen. To you. To finding my real family."
Grayson cups my face gently. "You have a family now, Kate. You have me. You have Maple Glen. And you have your mother and Emma."
"I know." Tears slip down my cheeks, but they're happy ones this time. "I'm not alone anymore."
"No." He smiles. "You're not."
He kisses me gently on my forehead.
And, I think about how far I've come.
From a girl in foster care who never felt wanted, to a woman with more love than she knows what to do with.
From someone always running, to someone who finally has a place to stay.
From lonely, to loved.
All those years of wondering if I'd ever belong.
It was worth it.
Because now I'm home.
And I'm never leaving again.