Hadley dashes in the front door of the cafe, soaked to the bone. She shakes out the umbrella that did her no good. As she slides it into the coral at the front door, a loud bang erupts through the sky, making her flinch. A few patrons scatter among the dining area, sipping on coffee, reading newspapers, and staying out of the storm. The sun is still hiding behind the horizon, while Hadley and her co-worker brew more coffee, insert pies into the display, and restock the ketchup, salt and pepper shakers. They trade comments about the storm, how it rattled the windows all night, how it still feels like the sky's half-asleep, except its alarm clock every few minutes with its loud crack and a flash of lightening brightening up in its wake.
Hadley shrieks when the door suddenly burst open and a drenched young woman stumbles inside. She raises her hand to her chest trying to calm her heart, willing it to stop hammering against her ribs. She reaches across her co-worker to collect the notepad and makes her way to the booth in the far left back corner where the young woman chose to perch.
"Good morning, my name is Hadley. I will be your waitress this morning." She announces with the pen poised just above the pad in her hand. "Can I start you off with some coffee or hot chocolate? It'll help you warm up."
"Hot chocolate, please." The young woman answers, kindly as she strips her wet jacket off and places it on the bench beside her.
Hadley rushes off to make hot chocolate, carefully placing tiny marshmallows on top. She spins around, nearly sloshing the steaming chocolate over her wrist, and freezes when she notices the girl staring out the window. She looks oddly familiar but can't place her.
The young girl turns toward Hadley, offering a small, uncertain smile. Hadley moves forward, acting like she wasn't just caught staring at her. "Have you decided what you would like to eat?" she asks, digging the notepad and pen out of her apron.
Tears well up in the young girl's eyes, but she doesn't bother wiping them away. Hadley frowns, sliding the notepad back into her apron. She hesitates for a moment before lowering herself into the booth opposite her. "What's wrong dear?" she asks.
The young girl hesitates for a moment. "I just found out I'm adopted. My parents told me last night. On my twentieth birthday, no less." Hadley's heart starts racing, but she swallows the need to burst out asking her a ton of fleeting questions.
"Wow, that must be a shock." Hadley admits.
"Tell me about it," the young girl snaps.
Hadley doesn't know what to say. Her heart aches for this girl. She has no earthly idea what it feels like to be adopted, and she doesn't know anyone who has been, no one she could suggest for this girl to talk to. "I'm here to lend a listening ear if you want one," Hadley begins. "My name is Hadley." She sticks out her hand to shake hers.
"Taylor," she says simply, ignoring the offered hand. Taylor picks up her hot chocolate and begins sipping it slowly, her mind light years away.
"You said your parents told you on your birthday last night. So, I'm assuming yesterday was your birthday?" Hadley asks.
Taylor shakes her head, and a thin line of hot chocolate coats her upper lip, a dab clinging to the tip of her nose. She snatches a napkin from the holder and wipes the mess off her face. She continues to stare out the window in silence. Hadley, however, stays put, giving Taylor a moment, but the girl doesn't speak for a long time. Taking the cue, Hadley starts to rise from the booth, ready to give her space. But before Hadley can take a step away, Taylor stops her. "Gravy and biscuits," she says quietly. "With lots of bacon on the side." Then she turns back to the window. Hadley nods, her chest tight with something she can't quite name, and heads for the counter.
Hadley returns to the table with two plates and a bowl of gravy, dropping them down on the table softly. She waits for Taylor to say something, but only silence answers. Taylor sits there for hours, watching the storm ebb and flow along with the steady stream of customers. She's still sitting there when Hadley's shift is over. She hesitates at the doorway, deciding whether to sit with Taylor or leave her to her thoughts. She eventually lands on the latter and walks out the door with her umbrella in hand.
Rain drums against the canopy as she steps into the gray afternoon, the image of Taylor still sitting there pressed behind her eyelids. The second she steps into her cozy two-bedroom home, she slips off her shoes. Her keys and umbrella find their place on the hooks by the door. Strolling to the kitchen, she stops at the table where the picture lies of Grace and baby Elizabeth, flipping it over to read the information again. Taylor's birthday matches the one written on the back. Her heart rhythm picks up, leaving curiosity etched into her mind.
She opens her laptop and pulls up the few scraps of information she's collected over the last few days. Honestly, it isn't much to go on. Hadley types in Grace Whitlock adoption May 2003 into the search bar and clicks enter. A wall of "Access Restricted" messages flashes on the screen. Each link she clicks on beats the same red text, sealed court documents, unwavering. She tries another search, this time narrowing it down to Willow Creek Maternity Ward 2003 births. Another slammed door, every record locked.
She exhales harshly and leans back on the couch, eyes scanning the ceiling as the rain beats against the window behind her head. Of course it would be closed, Grace was a teenager. A minor. Hadley rubs her temples, anxiety threading through her curiosity.
Her gaze drops to a tab she hasn't opened yet: Willow Creek Gazette, Archive. It's a long shot, but she clicks on it anyway. The old pages load slow and pixelated, headlines from another lifetime scrolling past. Most of them are about bake sales, fundraisers, county fairs, until one catches her attention.
"Teen Mothers Program Hosts Luncheon for Expectant Youths, May 2003."
The black-and-white photograph under the headline is small, blurry, but one face stands out to her. Grace. Her hairs in a messy braid, hand resting protectively over a very round stomach. She is young and scared, yet unphased.
Hadley pressers her index finger to the screen, heart hammering. The caption beneath the photo in fine print lists the location of the event. Willow Creek Maternity Ward. 137 Brothers Street. Same place. Same year. Her pulse skips. The coincidence feels too sharp to ignore. She prints out the article, retrieves a folder from the bookshelf, and slips it inside with the letters and photographs from the attic box.
The folder rests on the coffee table, edges worn, secrets sealed inside. A single name crosses her mind, Taylor. She's the right age, the same birthday, she was adopted, and maybe, just maybe, she looks like the baby in that picture. She leans back on the couch, processing what little information she has, trying to think of a way to bring it up to Taylor. Somewhere out there, Elizabeth, or Taylor, is living her life unaware that her past is already reaching for her.
The next morning, Hadley strolls to work with a little bit of giddiness in her step. She hopes Taylor will show up, and if she does, Hadley plans on talking to her. She wants to help Taylor search for her birth family, convinced their paths are crossing for a reason, one that might prove Taylor is Elizabeth. She steps inside and scans every table, but the girl isn't there. A sigh escapes her lips, and her shoulders slump in quiet despair.
The morning hum of the cafe fills the deafening silence. She ties on her apron, reminding herself that some stories take longer to find their next chapter. The day drags on with an unsteady rhythm, a very slow day, giving Hadley way too much free time to think. The end of her shift finally arrives, leaving Hadley disappointed, until the door chimes, and in walks none other than Taylor herself. Hadley perks up, rips off her apron, and tosses it under the counter before rushing to clock out.
When she returns to the front dining area, she finds herself joining Taylor uninvited. "Hi," she says as she takes a seat. "I wasn't sure I would ever see you again."
"Hi, Hadley." Taylor replies, a smile broadening her lips. "I was hoping I would see you again."
"Oh," Hadley shifts in her seat, curiosity threading through her mind.
The rain has stopped, but droplets still slide down the window beside them, catching the fading light. The cafe feels smaller, quieter, like it's listening in.
"I was hoping I could ask you a favor," Taylor says, leaning forward, whispering.
Hadley nods, leaning in, trying to catch every word Taylor says.
"I've decided to find my birth family and wanted to ask if you'd help me," Taylor explains. She lifts her hand to signal the waitress, ordering a BLT with a side of fruit and a sweet tea. Hadley orders the same. They sit in silence for a minute. Hadley doesn't want to seem too eager, though every part of her is itching to say yes.
The clatter of dishes fills the quiet between them, but it can't drown out the steady thumping of Hadley's pulse. Maybe fate really is this bold.
Hadley clears her throat and finally speaks up. "Are your parents aware of your decision?"
"They are. My mom handed me my birth certificate this morning, along with the adoption papers," Taylor says as she digs out a manila envelope from her backpack. She hands them to Hadley, her eyes soft but mute, giving permission to look them over.
Hadley wipes her palms on the napkin in her lap, her eyes widening with anticipation, then collects the folder from Taylor. She holds it for a few seconds, not wanting to seem too eager, before opening it with care. She scans the birth certificate with a calm demeanor, reading every inch of information.
"This says here that it's an amended birth certificate. Do they have your original one?" Hadley asks, eyeing Taylor over the document in her hand.
"I didn't know there would be two." Taylor admits, sipping on her tea.
"The original birth certificate has everything you need to find your birth parents. This one," she taps the paper, "is the amended version your parents received after the adoption. It only lists their information." Hadley keeps her tone steady, though she only learned this herself a few days ago from an online article.
Taylor shakes her head, "My parents only gave me this one. Maybe we can get the original from the adoption agency or the vital records department. I have no idea where to even start."
"We will figure it out together." Hadley assures her. The words make Taylor's eyes brighten, a fragile hope sparking to life.
After they finish their dinner, Hadley writes down her address, and phone number, and hands the slip to Taylor. "This is my information. Meet me at my house in the morning and we can get started."
The next morning, Taylor rings the doorbell, her nerves misfiring with excitement. Her palms itch and she can't stand still. She glances at the surrounding houses, shifting from foot to foot as she waits for Hadley to answer. She rings the bell again, waiting. Finally, the door swings open. Hadley rubs her eyes; her hair piled into a messy bun on top of her head. She's still in her pajamas, and robe.
"Sorry, I must've forgotten to set my alarm. I was up all-night doing research," Hadley says as she steps aside, yawning. "Come on in."
Taylor steps inside, greeted by the faint, comforting aroma of coffee and paper. A stack of notes and printouts covers the kitchen table, evidence of Hadley's restless determination. Hadley crosses to the counter to start a fresh pot of coffee, then returns to the table to tidy her scattered notes. Something on the table catches Taylor's attention. She reaches across the table and lifts a photograph from the pile. Staring at the woman and child lying in the hospital bed, she flips it over and reads the back. Hadley freezes, her breath catching as panic flickers across her face.
The photo trembles slightly in Taylor's hand. Hadley doesn't move; she can't. Every secret she meant to unfold carefully is now sitting in Taylor's palm. "What is this?"
Hadley stands frozen, mind spinning, trying to find the right words. Should she lie? Or start at the very beginning? She chooses the truth. Starting with how she came to buy the house, she tells Taylor about the attic, the box, the letter, and the photograph, every thread that led her here, to this moment.
Tears streak down Taylor's face as she stares at Hadley, silent and shaking, caught between disbelief and heartbreak. Suddenly, she turns and walks out. Down the sidewalk, all the way to the end of the block, before stopping. She needs a minute to breathe, to think. Should she trust this woman she barely knows? Or walk away and finish the search on her own?
A gust of wind lifts her hair, carrying the scent of rain and something else, change. Behind her, the house waits, and inside it, the truth she's not ready to face.
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