Chapter 10 - Caleb
I CARRY THE STACK of photos for Abby as we cross the bank parking lot toward the ’Cuda. Her hands were shaking while we were inside that vault and the last thing I need is for her to drop the pictures in the middle of the parking lot and get hit by a car as she tries to pick them up. Yeah, I know it sounds totally far-fetched. But I’m in charge of keeping Abby safe now. And I can’t rule out the possibility of her being mowed down by a car, now that every possible thing that could go wrong today has gone wrong.
I knew her dad and mom wouldn’t take the news about Abby and me moving in together well, but I didn’t expect them to deliver such a low blow. Though I know her father said what he said out of desperation, it doesn’t excuse the fact that he hurt her. If he weren’t her father, I would have punched him in the throat. But he is Abby’s father. The only father she’s ever known, until today. And he’s just scared of losing her.
I open the passenger door for Abby and she slides in. I hand her the stack of photos, then I round the back of the car and get inside. We sit in silence for a moment as she stares at the picture on the top of the stack.
I can’t f*cking believe Chris Knight is Abby’s dad. If we hadn’t seen their family portrait first, I might have believed it was just a picture her birth parents had snapped of a celebrity holding Abby. But we did see that family photo. And the only teenage girl in that picture had brown hair. The baby in that picture with Chris Knight is clearly Abby with her golden blonde hair and wide brown eyes. I’ve seen a million baby pictures of Abby, but this one definitely puts the others in perspective.
She moves the photo on top to the bottom of the stack and the next picture is of the brown-haired girl from the family photo. She’s obviously younger in this one, about eight or nine years old. She’s clutching a picture to her chest. It’s a photo of Abby I’ve seen before. This one seems to be too much for her. She turns the entire stack of photos over so they’re facedown in her lap.
“I have a sister,” she whispers.
“And a couple of brothers,” I say. “The youngest one looks like you, doesn’t he?”
She looks up, her brow furrowed. “You think so?”
Her fair skin is glistening with tears. How could her parents keep this from her for so long? She could have used a sister and brother with everything she’s been through. Then a slightly selfish thought crosses my mind. If she’d had siblings, would Abby and I still be this close?
I reach for the photos in her lap and she watches as I take them. It takes me a second to find the family portrait in the bottom of the stack and I hold it up between us so we can both look at it.
“Look. He has the same blonde hair and brown eyes as you.”
She stares at the picture for a while before she takes it in her hand to examine it up close. “He does.” Her silent tears turn into a soft whimpering cry. “These are my parents… This is the family I never knew I had.”
I quickly sift through the photos, searching for the one of the little girl holding Abby’s picture. “But it looks like they knew about you,” I say, holding it up for her, “and you never left their thoughts.” Her shoulders tremble as they curl inward, and she clutches her fist to her chest. “Abby, are you okay?”