Before I know it, Andrew's two-story house comes into view. It's impressive, with spotless tan siding and a beautifully flowered garden stretching along the length of the porch. He lives in a good part of town, the kind of neighborhood where everything feels calm and predictable. As I park across the street, a wave of unease washes over me in a cold wave.
I grip the steering wheel and stare at the house. I can't simply walk up to his door and ask, "Hi, do you know Amber Catalano?" or worse, "I might be your daughter who disappeared with her," without sounding reckless or delusional. Despite knowing how crazy this sounds or the discomfort that twists in my stomach. I can't shake the faint thrill of excitement. This could be the moment I finally learn who I am, but the reality of it hit me just as fast. He'll probably think I'm insane no matter what I say or do.
Maybe this plan is too reckless, and I should drop it. I should probably talk to Zeke first. He'll be angry if he knows I came without him. I nod to myself and shift my car into drive to leave, but before I can pull away, his front door opens. A man steps out. He's tall, with slightly grey hair and a warm smile. He calls out to me, waving for me to stay.
"Miss you, ok?" He yells, "You seem lost."
His voice catches me off guard, and my mind goes blank for a moment. I sit motionless in my car, staring at him as he walks over to me. The man has a striking resemblance to the sheriff; he shares similar height, nose, and eyes. Even though his smile was kind, I still feel a little uncomfortable. He doesn't seem threatening like his father, but looks can be deceiving. Finally, my voice returns to me.
"Oh, um, u-u-u I'm fine," I say, giving him my best smile. "I was looking for a man named Andrew Dawson." I know it's him standing in front of me, but I just need to make sure. He looks taken aback by my words.
"Why are you looking for him?" He asks cautiously.
"He may have been an old friend of my mother's," I say as he reaches my window and takes a good look at my face.
"Amber," he whispers. His face goes white as if he's seen a ghost. He must be in shock. Many people have told me my resemblance to my mom is uncanny. We look alike.
"No, Amber was my mother, and I think you may be my father." he backs away from the vehicle; his face goes white and drains of color as I put my car in park and shut off the engine. I didn't mean to blurt that out, but when I get nervous, I blurt things without thinking.
"There's no way. The Catalano's disappeared, and no one has heard from them. Is this a sick joke?" he asks in a demanding voice.
"No," I say quickly. "I know it all sounds crazy, but give me a minute to explain. My name is Roxanne Sleighton. Roxy to my friends. My mom's name was Amber Sleighton." He stands there staring at me with no emotion on his face.
"Then how can she be a Catalano when her name is Sleighton?" He asks.
"Can I come in and talk to you about it more?" I ask him, not answering his question.
"Umm, I'm not sure if that's a good idea. I don't know you, and how do I know anything you say is true?"
I grab my bag from the backseat and step out.
"Inside this bag are documents that might help you understand everything. I just bought the Catalano family house."
He still looks skeptical, but curiosity flickers across his face.
"Let's sit on the porch. I don't feel comfortable with a stranger in my house," he says. Ouch, that hurt, but what did I expect?
We sit on the porch, and for the next hour, I walk him through everything from the diary entries, the similarities between Amber and my mom, and the timeline. I was careful not to reveal anything incriminating about his father. I'm not sure how he feels about him. We scrutinize the paperwork, cross-referencing every detail. Even Andrew, who was initially skeptical, could not deny the striking resemblance and uncanny similarities between my mother and Amber.
Finally, I pull out the final piece of evidence and hand it to him: Amber's diary. The worn leather-bound book has pages filled to the brim with the emotional outpourings of a young girl. As he reads through a few entries, the weight of the truth finally sinks in.
"You know," he says quietly. "I never knew what happened to her and the baby. I just assumed they both died since the family disappeared without a trace." He looks up at me with tears in his eyes.
"I don't think Amber died; I'm pretty sure she was my mom and ran away with me," I say.
"You think you're our baby? The one she mentions in the diary?" He asks.
"I'm not sure; that is why I wanted to find you."
"Why do you need me?" he asks.
"DNA!" I blurt out, "If you're my father, it will confirm everything."
"No way, kid." His expression hardens, and his tone turns angry. "You come here, bring all these painful memories up, and then want my DNA."
"I'm-m-m sorry, I didn't mean to upset you. I'm just trying to figure things out." Tears start to stream down my face. I grab the information and stuff it back in my bag.
"I think it's better if you leave," he says, standing. "I can't deal with this right now." He walks into his house and slams the door loudly.
I don't wait to see if he comes back out; I rush to my car. Before getting in, I take one last look at his house, scanning every window, hoping to catch one last glimpse of him. Coming here, I hoped that Andrew could provide a vital answer or clues to the mystery surrounding my mother and her family. But now a sense of defeat is settling over me like a blanket. I start the engine and drive away, leaving behind the hopes and dreams of finding my father. My next destination is the hospital. I need to tell Zeke what was going on. Hopefully, he won't be angry about my little trip without him.
Driving back to the hospital, my mind keeps replaying what just happened with Andrew. If he isn't willing to take a DNA test, I need to find another way to prove my theory. But I have no idea what that way is. The drive back feels faster, and before I know it, I'm pulling into the hospital parking lot. I take a deep breath to ground myself. Then exit my car and head into the hospital.
Zeke is lying in his bed, looking tired, when I enter. The moment he sees me, his face brightens.
"Hey Z, how are you feeling?" I say as I walk over and sit beside him.
"I'm still in pain, but it's getting better," he replies as he looks up at me. "What have you been up to today?" he gives me a knowing look. The kind that says he knows I've done something reckless.
"Well, I went on an adventure," I admit. "I may have found Andrew Dawson and went to his house." Zeke's expression changes instantly from confusion to worry, and then to anger.
"What do you mean, you went to Andrew Dawson's house? By yourself?" his voice rose in anger.
"Yes, but he was polite, not scary. I only showed him what I had on Amber and my mother," I explain, as I try to make him understand.
"Damn it, Rocky," he says, frustrated. "You could have gotten hurt." His anger stings, but I know it comes from fear. I grab his hand to reassure him. I continue to tell him about everything in the visit: Andrew's reaction and the whole conversation. The only thing left for me was to sincerely apologize for putting myself in an unfamiliar situation without him.
"Can you blame him? You dump all of this on him and bring up old memories. I would have been worried if he reacted any other way," he states.
"Well, no, but uh, I just wanted at least to get answers to this part of the mystery, I'm sorry, Z." He tugs my hand, pulling me gently onto the bed next to him. Then wraps his arms around me, giving me the security I didn't realize I needed. His warmth settles into my bones, comforting me.
A knock on the door pulls us out of our embrace. A nurse comes in with his discharge papers and explains his aftercare instructions for his wound. We both nod. He'll be on crutches for the next couple of months. I knew Zeke's biggest fear is not being able to protect us. I need him to understand he can depend on me, too. It was my turn to protect him. I tell him we're not going home tonight because the windows are still broken and the sheriff is lurking around. He agrees with me. We decide to spend a night in the hotel.
As soon as we arrive at the hotel, we call his parents to let them know he's been discharged. His dad said he would have the crew at our house tomorrow to help repair any damage, and the window technicians would be there around two tomorrow to fix the windows. He already boarded up the windows after the incident. That takes one worry off my shoulders.
We spend the rest of the night deciding how to move forward, not only with the mystery of the family but also with what happened at Andrews. We need to be careful. If Dawson finds out I went to Andrew's house, who knows what he'll do.
The next afternoon, we arrive back at the house. I stare at it for a moment before we walk up the front steps; a swirl of emotions washes over me. On the one hand, I feel relief at being home, but on the other, I still can't shake the sense of unease that settles in my stomach. I glance back at Zeke, who was staring intently at me.
"I'm fine, Z, I promise," hoping these words would reassure us both. He smiles at me.
I smile back and grip the doorknob tightly and push the door open. We step inside; the memories of the gunfire, the shattered glass, and fear consume me. I freeze in the doorway and hesitate. He must sense my hesitation because he hops past me on his crutches, motioning me with his head to follow him in. Determination settles over me; I decide not to let fear control my life, not when so much is at stake.
As we approached the living room, all of the lights in the house flick on; bright, blinding. It lasts only a few seconds, and then they shut off again. Plunging us into darkness. A scream echoes through the house. It's not mine or his. My heart races. I run over to the light switch and flick it on; lights flood the hallway.
"D-d-d-did you see that?" I stutter, turning to Zeke, who just nods in response. We cautiously enter the living room, which is still dark, and the boards on the window only add to the eerie atmosphere. My hands tremble as I reach for the lights and flip them on. We can see that the glass had been cleaned up from the floor and furniture.
"Sit down with me, Rocky," Zeke says, patting the couch beside him. I sit down, still visibly shaken. I can't get what just happened with the electricity out of my head. So many logical reasons run through my head. Maybe there was an electrical surge.
"Is that all you can say? Sit down with me? All of the lights in the house just turned on and shut off."
"This isn't the weirdest thing that has happened to us here." He says, gently trying to reassure me. Sighing, I lean back against the couch. My head resting on the back of it.
"I'm sorry, Zeke," I say quietly, "I just have been all over the place emotionally since you got hurt and someone tried to kill us. I feel bad I got you into this mess."
"Rocky, quit apologizing. I'm here because I want to be, not because I have to."
"I know. I'm going to get our bags out of the car. I'll be right back." I quickly jump up and lean over to kiss him on the lips. Then head outside. Anxiety is still living rent-free in my bones. How to shake it off is eluding me. For the moment, I decide to focus on the task at hand, the bags. As I'm retrieving them from the back, the distinct sound of tires on the driveway can be heard. Before I turn around, there is a familiar voice behind me.
"Miss Sleighton, it seems we need to have a chat." As I turn around, I come face to face with my nemesis, the sheriff.