Chapter Two Hundred Twenty-Seven: Maria's Search
Maria sat in the garden, her hands wrapped around a cup of tea, her eyes fixed on the horizon. The sun was rising over the city, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink and gold. The birds were singing. The flowers were blooming. The world was waking up.
She was nineteen years old, a freshman in college, and she had been searching for her birth mother for as long as she could remember.
Lily sat beside her.
"How are you feeling?" Lily asked.
Maria was quiet for a moment. "Nervous. Scared. Hopeful."
Lily took her hand. "That's normal. That's what searching feels like."
Maria looked at her. "How do you know?"
Lily smiled. "My mother searched for her father for years. She didn't know who he was. She didn't know where to look. But she never gave up."
Maria's eyes filled with tears. "Did she find him?"
Lily nodded. "She did. It took thirty years. But she found him."
Maria squeezed her hand. "I hope I find my mother."
Lily squeezed back. "I hope you do too."
---
Maria had been searching for her birth mother for three years.
She had started when she was sixteen, after her adoptive parents told her the truth. They were not her biological parents. They had adopted her when she was a baby, from a woman who could not care for her.
Maria had been shocked. Then angry. Then sad. Then determined.
She wanted to find her birth mother. She wanted to know who she was. Where she came from. Why she had given her away.
She had searched online. She had searched through records. She had hired a private investigator. She had hit dead end after dead end.
But she had not given up.
She had applied for the Victor Reyes Scholarship Fund, hoping that the money would help her continue her search.
And now she was here. In the penthouse. With the family that had created the scholarship.
---
Lily helped Maria with her search.
She taught her how to use online databases. How to request records. How to interview potential relatives.
She told her about her own mother's search. About the letters Victor had written to Eleanor, begging to see his daughter. About the private investigators he had hired. About the thirty years of rejection and silence.
"He never gave up," Lily said. "And neither should you."
Maria nodded. "I won't."
---
The search took months.
Maria spent hours in libraries, scrolling through microfilm, reading old newspapers. She spent hours on the phone, talking to social workers and adoption agencies and distant relatives.
She hit dead end after dead end.
But she did not give up.
She thought about Victor, who had searched for thirty years. She thought about Lina, who had survived a coma and a trial and decades of secrets. She thought about the family that had welcomed her, that had believed in her, that had given her hope.
She kept going.
---
Finally, she found a lead.
A woman named Sarah. She had been a teenager when Maria was born. She had given Maria up for adoption because she was too young to care for her, because her family had disowned her, because she had no one to help her.
Maria found her address. She lived in a small town three hours away.
Maria showed the address to Lily.
"What do I do?" she asked.
Lily took her hand. "You write her a letter. You tell her who you are. You tell her you want to meet her."
Maria's hands were shaking. "What if she doesn't want to meet me?"
Lily squeezed her hand. "Then at least you'll know. At least you'll have tried."
---
Maria wrote the letter.
She sat at the kitchen table, a pen in her hand, a blank piece of paper in front of her. She thought about all the things she wanted to say. All the questions she wanted to ask. All the years she had spent wondering.
She started writing.
Dear Sarah,
You don't know me. My name is Maria. I think you're my birth mother.
I'm not writing to make you feel guilty. I'm not writing to ask for money. I'm writing because I want to know you. I want to understand where I came from. I want to understand why you gave me away.
I'm not angry. I'm not sad. I'm just curious.
If you're willing, I'd like to meet you.
—Maria
She mailed the letter.
She waited.
---
The reply came a week later.
Dear Maria,
I've been waiting for this letter for nineteen years.
I was sixteen when I had you. I was scared. I was alone. My family disowned me. I had nowhere to go. I gave you up because I wanted you to have a better life than I could give you.
I've thought about you every day. I've wondered where you were. I've wondered if you were happy.
I want to meet you.
—Sarah
Maria read the letter three times.
Then she set it down and burst into tears.
Lily held her.
"She wants to meet me," Maria said. "She wants to meet me."
Lily smiled. "Of course she does. You're her daughter."
---
The meeting was arranged for a Saturday afternoon at a small café halfway between the city and Sarah's town.
Maria arrived early. She sat at a table by the window, her hands wrapped around a cup of coffee, her heart pounding.
Lily sat beside her, her hand on Maria's knee.
"Are you okay?" Lily asked.
"No."
"Do you want to leave?"
"No."
"Then we stay."
Maria nodded.
She watched the door.
---
Sarah walked in at noon.
She was older than Maria had imagined, her hair streaked with gray, her face lined with wrinkles. But her eyes were the same color as Maria's. Brown and warm and full of tears.
She saw Maria.
She walked to the table.
"Maria," she said.
Maria stood up. "Sarah."
They looked at each other for a long moment.
"You look like me," Sarah said.
Maria's eyes filled with tears. "So do you."
Sarah pulled her into her arms.
They held each other, mother and daughter, strangers who shared blood.
---
They talked for hours.
Sarah told Maria about her life—the teenage pregnancy, the disownment, the years of regret. She told her about the moment she had given Maria up, how she had held her for the last time, how she had walked out of the hospital alone.
Maria told Sarah about her life—the adoptive parents who loved her, the childhood she had enjoyed, the years of wondering.
They cried. They laughed. They held hands.
"I'm sorry," Sarah said. "I'm sorry I gave you away."
Maria shook her head. "Don't be sorry. You did what you had to do. You gave me a better life."
Sarah's eyes filled with tears. "I've missed you every day."
Maria squeezed her hand. "I've missed you too. Even though I didn't know you."
---
That night, Maria sat in the garden with Lily.
The stars were out, scattered across the sky like tiny diamonds. The air was cool and quiet. The city hummed in the distance.
"I found her," Maria said. "I found my birth mother."
Lily smiled. "I know. I'm so happy for you."
Maria looked up at the sky. "Victor would be proud."
Lily nodded. "He would."
Maria was quiet for a moment. "Thank you. For helping me. For believing in me."
Lily took her hand. "That's what family is for."
---
End of Chapter Two Hundred Twenty-Seven