A Walk Down the Aisle

Tori pulled back from her parents’ embrace. “No, Mom. I’m not going. I got a few answers, but I need more. I need to know Sophie. If I can know her, maybe I can figure me out.”

Sophie felt awkward in the midst of the volatile family confrontation. “Tori, I—”

Tori whirled on her. “Oh, I know, I’ll interrupt your perfect life. I already ruined your wedding. I’m an inconvenience, but I’m not going home to Cleveland yet.”

“Victoria—” her mother started, but her father interrupted.

“Tori, give us a minute.”

“Where should I go? Sophie’s house is small. I’ll hear you wherever I am. And honestly, I think I’ve proved I’m an adult.”

Dom had struck Sophie as a free spirit. Seeing him with Tori’s mom, a decidedly unfree spirit if ever she’d met one, seemed incongruous, but in this instant, he transformed into a father—a firm but loving father who expected to be obeyed. “Tori, if anything, you’ve proven how immature you still are. I’m not denying that we should have told you sooner that you were adopted, but that doesn’t excuse your conduct. You are fourteen, and you stole our car. Not only that, you drove it out of state.”

“I read the driver’s manual. I know all the rules. I think I was the only one who drove the speed limit the whole way here. And I’ve driven all kinds of vehicles at Nana and Papa’s farm. I was confident I could manage. And I did.”

“It’s illegal. If you’d been stopped...if you’d hit another car...if...” All the things that could have gone wrong had obviously been playing in his mind.

“You drove here?” Sophie asked. It occurred to her that a good parent would have asked how a fourteen-year-old arrived in Valley Ridge. The town was too small for a public transportation system. That left either driving or hitchhiking.

She felt sick at the realization Tori had driven across three states. She couldn’t stop the images of what could have happened. Scenes from nightly newscasts played in horrible detail, all of them with Tori as the focus.

“Go outside, Tori,” her father said firmly “Find a seat on Sophie’s porch and don’t move from there. We’ll come get you in a little bit.”

“Fine.” Tori whirled and headed toward the front door.

“And if you go anywhere other than that front porch, I’ll track you down and I’ll—”

“What? Spank me?” Tori laughed.

“I might be a pacifist, but believe me when I say, if that’s what it took to get you to understand how incredibly stupid you’ve been, well, I’d do it. Don’t tempt me.”

Tori looked taken aback by his response. She hid it by turning on her heels and slamming the door behind her for good measure.

Sophie didn’t know what to do, what to say. “I’m sorry.”

Dom quirked one eyebrow and Sophie thought of Star Trek’s Spock, which struck her as an absurd thought to have in the midst of the day’s events.

“For what?” he asked.

She shrugged. “I don’t know, but I can’t help feeling this is all my fault, and I’m sorry.”

“Let’s sit down.” He assumed the role of host and got them situated in the living room, he and his wife on the couch, Sophie opposite them on the chair.

“If anyone should be sorry, it’s me,” Gloria said. “Dom wanted me to tell Tori she was adopted from the day she arrived home, but I...” She shook her head. “I couldn’t bear it. I sent you those letters every year through the adoption ageny, and part of me relished sharing her development with someone I knew cared. I was so grateful to you for choosing us. I spent days writing them. Picking out pictures. But I never told you her name or ours because I was afraid. She’s mine. Every time I mailed out a letter, I’d be sick with worry that you’d realized how much you gave up and come to get her, but that didn’t stop me from writing down all the details I thought you wanted to hear. I needed to prove to you that you were right to choose us. But it scared me to death.”

“So that’s why no names?” Sophie asked. All she’d ever known her daughter as was Baby Girl. Every year, after she read Gloria’s letter, she’d write her Baby Girl a letter in response. She could have sent them to Tori through the agency, but frankly, pouring her heart out to her child didn’t seem fair. At some point, she’d give her daughter the box of letters. Maybe it would help answer her questions.

“I know. Not even her first name. That was cruel.” Gloria leaned into Dom with a real need to touch him evident in her expression.

“No. You were so generous sharing her moments. When I received that first letter chronicling all those milestones in her first year...” Sophie fought to hold back the tears. “For weeks, I read it every day. I can recite the letter to you word for word. But at some point, I knew I couldn’t go on that like that. So, I put it away. And each year, when you sent the new letter, along with the pictures, I’d read it through, then I’d reread all the old ones. I’d write my response and put it away, as well. I gave myself one full day to appreciate them, to look at Tori and marvel at her. Then I’d put the box away and would go back to living my life. You provided that one letter to me and then went back to being her mother. I get that. You wanted to keep her safe.”

“But I failed. I hurt her by not listening to Dom.”

Maybe Sophie could see Gloria’s guilt because it mirrored her own. She saw it and recognized that they didn’t simply share a love for Tori, but also the guilt that came from wondering if they’d done the right thing.

Dom squeezed his wife tighter into the protection of his arm. “You can’t know if things would have been better or worse if we’d told her. The fact is we didn’t. The two of us. And now we have to deal with the repercussions. The three of us. We have to forget about blame and guilt. We need to figure out what to do for Tori. She’s in pain, and we need to decide how best to help her.”

Sophie looked at these two people who’d been parents to her daughter, and a sense of peace swept through her pain and guilt. No matter what she’d done, she’d found her daughter wonderful parents. “I’ll do whatever you both think is best. She’s your daughter. I don’t want you to think I’ve forgotten that.”

“Thank you.” Gloria studied her a moment, then repeated, “Thank you. So what do we do now?”

“No,” Tori shouted from the doorway into the living room. “I’ve decided that I’m not going to sit outside and let the three of you decide my fate. Here’s what’s going to happen. I’m staying with Sophie for a while. Think of it as summer camp.”

“Victoria Peace Allen—” Gloria stuttered to an abrupt halt, as if she couldn’t think of what to say next.

Sophie realized that she now knew her daughter’s full name. And on the heels of that thought came a single word...Peace?

Dom must have seen the look because he nodded and said, “Peace.” He started to laugh. Gloria, then Tori, started laughing, as well.

“Dad’s a hippie. A commune-living, vegan-eating hippie,” Tori supplied. “So are Nana and Papa.”

Dom shook his head and clarified, “My parents were the hippies. I’m merely the son of hippies.” He turned to Sophie and explained, “Gloria picked Tori’s first name. I got to the pick the second. My name’s actually Freedom Jay Allen.”

“Which is why I call him Dom,” Gloria said with a sniff.

Despite everything that had happened that day, the shock layered onto pain, layered onto utter confusion, Sophie found herself smiling.

“And you grew up in a commune?” she asked.

“Well, like any child, I lived where my parents decreed.”

“Nana and Papa never decreed a thing in their whole lives.” Tori turned to Sophie. “They don’t live on a commune anymore. They run a CSA in Pennsylvania.”

“CSA?” Sophie asked.

“Community-supported agriculture. Basically, people buy shares of their farm’s crops. They’re still hippies,” she added in a conspiratorial whisper.

For a moment, all four of them were quiet. And slowly, the leftover smiles faded, and Tori stared at the three adults. “I get it, you know. I get what you meant, Sophie. They’re my parents. They’ve raised me. Nana and Papa are my grandparents. They all know me. They were there when I took my first step and started school.” She turned to her parents. “I get that. And I love you both. Nothing will ever change that. You are my parents. But you need to understand, I can’t leave until I know...”

“Know what?” Sophie asked. “I swear, I’ll tell you whatever you need to know.”

“I don’t know, but I need to figure it out. I need to work it out in my head. If you try to make me leave before I do, I’ll run away again.”

“No threats,” Sophie repeated. “Remember?”

“I can’t go home without knowing.”

There was desperation in Tori’s voice. Sophie couldn’t decide if Tori was desperate for answers or desperate to be understood.