Page 44 of Tango (Hunt Brothers Search & Rescue #4)

The man leads us toward a booth near the back then slides into the side that places his back near a wall. It’s a move I only recognize from the time I’ve been out with the Hunts. None of them want their backs to a door.

I sit across from him. “Your name?” I press again.

“Mattheus Karver,” he replies with a smile.

“Karver, I don’t recognize that name. Are you from around here?”

He chuckles. “No, regrettably, I grew up on the other side of the country.”

“What can I get you two?” Talia asks as she sets two wrapped sets of silverware in front of us.

“Uh, just chai tea for me, please,” I ask.

“Sweet tea,” Mattheus says. “Thanks so much.”

“You got it.” Talia leaves the table.

“So, you know me but didn’t grow up around here. Care to explain?”

He smiles and runs a hand through his dark hair. “It’s actually a long story.”

“I have time.” Not really, but I’m here.

“Happy birthday, by the way. I was so shocked to see you standing there that I completely forgot to say it.”

“Thanks. But, you were shocked to see me standing in the place where you came to find me? Since I haven’t ever seen you at church before, and you’re not from here, I’m assuming you were there because of me.” I realize after I say it just how presumptuous it sounds, though, and my cheeks heat.

“I was. Um—I did not think this through.” He reaches into his pocket and withdraws a folded-up photograph, then slides it across the table at me.

Lifting it, I stare down at the old photo of a blonde woman wearing blue scrubs and cradling a baby in her arms. “Who is this?”

“Your mother,” he replies. “Birth mother, that is.”

The blood drains from my face. “Excuse me?”

“Here you go.” Talia sets a mug of tea down, alongside his sweet tea. “Aww, who is that?” she asks as she looks at the photograph.

“My birth mother,” I whisper.

“What?” Talia’s tone is shocked. “Seriously?”

Mattheus clears his throat. “Yes. Her name is?—”

“Wait.” I put my hand up. I decided a long time ago that I didn’t want to know the name of the woman who decided—before she ever really knew me—that she didn’t want to keep me. As far as I’m concerned, Patricia and Emmit Franklin are my parents.

Mattheus reaches out and gently touches the hand that I have resting on the table. “I know you probably have a lot of questions, and I can answer all of them. Well, most of them.” He smiles at me then glances up at Talia, who rests a hand on my shoulder and squeezes lightly.

“You know where I am if you need me.”

“Thanks.”

“Anytime, sweetie. You two holler if you need anything else.”

As she walks away, I keep staring down at the photograph. The woman is looking down at the infant as though it’s the single most important person in her life. So, if this really is my mother and me, then why didn’t she keep me?

“You said you can answer my questions?”

He withdraws his hand. “Anything. And if I don’t know, we can find out together.”

Slowly, I set the photograph down and level my gaze on his. “Why didn’t she keep me?”

“Oh, Emma,” Mattheus says softly. “Your parents were told you died right after birth.”

Horror mixes with my sadness, and I gape at him. “What?”

He nods, expression turning somber. “A nurse stole you from the hospital. We’re not sure what happened after that, but at some point, you were placed up for adoption.”

“They stole me?”

He nods. “Your adoptive parents wouldn’t even have known.

When they couldn’t find your family, they did the next best thing and put you into the best home they could find.

All the while, your parents had no idea you were still alive.

There was a funeral and everything.” He reaches into his pocket and withdraws a cell phone then taps the screen a few times. “Here.”

Mattheus offers me his cell phone, so I take it. A marble headstone gleams beneath bright sunlight.

GWENDOLYN VICTORIA KARVER.

Born October 2 nd , 1989. Died October 2 nd 1989.

Gone but never forgotten.

“Karver.” I look up at him. “That’s your last name.”

He smiles and nods. “I’m your older brother. Older by two years.” His dark eyes glisten beneath the lights overhead.

“Brother?” I somehow manage the single word despite the lump in my throat. “I have a brother?”

“Yes. I’ve been trying to find you for the last six months, ever since we learned that you were alive.”

“How did you find out?”

“We were contacted by a woman who knew the nurse that kidnapped you. She wouldn’t give us a name but told us that you were alive and had been placed in a home nine months after you were kidnapped from the hospital.

She said she couldn’t live with herself anymore then hung up without giving us anything else.

Mom and Dad are—they’re beside themselves. ”

“Mom and Dad. They’re both alive?” Is it possible that I still have family out there? That what Mattheus is saying is true, and I’m not really all alone?

“Yes.” His gaze softens. “I read about what happened to your adoptive parents. And I’m so sorry for your loss. Were they good people?”

“The best,” I reply then wipe tears from my eyes.

“You had a good life, then?”

“So good.” I smile then pick the photograph up again after sliding his phone back over to him. “Why didn’t they come?”

“They don’t even know I’m here. Neither of them wanted to disturb your life. But I needed to meet you. I mean, a sister! I have a sister. That was a cool revelation at the age of thirty-seven.”

“Tell me about it.” I look back down at the photograph. She has the same color hair as I do. Are her eyes the same, too? Does she have freckles? “How long are you in town for?”

“Just until tomorrow night,” he replies. “I need to get home, but I’m—” He trails off. “I’m hoping you’ll come, too. Even if it’s just to meet them. They would love to know you.”

“I don’t know.” The truth is, I would love to go and meet them. But I’m scared.

What if they don’t like me?

What if they don’t want a relationship with me?

“Just think about it, okay?” He reaches into his pocket and puts some bills on the table.

“You’re leaving?”

“I want to give you some time. But don’t worry, sis, I’ll see you soon, okay?”

I smile up at him. “Okay.” I offer him the picture back, but he shakes his head.

“Keep it.” He sets a piece of paper holding a phone number onto the table between us. “This is my cell. Call me when you’ve made up your mind, okay? No pressure, though. It was enough to just get to meet you.” With one final smile, he turns and leaves.

The second the door closes and he’s on the street, Talia slides into the booth. “Okay, girl, spill. Who was that?”

I stare down at the photo, then smile. “My brother. He’s my older brother.”