Page 12 of The Lovers (Echoes from the Past #1)

SIX

After leaving the morgue, Quinn wasn’t ready to return home, so she decided to walk to the institute, which was located in Gordon Square.

It was a lovely October day, and the sun caressed her face as she strolled at a leisurely pace.

The square was strewn with a quilt of colorful fallen leaves, the old trees providing welcome patches of shade for those who chose not to sit on the lawn.

Several students were busy studying, their noses in books, while other visitors to the square just reclined on their rugs in the sunshine.

Some were reading, others listening to music, and some enjoying a brief nap during their lunch break.

Quinn found a spot beneath an overgrown maple and sat down, her back against the trunk.

The visit to the morgue affected her more that she cared to admit.

She supposed that she chose archeology and history as her field of study because she lacked a history of her own, and seeing those two nameless skeletons brought home once again the importance of having a name and a past. She’d spent years trying to come to terms with her own lack of one and thought she’d gotten a handle on her desperate need to know where she came from, but today the layers of acceptance and denial had been stripped away, leaving her as emotionally fragile as she had been the day she learned the truth of her origins.

Quinn had been eight years old the day her world imploded.

She’d come home from school, excited to begin her project over the weekend.

She’d always liked stories, especially ones that took place in the past, and the idea of working on her family tree deeply intrigued her.

Her mother was in the kitchen, preparing their tea, and her father was watching a game on the telly, having come home early from work as he did most Fridays.

The house smelled of roasting meat and vegetables, and there was an apple tart her mother had baked that morning.

The aroma of apples and cinnamon wafted from the table, making Quinn’s mouth water.

“How was your day, darling?” her mum asked as Quinn settled herself at the table and reached for a piece of carrot.

“Grand. We’re doing a school project. I’m going to need your help.”

“What type of project?” her mother asked without looking up from the potatoes she was mashing.

“It’s a family tree, so I need information about past generations of both Allenbys and Grants.

I’d like to see some photos too, if you have any.

” Quinn bit into her carrot and chewed happily, thrilled to have two days off school in which to work on her project and read The Secret Garden , which she’d just started the night before.

Quinn looked up to find her father standing in the doorway, his expression odd. Her mother’s eyes flew to her husband’s face, her eyes wide with anxiety. “No, Roger,” her mother said, her eyes locked with his. “Not yet.”

“There’s never a good time, Sue, but I think this is the opening we’ve been waiting for.”

Quinn’s mother looked dejected, as if she had suddenly shrunk a few inches, her shoulders hunched, and her lips pursed. Whatever her parents were talking about distressed her a great deal, and she suddenly pushed away the bowl of mash and sat down heavily on the kitchen chair.

“You do it, then,” she said, her tone bleak.

“What are you two talking about?” Quinn demanded, suddenly anxious.

They hadn’t openly mentioned her name, but it was clear that whatever they were arguing about had to do with her.

Why was her mother so upset? And what was it that her father wanted to do?

Was this about the puppy she’d been asking for?

That was the only thing she truly wanted for her birthday, but if it caused her parents so much distress, she’d just wait a few years until she was able to take care of it all on her own.

Quinn grew very still, her eyes shifting from one parent to the other.

The tension in the kitchen was thick as her father left the doorway and approached her slowly, his forehead creased.

No, this couldn’t be about the puppy. This was something else.

Something serious. Something she wished would just go away, whatever it was.

Quinn was only eight, but she knew at that moment that whatever her father was going to say would change everything.

Are they getting a divorce? she suddenly wondered.

Her heart fell. No, it couldn’t be. They loved each other, and they loved her.

She was sure of it. But there were several children in her class whose parents were divorced, and they were shuffled from one parent to the other on weekends and for school holidays.

Quinn wanted to cry, but she was a big girl, so she bit her lip instead and forced herself to meet her father’s troubled gaze.

“Quinn, I want you to know that we love you very much,” her father began as he squatted in front of her. “You must always remember that.”

“I love you too,” she replied, her voice shaking with suppressed tears.

“The thing is… Well, this family tree project…” Her father grew silent, his face tense as he searched for the best way to break the news he felt compelled to share with her.

“What is it, Dad?” Quinn cried, now truly alarmed .

“Quinn, we always meant to tell you. We just wanted to wait until you were old enough to understand. Your mother and I adopted you when you were a baby.”

Quinn stared from one parent to the other. Adopted? She’d never for a moment suspected that she wasn’t their child. She even looked like her father; everyone always said so.

“So, who were my parents, then?” she asked, her voice barely audible.

She supposed she was glad that her parents weren’t getting a divorce, but this news left her utterly gutted.

Her entire existence tilted on its axis, her center of gravity suddenly shifting so alarmingly that she thought she just might slide off and fall into some dark void from which there was no return.

If there was one thing she’d been sure of in life, it was that Susan and Roger Allenby were her parents.

They were ordinary people, who lived an ordinary life, a life of which she had always been the center.

She’d wished for a brother or a sister from time to time, but she loved having her parents all to herself and being the focus of all their love and attention.

How was it possible that she wasn’t theirs?

“We don’t know,” her mother chimed in as she reached for Quinn’s hand, but Quinn pulled it away. She felt too betrayed to allow her mother to touch her just then.

“Did they not want me?” Quinn persisted, her voice shaking with apprehension.

“We don’t know anything about them, sweetheart. We only know that we wanted a child very much and were happy when you came along. You made us a family,” her father explained as he searched her face for understanding.

“Did you try to have a baby of your own?” Quinn asked.

“Yes, but we couldn’t,” her mother said sadly. “We tried for years.”

“So, I wasn’t your first choice. You settled for me. ”

“No!” her parents cried in unison.

“Never that,” her father continued. “We loved you from the moment we saw you.”

“Right,” Quinn replied bitterly, unable to look at her father for fear of crying. She slid off the chair and ran to her room.

“Tea is in ten minutes,” her mother called out after her, but Quinn just ignored her.

“Let her be, Sue. She needs a little time to think this through,” she heard her father’s voice say.

Quinn spent most of that weekend in her room, reading her book and trying hard not to let the conversation with her parents upset her, but she was upset and confused.

Everything she knew about herself was a lie, a fabrication.

The school project no longer held any interest for her.

These weren’t her relatives. They were the relatives of her parents, people who had no biological connection to her.

Of course, lots of people were adopted and lived a perfectly normal life, but to do that she’d need more information.

She needed to fill in the blanks in order to make peace with this newfound knowledge.

Quinn finally emerged on Sunday afternoon.

Her mum was in the kitchen again, baking Quinn’s favorite chocolate chip biscuits.

She’d been trying to cajole her to come out all weekend, bribing Quinn with her favorite foods and the promise of a new bicycle for her birthday.

She didn’t want a bicycle. She wanted a puppy, one that would be hers and hers alone.

It would belong to her, and she would belong to it; they would be each other’s true family.

Quinn sat down at the kitchen table and accepted a biscuit.

It was hot, straight from the oven, but she ate it, nonetheless, enjoying the familiar taste of chocolate. At least that hadn’t changed.

“Are you still my mum?” she asked, her voice cracking .

“Of course I am, and I always will be. Quinn, I didn’t want to tell you, but your father is right. You need to know the truth. If we withheld it from you, you’d find out later and then accuse us of lying to you. We felt it was best to be honest.”

Quinn nodded. She didn’t question her parents’ logic; she understood their reasons for finally telling her the truth. She supposed that it would have come as a shock at any age, even if she were a grown-up. Finding out that you weren’t who you thought you were could never be easy.