“That’s impossible.”
“Her parents sent her to stay with relatives in another state until I was born. Then I was placed for adoption.”
My mouth went dry.
Mom had never mentioned having another child.
Dorian explained that his adoptive parents had loved him, but both died before he finished high school. His adoptive father died first. His mother became ill soon afterward, and the medical bills took almost everything they owned.
After she died, Dorian searched through her papers and found the name Marlene Hale.
He came to our town looking for his birth mother.
“That’s why you were behind our house,” I whispered.
“I didn’t know how to approach her. Then your father died before I could decide what to do.”
Mom had found him near the dumping ground several days later. He showed her the adoption papers and the hospital photograph.
She knew immediately who he was.
“Why didn’t she bring you inside?” I asked.
“Because you had just lost your father. She thought telling you she had another child would make you believe your whole life had been a lie.”
“She let me believe something worse.”
“I know.”
The apple pie returned to me with painful clarity.
Her anger.
The way she had said, “Never speak about him that way.”
“She was defending her son,” I said.
Dorian lowered his eyes.
“Yes.”
I stood and walked to the window.
“You knew all these years?”
“Not at first. She told me the truth the day she found me. But she asked me to give her time.”
“Twenty years is not time. It’s a life.”
“I asked her to tell you more than once.”
“And when she refused?”
“I stayed away.”
His answer made me turn around.
“So you chose her.”
“No. I was afraid of destroying what little relationship you still had with her.”
“We barely had one.”
“I know that now.”
After Dorian’s business became successful, he began quietly helping Mom. He paid off the remaining mortgage and covered repairs to the house. When her health started failing, he hired someone to check on her twice a week.
Mom made him promise never to tell me.
She was ashamed of having given him away. She was also ashamed that fear had kept her silent for so long.
“Why weren’t you at the hospital?” I asked.
“I was.”
My chest tightened.
