Awakening (Children of Angels) (9 page)

“
Wait a minute, Mary, let her speak. Just let her tell us what
’
s bothering her. What is it Mia honey? Let us help you.
”

“
I wanted to ask you about
…
about me
…
about where
…
who
…”
the words got lost somewhere between her brain and her mouth, and she sat there in silence, returning her gaze to the peas on her plate once again, as she started pushing them around the plate once more.

“…
about where you came from
”
her mother finished the sentence softly. It was not a question, it was a statement. She knew exactly what Mia was asking.

“
Yes
”
whispered Mia, still not looking up to meet her parents
’
eyes. She was, in truth, terrified of what she might find there. Anger? Hurt? Disappointment? She did not think she could bear to see any of those things.

There were a few moments of silence, during which Mia imagined her parents exchanging glances. Finally, her father broke the silence as he reached across the table and squeezed her hand gently.

“
We
’
re not mad at you, Mia. You have every right to know who you are, where you come from. We knew you would ask some day.
”

Reluctantly, Mia looked up to meet her father’s eyes. He smiled at her, as she studied his face for any sign she had hurt his feelings. He
seemed
fine. She chanced a look across at her mother, who was looking at her carefully, with a steady gaze. She smiled when Mia met her eyes, and pushed the chair back from the dining table.

“
I’ll go and get the box
”
she said, with a knowing nod in Mia
’
s father
’
s direction
“
would you two mind just clearing the table while I go and get it? We are going to need the space
”
she smiled again, as if to reassure Mia, and then walked out of the room.

“
Come on then, Pumpkin
”
her father said, as he too pushed back his chair and stood up
“
better do as she - your mum - says
”
. He started gathering up the plates, and gestured to Mia to start tidying away the condiments and napkins. As she worked, Mia surreptitiously watched her father, wondering what box her mother had gone to fetch, and how her parents
really
felt about doing this.

The only thing that betrayed her father’s discomfort was his use of the name he had called her when she was a very small child, and the fact that he had qualified that he meant her mother when he said “she”. Other than that, he seemed to be very calm and collected and
normal
. He certainly did not look as though his only daughter had broken his heart, and Mia’s relief was palpable.

Mia and her father had finished clearing the table and were sitting in silence when her mother returned, bearing a plastic packing box which was covered in dust and more than a few cobwebs. Her mother set the box down on the table, then carefully removed the lid, screwing up her face in disgust as her hands got coated in a grimy layer of dust, and cobwebs floated off and clung to her clothes.

“
This is everything we know, everything we have about your beginnings
”
she said with a deep breath
“
of course, we would have given it to you when you turned eighteen, your Dad and I agreed that when we adopted you. We also agreed that we would never withhold it from you if you asked for it, isn
’
t that right, Joe?
”
Mia
’
s father nodded, his eyes still focused on his daughter. Regardless of blood, she would
always
be his daughter, he thought to himself. It didn't matter that he and Mary were not her real parents. She was their little girl, and always would be.

“
Well, come on then honey - come over here and go through this stuff with me. This is
yours
after all. It may not be much, but it’s all we have - I
’
m only sorry it isn
’
t more. I don
’
t think it will tell you much, but I
’
ll let you be the judge of that
”
her mother smiled.

Mia remained in her seat, and looked back and forth between the smiling faces of the people she had called her parents all her life. At that moment, she regretted asking. She didn't want to know who she
might
have been, in an entirely different set of circumstances. She wanted to just be
her
, who she was, who she had always been - she wanted to forget she was even adopted, she wanted to just be a family. But something within her told her she
had
to know. It was important for some reason, although the reason was not clear to her.

All this fuss and upset, over a stupid dream, she thought to herself harshly. Still, there was no going back now. She stood up slowly, and peered over the edge of the box and into it. Her mother had been right, there wasn’t much in there. Mostly it looked as though it was a collection of papers, a piece of fabric peeked out from beneath a newspaper cutting, it looked as though it might have been a blanket, but there was nothing else in there.

As Mia simply stood and stared into the box, as though the box contained a monster waiting to bite her hand off. Her mother took the initiative and began removing things from the box, one by one.

“
This
”
said Mia
’
s mother, holding up one piece of paper
“
is your adoption certificate. That was undoubtedly the best day of our lives, Mia, the day you became our daughter
”
she smiled, and Mia could tell the smile was genuine, and returned it. But it was not information about
after
she came to be their daughter that she needed, it was
before
that she needed to know about, so she did not take the certificate when her mother offered it to her. Her mother lay the adoption certificate on the table, and moved to pick up another piece of paper from the stack. Mia seemed to wake from a trance, as her brain slowly clicked into gear and figured out that the adoption certificate may actually be all that she needed.

“
Actually - can I
…
could I look at that please?
”
she asked

“
Of course, honey
”
her mother passed the certificate over to her, and, unseen to Mia, exchanged a glance with her father. The both knew what Mia was looking for on the certificate, and they also knew that she would not find it.

Mia quickly found out too, and the disappointment showed on her face. It couldn't be that simple, could it? She had hoped, foolishly she realized, that her mother’s name might have been on the adoption certificate. Something stating that she had given up her rights to her child. A starting point for finding out who she was. But there was nothing. The guardian surrendering their rights to her and signing all parental rights over to the people who had raised her was listed as a social worker.

“
Is there a birth certificate, amongst that stuff?
”
she asked miserably, but with little hope.

“
I
’
m sorry sweetheart, but no - we don
‘
t have anything with your mother or your father
‘
s names on. We don
’
t know if your birth was ever registered - but in all likelihood it wasn
’
t. You were only a few hours old when you were found.
”

It was pretty much as Mia had expected, but for one tiny moment, she had dared to hope. Miserably, and slightly disheartened, she turned to the other things her mother was pulling from the box.

“
What are those?
”
she asked, leaning forward to peer over the faded and yellowing clippings.

“
Newspaper cuttings, about you.
”
Her mother offered the small pile to her, and she took them dully. She doubted that these would hold any information of value, but supposed she ought to look at them.

The first was a front page news story, headlined “Baby Found Outside Local Church”. The information contained within it was basic, and pretty much what Mia already knew from what her parents had told her. A newborn baby girl was found abandoned on the steps of a church, the community was in shock, the child was being taken care of and seemed healthy. Nothing too detailed, but then, Mia supposed that since she had been found in the early hours of the morning, and became front page news the same day, that they did not have much time to gather details to report.

The clippings in the pile were in ascending chronological order, and Mia leafed through them with increasing curiosity. It was quite strange, to be reading details of her own life, and to know that thousands of other people in the city had read the same story and knew just as much about her beginnings as she knew herself. For a few days, she had been the front page news story - “Church appeals for information on abandoned tot”, “Police and Church appeal for mother of Church baby to come forward”, and other headlines in the same vein. Afterwards, she was just a column further in, with titles such as “ ‘Please come forward, we want to help you‘ - impassioned plea from pastor to mother of dumped baby”, “Police still have no leads on abandoned tot”. The columns got progressively smaller and then fizzled out altogether - the final report was entitled “Happy ending for abandoned baby” which was a report on her adoption.

The final cutting in the pile was a small scrap cut out from the personal announcements section, and it was a birthday greeting announcing her first birthday.

“
Happy 1
^st
birthday to our little Angel, Mia”

A lump formed in her throat then, and she felt tears begin to gather in her eyes. Again, she felt a twinge of guilt, as though she was betraying these people who had clearly loved her a great deal from the very beginning. If they felt any betrayal though, they certainly weren’t showing it on their faces. Both were watching her carefully as she sifted through the cuttings, and now her mother moved towards her and touched her arm gently.

“
Oh sweetheart, don
’
t get upset! I know it all sounds bad in those stories honey, but you have to remember that wasn
’
t your life forever. You were found and you were safe, and that was all that mattered. You didn
’
t stay lost - you found your way home, it was just a slightly different home than the one you came from.
”
She smiled and Mia nodded, blinking back the tears. It was sweet that her mother had wanted to comfort her, and thought it was the tales of the family who hadn
’
t wanted her, the mother who had left her in a cardboard box in the street like people abandon unwanted litters of kittens, that had upset her. When really it had been the fact that someone else
had
wanted her.

She looked down at the cuttings again, this time focusing on the pictures accompanying the stories, whilst she regained her composure. Her mother sat down beside her father and they both continued to watch her carefully. As she gazed at the picture on the first headline, the picture of the church she had been found outside of, she felt a jolt in her stomach. She picked the cutting up closer to her face, and squinted. In the background, she thought she could see…but it wasn’t possible. No, it must be her imagination. There was a person standing there, in the far background, but their face was nothing more than a blur. She frowned, and closely examined the next picture, this one of the press conference appealing for information and for her birth mother to come forward.