Chapter 65
Aurora’s POV
Finally, it’s Saturday. I feel like I can breathe easier away from work and the sight of Thorne and Angeline together. Though, it’s not much better in the car right now. My mom sits in the passenger seat quietly, an awkward air hanging between us.
We haven’t really spoken about the truth of me being abandoned on her doorstep, even as we’re heading to meet with the possible owners of the ring. Since I don’t know what the ring looks like, I had no choice but to ask my mother to join me to search through Ralph’s things- the storeowner who might have bought the ring.
I try to think of something to say, but each time I open my mouth, nothing comes out. I’ve never had this problem with my mother until recently. First this, and then the whole problem of my stepfather still asking for money. I haven’t even told her about the club he sold me to. It would break her heart.
So, I just stay quiet and drive. The GPS tells me to turn onto a dirt road, and at the end, I see a simple house. It’s close to the middle of the pack lands, a few miles from town and in what seems to be a small, rural neighborhood.
As I park, a young couple step out onto the porch, and the woman waves.
“You must be Aurora,” she says with a smile. “Hi, I’m Sarah.”
“Nice to meet you.” Honestly, I’m surprised by her kindness and lack of animosity toward a human. Not that I’m complaining. It’s nice.
The man simply nods and holds the door open for us to enter. Sarah, though, chatters on, “I hope we’ll be able to find what you’re looking for. My grandfather had so many things left in his shop when he passed. I pulled all the jewelry I could find from his things.”
“Thank you. I hope we find it as well.”
I’ve tried to keep myself from getting my hopes up because there’s still a chance that Mr. Ralph didn’t purchase the ring. If so, I’ll be back at square one, and I’ll have to start the search over.
Sarah leads us to the kitchen where jewelry is laid out over every surface. It’s organized into sections of gold or silver, and then into subsections based on types of jewelry. There is so much that there’s barely any counter space left in the large kitchen.
“Was the ring gold or silver?” Sarah asks.
“Silver,” my mother answers, moving toward the silver section. She easily finds the ring trays and begins searching through them. “It has wolf etchings on the band and a circular purple toned moonstone in the center with silver crescent moons on either side of it.”
I help my mother look, and after filtering through probably thirty rings, I look to Sarah, “I don’t see it here. Do you have anything else?”
“I have pictures of items that my grandfather sold. Let me grab them,” she says, scurrying off. I was hoping to have better luck because I don’t know where else to look. If this doesn’t work out, I won’t have any more leads.
None of the other phone numbers the pawn shop gave me were helpful, and I doubt that returning to the pawn shop would help.
“Here they are!” Sarah calls. A loud crash comes from the other room just before she appears in the doorway. The man rushes to her, checking to see if she’s alright, and my heart squeezes. They must be mates.
“I’m alright, Henry,” she whispers, accepting the kiss he drops on her forehead.
He studies her for a second longer before releasing her and letting her come over to us with the pictures, “These were all I could find, but there are a few images with rings.”
“Thank you,” I tell her. She’s going through so much trouble to help me, and she doesn’t even know me. It’s a refreshing feeling. Sarah just smiles and passes the photos to me. I accept them and move to my mom’s side, flipping through them.
My mom watches over my shoulder as I look at each picture. She mutters, “No. Close, but no. Not that one. No again.”
Too many pictures pass by that I think we won’t find it until she grabs my wrist and leans in to get a closer look.
“This one. It has the wolf markings and the purple hue to the stone,” Mom says, takes the picture from me, and shows it to Sarah.
“What number is written on the back?” Sarah asks.
Mom flips the picture over and reads the number, “406.”
“406… follow me,” Sarah instructs, waving us on. “My grandfather has files of buyers and sales in a book. He said it was always to make sure he could contact the buyers if something went wrong with the sale… 406, 406, 406.”
She repeats the number like she’s trying not to forget it as she leads us through the house. We make it to a little office library, and I watch Sarah skim her fingers over the books on the wall. A minute later, she pulls a brown leather journal off the shelf and begins flipping through the pages, “320… 400… 406… here it is!”
My heart jumps in my chest, wedging itself in my throat and making it hard to breathe. This is it. I could learn more about my family.
“The customer’s name is Leah Ashford, and she bought the ring from my grandfather two years ago. I have her number here if you want it,” Sarah says, looking up at me.
“Yes, please.”
She passes the journal to me, and I enter the number into my phone. Excitement quickly takes over the anxiety as I finally get one step closer to finding my family.
Silence hangs between me and my mom again as I drive. My phone burns a hole in my pocket, begging me to pull it out and call Leah Ashford. Though, I’m not sure if I should do it in front of my mother.
Is that rude?
Am I an awful daughter for being so excited to find my birth parents?
I glance at my mom to find her already looking at me.
“Aurora, honey… I…”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
She lowers her head and sighs. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice how she folds her hands in her lap. It’s something she always does when she’s upset.
“I didn’t want to keep the truth from you, Aurora, but I also didn’t want you to take the news badly,” she answers. “I had this nightmare that you would feel unwanted, and I couldn’t do that to you.”
“I’m an adult, Mom. I could’ve handled the news that I’m… that you’re not my real mother.”
A sharp intake of breath makes me turn my head, and I realize what I said.
“I didn’t mean it like that. You’re my mother,” I whisper past the lump in my throat.
“I just wanted you to be happy.”
Reaching out, I take her hand in mine and squeeze it gently, “You raised me, and I love you, but I need you to tell me the truth from now on.”
“Of course, honey. I see now that I should have told you.”
