Book of Memories

The wind whipped harshly around her, forcing her long red hair to become a messy tangle. With a huff of annoyance, Victoria Duncan shoved her locks behind her shoulder. She had been standing outside the brick building for five minutes. While she willed her feet forward, they refused to move. It had only been a few days ago when the mysterious lawyer had contacted her. He had a deep voice, with a thick midwestern accent. He introduced himself as Mr. Bryan Darby. He asked her to come to his office in Atchison, nearly an hour away from her home town of Lawrence, Kansas. He refused to give her many details over the phone, simply saying she was not in any kind of legal trouble. At that she had given a sigh of relief. Victoria had lived her entire life being as angelic as possible. Any kind of strife caused her heartbeat to pound erratically. Learning early on that she could not stand such a feeling, she tried to be “the good girl.”

Yet, despite knowing she was not here for anything negative, her heart fluttered angrily in her chest. Nerves tingled across her limbs, keeping them locked in place. The heavy oak door creaked open, revealing an older man with a neatly trimmed, short gray beard. His blue eyes scanned her frozen figure, waving her inside. Deciding she now had no choice, Victoria walked towards him, giving him a curt nod as she walked past him through the door. He shut the door and turned to face her, a gentle smile forming on his wrinkled lips. He patted his black suit jacket, slipping his hand into the pocket and pulling out a neatly folded slip of paper.

“Ms. Victoria, I assume?” he asked.

Victoria simply nodded, still feeling extremely uneasy and confused.

“Follow me, please,” he directed, and began walking down a short hallway until he came to an open door. He allowed her to walk in first, waving towards an empty chair on the other side of a huge mahogany desk. Once she was seated, Mr. Darby gave her a sympathetic smile. “I’m sure this must be very strange for you. But I am,” he paused briefly, “was, the lawyer for a woman named Beatrice Johnson. She left you a sizable estate in her will.”

Victoria’s face wrinkled in confusion. “I’m sorry, but I’ve never known anyone by that name,” she explained. “I don’t know anyone from Atchison, I’ve grown up in Lawrence my entire life.”

“Did you though, Ms. Duncan?” Mr. Darby questioned, sliding a black notebook towards across the top of his desk.

Victoria fingered the textured black cover delicately. The notebook was small, only five or so inches across and eight inches tall. She felt fear and apprehension, though she had no idea why. With a hard swallow, Victoria forced herself to flip the front cover open. A polaroid slipped from behind a flap attached to the cover. Gingerly picking the photo up, she instantly recognized the infant in the picture as herself. Her parents had this same photo of her on their mantle at home.

Realization hit Victoria like a ton of bricks. Of course! She had been adopted at birth. Her parents had told her this from the moment they believed she would understand the concept. Adoption was such a small part of her life, she had nearly forgotten, but things were slowly starting to make sense.

“This Beatrice Johnson, she was my birth mother?” she asked Mr. Darby, though she already knew the answer.

“Yes, she was. I understand your adoption was closed, but she told me your parents sent her that photo of you not long after they took you home from the hospital. She wanted to make sure you got that notebook. And this,” he explained. He pushed a small rectangular piece of paper to her, his fingertips leaving the long edge as soon as she grabbed it.

“Twenty thousand dollars!” Victoria yelped in shock as she read the number on the check. It was made out to her in first name only, the last name left blank. She assumed this was because her birth mother had not been allowed to know her new last name, due to the fact it was a closed adoption.

“I’m going to give you a few moments to look over the notebook she left you and consider if you want the money. If you do not accept the check, the money will roll into the remainder of her estate and be disbursed appropriately,” Mr. Darby said as he stood and walked towards the door. He didn’t wait for her answer, instead slipping through the door and closing it behind him.

With shaky hands, Victoria opened the black notebook once more. On the first page Beatrice described herself. The entry was dated one day after her birth. Beatrice went on to describe her teenage pregnancy and how she had come to the decision of adoption. Victoria had known her birth mother was a teen, but knew nothing else of her. She continued to flip through, skipping every five pages or so, understanding that while Mr. Darby was giving her time, he was not proposing she read the entirety of the notebook in one sitting.

One page in particular caught her interest and had her throat dry immediately. Beatrice had gotten married five years after giving birth to Victoria and found herself pregnant again. Her neatly scrawled cursive writing oozed with feelings of happiness. Yet, she also explained a surprising sadness, the pregnancy reminding her she had a five-year-old daughter out there, somewhere. Her birth mother reiterated her love for her, and the hope that one day she would come into possession of the small black notebook. Another few pages chronicled Beatrice’s career as a social worker. Hoping to help families who needed it. Victoria gave a knowing smile, understanding exactly how Beatrice felt.

Finally, Victoria turned to the final page of the journal. Tears immediately welled in her green orbs.

‘My dearest child,

I wish we had been able to meet each other. It was a decision I struggled with my entire life since leaving your side. But the thought of interrupting what was surely a wonderful life, kept me from doing so. I hope you can connect with me through these pages. You have two siblings, as I’m sure you have read by now. My time in this world is over, and it is full of regret that I leave my children behind, including you. I have instructed our family lawyer to give you the same inheritance as your siblings, if he is able to track you down. The money is yours to do with as you please. I hope it will bring a smile to your face, and be a gentle reminder that no matter where you were, my love for you never faltered.

Love always,

Beatrice

As she whispered the last line, the tears fell freely from Victoria’s eyes, rolling down her cheeks akin to a stream. Hearing the door open, she wiped the salt water from her cheeks with the back of her fair hand.

“Is all well, my dear?” Mr. Darby asked, easing back into the plush, brown leather chair behind his desk.

Victoria nodded, flashing him a large smile, “I believe so Mr. Darby, I can’t think you enough for finding me and making sure I received these gifts from my birth mother. Of course, I accept her monetary gift and I will treasure this notebook for the rest of my life.”

“Good, good,” the kindly man replied, but a curiosity glazed over his features. “What will you do with the money?” he asked gently. “You don’t have to tell me, of course, I am merely curious.”

“Oh, it isn’t any issue Mr. Darby. You see, I am a social worker. I run a shelter for women and children. This money will allow us to add more beds and stock the pantry for months,” Victoria cried happily.

Mr. Darby gave a gigantic grin, nodding his approval, “Like mother, like daughter.”