Fiction Short Story

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Fiction Short Story

by Rod McNulty

FamilyMatters

Again, I can't find the words to express my gratitude toward you, Mr. Ryan. The services you provide at FamilyMatters are priceless.

Unendingly Grateful Yours,
Mary Richards.

Nathaniel Ryan read the last line of the e-mail again. He allowed himself a small smile. In the three and a half years since he started his not-for-profit website, he had helped reunite over 100 adoptees with their birth parents.

It was two a.m. and Nathaniel was exhausted. He closed his eyes, leaned back in his chair and let his mind drift back three years.

"Hello, can I please speak with Mrs. Emory?" he inquired.

"Who's calling, please," asked an elderly voice on the other end of the phone.

"My name is Nathaniel Ryan and I think Mrs. Emory might be able to help locate my mother," he replied. The tension in his voice felt strong enough to melt the phone in his hand.

"This is she, dear, but I'm afraid I don't know any Ryans," Mrs. Emory replied.

"No ma'am." Nathaniel said, "My mother's name was Martha Young and I think she used to be your neighbor."

"Oh sure, she lived next door to me her entire life. I'm sorry to say that she passed several years ago, not long after her husband Richard was killed in car accident. It's just horrible to have two nice people taken so early."

Nathaniel's heart sank. He had been searching for his birth parents for over two years and now it looked like his search had come to devastating end. A lump rose in his throat and he sat in silence for what seemed an eternity. When he was finally able to speak, Nathaniel apologized and explained that Martha had given him up for adoption at birth 35 years before. For the next three hours, Mrs. Emory told Nathaniel everything she knew about his mother. He learned that Martha had lived her entire life in the same small town and married her high school sweetheart, Richard, after he returned home from Vietnam. Both of them were only children and their parents had also passed away. Martha was diagnosed with cancer about three years ago. Tragically, Richard was killed in an auto accident about three months before Martha died of her cancer. Unfortunately, they never had any other children.

"Nate, it's after two, aren't you coming to bed?" he heard his wife ask from the bedroom, and the memory of that day faded.

"I'm sorry babe," he said. "I'm almost done. Try to get some sleep and I'll be there soon. Remember, you've got an exam in the morning."

Even though Nathaniel was tired and longed to join his wife, he continued researching a tough case. To call his small space a den was generous, to say the least. His home office was little bigger than a closet tucked into a nook of his modest apartment. The nook was surrounded by windows, which flooded the space with light by day, and provided an excellent view of the park across the street. A light rain began to tap on the windows and Nathaniel found his own typing keeping time with the rain.

Dear Mr. Gibson,

I am afraid that I have nothing new to report. I can find no record of Abby whatsoever. Unfortunately, an exhaustive search of hospital and school records turned up nothing. In fact, I have been unable to find any record containing the name Abby. I will continue my efforts but I am concerned that we are running out of search avenues. Any additional information you may provide could help.

Sincerely,
Nathaniel Ryan,
FamilyMatters

Nathaniel pressed send and shut his computer down.

John Gibson had contacted Nathaniel several months before in hopes of locating an old girlfriend named Abby. Nathaniel learned that Abby had given birth to a baby that was given up for adoption about eight months after John's family moved away. John had happened upon an old friend who relayed what he remembered about Abby. Unfortunately, John was unable to find any additional information concerning the girl or the baby and so he turned to FamilyMatters for help.

Nathaniel had taken an instant liking to John and wanted to find his lost family almost as much as John. Perhaps it was fact that most of the people that turned to FamilyMatters were children searching for their birthparents. A large number of people that gave their children up for adoption often felt very guilty. They were also afraid they would find unwelcoming castoffs that held only animosity for them. John was different. His e-mail to Nathaniel's organization was very heart wrenching. He explained how he met Abby one summer and had instantly fallen in love with her. She did not want to become involved with John but his dogged determination and patience with her had paid off.

Although they only had a few short months together, John never forgot Abby. He still loved her today as much as his teenage self did those many years before. Even though he was happily married to a wonderful woman, Abby always held a special place in his heart. He went on to explain how horrified he was to learn about his baby. Unfortunately, his wife Trish was never able to have children and the thought of his own son or daughter somewhere out in the world without him was almost too much to bear. He began to search for Abby and the baby but was never able to learn very much more than his old friend was able to tell him. He was haunted by nightmares of a lost child wandering alone and afraid.

Several weeks after his last e-mail to John, Nathaniel found himself just about out of options. Extensive searches of birth, marriage, and death records turned up no one by the name of Abby in the small town of Lincoln. No adoption records could be found either and he was dreading the call to John. Nathaniel reached for the phone and it suddenly rang, startling him. Picking up the phone, he was glad for the distraction as it meant that his call to John could be delayed just a while longer.

"Hello," Nathaniel said.

"Hi, Nathaniel," said a familiar voice.

Nathaniel's heart sank. "Hi, John. I was just about to call you. I'm afraid I don't have very good news for you,” he said. He realized that John's voice seemed a little more upbeat than usual.

"Nathaniel, I found a bit of information that might help us. When I met Abby, she was spending the summer with her aunt and uncle. I don't ever remember her telling me where she lived," John said, barely pausing to breathe. "I didn't even get to tell her goodbye when my father was shipped out to Germany. Remember I told you I was a military brat. Well, anyway, I met someone online that thought they knew Abby from Lincoln and she said that her friend lived in Franklin and would sometimes visit her aunt and uncle in Lincoln," he went on to explain.

Nathaniel almost laughed. The image of John with the phone pressed to his ear, blue in the face from talking without breathing, and biggest grin on his face flashed before him.

"John, that's great news. Let me get to work and see what I can come up with," he said. "I'll call you back in a few days." Feeding off John's excitement, Nathaniel almost hung up without saying goodbye.

For the next few days, Nathaniel Ryan threw his self into his work for FamilyMatters. He was so excited that he took a couple of days vacation to work on John's case. After four full days of work, that sinking feeling set in again. All the usual records failed to turn up any Abbys in Franklin. Nathaniel was about to throw in the towel when he remembered a contact in Franklin from another case he worked a few years ago. It was a long shot but what the hell, nothing else worked. He picked up the phone.

"Hi, Mrs. Emory, this is Nathaniel Ryan. We spoke a few years ago..."

"Oh sure, I remember you, honey," she said, cutting him off. "How have you been?"

"Fine, listen if it's not too much trouble I wondered if you might remember a young lady that lived in Lincoln. Her name was Abby and she may have even been a friend of my mother’s," he explained.

"Well dear, the only Abby that I ever remember living here was your mom. By the way, after we spoke..."

Now it was Nathaniel's turn to cut Mrs. Emory off. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Emory, but my mother's name was Martha," he said.

"Oh sure, dear, but her middle name was Abigail. She hated the name Martha. Said it sounded too old. You know after we spoke, I remembered something but did not know how to contact you." Mrs. Emory went on. "Your father, Rich, was sent away to the war about a year and half before you were born. So you see, your father can't be your father," she said.

Nathaniel dropped the phone! With a trembling hand, he somehow managed the strength to pick it up again. "Mrs. Emory," he said with a trembling voice. "I need to call you back." And with that, Nathaniel hung up the phone.

For a long time Nathaniel sat in silence. He could not bring himself to believe what he had just learned. Even though a well of emotions were springing up inside he sat stone-faced, almost paralyzed. When he was finally able to move, he reached for the phone. He dialed the number and had to wait three rings before it was answered.

"John, it’s Nate. I've found your son"...

Copyright © 2004 Rod McNulty

About the Author
Rod McNulty lives in the Tampa Bay area with his wife of five years. He has a degree in Web Management and currently works as a Multi Media Developer for a large pharmacy benefit manager. He spends most of his time with his beautiful bride and his loving family. He has a life long love of writing. He plans to begin a novel soon.