***
The car’s heater blasted hot air into my dry eyes as I stared at the soft, falling snowflakes. For the past two years, we lived in Georgia, and I missed the snow. Winter was ending soon, but I was thankful we’d moved in time to see a snowfall. It was my favorite kind of weather. It reminded me of the hope I held in my biological parents—even more so in Hayworth—but I didn’t know why.
We stopped in front of the school. Freshmen and sophomores trudged inside, their cheeks rosy red from the bitter cold. I didn’t move from the car, even when I saw the parent behind us roll her eyes. These kids were lucky to know who gave them life, yet they didn’t appreciate it. Because they didn’t know what it was like without the luxury.
“Mom?” I said and took a deep breath.
“Yes, sweetheart?” she asked, turning down the roaring heater.
I didn’t respond; instead, I tapped the window, thinking about my restless night—my dream. It had been on my mind since I woke up, but why? I had more important things to worry about.
“Something on your mind?” she asked, interrupting my thoughts.
My gaze dropped to my shoes. “Mom.” I paused, choking at the idea of saying it aloud, but then blurted it out. “Would you and Dad be okay if I looked for my biological family?”
My mother sucked in a breath, and I knew her heart had collapsed. My parents argued about moving back to Hayworth, because I had been born here. They moved away immediately for a reason. They wanted to leave my past behind, but I couldn’t. Not anymore.
“This is where I was born,” I said, locking my blue eyes on her brown ones. “This is where my biological family was from—”
“But, honey.” Her softened voice was barely audible. “They died. I thought we went over this.”
“I might have relatives.”
“You don’t,” she said. “The adoptive services showed us the death certificates and explained the situation in detail.”
“But they could’ve missed something,” I said, gripping my backpack.
My mother’s lowered brow placed shadows over her gaze. “They didn’t,” she said firmly. “Hayworth is a small town. You’ll come to see that.”
I dug my nails into my palm, swallowing tears as they threatened to crawl up my throat. “I still want to try.”
She put the car in park, and the car behind us honked before reversing and driving around us. Sighing, Mom leaned against the steering wheel and peered at me from behind her straight, blonde hair—another physical trait opposite of mine. “Sweetheart—”
“I could at least find someone who remembers my biological parents,” I persisted. “I want to know who they were before they died. You’ve never even told me how it happened.”
My mother placed a hand on her wrinkled forehead and breathed into her arm, hiding her face as she shook her head in silence. I slumped in my seat as curious freshman began to stare at our parked car. “Mom—”
“If that’s what you want, Jessie,” she finally said, swiping a tear away. “I’ll support you every step of the way—as long as you keep your grades perfect. Research is a lot of work, and if one grade slips, then the deal is off until you can pass again.”
My lips stretched into a wide grin. “Thank you.” I reached over and wrapped my arms around her neck. “No matter what, you’re still my mom. I’ll always love you.”
She stroked my back before pulling away and smiling. “We’ll worry about your father later, just have a good day.”
Grabbing my backpack, I opened the passenger door. “You, too, Mom,” I added as I shut the car door, watching as she sped away. Her car weaved between the others. The engine’s white smoke curled toward the tires. It was only the beginning of the day, and so much had already happened. I hugged myself, enjoying the cold, and rushed toward the school in delight. A lot could happen in twenty-four hours.