Chapter 9 – The Agency

The days unopened mail gradually decreased as Shona opened each envelope in its turn. She made three separate piles from the contents, bills, letters and completed consent forms. The bills Shona passed to the accounts section, the letters she placed on Alison's, one of her colleagues, desk and she kept the consent forms for herself. Picking them up she moved across to her own desk and switched on her computer. Whilst she waited for it to boot up Shona rifled through the forms stopping when she spotted a familiar surname, Sloan. It had been Dr. Mark Sloan who had been in ER the day she had been rushed in with the most horrendous abdominal pains she could ever remember, which Mark had quickly diagnosed as being an ectopic pregnancy. It had also been Mark who visited her many times after the life saving surgery, helping her to come to terms with her loss. She was more grateful than she could ever hope to say and he had earned a permanent place in her heart.

Shona read through the consent form and tears brimmed in her eyes. During her conversations with Mark she had come to realise just how much he loved his children and she instinctively felt that he would make a superb grandfather.  True, she couldn't be sure that Steve Sloan was related to Mark, but Sloan wasn't a very common name.

Pulling her keyboard towards her, she began keying in the information on the form. Having completed the inputting Shona moved the cursor to the tool bar at the top of the screen and clicked on the 'link' icon which would show if there was any similar information on the database.

It only took a few seconds for the  result to flash up on the screen and Shona let out a sigh of relief as she read the names Amy Tyler and Nick Carter. Shona had been through the process enough times to know the next step. She needed to pass everything across to Daryl, her supervisor. Getting up she moved across the large, open plan office and stopped by a desk in the far corner. The man sitting behind it looked up and smiled,

"Good morning, Shona. What can I do for you?"

Holding out Steve's form Shona said, "I think we finally have a match for Nick Carter."

To Shona's delight, Daryl's jaw dropped just as she hoped it would. They'd had, over the past few years, a number of phone calls from Nick Carter asking if anyone had contacted the agency. Over that time they had got to know Nick fairly well and they had all begun to wonder if he would ever be reunited with his birth parents. Having read Amy's letter, Shona felt sad that Nick wouldn't ever know his mother but, if Steve proved to be Mark Sloan's son, then she knew he must be a good man.

"Okay," Daryl responded, holding his hand out for the form, "let's see what we have."

He pulled his keyboard towards him and brought up the relevant information on his screen. As a supervisor, Daryl was able to access both forms at the same time,by using a split screen.  After a few minutes perusal, he nodded and said,

"Okay, Shona let's get a letter out to them both."

Moving back to her desk Shona opened a new window on her computer and began working on the mailmerge which would produce the letters she would send out to both Steve and Nick. Printing out the letters Shona checked that everything was okay and put each in an envelope, ready for posting later in the day.

¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬

Forty eight hours later two letters dropped onto the doormats of two separate households.

¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬

Yawning, Steve Sloan slowly walked up the stairs to the front door. He had been on a night-shift which had been unusually tedious. Personally, Steve preferred to be busy , it made the time go much faster. He opened the front door and stepped inside and as he did so he felt his foot slip a little underneath him.  Looking down he saw the mail sitting there on the doormat and he reached to pick it up. The first envelope was a piece of junk mail for Mark so Steve quickly turned his attention to the second. The first thing that he noticed was the printed address on the back of the envelope which showed that it was from the adoption agency.

Steve was a seasoned homicide detective who had dealt with many disturbing things in the course of his career. Nothing, however, had prepared him for the feelings which assailed him now. His mouth lost all its moisture and his tongue seemed permanently attached to his upper palate. A part of him wanted to rip open the envelope and devour its contents but his hands felt curiously numb and did not seem to want to obey his mental commands. A hole also seemed to have appeared in his stomach as a feeling of fear washed over him. He was still rooted to the same spot when Mark came out of his bedroom a few minutes later.

"Steve?" he asked, coming to stand next to his statue-like son.

At the sound of his father's voice, Steve came out of his reverie and looked up.

"What's the matter?" Mark continued.

For answer, Steve held up the letter so that Mark could see what was on it.

"What does it say?"

"I don't know," Steve replied, "I haven't opened it yet."

"Are you going to?"

"What if it isn't what I want to read?" There was a plaintive quality in Steve's voice as he spoke which almost broke his father's heart.

"Steve, nothing can be worse than not knowing." Mark tried to be reassuring, "Once you open that envelope you will know where you stand and you will be able to deal with it. You may not like what you read but I know that you have to strength to cope."

Flashing a quick, grateful smile at his father, Steve turned his attention to the envelope in his hand. With fingers that were less than steady, Steve carefully opened the flap and pulled out the enclosed sheet of paper. For a while there was silence as Steve read and attempted to absorb the words on the sheet of paper in front of him. Despite his patience and understanding of Steve's need, Mark was almost hopping on the spot.

"Well?"

"He wants to see me." Steve spoke, reading the letter once again, "He had already signed a Consent form."

"So what happens now?" Mark asked.

"Apparently we both have to contact the agency and they arrange a meeting at a time that suits us both."

"Are you going to phone them now?"

"No," Steve answered, "I need to sleep on it first."

Mark chuckled, "Do you honestly think that you will be able to sleep until you have made that call?"

A wry look came across Steve's face as he silently acknowledged the truth of Mark's remark. He moved across to the phone, picked up the receiver and dialled the number, very quickly replacing it. He looked across at Mark and said, "Answer phone, the office is shut until Monday. I guess I'll have to ring then."

¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬

Unusually, for the Carter household, Nick was not the first person to rise. Jenny had woken feeling a little unwell and had decided to go downstairs and, if necessary, use the bathroom there so as not to disturb anyone. It was Saturday morning and she felt that Nick deserved a lie in. Reaching the bottom of the stairs Jenny made her way into the kitchen and poured herself a glass of cool water from the refrigerator. Sipping from the glass as she walked, Jenny entered the lounge and sat down on the large, comfortable sofa swinging her feet up onto the seat so that she was able to rest her head against the arm. She shut her eyes in the hope that that might quell the gentle but persistent roiling of her stomach.

She awoke a while later her stomach protesting far more violently that it had been earlier and she only just made it to the cloakroom in time. Exiting it a coupled of minutes later, Jenny leant her head against the relative coolness of the wall wondering what it was that had upset her stomach so much. As she stood there, Jenny heard footsteps coming up the path and a few seconds later there was a clattering sound as the mail tumbled down the door onto the floor.

Pushing herself off of the wall, Jenny knelt down and picked up the mail. Flicking through the envelopes in her hand, Jenny stopped when she reached a particular one.

"Nick!" she called out, then wished she hadn't as another wave of nausea flowed over her and she dropped the mail in her haste to get back into the cloakroom.

Nick was in a half daze when his shouted name penetrated his consciousness. The tone of Jenny's voice also made an impression and he swiftly jumped out of bed, dashing down the stairs. As he reached the final step, Jenny appeared out of the cloakroom looking very pale and wiping her mouth.

"Jenny, are you okay"? he asked.

"No, I feel lousy, but that wasn't why I called." Jenny replied, indicating the mail spread across the floor, "That's why I called."

Puzzled, Nick bent down and for the second time the mail was lifted from the floor. The first letter he looked at was the one from the adoption agency. Nick paled and swayed a little as he gazed at the envelope.

"Open it Nick," Jenny urged, "this could be what you've been waiting for."

Like Steve, Nick carefully opened the envelope and extracted its contents. As he read the letter a sob escaped him and a tear ran down his face.

"My father has made contact with the agency and wants to meet."

"What have you got to do?" Jenny asked.

Nick checked the letter again and said, "I need to ring the agency and they will arrange a meeting."

"Will there be anyone there today?" Jenny asked.

"I don't think so," Nick replied, "I'll ring them first thing Monday morning."

"Great," Jenny answered, diving back into the cloakroom again.