Chapter 2

Later, Soda was never able to remember how long he stood in the middle of the kitchen with his mouth hanging open while Maureen cried quietly on the other end. He couldn't be her father. It wasn't possible.

"Did Sandy tell you I was your daddy?" Soda asked finally, his voice quiet and kind.

Maureen gulped. "No. Her father did. Sandy's … she died, Mr. Cur – er, Soda. Some sort of accident, in 1986. They wouldn't tell me the details."

Soda heard himself gasp. He did quick mental math – she had been only 35. As the heartbreak of her betrayal faded, so had the power her love had had over him. The few times he thought of her over the years, he wondered vaguely how she was. It had never occurred to him that she might be dead. Even with all the losses he had been through, it had simply never crossed his mind.

"I think he made a mistake," Soda said finally, but Maureen interrupted him.

"No, there's more. I have a copy of my original birth certificate. Your name is on it." Maureen paused to blow her nose. "Mr. Hinton said she was supposed to leave it blank, but she wouldn't, so then they had to try to find you."

"No one did," Soda said faintly. "I was here the whole time. I was right where she left me, until I was almost 26."

"They put a legal notice in the paper in Kissimmee," Maureen said, a note of scorn creeping into her voice. "Of course you didn't see it. It was legal bullshit to make sure you didn't find out and object. I mean – baloney. Excuse me. That Mr. Hinton isn't very nice, is he?"

Soda smiled, even though she couldn't see him. "Let's just say it doesn't sound like he's changed much," he allowed.

"My name is on it," Maureen said. "The name she gave me. Julie Diane."

Soda closed his eyes and groped for the kitchen chair behind him, sitting down heavily. Diane was also Liz's middle name – Elizabeth Diane.

"Soda? Are you there? I'm sorry, did I say something wrong?"

"No," he said hoarsely. "No. Diane was my mother's name. She was killed in a car accident when I was 16."

At first, he remembered, he didn't believe her when she'd told him it wasn't his. Then he hadn't cared, because he loved her so. But it hadn't made any difference; she'd been shipped off to Florida and though he'd tried, he'd never heard from her – or of her – again.

He was not this woman's father. But if not him … then who? He'd never stopped to think about it. It had hurt too much. As unbelievable as it was, as he made peace with the fact that she'd been unfaithful, he'd almost forgotten the pregnancy. He had pushed it clean out of his mind, and Sandy became his first serious girlfriend, the one who had cheated on him. And that was all.

After a long silence, Maureen began to quietly speak. "I always knew I was adopted," she said. "My parents told me when I was very young, and I don't really remember a time when I didn't know. I have two older brothers and they wanted a girl, so at Christmas time, in 1968, I came home to them. I grew up in Florida and it was fine, it was nice, but I always wondered about where I came from, and why I had blue eyes, and where my weird hair came from, stuff like that. It's red, but not really, but not really blonde. It's hard to describe."

Soda ran a hand through his own hair, which sounded just like the shade she had just not described. No. How can this be?

"I called the adoption agency and they gave me what they said was non-identifying information," Maureen went on. "They told me she was 17 and living with her grandmother and she had been in Oklahoma until she got pregnant. I was really lucky. All the stuff was blacked out, but I could make out the street, so I went there and started knocking on doors. Someone remembered her so then I had the grandmother's name and address.

I had the address, too, Soda thought. I wrote her almost every day for two weeks, then the letters started coming back.

"Her grandmother must have passed," Soda said. "I mean, glory, she'd be near 100 now, I'd expect."

"Yeah, that's actually how I found her. Sandy, I mean. I checked back issues of the newspaper. It took me months. I finally found her grandmother's obituary, and there were her parents. It said they lived in Tulsa. So I called every Hinton in the phone book until I found them. Mr. Hinton gave me the birth certificate and a picture, and he said you used to live over on 48th Street. There was a Curtis listed there, so that's where I called yesterday."

"My brother still lives there," Soda said. "Same phone number, for more than 50 years."

"You have a brother," she said. Soda could hear the click, her fitting in the pieces.

"I have two," he replied.

"Can I see you?" Maureen asked suddenly, then she laughed uncomfortably. "My God, that sounds like I'm asking you on a date, doesn't it? But I'd like to see you. We can talk. I have some questions, if that's okay. I'm staying at the Holiday Inn over on Broadway. Would that be all right?"

"Maureen." Soda took a deep breath. "You sound like a nice girl, but I don't know – "

"Maybe if we see each other, we'll know, then," she cut him off, trying not to sound desperate. "And even so, you knew her. Sandy. Maybe you can tell me about her."

Soda sighed. "How long are you here for?" he asked, thinking of his brothers descending on his house in a few hours. "Because today's not really good."

"It's kind of open-ended," Maureen answered.

Soda considered. What would it hurt, meeting her, saying hello? She was right; he could tell her about Sandy. It would give her the peace of mind that he was not who she thought he was. It would give him the peace of mind that he was not who she thought he was.

"I'll take you to breakfast in the morning, how's that?" he suggested. "I know where the hotel is. I'll pick you up at nine."

"Thank you," Maureen breathed. She paused, then asked, "Could I ask you one thing? Just one? Because I don't know if I can wait until tomorrow."

"Sure."

"Did you know about me?"

"I knew Sandy was pregnant, if that's what you mean," Soda said slowly.

"Well, then – I mean, didn't you want to know? Even if it was a boy or a girl? Even if –" her voice hitched. "-- even if you didn't want me?"

"It wasn't a matter of wanting," Soda said. "She told me it wasn't mine."

"But … forgive me for being so bold – but did you sleep with her?"

Soda didn't answer.

"Because, if you did, I mean, then maybe –"

Soda cut her off. "I'll see you tomorrow at nine, Maureen, okay?" And he hung up before she had a chance to answer.

Sandy Hinton. Jesus, Mary, Mother of God. He could see her as if she was in front of him, her china blue eyes, her soft voice, the way she had looked at him with such love, such peace. If it had not been for Sandy, Soda thought, he would not have survived the deaths of his parents. Darry was in full-fledged control, arranging the funerals and the bills and the guardianships and though he probably didn't mean to be, was completely unavailable to his brothers in those first few weeks. Pony had looked to Soda for comfort and reassurance. And Soda had looked to Sandy, crying in her lap night after night, crying unashamedly that he wanted his mother and his father, and then one of those nights, his hand had strayed under her dress.

And for the first time, she hadn't stopped him.

He sat there for a long time, interrupted only when the phone rang. "Hello?" he said cautiously, not thinking that he'd not given Maureen the number.

"Daddy?" It was Liz. "It's 2:15, you didn't call me. Can you come?"

A grin broke over Soda's face. He honestly loved both his boy and his girl equally, but there was something about the almost-worship Liz had for him that made it hard not to favor her. "I'm on my way, darlin', just got hung up here."

"See you soon, love you," Liz said, and hung up.

Soda grabbed his keys and headed for the door. My daughter, he thought. I have one daughter. And then: or not. Or two. Oh, my God, Sandy, what did you do?