Part II

These last eighteen years have been the hardest. He'd never remarried. Never had any other children. His heart was forever broken with the loss of his wife and the surrender of his only child. He'd kept tabs in his own way, watching his child grow from afar. He'd made the right decision, the father of four…his name was Jefferson Tracy. He hadn't known at the time that the man was a widowed man himself, struggling to raise four sons. In a way it made him feel small, like something smaller than a dust mote. If this man could raise four boys, why couldn't he have done right by his one child? Given him a chance? Not allowed himself to doubt his abilities to love. His grief at the time of his decision was fresh, having been widowed for less than three weeks.

But watching the gossip rags over the years, he got to watch his boy, Alan as he grew up. Jeff Tracy had followed the letter of the law, he'd surrendered the baby, let him be processed in the system then applied to adopt him. All on the up and up. The safe-haven box had been a blessing. The law had been established many years earlier, no questions asked. They'd done a little digging, he was sure. The law had to do their part in figuring out if Alan had been surrendered from a legitimate family or kidnapped and dropped off.

His son, Alan had a family that adored him if the pictures were anything to go by. Some of the tabloids showed Alan with his brothers, laughing and just enjoying life. And now he was a formula one racer. He had hesitated in his desire to go watch Alan compete, but if that was the closest that he ever got to his son again…well…he could die a happy man. His son had been very successful, the tabloids bragged about Alan being exceptionally smart and graduating high school when he was sixteen. Then for two years he'd dedicated his life to racing, test runs and practice heats. And he'd made a name for himself. It was more than he could have ever asked for.

"Our boy has done good for himself." The middle-aged man spoke aloud to his late wife as he logged into the ticket counter online. Tickets to see the race weren't cheap, but this was probably the only chance he'd ever feel brave enough to ever see his son. A race was going to be in Parola Sands. That wasn't very far from where he lived. Maybe a two-hour drive. He didn't think he'd get very close to Alan, but he could watch him…cheer him on and finally get the first look at how much his son has grown these last eighteen years.

The Parola Sands race wouldn't be for a just right about a year, Alan would be nineteen then. But until that time, he could follow the tabloids and other media outlets that often spoke of Alan and the Tracy family. Glancing back down at his computer, he closed his eyes as he entered his card information and saw the green check mark confirming his purchase. He was shown a computer-generated map of where his seat was in the stadium. Because he was one of the first to buy tickets, he got one of the best seats in the house. Front row, just above the pit for Alan's team. He'd get a great view.

Now, he couldn't wait for the year to come.

Standing and moving away from his desk, he walked over to his mantle above the fireplace where a picture of his late wife was poised, her great big smile practically lighting up the room as she had been turned to the side and showed off a side view of her pregnant belly.

Her beautiful auburn hair glowed in the sunlight that had been shining overhead.

Picking up the photograph, he looked down with a sigh. He missed her. So much. He found it hard to believe that it'd been eighteen years since she slipped through his fingers. It still felt unreal.

Replacing the photo frame, he turned and went to his kitchen. He walked in and sat down at the table and heaved another sigh. Eighteen years had passed since and much as he'd done every year, he wrote a letter and stored it in a box. Every letter he wrote was addressed to Alan and he held on to each one, afraid of putting it in the mail for fear of many factors.

Was Alan aware he was adopted, did he care, did he hate his birth parents for giving him up despite it not being his mother's fault? If Alan didn't know he was adopted, would that ruin the relationship between him and his family? He just didn't know exactly, and he didn't want to find out the hard way.

Reaching into a bag, he pulled out a little plastic box. Popping open the lid, he stuck a single candle that he used every year into the cupcake he held. Lighting a match, he illuminated the candle.

Looking down at the lone candle on the cupcake, he allowed the painful and beautiful memories of the day his son was born to flow in his mind. He was such a handsome baby, gorgeous blue eyes. Just like his mother. She had the most interesting blue eyes he'd ever seen. It was always a source of discord with his wife. People were forever asking her if her eyes were naturally that color blue and Alan had inherited those same blue eyes. True, most if not all newborns had blue eyes. But Alan and his mother? They both had such vivid blue eyes that it was actually difficult to discern which shade of blue they took on. Bowing his head in reverence, he started to a familiar melody.

"Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you." He sang softly, the intimate moment just between him, his late wife and the memories of his little boy that remained from a time so long ago. "Happy birthday dear Alan, happy birthday to you!"

~.~.~.~

Meanwhile, Alan was leaning against the railing of the balcony in his family's penthouse apartment. He was looking out over the cityscape, watching the lights from afar. He looked down at the watch on his wrist and smiled sadly.

He heard as the sliding glass door slid open behind himself and closed. Then he could hear the soft steps approaching.

"Is everything okay son?" A warm hand rubbed across his shoulders and back. "You're missing your own party."

"I'm just not in much of a mood to celebrate. That's all." Alan replied in kind, softly.

"What's the matter?" Jeff asked as he took up a similar position next to Alan.

"It's been eighteen years." Alan said, pausing briefly then picking up where he left off. "Maybe not to the day, but eighteen years since I was supposedly born."

"Doctors made an educated guess about your approximate date of birth. I don't think they're wrong." Jeff said. He repeated the calming action of rubbing his hand across the top of Alan's back and shoulders. "You know, I chose you to be my son. I didn't have to honor their wish, but…you needed me and even though I was a widower, I needed you too. I just didn't know how much until I heard your cries and discovered you in that safe haven box."

A muscle in Alan's jaw visibly ticked at the mention of the safe haven box. It always upset Alan to know he'd just been dropped off and left alone. It was an off-limit's subject with his brothers. The one and only time one of the older boys had used Alan's surrender as a source of fodder in an argument found him on the way to the hospital with a busted and bleeding nose.

"I wish I could ask them why…just why. Not that I love you all any less, I just would really like to know. What was it about me that they didn't want? I mean…who was it that dropped me off? If it was my mom, did she just get scared? Was she young? Did she not have a support system? Was my biological father in the picture? Was it him that didn't want the responsibility of a baby and forced her hand? I have so many questions and…I just want answers."

Jeff could only imagine.

"Would you like to hire a private investigator to help you?" Jeff inquired, wanting to see the smile his son always had.

"Why bother? It's not like I'll get those memories I never made with them back." Alan said around a derisive snort.

"Don't do that." Jeff cautioned. "Just because you didn't have the opportunity to make memories with either of your biological parents doesn't mean that if we can find them you won't be able to make some now. If, however, that is what you wish."

"I don't know if I want to find them…or even where to begin. You always said that police couldn't find any birth records for me locally. There are fifty states in the United States of America and more than a thousand hospitals and what's also to say that I was even born in a hospital? I may have been born at home, in secret. There're so many variables that it seems easier to just cut my losses and not even try." Alan said, his voice growing a little more frantic the longer he went on. Jeff had to stop him before he could carry on his tirade.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa…Alan. I didn't raise a quitter. There's no point in winding yourself up about things we cannot change. So, we may not have any idea who your parents are or where you came from, but that doesn't change who you are. You're Alan Tracy, my son. A strong and very capable young man with a fierce loyalty to his family and friends, a pure love for the world around you and everyone in it and a spark of fire that never dims no matter what you're up against. That is who you are. Always hold onto that." Jeff said, keeping his voice calm, despite the mild scolding. There was no heat to Jeff's tone, so Alan didn't get his dander up about what his dad was saying to him. Jeff sensed Alan wanted a hug, he usually sought hugs when he was feeling particularly insecure. Turning, Jeff opened his arms and as expected, Alan snuggled in close, resting his head on Jeff's shoulder.

"Thanks dad." Alan replied, voice as soft as a whisper.

"You don't need to thank me son…I love you." Jeff returned, calmly rubbing his hand across Alan's back mid hug. He wished there was more that he could do, but Alan had always been slightly insecure his whole life, knowing from the time he was small that he was adopted.

Jeff wished he'd been able to see the person that had dropped Alan off outside his and the other boy's home when they still lived in Kansas, but the security cameras weren't working then, and nearby businesses video quality wasn't the best then. If Alan wished to seek out his biological parents, Jeff wasn't going to stand in his way. He'd always known that Alan might want to know who his parents were. Jeff had never hidden that Alan was adopted, Jeff had been widowed when Gordon was two and had never remarried, so it hadn't made sense for Jeff to hide that Alan was adopted. He'd told the boy since he was old enough to understand that Jeff had chosen him to become a member of their family.

"You just say the word, I'll help you try to find your biological parents, if that is what you would like to do. It's not going to hurt my feelings. You always have been and always will be my son, no matter what." Jeff whispered into Alan's ear, feeling him sag in relief. Alan nodded.

"I love you dad." Alan whispered.

"I love you too, to the moon and back through infinity and beyond." Jeff said. He smiled and kissed his son's temple. "What say we get inside before Gordon rigs your cake up with something that will make it explode?"

"Deal." Alan replied around a chuckle.