Finding Home

Chapter One

         For the third straight day, Deborah Stone drove down a two-lane highway in rural Iowa during sunrise.  Since she could remember, she had been an early riser so sunrise was nothing new.  But here, across the barren winter land of slight hills, occasional trees, and even less occasional houses and barns, the bright of blue, yellow and orange sky left an imprint on her mind that she wouldn’t soon forget.
         She had not come from this place, but a piece of her life was here.  Beyond that hill was the Kapshaw farm and today, after her previous failed attempts, she was ready to face the family she had never known.
         Part of her was dying to go back to Detroit, back to working with her father’s law firm, back to all things familiar.  She had known her biological mother for the first seven years of her life, and that woman had left much to be desired.  So, why after all these years of her amazingly supported adoptive family loving her and being what she needed did she feel the pull to find her father—the man who’d never even laid eyes on her?
         She simply didn’t know.  And that is what irked her.  Usually rational, confident, and precise to a fault, Deborah was not used to the unknown.  But, when she had been informed that her biological mother had passed away back in December, she’d had the sudden urge to connect to the man she had never known.  It was stupid, childish and incredibly naïve, but part of her hoped that the man who had contributed to her life in only the most biological way possible, was much more of a man than the gambling and alcohol addicted mother she had suffered through before the system had taken her away.
         In the beauty of this farmland sunrise, she could not talk herself out of the hope that this would be true.  He had never even known she existed; surely there was hope that there was some decency in him.
         She knew she was lucky to have gotten this far.  Knew she was much luckier than many adopted children who would never know who they came from and why they were given up.  Her father’s name had been on her birth certificate, which had miraculously been in the meager belongings left to her by Melinda Prynne Banks.
         Roger Kapshaw.  It had taken some digging to get a location, but once they’d gotten there the information had rolled in.  All the way down to the location of the Kapshaw family farm.  She had not been assured this is where Roger lived, but this was his family and surely they would know where he was.  Deborah had not dug deeper.  She feared if she did the opportunity to meet her biological family would slip through her fingers.  So, she had gone herself to the small Iowa town, taking a leave of absence from work and all her responsibilities in Detroit.  For what, she didn’t know.  She merely knew she had to make a connection.
         The problem was, she was having an increasingly hard time pulling the trigger.  She’d drive by the house, and all the doubts and fears and confusion of a seven-year-old girl plagued her back into town, back to the quaint little hotel she’d been staying in.
         Today was different.  Straightening her shoulders, Deborah defiantly pressed on the accelerator and drove onto the gravel road that the proprietor of the hotel had told her led to the Kapshaw farm.  There was no looking back now.
         The farm was not too removed from the highway, but much to Deborah’s disappointment it all looked deserted.  It was the end of January; maybe they went away for the winter.  Maybe they had a house in town.  Maybe she should just go back to Detroit and give up.
         The urge was strong enough that she found herself applying the break.  Had she really come all this way just to give up and turn around?  No.  She had created upheaval at work and with her parents who were supportive beyond belief, but also scared that all this would lead to heartache.  She wouldn’t turn around not knowing.  She would march herself up to the pristine door and knock—and if no one answered, she’d leave a note in the mailbox or something—anything.
         The gravel ended at a modern looking garage that did not connect to the home, but instead seemed to stand by itself.  It had obviously been built fairly recently and didn’t quite fit into the antique charm the rest of the place did.
         Fighting nerves, Deborah placed the car in park and resolutely stepped out into the strong chill of winter.  She felt like she was going into her first trial case all over again—weak kneed and jumpy stomached with not a clue as to how she would get through saying what she needed to say.
         The cold was invigorating.  It wasn’t quite as bitter as a Detroit morning, but there was a cleanness to it that had her lifting her eyes upward to the now clearly blue sky. 
         “Beautiful,” she breathed to herself.  For a moment, she allowed herself to be taken in by the simple pleasure of it, before returning her mind to business.
         The path to the door was well worn and lined with stones.  The door was bright read against the barrenness of the yard in front.  Gathering all her nerve and strength, Deb held out a gloved hand and rang the doorbell.  As she waited, she held her breath.
         At first, she heard nothing and was convinced all hope was lost.  They were anywhere but home.  But then footsteps sounded behind the door.  Deb let out her breath, wishing that she were hearing things so she could just leave a note and be done with it.
         The door opened, though, and a thin middle-aged woman with haphazard blondish gray hair answered the door.  Hey gray blue eyes were warm and welcoming.  “Hi.”
         “Hi,” Deborah replied, feeling as though her heart might jump out of her throat.
         “Can I help you?”  The woman’s smile was unfaltering and warm.  Could this be her father’s wife?
         “My name is… Deborah Stone,” Deb managed to choke out.  “I, um, was wondering if Roger Kapshaw lived here.”
         The shock on the woman’s face was evident, despite her attempt to mask it.  “I’m sorry…” Her voice wavered between uncertainty and suspicion.  “Roger hasn’t lived her for some time.”
         “Well, I was told this was the Kapshaw farm… so I thought, maybe he’d be here.”
         “I’m sorry.”
         “Are you… related to Roger?”
         “I was-am his sister-in-law.  My husband is his brother.”
         “Do you know where he is, then?”  Deborah felt a little desperate, though she wasn’t sure why.  The way the woman looked at her didn’t seem right.  She should have either been suspicious or unconcerned, but she looked very concerned and not overly suspicious.
         “Um, I’m sorry, how do you know Roger exactly?”
         “I don’t.”  Deborah figured she might as well be blunt; she had come this far, and after all bluntness had always come naturally to her.  “I’m his daughter.”
         The woman, her aunt she supposed, grabbed the doorframe.  “His daughter?” she repeated, eyes wide.  She was in disbelief—but it didn’t seem that she didn’t believe Deborah; merely that she couldn’t believe Roger had a daughter.
         “He never knew.  My mother and Roger apparently broke up before my mother even knew and then she never made contact.  I’m not sure the exact story… I only found out his name now because my mother passed away.  But, she didn’t raise me… I mean… I’m sorry, I’m babbling.  I just thought, maybe you would know a way I could contact him.  Just to… I don’t know… let him know.”
         “Oh, honey.” 
         The woman had tears in her eyes and Deborah didn’t know how to take it.  Was that good or bad or… what?
         “Come in,” the woman instructed, giving little room for a negative answer.  “Let me get my husband and we’ll let you know as much as we can.  All right?”
         “I don’t want to put you out…”
         “Nonsense.”  The woman smiled, the tears still shining in her eyes.  “Family can’t put you out and you are family… if by blood only.”  Clearing her throat, the woman led Deborah to a cozy family room.  “I hope we can change that,” she said with a genuinely warm smile.  “Take a seat, I’ll be right back with my husband.”
         Deborah merely nodded.  She looked around the room.  The décor was simple and inviting.  She took a seat on the edge of the couch and surveyed the mantle littered with photos.  A wedding picture of what she assumed was the woman who had greeted her at the door.  An assembly of five children.  Family photos with large swarms of people.  And a few black and white photos, old but well cared for.  She supposed these would all be family—her family.
         The woman returned with a man who looked grave.  Deborah felt that bad news was on the horizon, but neither of them were rude or not believing.  She had a feeling she knew what was coming.  If her father had been anything like her mother, then they wouldn’t have much reason to welcome her into their home.
         “This is my husband, Gabe Kapshaw,” the woman introduced.  “I’m sorry, was your name Deborah?”
         Deborah nodded.  “Deborah Stone.”
         Gabe held out his hand and offered a charming smile.  “It’s such a pleasure to meet you, Deborah.  I’m sorry it’s taken this long… to…” Gabe trailed off, looking at his wife.  She nodded and smiled reassuringly. 
         “You have bad news,” Deborah started for them, wishing they would just tell her instead of keeping her waiting.
         “I’m afraid so, Deborah.”
         “I’m not surprised, really,” Deborah started, trying to convince herself as much as the two people standing in front of her.  “My mother was…  Well, unfit, I’d be surprised if she’d gotten mixed up with anyone… fit.”
         Gabe sat down next to her.  Usually, the gesture would feel uncomfortable, but he gave her distance and offered a non-threatening presence.
         “Your father… had a lot of problems.  I… We… My family tried to help him numerous times, but… unfortunately, he couldn’t win.”
         Deborah nodded, trying to ignore the lump forming in her throat.
         “Even more unfortunately, we received word a few years ago that Roger…” 
         She couldn’t look at Gabe, her own heart was in her throat, but she heard him clear his throat as though it were choked with emotion.
         “Passed away.”
         It was not at all what she expected, but it seemed to fit the profile of her mother… why wouldn’t it follow suit that her father would end up the same way.  “How?”
         Gabe and Laney exchanged looks.  From observing her parents, she knew that it was a look reserved for people who had been married a considerable amount of time and could communicate simply by facial expression.
         “Drunk driving—his own.”
         It seemed fitting, didn’t it?  Her mother had died of liver cancer and her father had managed to end his life by the same means.  Two addicts had whittled their lives away to nothing.
         She felt a hand on her own, and it was the woman’s.  She hadn’t realized tears were welling in her own eyes.  It didn’t seem right that she should cry for a man she’d never known—who’d never known her.
         “Well, I can’t say as I’m surprised,” Deborah managed, unwilling to continue with the emotional silence.  “My mother wasn’t much better.”
         The woman squeezed her hand.  “It must be such a disappointment.  I know you came here to meet your father, but we are your family too.”  The woman got a little teary-eyed, making it even harder for Deborah to maintain her composure.  “It’s wonderful that you’ve found us after so long.”
         “Thank you, I…” She didn’t know what to say.  She didn’t know what to feel.  Her expectations had run the gamut—but they hadn’t included this situation she was in right at this very moment.
         “Why don’t you take a few moments,” Gabe suggested. “Laney and I will go get some photo albums or other stuff that you might want to look at.  I can… tell you a lot about our family, even if I can’t tell you much about Roger.”
         Deborah nodded.  “Thank you.”
         Gabe stood looking a bit haunted, his wife sympathetically following behind him.  They seemed so sweet and genuine and nice.  It seemed unfathomable that she had come to find her father and had missed out on that, but had found people already willing to call her family.
         She sat in the room not quite sure what she was feeling.  When she had started this whole quest she hadn’t a clue as to what she was looking for or hoping for, she’d only wanted to find him.  She had just believed that she’d figure out the purpose of it all once she got there.  Instead, she felt just as without purpose as ever.
         After what seemed an excruciatingly long time left to herself, Gabe and Laney returned with a small cardboard box.  Knowing that the content of an unknown family was kept in there was a little bit more than she was ready to handle.
         “I’m sorry to bother you.  To… bring all this up,” she began, backing away from them, feeling the urge to flee so desperately.  “I’m not ready for this, though.  I’m so sorry, really.  I need some time to process before I… before I know what I want to do.  I’m sorry.”
         Laney’s unwavering sympathy was somehow calming and Deborah felt she was able to take a breath.
         “That’s totally understandable.  You must be so overwhelmed to get so much information.”  Crossing over to Deborah, Laney offered a hand.  “Let’s sit.”
         The calming presence of Laney allowed her to complete the action, and Laney guided her back to the couch.  Gabe took a seat in an armchair facing them.  They were so much a unit; it reminded her of her adopted parents at home—so strong and together.  She’d been lucky to have them as she supposed Roger had been lucky to have his brother and his wife.  He had wasted his luck.
         “I know you’re not ready to hear about our family.  Take as much time as you need.  But, if you feel comfortable, would you tell us a bit about yourself?  Anything at all.  Obviously you’ve done well.”  Laney visibly teared.  “It’s so wonderful to see that.”
         Deborah managed a smile.  “I have… I was very lucky.  Um, I was adopted at the age of seven.”
         When Laney and Gabe didn’t push, merely sat ready for any information she was comfortable giving, she felt justified in the decision to go on search for her father.  She’d had a wonderful family growing up, it was nice to know that even had she stayed with her biological family someone wonderful would have been there too.
         “I was only in foster care for a short time.  It’s really sort of a blur between social services and my parents adopting me.  They were everything I could have asked for, really.” 
         Laney’s smile wavered and her voice hitched slightly, but she kept her control.  “That’s so good to hear.  You don’t know how happy that makes us to know you had someone there for you.”
         Gabe nodded in agreement with his wife.  Though he didn’t do most of the talking, his gaze never left hers.  She began to realize he was searching for the resemblance.
         It didn’t take long to see that she had inherited most of her mother’s olive skin and straight black hair, but she could see in Gabe’s eyes a very close rendition of her own green ones.  The crooked smile she had cursed since childhood was hidden in his face, but she had a feeling it was there.
         “How old are you, if you don’t mind me asking?”  Gabe asked.
         “Twenty-eight.”
         She watched him calculate in his head, perhaps trying to place the whereabouts of his brother.
         “Omaha,” he mumbled, his gaze fumbling.
         Deb watched as Laney crossed over to her husband and squeezed his shoulder.  There was something to it, but she didn’t feel the right to press.
         “I’m a lawyer,” she blurted into the awkward silence.  “My father, adopted father, has a firm in Detroit that I’ve worked at since law school.  I grew up in Detroit, we moved from Omaha when I was about ten.”
         Laney smiled, a genuinely happy smile.  “Just what we need, another lawyer in the family.  You have an aunt that lives in Chicago who is a lawyer.”
         “Chicago.  Just out of curiosity, how many aunts and uncles am I looking at?”
         “I have two brothers, besides your father,” Gabe offered, wringing his hands together.  “Mark is married to the lawyer, he’s a recently retired accountant and they live in Chicago.  Their daughter Ella lives here in Lilac Grove with her husband.  Then I’ve got another brother who owns a ranch out in Montana.  His wife is the librarian slash museum curator out there.  They have three kids.”
         “Big family.  How many kids do you have?”  It was superficial information she could handle.  Slowly, she would learn this family if they wanted her to.
         “Five,” Laney answered proudly.  “Six if you count Logan, who isn’t legally or biologically ours, but he’s a member of the family nonetheless.”
         “Six?”
         “A farm needs a lot of hands to work the ground,” Gabe offered with that crooked smile she had known had been hiding.  “Only one is still at home, and Logan when he’s over.  They’re both in high school.  The rest are scattered here and there.  Becca lives in town and works at the paper, Kayla’s in college out in Illinois, Doug’s a reporter in St. Louis and Georgia coaches a soccer team in Chicago.”
         “Georgie’s getting married next month,” Laney added with a bright smile.  “I know it’s early to decide, but I hope you’ll come.”
         “Oh, well…”
         “I know, I know, getting ahead of myself.  So, do you have any brothers or sisters?”
         “No, my parents just adopted me.  Both of them were only children as well so I’m not used to… such a big family.”
         Laney grinned.  “We’re big and loud and full of love.  It may take some getting used to, but I really believe you’ll find your place here Deborah.  I won’t push you into anything, but just know that we are family—that alone means we’ll be here no matter what.”
         “Thank you.  I… don’t know what I wanted to accomplish finding Roger.  I’m not really sure where I want to go from here.  I’ll have to take it one step at a time, but thank you for being so… welcoming and kind and forthright.  I always grew up being ashamed of my biological mother, but I know I don’t have to be ashamed of my biological family anymore.”
         “I’m so glad to hear that, Deborah.  So glad.”
         “And, whenever you’re ready to get a history lesson about the Kapshaws, we’re hear to give it.  Roger…” Gabe sighed.  “He made a lot of mistakes and I can’t change that.”  He exchanged another look with his wife.  “But, he was our family.  I hope you’ll be part of our family too.”
         Deborah nodded.  She wasn’t sure where she wanted to go, but she knew no matter what she did or where she went, the Kapshaws and their amazing generosity were a part of her now.
         “I’m starving,” Gabe said, patting his stomach.  “Will you join us for lunch, Deborah.”
         “Yes, please,” Laney agreed, smiling excitedly.  “You can tell us more about yourself and your life in Detroit and we can answer any questions you have.  Evie and Logan won’t be home until three, so we can have lunch without being interrupted by a couple of nosy teenagers.”
         “I’d like that,” Deborah said, surprising herself with the trueness of the statement.