Korea
“Are you sure this is right?” I asked, the giant map taking over most of my view of the rural road. We were about an hour outside Seoul, which meant we were close. Supposedly.
“Nope.” His answer was way too chipper. “Penna supplied the directions, and she could be getting back at me for any myriad of transgressions.”
I snorted. “Great. You just watch out for mudslides, and I’ll try to figure out where we’re at.”
He leaned over the steering wheel of the little SUV. “Blue skies, bright sun, no rain, no mud. We’re in the clear.”
“You forget,” I said, trailing my finger down the skinny line of the road on the map. “You’re traveling with the curse.”
He swerved onto the shoulder and hit the brakes.
“For fuck’s sake, Landon!” I shouted, catching myself on the dash even though my seat belt locked me into place.
He ripped the map down, more furious than I’d ever seen him. “Enough! You’re not a damned curse.”
I rolled my eyes at his bluster. “Maybe we’re the curse.”
His hands flexed on the wheel, and he took a deep breath, his eyes showing an unspoken battle.
Then he lurched across the console, grasped the back of my head, and pulled me into his kiss. His mouth opened over mine, his tongue demanding entrance, and in my surprise, I gave it to him.
Two seconds later, I melted, unable to resist the effect he had on my body, my heart. He kissed me breathless, until my tongue was as wild in his mouth as his was in mine, until I clutched the fabric of his shirt in my fists.
Then he let me go.
I blinked at him, dazed and more than a little turned on.
“Does that feel cursed?” he asked.
I touched my fingers to my lips. “Sometimes.”
He sighed in exasperation.
“Sometimes I hate the control you have over my body, the way I melt for no one else but you. But no, it’s not a curse.”
He relaxed in his seat, checked the mirrors, and pulled back onto the empty road. “Well, okay then.”
I hid my smile with the map and shook my head. As much as I hated loving him, it was pretty much a foregone conclusion in my life. And as much as I didn’t trust him, I also couldn’t ignore that he’d given up Nepal for me.
He’d been right—showing me was the only way he could earn that trust back.
And he was doing a damn good job of it.
“Left up there,” I told him after I figured out just where we were on the map.
He made the turn, and we were on an even more rural road, had that been possible. The hills rose up across the fields from us, but I saw the outline of a town ahead.
“You ready for this?” he asked.
“No,” I answered truthfully. “But it seems like it would be a shame to turn around and go home at this point.”
“Truth.”
My stomach tied itself in knots as we crossed the river and entered the small town. Everything was gray, but I didn’t know if that was normal or a consequence of the cold January weather.
We passed through a small, thriving part of town, Landon’s head moving constantly as he drove—taking everything in. “There’s a hotel there,” he said.
“How can you tell?” I asked, unable to see where he was gesturing to.
“It says ‘Hotel.’”
“Smart-ass,” I muttered, but it brought a much-needed smile to my face.
A few more turns, and I was genuinely ready to puke. What the hell was I thinking? What was I going to do? Walk up to the door and assume they spoke English? That they’d have any idea what I was talking about? That this was the one-in-a-hundred chance that the same orphanage in the town my biological mother was born in would be the same orphanage I was adopted from?
“You’ve gone silent. That’s never a good sign,” Landon commented.
We came upon a large, gray building on the right-hand side. “That should be it,” I said, matching it to the picture Penna had printed out for us.
Landon pulled the SUV over and parked but didn’t shut off the engine. I cranked the heat, my hands suddenly cold.
He reached for them and warmed the digits between his palms. “What do you need?”
“I don’t have the first clue.”
“You don’t have to do this today. We can fly back tomorrow afternoon and still make the boat. If you need time, I can give you that.”
I shook my head. “I didn’t come this far to chicken out.” My hand sought the door handle, and I pulled, a rush of frigid air hitting my face.
“Do you want me to wait here?” Landon asked.
My booted feet hit the pavement, and I looked at him watching me with no expectation, just overwhelming support. “Come with me?”
He immediately shut off the engine and got out of the car, locking it as he made his way over to me. I took the hand he offered and squeezed, needing something solid.
He opened a metal gate that was the only opening in a three-foot-tall stone wall, and we walked inside the small yard. There were no toys that would mark this as an orphanage, but there were two uniformed teenage girls sitting on a bench toward the back, their heads bent over a book.
One of the girls looked up as we approached the door, and I had the weirdest chill slide down my back—like I was looking at an alternate timeline where I’d never left. A timeline where I spoke Korean and grew up surrounded by girls exactly like me. A timeline where I’d never met Landon.
In every timeline. His comment from the courting ritual hit me, and I squeezed his hand a little harder as we ascended the half dozen stone steps that would bring us to the door.
He lifted my hand and kissed the back.
My breath caught, my heartbeats slowed, and the world around me paused as I crossed the last foot to the door. I lifted my hand to knock on the door but lowered it, looking at Landon. “Do I look okay?”
He smiled and tucked a strand of my purple highlights behind my ear. “You look perfect. You are perfect. And no matter what happens here, I know exactly where you belong—with me.”
I sucked in a full breath of air, turned to the door, and knocked three times.
My heart raced, slamming against my ribs as the door opened a few seconds later.
An older woman with graying hair answered. She was a little shorter than I was, but not by much, but that didn’t affect the authoritarian way she held herself. She looked at us expectantly.
“Um. Hi. Do you speak English?” I asked.
She scoffed. “Do you speak Korean?”
My mouth snapped shut. “If I spoke Korean, I would have,” I said softly.
“You look Korean.”
“I’m American.” The moment it left my mouth, I realized the significance—the difference. Though I might physically resemble this woman and those girls, my culture, my language, my habits were from a world away.
Her sigh was loud and exasperated. “Then it is a good thing I speak English.”
I nodded, and Landon wrapped his arm around my waist. It was only then that I realized I’d been shaking. “I know this sounds crazy, but is this an orphanage?”
She shook her head. “No.”
My stomach sank, and a bitter taste filled my mouth. All of this effort, and now…nothing. “Oh.” Landon’s grip on me tightened, and I leaned on him. I forced a smile to my lips. “Well, thank you. I’m sorry to have bothered you.”
We turned and heard her shift behind us.
“But it used to be. It was converted into a girls’ school in late 2000.”
I spun back to her. “Were you here when it was an orphanage?”
She nodded. “I am headmistress now, but I have been here through every incarnation.”
I smiled, a laugh bubbling up with the hope that filled me. “I know this is a long shot, but my mother was born in this town, and I was adopted. I was hoping maybe you could tell me if it was from here.”
Her eyes narrowed, darting from Landon to me. “What is your name?”
“I don’t know the name I had when I was here.”
She sighed again with the same exasperation. I would have bet a million dollars that she was tough as nails as a headmistress. “What is it now, American girl?”
“Rachel. Rachel Dawson.”
Her eyes widened, and she reached for the doorframe to steady herself. “Rachel?”
“Yes, ma’am.” A feeling bigger than myself crept in, invading every cell until I knew I stood on the edge of something I could not yet comprehend.
“You should come in,” she said softly.
I looked up at Landon, and he nodded.
“You know who I am,” I said to the older woman.
She nodded. “You’re Seo-yun’s girl.”
The tea in front of me was cooling quickly.
Landon sat across from me at the small kitchen table. It was scratched from years of use but still in usable condition and well cared for, which accurately described everything in the building around us.
He watched me carefully but didn’t push. He knew me well enough to leave me alone with my thoughts. I knew him well enough to know he needed to be let in.
“I can’t believe she lived here,” I said quietly. Had she done dishes at that sink? Sat at this table? In this chair? Had she worn the same uniforms as the girls outside?
“You lived here,” he added, sipping his tea from a handleless cup.
“I lived here.”
“You did,” Mrs. Rhee said as she came in the door with a file box in her arms. Landon rushed to take the box from her, and she nodded her thanks as he put it on the small table next to the door. “That’s all I have left of Seo-yun’s things,” she told me as she took the seat next to me. “She would want you to have them.”
“Thank you,” I told her, prying my eyes away from the box. “It’s more than I ever could have asked for.”
She nodded, openly studying me. “You have her eyes, the set of her chin. Do you have her sharp tongue?”
A smile played at my lips. “Yes. I think I do.”
“Good. I don’t remember every baby, you know. Not from those days.”
“How did you know I was her daughter?” I asked, trying my best to be patient. I felt like I’d found a well of information, but I didn’t want it a bucket at a time—I wanted to drink from the waterfall.
“Your mother,” she said, looking out the window at the girls who still sat on the bench outside. “She was an orphan. Never adopted, though. She came when I began working here. I was only twenty-five.” She smiled, lost in her memory. “She was a bright child, hated rules—hated anyone smothering her spirit. By the time she was eighteen, she had moved to Seoul. I was happy for her, to see her success. But she came home less than a year later, in labor with you.”
Mrs. Rhee tilted her head, and her forehead puckered as she remembered. “It was raining, and her time was so close that we could not get her to the hospital. We called for a doctor and delivered you in a bedroom upstairs. It was…long. Difficult.” She looked back at me like she was searching my face for signs of my mother. “You were small for a baby. Early, I think.”
“And then she went back to Seoul?” I asked, then cursed myself silently. Maybe it was best that I didn’t know. But I was here. I had to ask every question I could think of, because I would never get this chance again.
Mrs. Rhee shook her head sadly. “She died two weeks later. Blood poisoning, they said.”
“Sepsis,” Landon said softly.
Mrs. Rhee nodded. “Yes. But she loved you.”
My gaze went back to the box on the floor. She was dead. Not that I’d ever been on a mission to find her, but now that mission would never be possible. It felt as though someone had opened a window in a room I thought previously solid, only to find the view was of a brick wall.
The conflicting emotions gave me whiplash.
My mother hadn’t given me up because she was too young, or unwed—though she’d been both. It hadn’t been a cultural dictate, or a personal choice. She’d never been given the option to raise me.
Something about that both killed me—knowing that I would never know more—and yet gave me a sense of peace. I wasn’t unwanted. I’d been loved from the moment I was born, and when my mother could no longer love me, Mom and Dad stepped in and carried through.
“Did she ever mention my father?” I asked.
Mrs. Rhee’s eyebrows rose. “She described him as someone who was never meant to stay.”
My hands cupped the now chilly teacup. “And then my parents came? Adopted me? I know I was really young.”
“You were. It was the fastest I have ever handed a child over—yet another reason I remembered you. But I placed a call the day after your mother died, and you were gone soon after.”
“And now you’re a girls’ school, not an orphanage?”
“Now we educate young women, some of whom are orphans, but we no longer care for babies here.” She glanced up at the clock and gave me a tight smile. Our time was limited.
My brain scrambled, trying to think of anything to ask. A thousand questions went through my mind, but they all seemed trivial, and everything about this woman told me she didn’t have time for trivial.
“How is your funding?” Landon asked.
Her brows lifted in surprise. “We can always use more.”
“I’ll see that you get it,” he promised.
She inclined her head but made no other response.
“What was she like, my mother?” I couldn’t help but ask.
Her features softened, and she reached for my hand. “A lot like you. But something tells me you are a lot stronger. She would be proud of your courage in coming here, happy that your parents have cared for you so well.” Her eyes dropped to the table and then back to mine. “Your mother—your American mother—was so overjoyed to hold you. Scared, but I remember thinking that you would be okay.”
I swallowed, emotion clogging my throat. “I am. I’m okay. I have a wonderful family.” That’s currently falling apart.
“Good. She never would have done that to her hair, though.” She motioned to my highlights, and I smiled.
A young girl came through the door speaking rapid-fire Korean, which Mrs. Rhee answered.
“I’m so sorry,” Mrs. Rhee told us. “I am needed with the girls. Have you gotten what you came for?”
“Yes,” I said, my eyes flickering back to the box. “More, really.”
We said our good-byes, and I tried to memorize every detail about the house, the yard, even the street as Landon loaded the box into the back of the SUV. I grabbed my camera from the front seat and started snapping dozens of pictures.
“Do you want to stay for the night?” he offered as I photographed the house.
“No,” I said quietly, lowering the camera. “I don’t think there’s anything more here for me. Do you think we can make it back to the Athena?”
He glanced at his watch. “It will be late, but we can make it.”
“Let’s go,” I said, taking one last look at my birthplace. He kissed my forehead and helped me into my seat. With my nerves scraped raw, it made me feel cared for, cherished.
I was quiet on the drive, and Landon filled the silence with music, occasionally lifting my hand to kiss the back of it. He gave me the quiet and the space I needed while my mind spun in circles.
He took care of everything—made every arrangement as we returned the SUV and headed to the plane. No security. No TSA. Just Landon, me, and the box that carried the ghost of the woman who gave me life but whom I would never know.
I buckled my belt and held his hand as we took off, the plane lurching into the sky to carry us back to the Athena.
“How do you feel?” he asked, finally breaking the silence once we’d reached cruising altitude.
“Like me,” I said, meeting his worried gaze. “Like me, but somehow more.”
He brushed my hair back and kissed my forehead tenderly. “What can I do?”
“Can you grab the box?” I asked. “I kind of want to go through it now. If not, it might sit there until I think I’m brave enough to open it, and that will have made the trip feel like a waste.”
“Sure thing,” he said, unbuckling. “Why don’t you come back here? There’s more room.”
I unbuckled and followed him, sitting on the floor in front of the small couch.
“Ready?” he asked.
I nodded and rose up on my knees to undo the folded sides that kept the box closed. A quick pull and it was open.
I filled my lungs with a deep breath and dived in. There were a handful of CDs, mostly Korean pop that I didn’t recognize, but some American Top 40, too. A few items of clothing that told me my mother had been shorter than I was, a bracelet and a colorful blanket laid on top of two smaller boxes. I took out one of the boxes and removed the stuffing to reveal its ceramic treasure.
My throat closed, and my hands shook as I examined the small, smooth porcelain.
“It’s beautiful,” Landon said.
“It’s a teapot.” I laughed. It couldn’t have been more perfect in its simplicity, with its long, straight handle and light green shine.
“I guess you’re more alike than Mrs. Rhee realized.” He took it from me, and I reached for the last box.
It held only a small envelope with a handful of pictures. My birth mother stared back at me with a smile and my eyes, happiness emanating from her as she leaned against a bridge that overlooked what I assumed was Seoul. She couldn’t have been more than seventeen.
By my age, she’d already died.
There were a few more just like it in different places in the city, and she looked equally happy in all of them. “She was beautiful,” I whispered.
“Just like her daughter,” Landon answered, sitting closer to look at the pictures with me.
I flipped to the last one and my breath abandoned me.
She was held in the arms of a soldier—an American soldier. He wasn’t meant to stay. Mrs. Rhee’s words were on repeat in my head as I stared at her face—and his. They looked so happy, wrapped in each other—it was so right and so wrong all in the same picture.
“Rach…” Landon said, peering closer. “Oh my God. Isn’t that…?”
Eyes I knew as well as my own stared back at me, and I was immediately thankful we’d skipped dinner, because I knew it all would have come back up. My finger brushed across the Dawson name tag just above my birth mother’s hand on the army uniform.
“My dad.”
