Free Finding Willow (Hers) by Dawn Robertson Page A

motel room; I somehow make my way across the room to sit on the edge of the unmade bed.
    “Yes, let me give him a call. And remember, Star?” I just wait for whatever reassurance she is going to try and give me. “Everything is going to turn out just as it is meant to be. Okay?” I nod, as if she can see me. I want to cry; I can feel the tears welling in my eyes already.
    “Uh huh” is all I can get out before the line goes dead.
    Moments later, my phone rings again. An unknown number pops up on the screen. It is the moment I have been waiting for since I came clean and told Seven all about the little girl I gave up so many years ago.
    “Yes?” I answer the phone with my typical cocky tone, trying to hide the impending breakdown.
    “Davis here. Miss James said you are available now. Do you have a pen and piece of paper?”
    I scramble around the room looking for something. My laptop still sits open on the table from the evening before, and I run in that direction, tripping over my discarded shoes.
    “Yes, I’m ready.” My fingers rest on the keyboard as I prop the phone up to my ear with my shoulder. My hands hover above the keys and shake with nerves. I inhale a deep breath and hold it, waiting for him to give me whatever he found.
    “Willow James was adopted legally by Raine and Jeffery Driscoll. The adoption was legalized on February 14th, 2003. They changed her name but the record of that was sealed. Her last name, of course, would remain Driscoll. Willow's last known address was in Brooklyn.” He pauses for a moment, and I continue typing out all the information. This is a great start, and I am optimistic that I can find her.
    “Raine and Jeffery Driscoll are deceased.”
    With those words, my heart stops. He gave me all of the good news first, and now I brace for the shitty news. I take another deep breath and listen.
    “Their minor children were turned over into the custody of a Wesley Driscoll of Jefferson Heights. I’m unsure how he is related to Raine and Jeffery. I will email you his last known address, and I will continue looking for any information I can come up with on my end. Okay?”
    The line is quiet. He is waiting for me to answer, but I’m not even sure what to say. Yes, the adoptive parents are dead, but she is alive. At least, I hope.
    This is good. This is a really good start.
    “Thank you, Davis. I appreciate all the hard work you are putting into this. If you come up with anything else, please let me know. If you could come up with anything on Wesley, could you please let me know?”
    I may not be mother of the year, but I want to know who is responsible for taking care of Willow. Mine or not, I’m starting to channel the maternal instinct I never thought I would possess.
    “No problem, Miss Bloom. Please, let me know if there is anything else you need.”
    Like that, he is gone and the line is dead. My phone buzzes with an email with the addresses and information he gave me over the phone, and I smile. A genuine smile. I am happy, which is something I haven't known very often in my life.

    Who would have thought I could actually find an art supply store in this little podunk town? Well, given the number of hippie burnouts, it shouldn't be that surprising.
    After having a bagel at Maggie's, I took a drive downtown, where all the little shops are. Bright and full of tie dye blankets, old Woodstock posters, and the smell of pot always in the air. It is hippie culture mixed with a bit of nostalgia. They are the comforts of home, even though I never thought I would be comforted by this town.
    I toss every paint color of the rainbow into my basket and make my way for the brushes. I load up on every single thing I can think of using. Things I wanted when I was a little girl, but we could never afford. I make one last stop at the blank canvases and grab five different sizes and head for the register. I can barely carry everything, and I am sure if anyone was watching me it would be