A Cookie For Your Thoughts

“Oh, no! The cookies!”

Angie raced to the kitchen as light wafts of smoke seeped from the oven. She coughed as she grabbed the oven mits, pulled out the two cookie sheets, and set them on the stove. She lurched to open the window over the sink, hoping the snowy air would quench the smoke before the fire detector went off.

“Mom! Are any of the cookies okay?” Peter asked.

Angie turned to see him and little Bethie standing in the kitchen doorway, both flushed from rushing after her. They stared with wide eyes at the dissipating smoke. 

She looked forward and leaned in for a closer look. The center of the gingerbread men cookies were still brown, but the edges were crusted black. 

Angie blew out a heavy sigh. “It doesn’t look like it.”

“Aw, man...”

“Oh, no!”

Both kids echoed each other’s disappointment.

“What do we do, Mommy?” Bethie asked.

Angie turned back to them, biting her lip. “Sorry, kids. I forgot to set the timer. We still have the third batch to bake. We’ll just have two dozen instead of three.”

Their shoulders slumped at the waste of all their work together, but two dozen was still a lot of cookies. Well, minus the three they had been eating together in the living room.

“Listen,” she said. “Why don’t you go finish eating your cookies? I’ll get this last batch in the oven. And I’ll set the timer this time.”

“Okay,” they said, then trudged out of the kitchen.

Angie let out another sigh, and got to work tossing the burnt cookies and getting the last batch into the oven.

How could she be so distracted? She and the kids had had a great Saturday morning of baking together, but she could kick herself for ruining a whole batch of their work. They were good sports, but their disappointment twisted her heart - especially since her mind had been elsewhere.

Of course, hosting a Christmas cookie exchange tonight would be justifiable. Not only that, but baking her own cookies and getting ready for the party - while her husband Brian was called in to work last-minute hours at the office - was even more understandable. 

But neither of those were her excuse, or the source of her anxiety.

Angie’s thoughts revolved, oddly enough, around her co-worker’s daughter, who she hoped would attend tonight.

Easing back into the work world over the last few months had been an adjustment. But with Peter in first grade and Bethie starting full-time preschool, Angie wanted to work again, and landed a staff accountant position at one of the largest accounting firms in town. She was still getting to know her co-workers, and her cubicle neighbor, Tammy, had taken the initiative to get her immersed with the others.

“Oh, Angie!” she’d say. “You haven’t made Jake or Carol yet, have you? They are the best. Come with me to their office!”

On the Monday after Thanksgiving, during a break, Angie meandered through the office with Tammy, and found herself leaning against the desk of a Tax Assistant named Kelly. The beautiful woman, probably in her late thirties, had a friendly smile, though she wasn’t nearly as outgoing as Tammy.

“It’s nice to meet you, Angie.” Kelly shook her hand. “Welcome to the team!”

Kelly asked them about their Thanksgiving. Angie gave a brief version of her day with Brian’s family, and Tammy proceeded to gush about her three boys’ muddy football game with their cousins.

“How about you, Kelly?” Tammy asked. “What did you do?”

Kelly smiled, clearly warmed by her memories. “My family and I had a wonderful weekend together. We had a full day with family on Thanksgiving. Lots of cousins, food, and football. Then Black Friday was our traditional day to get a Christmas Tree. We spent the rest of the weekend decorating our house, listening to Christmas music, and enjoying cocoa together.”

Tammy asked a follow-up question, but Angie didn’t hear the words. She’d noticed a framed picture near her on the desk of what she presumed to be Kelly with her family: a husband, a daughter, and a son. 

Angie wouldn’t have thought much about the picture, only glancing for a moment, but she looked back and sucked in a quick breath.

Like Kelly, her husband and son both had dark hair and dark eyes, only with olive tones to their skin. Her daughter, however, had bright blonde hair, almost white, as well as bright eyes, fair skin, and flecks of light freckles on her nose and cheeks.

Clearly, this girl was not their biological daughter, but that wasn’t all. 

The blonde appeared older than her brother. She was a couple of inches taller, and her face more slender and mature, with less traces of baby fat in the cheeks than he had. In this picture, she seemed to be eleven, maybe twelve.

Angie couldn’t breathe. That hair. Those freckles. This girl could be the right age. As if those striking features weren’t enough, subtle similarities in her face stood out. 

Traces of Angie, and traces of that boy she knew so long ago.

“Kelly?” she murmured. Her faded hearing grew clear again, and a voice cut off abruptly, mid-sentence. Tammy’s voice. Oops, Angie had cut her off.

She looked at Tammy and Kelly, both watching her now, waiting as she paused.

“What a lovely family, Kelly. How...how old are your kids?”

Kelly smiled again, looking at the picture. “Twelve and ten. Abigail and Tommy. Good kids. They’re very close. That was taken last spring.”

A pang resounded in Angie’s chest. Abigail. What a pretty name - it seemed to fit her sweet smile.

“She’s...beautiful.” Angie swallowed. “And very blonde. I notice the rest of you have darker hair…”

Kelly nodded and grinned, obviously familiar with the inquiry. “Yes, she’s adopted. Chris and I married pretty young, and tried for years to have kids. We thought we couldn’t, so we adopted. But, lo and behold, within that same year, we got pregnant!”

“Wow, that’s amazing!” Tammy gaped.

“Yeah,” Kelly laughed. “Only a year and a half apart. We’re very thankful.”

Angie should have reasoned with herself that day. She should have told herself that she was imagining things. That she was looking for something that wasn’t there, probably still emotional from the highs of the holiday weekend...focused on family. What were the odds that this was the baby girl she gave away?

Within a week, though, she was passing out invitations for her cookie exchange party.

“Bring your family!” the invitations announced.

So, here she was, three weeks later, preparing for the party tonight. Kelly had promptly replied with her RSVP of four people, and there were at least twenty families to attend. Angie’s nerves had been shooting like fireworks all day, and now she was making mistakes, like burning a batch of cookies.

She didn’t exactly have a plan, but Angie certainly didn’t intend to make a scene of any kind. All she wanted was to at least see her. Abigail. In person. 

Maybe she could talk to her for a moment, observe the angles of her face to get confirmation either way. The young girl could walk right through the door, and Angie would know in an instant that she’d had it all wrong. That her mind was just playing tricks on her. Haunting her. On the other hand, Abigail could live up to her imaginings and be Angie’s spitting image.

Back in high school, Angie had been over the moon when Zack asked her to the junior prom, and they dated all senior year. Granted, he became distant when she told him she was pregnant after New Year’s. He stuck around through the spring, but once they graduated, he was gone. That summer, when she was eighteen, she gave birth to a beautiful baby girl. 

Her parents’ disappointment had been palpable. They insisted she wasn’t ready to be a mother, that she should give up the baby. They would pay for her to attend college, but not to throw away her future on young motherhood.

Admittedly, she wanted to keep her baby. It may not have been what she’d dreamed of right out of school, but the thought of motherhood had always warmed her. She wanted to make it work, but what choice did her parents give her with their ultimatum?

Angie never even got to name her. Her parents had arranged all the paperwork, and it would be a closed adoption. No chance of Angie getting to know her daughter. They just told her that, once she was better, she would go to school and they’d all forget this had ever happened.

But she never forgot. More than anything, questions of guilt, regret, and curiosity plagued her for years. Why didn’t Angie fight for her? Why didn’t she stand up for herself? Was her daughter happy? Was she safe? Who was she becoming?

Angie had told Brian about her daughter one tear-filled night when they were dating, but he encouraged her, saying he was sure her daughter was happy and loved. They married soon after graduation, and they never told Peter or Bethie about their other sister.

Angie thought about all this as she and the kids finished decorating the cookies and setting up the house for the party. Brian made it home from work with pizza in hand, and they enjoyed a quick, early dinner.

Guests began to arrive with their families just before six-thirty, flowing throughout the beige and white decor sprinkled with Christmas lights, scented wreaths, and striped ribbons. Several tables, covered with red and green tablecloths, lined the wall underneath the front windows. For the children, there were beads and twine on the large coffee table by the fireplace for them to fashion bracelets or keychains.

Angie flitted from one guest to another, taking coats, meeting new faces, showing them the cookie and refreshment tables. Her eyes kept darting to the front door.

Ten minutes into the party, she opened the door to Kelly and her bundled-up family, catching her breath as her nerves surged. 

“Welcome, welcome!” she said. “Come on in!”

She stepped aside and swept her arm out to usher them in. As they removed their coats, Abigail smiled and blinked with wonder at the warmth of the Christmas atmosphere. The lights glistened against her gentle green eyes. A familiar arch to her nose was more noticeable from this angle, and those freckles dotted her face similar to Zack’s. But her quiet air and shy smile reminded Angie of herself.

This had to be her.

As Angie draped their coats over her left arm, Kelly beamed over the party and introduced her family. Angie shook their hands, briefly meeting Abigail’s eyes once, before the family dispersed, mingling with the others.

That was that.

A few minutes later, Angie and Brian stood in front of the fireplace to welcome their guests, announcing that all could begin tasting each others’ cookies and feel free to gather a few of each kind to take home. Once dismissed, the mayhem ensued. People visited all over the house as they enjoyed their own mixed plates of cookies. 

Angie couldn’t help but be pulled into a variety of conversations. As far as connecting with her co-workers, she was boding well. She had to admit to having a pleasant time, and looked forward to future interactions at the office. But her eyes scanned often for Abigail, occasionally catching a glimpse of her with Tommy. Scanning the cookie table for new tastes, refilling on hot chocolate, chatting with other kids their age.

Just before eight, the lively conversations settled into a more relaxed tones, bellies full and satisfied with tasty treats and drinks. Angie walked through the crowd to check that everyone was happy and comfortable when her eyes settled on two girls at the craft table. 

Bethie sat on the floor at the end of the table, back to the fire, while Abigail sat on the end of the couch next to her. The two were smiling and talking as they worked on a beaded project together.

Angie froze, her eyes blurring. Of all the kids to gravitate toward each other...

She blinked back the tears, though, and approached the girls with a smile, bending to her knees on Bethie’s left side.

“How are we doing, girls?”

“Look, Mommy!” Bethie grinned. “Abigail’s helping me make a bracelet.”

Their arrangement of beads and twine were Christmas colors - green, red, and white.

“These are beautiful!” Angie looked up at Abigail. “Are you having a good time, Abigail?”

Her smile was shy, but friendly. “I am. The cookies are great. Thanks for inviting us.”

“Of course. Are you looking forward to Christmas?”

She nodded. “Yep, it’s my favorite.”

“Your favorite holiday? How come?”

Abigail looked down, arranging more beads as she thought. “Well, my dad has to travel a lot. And it’s always an extended time home for him. So, that’s nice. But, I don’t know…” She shrugged and looked up with a smile. “It’s also when we celebrate my adoption.”

Angie raised her brows. “Wow. Really? That’s great. Why at Christmas?”

“That’s the same week it became official, when I was a baby. It’s my Happy Adoption Day. With my birthday, I invite friends and extended family, but...Adoption Day is just the four of us. We bake a special cake for it and everything.”

Abigail shrugged and smiled again, adding more beads to Bethie’s bracelet. Angie stared for a moment. The girl attempted nonchalance, but the subtle way she lit up about her Adoption Day gave her away.

“You sure love your family, don’t you? You sound really glad that you were adopted.”

Abigail averted her eyes at the personal observation. “Yeah. I mean, I’ve met a lot of other kids who still haven’t been adopted, or who don’t have as great of a situation as I do.”

“Do you talk to your birth parents, too? Or was it a closed adoption?”

She looked back at Angie. “Closed. But that’s fine with me.”

“Yeah? Why is that?”

“I think it’d be weird to have to deal with two families. I know my birth parents must have had a good reason for giving me up, and that’s good enough for me. If they hadn’t, I wouldn’t have my family now. My birth family could have been really good, but they could have been worse. I really lucked out with the one I got.”

Angie took in a slow and silent breath, and exhaled. The anxiety in her chest dissipated within only a few heartbeats, and she relaxed her neck and shoulders.

“That’s really great, Abigail,” she smirked. “I have one more question, though.”

Abigail perked up, though her eyes remained guarded.

“This might seem random. But when is your birthday?”

The girl winced, surprised, and she smirked back.

“July 15.”

Angie tilted her head and blinked. The fifteenth? Her daughter was born on July 14. Was she wrong about this girl? But it was only one day off. Maybe the hospital had made a mistake in telling Abigail’s adoptive parents?

Come to think of it, Angie did give birth late at night. Maybe the actual birth had been after midnight, not before, as she had thought. Did Angie have it wrong all these years?

She only had a second to consider this before she heard Kelly’s voice.

“Abigail. It’s time to go!”

They both looked up. Kelly leaned from behind Tommy at the other end of the couch, hand on his shoulder as he cleaned up his beads. Brain walked up to Chris with his family’s coats, and the men shook hands.

“Oh,” Angie said, looking at Abigail and Bethie. “Um, say bye to your new friend, Bethie.”

“Aw,” the little girl whined. “We’re not done yet.”

“It’s okay,” Abigail smiled. “It’s almost finished. You’re doing great. Thanks for helping me with mine.” She touched a bracelet already on her wrist that Angie just noticed. “Once you’re done, we’ll match.”

Bethie beamed. Abigail and Angie both stood. 

“Thanks again.”

“Of course. Take care, Abigail.”

The girl rounded the couch to join her family. Once they had donned their coats and said goodbye to several others, they headed for the door. Brian jumped to open it for them. Angie followed, reaching Brian’s side as he waved.

“Drive safe!” he called.

“Will do!” Chris answered.

The four waved back in the middle of the street, veering left toward their car on the other side. Angie watched the family, exclaiming over the cookies they were taking home. Kelly lightly rubbed Abigail’s upper back as they spoke and giggled together. Then Abigail moved to put her arm around her brother’s shoulders for a moment, pulling him tighter just before letting go and splitting up to get in the car.

Angie smiled to herself and closed her eyes for a moment, feeling a long-awaited peace over her heart.

Maybe Abigail was her daughter. Maybe she wasn’t. Angie felt sure that she was, but there remained enough question in her mind to doubt. Regardless, in that moment, believing Abigail was her daughter became enough. 

Even if her daughter was still out there, this seemed the surest way of finding affirmation either way. All Angie knew was that Abigail was okay. She was happy with her adopted family, not weighed down by questions over her birth parents. She was safe and loved, and had a bright future ahead of her. If she had found peace and happiness, then maybe her daughter had, too, wherever she was. 

Right then, the guilt disappeared, the regret lessened, and the curiosity was satiated. She still hoped to hear from Kelly sometimes how Abigail was getting on, but Angie knew it would be best to let her be. They were both living well now, and that was all that mattered.

At least Angie could smile at the possibility that she had made Christmas cookies for her long-lost daughter.