Moonlight fell through the bay window, shining on the soft purring cat that came to join Melissa Gallowy. She was missing 90210, but it didn't seem to matter right now. With the TV off and the lights out, the large house seemed like a deserted church.

Last week Melissa found out that she was adopted, and she was only beginning to understand the choir of emotions humming inside her with sour dissonance. It meant that she was abandoned, but that she was rescued. She had family, but no roots. Impotent anger drew her back and forth between condeming her parents for not explaining this to her sooner and knowing that they did it out of compassion and love. Was it disappointment then? All that needed to be said had already been said. Any tears that were to be shed had already fallen.

Whoever I am, she thought to herself, I'm me.

At least Emily didn't care, thought Melissa, as long as she had a lap to purr upon.

Carl came up from the basement. He was baby sitting her and her younger brother Stephen tonight.

"Do you want to come down and play Scrabble with us, or some chess?"

"I don't think so."

He came over to the large window bench and sat slowly and quietly across from her, his face hidden between gray and black.

"Would it help to talk? About anything?"

"I don't think so."

"Oh, little-dove, I wish I could tell you something that would make it better."

"Carl, I'm almost a teenager. Why do you still call me that?"

"Tu et toujour ma petite colombe."

"I just need to snap out of it. I will soon. I mean, I know that it's no value judgement on me, on who I am today. It's not like mom or dad deciding that they don't like they way I dress so they throw me out. Whoever did this didn't know me. It's just as well, I guess."

A moment of sweet quiet settled between them, framed by the moon shadows on one side and Carl's quiet friendship on the other. In between them, Melissa sat, as if drifting apart from the flow of time, watching herself watch the wind blown maple leaves.

"Did you know?" she asked, just above a whisper.

"I did."

"They told me once when I was real young that they were going to take me to my father, which I didn't understand. I thought I was going to have to go live at the building where daddy works. I haven't thought of that in years. I still don't know what it means, really."

"Come on downstairs."

"I think I want to sit here a little longer."

"I understand." He reached over and gently pushed a stray lock of hair away from her face, brushed it down behind her ear and then left her.

For the past week, Melissa felt like a stranger in her own room, and sometimes, in her own body. She imagined that her mind, the one nurturned and grown by Thomas and Mia Galloway, had taken over this body, displacing the mind that would have, and should have been there by another name.

She went over in her mind the reasons a mother would give up her baby, and none of them eased her mind: alcohol abuse, junkie, shiftless, one night stand. She began to notice things about herself, the wide cut of her jaw, the small upturn of her nose.

Why didn't they tell me?

* * *

"Why did you tell her?" Carl asked the next morning, standing in the doorway to Thomas Galloway's office. Tom looked up from his drafting table and said, "I know it's hard, Carl, but she'll be all right."

Carl came in and sat at the small chair next to the window, watching a couple birds that were perched in the tree outside.

Tom took a sip of his morning coffee, watched Carl for a moment, then turned back to his work and said,"How's the Petterson House coming? I hear the board's demanding a historically accurate restoration."

Carl didn't say anything. He continued to stare out the window.

"David told me that he's very pleased with your work. I told him he would be. You've done very well here. I'm glad you let me talk you into going on to college."

"What else did you tell her?"

"I haven't told her that. Not yet."

"I don't think you should. There's no reason she needs to know. It's already confusing enough for her."

"We'll see."

"Tom. I'm serious."

"Well," he answered curtly, "It's not your decision, is it?"

"No. I suppose not. Look, I'm just trying to protect you. If she finds out you weren't granted legal custody, what would she think?"

"I'm not the one you're trying to protect, Carl. Maybe it's time you faced a little responsibility for this. That's what I think."

* * *

"So what's this big news?" said Melissa's friend, Amy, once they were settled at the lunch table. Instead of answering, or being silly like she usually did when she had some secret to impart, Melissa stared at her lunch tray until she was able to say without emotion, "You can't tell anyone. This isn't some pinky swear thing. I mean, swear on your holy life." "I swear. I really do. What's wrong?"

"I just found out last Tuesday. I wanted to tell you, but I couldn't."

"What?"

Melissa beckoned Amy to lean in closer, cupped her hand over her friend's ear and whispered the two terrible words, "I'm adopted."

Amy sat back and asked, "No shit? I mean, really? You're serious? My god, Melissa."

"Shh."

"What's the big secret?"

"None of your business Greg. Butt out," Amy said.

Another boy butted in. "It's a girl secret. She's probably in love or she's going to get a training bra."

"She needs a bra about as much as I need a tampon," Greg said. "She must be in love. How sweet."

Melissa normally would have ignored the ignorant prattle of the lesser half of the species, but maybe that wasn't the right thing for her to do. Maybe the real Melissa, if that was even her real name, would have done more than sit there feeling embarrassed and afraid of the boys. She stood up, curled her fingers tightly into her palm and walked down to Greg.

"Stop talking about me."

"You're cute when you're angry. No, not even then. Do you want to borrow some kleenex for you baby bra?"

"Shut up, dickless bastard."

Her last comment got the attention of one of the teachers on lunch patrol.

Greg turned to his friend and said, "Look out, it's the PMS monster. Oh, I'm afraid."

When he turned back around, he was hit by a trayfull of chile, french fries, apple spice cake and a Coke. Melissa pushed the tray into his face and then dragged him out of the chair by his hair. Her nervous frustration found a sudden outlet and she slapped and punched until he turned around and punched her cheek. Then she really started into him, clawing eyes, kicking, punching.

When they were finally pulled apart, Greg looked at her and laughed, until his friend said, "Oh man, you got you ass kicked by a girl." Only then did he seem to notice his bloody lip.

Melissa stood in the grasp of Mister Landry, her English teacher, feeling the rush of adrenaline as it settled under a new understanding of the freedom that she had found. If she didn't have to be Melissa Galloway, she could be anyone, say anything.

* * *

That evening in her room, surrounded by her things, the posters and decorations she had selected, being someone else didn't hold as much appeal. It was hard enough for kids to figure out who they were when they knew who they were. Melissa began to feel doubly lost. If Melissa Galloway was a fiction, how could she ever know who she was really supposed to be? If she stayed who she was, how could she know if she was being true to her real self.

At a quarter past seven, there was a quiet knock on her door and she heard the footsteps of her father come into the room.

"Fighting, Melissa? That's not like you."

She remained on the bed, lying with her back to him.

"How do you know it's not like me?"

She didn't move until he sat on the bed behind her and put his hand on her shoulder. When she turned over and displayed the bruise below her left eye, he melted into a mushy puddle of sympathy.

"Oh, Melissa, baby. What happened? Did someone make fun of you because they found out you were adopted?"

"No."

She scooted up and sat with her back against the wall.

"It was just this guy, Greg. He's always cracking jokes and making fun. I decided that I'd had enough so I pushed his tray full of chile into his face."

"I'm glad, I suppose, that you stood up for yourself, but you know what your mother and I have told you..."

"Don't lecture me now! Jesus, why didn't you tell me?"

Her father looked away. That was the question she had been afraid to ask for the past week. He spoke softly, looking away from her, as if he was confessing a great secret to her white teddy bear that sat on a table next to her bed.

"I don't know how much you remember. When they came to take you away, when they decided we couldn't keep you, do you know how much that was like a cold knife in my stomach? The way you screamed when the sherrif took you out of my arms. You were my girl, my beautiful baby girl, and I couldn't stand to think of you as anything other than that.

"Why didn't I tell you? I don't know. I was afraid for so long that you'd find out on your own and stop loving me, or run away or something. I was stupid, I suppose, and selfish, but I was afraid that if you found out, about the whole thing, that you wouldn't want me anymore.

"Your mother wanted to, at first, but I convinced her that it wasn't time yet. Eventually, we stopped wondering when would be the right time. You were ours, and we loved you, and that's all that seemed to matter."

Finally he turned to her, slowly moving his eyes up to face her.

"But it's different now, and I'm not afraid that you'll hate me for what I did, because it's turned out to be the right thing. You're going to go to high school next year. I just decided that it was time."

"I don't want to be mad at you, daddy. I'm not. It's just hard, you know, wondering who I'm supposed to be. You have no idea what it's like to have your world fall out from under you."

"You wrong. I know it's different, but when I saw you being taken to the sherrif's car, and thinking that was the last time I would ever see you, the world fell out from under me."

Her father stood up suddenly and said, "Get ready for supper. Carl's here. I'm going to help him prepare for the historical review board tonight."

He left her, with so much still wanting to be said between them. She needed the answers that he had started to give, but she couldn't bring herself to run after him and demand more. She fixed up her hair a bit and then went down to the supper table.

Carl saw her bruise and said, "You're right, Tom. That's quite a shiner. How are you, slugger? I heard about the excitement at school today."

"I don't want to talk about it."

She didn't talk about anything throughout supper. She fed herself the steamed brocoli and corn, leaving most of the chicken and potatoes while the men discussed the silly details of their work, which apparently was more important to them than she was. As she and her mother cleared the table, her father addressed her suddenly.

"Melissa," he began.

She looked up to him.

"There's something more I need to tell you."

Carl looked over to him and said, "Tom, are you sure?"

Tom looked at Carl for a prolonged moment, and then nodded.

He stood and led Melissa into the living room. The others stayed at the table, watching them through the narrow archway. Her father went into his study and brought out an envelope with a piece of yellowed news paper that was saved in a plastic sheet protector.

  Today the fourth  circuit court ordered
  baby M  to be  removed  from the  house 
  of  her adoptive  parents and  returned
  to her  natural father.   In two weeks, 
  the  two year  old  baby girl, who  has 
  known only her  adoptive  parents, will 
  be taken by child services and returned
  to her natural father who first learned
  of her existance  two months after  her
  mother was killed in a highway accident.

  Lawyers for the natural father,  an out
  of   work  truck  driver,   hailed  the
  decision  as  confirming family rights.
  "If they hadn't  dragged their  feet so
  much, there wouldn't be an  issue here.
  It  should  have  been resolved  over a
  year ago,"  said  Baxter Cheetum,  lead
  attorney.

  "This is not right,"  complained Thomas
  Galloway,  the adoptive  father.   "She
  can't understand.  Why won't they think
  of the rights of this little girl? This
  is monsterous."

  The decision ends a fourteen month legal
  battle for custody, four months of which
  were spent locating the adoptive family.

                    See editorial page 17.

"I don't understand." Melissa said, looking up to her father. "Why didn't he take me?"

Then he handed her an envelope. In it was a hand written letter.

--------------------------------------

Dear Mr. Galloway.

I don't know how to begin, let me just say that I've decided to accept your offer. Melissa will stay with you.

For a whole year now my heads been filled with lawyers telling me that it was my natural right and there's plenty of mistakes and loopholes. All the time I imagined my daughter with me. I thought long and hard about settling down, trying to make a go of it. I knew that once I had her I would of grown up and started to take care of business.

But I still didnt' feel ready. Long ago I wondered if it was the right thing to do, I had paid so much money, and made such a fuss, that I didn't know what else to do. I love that little girl. In the year that this has been going on, my love kept catching up and passing my doubts and I knew that I wanted her more than I ever wanted anything.

Cathy never wanted anything to do with kids. But I did. That's why we never got married. She should of just gave her to me then. But that's not what happened.

Mabey your right. She needs a mama and a daddy. Mabey its me who's being selfish. It's because I love her that I want you to take care of her. I dont' know if the lwers can undo what we did, but I will tell them to. It's not the money. I need the money now, and fifty thousand is going to give me the chance I never had. But that's not all the story. It was your kindness and the way you offered friendship, and not hateful words that I was thinking you felt. I do want to watch her, and help her grow up. But she'll grow up better with you than with me, I think. I love her too much not to let her have that chance.

I'm sorry for making it hard. I thought of this before, but if they took her from me, I couldn't stand that. Now that she's mine, I can let her go with you. Do you understand that, that it's not the money I wanted, but the best for her? You promised you'd let me come and see her once in a while. You take good care of her because I love her so much. that's why I don't want the money. Put it in the bank for her.

I don't know how to do it, but we'll talk and settle it later. I'm going to give this to my friend to give to you before I burn it clean up.

Sincearely,

Carl Doogan

--------------------------------------

Melissa turned around and saw Carl sitting hunched forward with an elbow resting on his knee and his hand covering his mouth under red, worried eyes and a wrinkled brow. When their eyes met, tears fell out of his. They met each other in the living room. Carl picked up Mellissa and carried her back to the sofa where he sat holding her, an eternal embrace, saying quietly over and over, "I never did leave you. I love you so much."

"Carl finally let me use that money to help send him to college, as a loan, he insisted. You don't have to wonder, Melissa, about who you are, or what happened to your natural father. He's been your close friend all your life, a real part of our family.

"Love is one of those funny things where the more of it you give away, the more you have. I want you to love him, Melissa, as much as you can. I want to give back to him what he gave to me, and to you."

He then left the two of them alone.

"Can you tell me about my mother?"

"I can tell you everything. We'll have to figure out what it all means. Some kids end up with two dads because of divorce, a thing of hate and anger. This happened the other way around. We took something that divided a whole city and somehow turned it into friendship. I waited, and watched, and loved you just as much. I was kind of messed up then. It was better this way."

"So you're really my father? My real father, I mean?"

"Something like that."

It was odd. Part of her didn't like having been lied to all these years. Another part was flopping back and forth, seeing Carl as both friend and the shadowy, invisible father she had been wondering about the past week. Most of her, however, knew how happy she had been growing up in this house, having all the things a child could have, never lacking love, discipline, nice clothes. What would it been like, she wondered, without a mother, without her little brother.

"Thank you, Carl," she said.

"You're welcome, my little dove."

:^D