“How come?”
“I was up in Cleveland. We had heat, but nothing like this. I might as well be in the South now, you know?”
“Nah. We might be just over the river from Kentucky, but our summers have nothing on the folks further south. That’s like living in a sauna.”
“Are you from the South and I didn’t catch the accent?”
Matt knew she was joking since he was sure didn’t have the slightest hint of a drawl. “Ha-ha. No, just went to medical school in Nashville and did my residency in Kentucky. I’m from the west side of Cincinnati.”
“And here you are in a little place like Bridgeport.”
“Yep.” Thinking about all the factors that had weighed in his decision, Matt said, “I wanted to start a practice where I could get to know my patients. Someplace where I would get to help women start their families, and then check in with them over the next twenty years.”
“You really care about your patients, don’t you?”
“Yep. I’m not jaded yet.” Hoping to lighten the conversation, he said, “Plus, my mom would probably box my ears if I said anything less. I grew up with three sisters, you know.”
“Wait a minute, there are four of you?”
“It’s worse than that. I’m one of six. I have two older brothers, too.”
“Your mother had six kids? Wow.”
“It’s not so impressive. The Rossi’s are a big Italian, Catholic family. Just like practically every other family on our street,” he said as they walked into the Mill. They placed their orders, and after refusing to take Traci’s money, Matt paid and then guided them to a table in the corner. The barista promised to deliver their coffees in a few minutes.
“Do any of your siblings still live nearby?” Traci asked, picking up their conversation just as if they hadn’t just spent the last ten minutes getting settled.
“Every one of them does.” As much as he grumbled about their interfering habits, Matt knew he wouldn’t have it any other way. “We all get together on Sunday nights for supper.”
“All of you?”
“Yep. My mom makes a big pot of spaghetti, and we catch up. It’s pretty terrific.”
“I bet.” She smiled, but there was something else in her tone too. It sounded almost like wistfulness.
Their drinks were delivered, plain lattes for each of them. As he watched Traci take a tentative sip, smile, then take a longer one, Matt knew he wanted to know her even better. Anyone who took so much pleasure in something so simple was someone he wanted to learn about. In addition, he liked seeing her out of uniform. Today she had on a pair of faded jeans and a dark-green button down. She’d probably say it wasn’t anything special, but he had noticed that both pieces fit her well. “What about you?”
“Me? Well, I don’t have anything like that. When I was a toddler, my mom gave me and my sisters up for adoption. The social workers and the agency separated us, so I grew up without siblings.”
He still couldn’t believe things like that used to happen. “I bet that was hard.” The moment he said that, he wished he could take it back. He had a feeling ‘hard’ was putting it mildly.
“For her? I have no idea.” She shrugged. “I guess it was,” she allowed after a slight hesitation. “I don’t remember it though. I was little more than a baby. My sister Kimber wasn’t even a month old. Even our sister Shannon, who was over a year, doesn’t have any memories of that time.”
Anxious to find a silver lining in a heartbreaking story, he said, “Did you see them much when you were growing up?”
“I didn’t see them at all. I had no idea that I even had sisters until Shannon discovered it through one of those DNA tests you can take at home and search for relatives online. She contacted me out of the blue.”
“And then?”
“And then, after almost a year of corresponding and talking on the phone, we decided to live together for a year, so we could all get to actually know one another. Kimber and I decided to move to Bridgeport because Shannon was opening up her dance studio here.”
Gaping at her, he leaned back in his chair. “That’s quite a story.”
“Well, it’s a story.” Staring intently at the paper cup, she continued. “Shannon, Kimber, and I all grew up really differently. But, we each became people to be proud of.”
“You should be proud. You’re a great person.”
Traci laughed. “You hardly know me. But thank you. I did all right, considering how I started out in life.”
It was obvious now that she’d faced some challenges. Matt was curious about what they could be, but he wasn’t sure whether he should ask for more details.
He didn’t want her to feel like she was being interrogated when all he wanted to do was get to know her better. But, Traci didn’t seem especially guarded, so he pushed forward. “You said you all grew up differently. How was it different?”
She smiled. “Shannon was in a small town in West Virginia and has a sweet country accent. Kimber grew up in New York, just outside the city.” She paused. “I grew up in a group home in Cleveland.”
“You were never adopted?”
“Nope.”
“I’m sorry.” This was about to go down in history as the worst “first date” conversation ever. Why hadn’t he stuck to something safer—like movies or her job?
Her eyes widened. “Don’t be. It made me what I am. And it wasn’t horrible. But, it did make me more aware of how critical the consequences can be for someone like Gwen, though.”
“How so?”
“My mother took drugs when she was pregnant with me. I was born an addict.”
He’d delivered babies who were born addicted to drugs. They were usually criers; some had trouble nursing, and others never slept. Some went their whole lives with the effects. Traci didn’t seem to be one of them, though.
“That’s why you’re so concerned about Gwen.”
“Yeah. Well, I was more concerned about her baby,” she corrected. She winced. “Sorry. I know how that sounds.”
It did sound harsh, but it also made her seem human. It took a strong person to admit their true feelings.
Now that he’d heard part of her story, Matt knew his interest in her was only going to grow from here. Traci Lucky was a maze of fascinating contradictions, and he was intrigued by each one of them.
All he had to do was find a way to see her again.