The Legacy – A Short Story

I wrote this short story as part of an anthology that was released on Loving Day (June 12, 2023). Each story features mixed-race couples or characters, with love as the central theme. The anthology raised money for the Legal Defense Fund.

My story is not the typical romance. Instead, it’s about a mother’s love for her son and a young woman’s emotional search for the brother she didn’t know she had.

Here it is.

The Legacy – By Su Ring

“My dear Grace,

I hope you never receive this letter because it will mean that I am no longer here. But in another way, I am relieved you are reading this because it means I am no longer keeping a terrible secret that I have carried in my heart for years.

You have grown up as an only child. Your daddy and I loved you very much and hope we gave you a life that made you ready for success on your own. But every day that I looked at you, watching you grow into a beautiful, strong woman and celebrate all of your accomplishments, I have also been thinking about someone else, someone you don’t know about.

Grace, you have an older brother. I gave birth to him ten years before I met your daddy. I met a soldier who was stationed where I lived in Seoul. I met him outside my temple. He was nice and very respectful. He said he loved me and wanted to marry me and take me to America to live with him. I was so in love. When I learned I was pregnant, I thought he would be happy to hear the news. He wasn’t happy. He told me he was too young to be trapped and he disappeared from my life.

I was in shame. My parents sent me to a home for unwed women to give birth then give up their babies. I could not keep my son. He would not be accepted, and I would not be accepted. He went to an orphanage. I volunteered at the orphanage so I could help care for him. I watched him grow but he never knew I was his mommy.

When he turned five, I was forced to leave the orphanage. The manager learned that the boy I spent all my time with was my son. I drove past the orphanage every day, just to watch him play. But then, I met your daddy and we got married. I was too ashamed to tell him about your brother, so I kept him a secret for many years. I finally told your Daddy a few years ago and we began to look for him together.

I want you to keep looking for him and tell him how much he was loved. I just couldn’t keep him. It was not a good time then. I only hope you can find him. His first name is Brian and he lived at the Yong San orphanage in Seoul.

I love you so much and hope you are not too sad because I am not here. Keep me in your heart. I always carry you in mine.

Love, your Mommy.”

Grace leaned back in her chair, gripping the letter in one hand and the arm of the chair with her other hand. She turned unbelieving eyes on the solemn-looking man sitting opposite her, hands resting on the oak desk sitting between them.

“What… what is this, Jay?” Grace’s normally modulated voice was high-pitched and tinged with panic. “I have a half-brother? And my mom wants me to look for him? After all this time? Is this a joke?”

Jay cleared his throat, then opened a folder on his desk. He pulled out several sheets of paper and slid them across the desk. Grace laid the letter on the desk and reached for the papers with trembling hands. They were official-looking documents, each one stamped with a seal. The documents were written in Korean, but she could tell one was a birth certificate, complete with a newborn’s footprint. The second document was more puzzling, although she guessed it had something to do with the orphanage.

“This looks like a birth certificate, but what’s this other document?”

Jay peered across the desk at it, brows furrowing as he tried to read it upside down.

“That’s the document turning your brother over to the care of the Yong San orphanage in Seoul, South Korea.”

Grace gazed at him; eyes narrowed.

“I didn’t know you could still read Korean.”

“Hey, just because I’m half-Korean, like you, doesn’t mean I haven’t kept up with my Korean studies, unlike you, my friend. Remember, my mom made me go to Korean school growing up, so I could learn to read and write, as well as speak. She still ignores me if I spoke English to her, even though her English is almost as good as mine.”

Grace sighed wistfully.

“I wish my mom had done that with me. She tried when I was a child, but I was too rebellious. She said I wore her out and she gave up.”

Tears welled in Grace’s eyes, and she grabbed a tissue from the box on his desk and wiped them away. She’d cried so much since her parents were killed in a collision with a drunk driver the previous week. Jay Moller was her mom’s best friend’s son, and her best friend since middle school. He’d served as her parents’ attorney since graduating from law school. He’d handled simple business deals, as well as their estate planning. As she sat across the desk from him, she wondered how many of her parents’ secrets he’d been keeping, and for how long.

“How long have you known about my brother?” Grace couldn’t help the note of accusation that crept into her voice.

Jay’s eyes widened.

“I promise, I didn’t know until last week! Your mom gave me a sealed manila envelope and warned me not to open it until after she passed away. And I know your mom planned on living a long life. I opened the envelope a couple of days after their accident. I was as surprised as you are.”

“And I’m glad I didn’t’ know,” he added. “Imagine me trying to keep a bombshell secret like that from you.”

Grace dabbed away more tears.

“Do you think your mom knows about this guy?”

Grace’s and Jay’s mothers had been best friends growing up in Korea. There was no way Nancy Moller didn’t know about this.

Jay frowned.

“I asked my mom about it when I first opened the envelope and saw its contents, and she shushed me. She said I was not to speak about it.”

“But my mom wants me to look for this guy!”

“I know,” Jay said, soothingly.

“We need to talk to her! Call her and tell her we’re coming over,” Grace demanded.

Jay took in the mulish look on Grace’s face and picked up his phone.

The conversation was brief, but Grace could hear Nancy’s voice, loud and strident, through the phone, while Jay’s voice remained soothing. Finally, he said, “Okay. We’ll be right over,” and hung up. He stood, grabbed his suit jacket off a hook and shrugged into it.

“She’s going to talk to us. She doesn’t want to, but I explained that your mom wants you to look for him, and that changed her tone.”

He swept the letter and documents into the folder and handed it to her.

“Put this in your bag. She wants to look at them.”

Jay drove, Grace sitting silently in the passenger seat, gripping the folder. She wondered what Jay’s mom would say about this other child. She closed her eyes and tried to regulate her breathing and heart rate. They pulled up in front of the Mollers’ neat cottage in Sea Girt, just a couple of blocks away from the house where Grace grew up, on the Jersey shore.

Jay pulled up to the curb in front of the house and parked. He kept pace with Grace as they walked up the steps to his mom’s front porch. He knocked and opened the door, calling out, “Eomeoni (mother)! It’s us!”

“In the kitchen!” his mother called out, her English nearly as perfect as her son’s, with just a hint of a Korean accent.

They followed the aroma of garlic to the kitchen and found her sitting at the table, watching a Korean soap opera on a tablet while peeling and crushing garlic. An ice tray sat nearby, a sliver of oil sitting in the bottom of each cube. As Grace and Jay pulled out chairs to sit, Nancy deftly scooped up a small mound of crushed garlic with a spoon and placed it into a cube. Then, she wiped her hands on a dish towel and reached her hands out to Grace’s, giving them a gentle squeeze.

“I’m so sorry about your mommy and daddy,” she said, compassion filling her round face. “It’s a very sad thing to happen.”

Grace fought back a fresh wave of tears.

“Thank you, Nancy ajumma,” she said, her voice wobbly with emotion.

Nancy smiled at the endearment Grace had been using since she was a child, an honorific for a beloved older woman who was not a blood relative. She squeezed Grace’s hands again, then turned to her son.

“You want to know about Anna’s son,” she said, her tone matter of fact.

Grace nodded, unable to speak.

“Yes, Umma,” Jay replied. “As you know, I was Anna ajumma’s attorney and she gave me an envelope that was only to be opened upon her death. Remember when I asked about this? I had just opened that envelope and seen the contents. Anna ajumma wants Grace to look for him.”

His mother waved her hand, and he stopped talking. She turned back to Grace.

“My question to you is this: do you want to find your opa?”

Grace flinched at the Korean endearment for older brother and answered honestly.

“I don’t know. I mean, my mother wants me to find him, but it’s been so long. Would he even want to meet me? What kind of life is he living?

Nancy sighed and typed into her tablet. The drama on the screen vanished, replaced by a website.

“Your mommy wrote that letter a few years ago and didn’t get the chance to update it. When she wrote that letter, she didn’t know what happened to your opa since she was forced to leave her volunteer job at the orphanage when he was five.”

She turned the tablet toward Grace as she continued, “After she told your daddy about him, he hired a private investigator in Korea to try to find him. They set up this private website to share information.”

Grace pulled the tablet closer. The website was really a series of communications between her parents and the private investigator, Hoon Kim, with each post written by either her mom, dad, or Mr. Kim. The most recent post was from Mr. Kim and was dated the day after her parents died. She clicked the link to open the message.

“Greetings, Mr. and Mrs. Sloane,

I have promising news. I have found a gentleman named Brian O’Connor who is of mixed heritage, living in Changwon. He works at Masan University as a lecturer in the Department of Social Welfare. He lists his home city as an American Catholic mission in Seoul. He does not list any parents but notes that he is the ward of Father John O’Connor, the priest at the missionary.

I have contacted the mission for information about Mr. O’Connor’s birthplace or if he was adopted from the Yong San Orphanage.

I have hopeful feelings about this because he appears to be approximately a similar age as that of your son.

Please reply at your soonest as to how I should proceed from here.

With best regards,

Hoon Kim”

Grace stared at the words on the screen, her mouth open in wonder. Jay noticed her expression and quickly rose from his chair, moving around to her side of the table.

“What is it?” he asked, as his mother grabbed the tablet and held it up to her face.

Grace took a deep breath and released it slowly.

“I think Mr. Kim has found my brother.”

Jay stepped over to his mom and read over her shoulder, then let out a low whistle.

“I think you’re right.”

His mother shoved the table back to Grace.

“You must answer him right away.”

“What do I say?” Grace asked, numbly.

Nancy tsked.

“You say you want to go to Changwon and meet your opa. That’s what you say.”

Grace shoved the tablet away and leaped out of her chair. This was too much for her to handle. The tears that had been simmering behind her eyes broke through the dam of her willpower and cascaded down her face as she ran blindly for the door. Yanking it open, she tripped down the stairs, then ran down the sidewalk, ignoring Jay’s voice calling after her.

Blood whooshed in her ears as she ran, sobbing, crossing streets without looking for traffic and barely missing being struck by a bicyclist. She didn’t stop until she reached the boardwalk. She climbed the stairs onto the boardwalk, then down the other side, onto the sandy beach. She slowed her pace as the heels of her pumps sank into the sand, then stopped and kicked her shoes off before continuing to the water’s edge. The chilly breeze coming off the Atlantic cut through the blouse she wore, and waves rushed ashore, moving more inland with each well.

Grace hugged herself to keep warm, her breath coming in ragged gasps and sobs. She started when she felt a jacket being placed around her shoulders, warm hands holding it in place until she could grab the material and wrap it around herself. Jay didn’t speak but stood next to her, hands in his pockets, the breeze ruffling his straight black hair. Grace inhaled the familiar scent of his cologne, recognizing the Dior Sauvage she’d given him for Christmas last year as a joke, after they’d laughed over the television ad featuring a well-known actor trying to look overly dramatic in the middle of a desert. They’d both been surprised at how nice the cologne actually smelled, and he’d worn it ever since.

Grace gradually lapsed into silence, broken only by an occasional hiccup. Jay’s arm curved around her and pulled her to his side. Her arm automatically wrapped around his waist.

“Quite a day for you,” he remarked.

“Quite the understatement,” she replied, her voice husky from crying and running.

Together, they turned and walked toward the boardwalk, stopping only to pick up Grace’s shoes. They trudged back to Jay’s house, wiping their sandy feet on the doormat before returning to the kitchen, where Nancy had resumed crushing garlic and scooping mounds of it into the ice tray. Grace noticed steaming mugs of roasted barley tea for her and Jay, and gratefully picked up her mug, warming her hands on the hot ceramic before taking a tentative sip.

“Kam sa ham ni da, Nancy ajumma. Thank you for everything,” she said, her voice low and deferential.

Nancy wiped her hands on the rag, then rose from her chair. She shuffled around to Grace, who rose and allowed the older woman to wrap her in a tight hug. Her eyes prickled with tears again as she took in the mingled scents of garlic and Shalimar, her mother’s favorite perfume. She and Nancy had argued good-naturedly about who introduced Shalimar to whom, each one claiming responsibility for discovering the classic perfume.

“Ai go, child,” Nancy murmured, stroking Grace’s hair. “So much pain and shock right now.” She sighed and released Grace, propelling her back into her chair.

“Drink. Warm up. Jay – get a blanket for Grace. She’s freezing.”

Jay left the kitchen then returned a few minutes later, carrying a crocheted throw, which he traded for his jacket. Grace nestled into the soft yarn and picked up her mug again, sipping more of the hot, comforting tea.

Nancy settled back into her own chair, tapped on her tablet, then navigated back to her Korean soap opera.

“I sent you the link to the website, as well as the login information. Think about what you want to do, then post a message for Mr. Kim.”

She turned kind eyes on Grace.

“Your mommy wanted you to find your opa, but you don’t have to, if you don’t want to. It’s up to you and nobody will think bad of you if you decide you don’t want to meet him.”

Grace sipped more tea, then set her mug down and wrapped the throw more tightly around herself.

“I don’t know what I want to do right now,” she admitted. “It’s a bombshell to learn that I have an older brother – err – opa. I don’t know whether this Brian O’Conner is him. If it is, he seems to be settled into a good life. What damage would I cause if I swooped in and introduced myself as his baby sister, and oh, by the way, our mother just died in a car accident?”

Nancy closed her eyes at the rawness in Grace’s voice, and Jay grimaced, even as he nodded in agreement.

“I agree that this isn’t a decision to make lightly, Grace. Take a few days. If you’d like me to communicate with Mr. Kim, I will. I have to pay him, anyway.”

Grace nodded.

“I’ll think about it and have an answer tomorrow. I need to write to Mr. Kim and let him know about Mom and Dad.”

She stood, folded the throw, and placed it over the back of her chair, then took Jay’s and her mugs over to the sink, where she washed and dried them, and put them away. She’d spent so much time in Jay’s house growing up, she knew every nook and cranny as well as she knew her own home. She hugged Nancy one more time, then picked up her purse and shoes and walked to the front door. Jay opened the door for her and accompanied her to the porch.

“Want me to drive you home?”

Grace smiled and shook her head.

“Nah. The walk will do me good.”

He glanced down at her bare feet with a wry smile.

“Your dogs have already gotten quite a workout.”

She managed a little laugh.

“So, they’re warmed up now.”

Grace gave Jay a brief hug, then walked down the steps to the sidewalk.

“I’ll call you later,” she said.

“I’ll be here,” he replied.

Grace gave a brief wave and set off down the sidewalk, knowing he would watch her until she turned the corner onto her own street.

#

Grace sat at her kitchen table, laptop open, and a mug of cold coffee nearby. She’d read and reread the message from Hoon Kim, then tried googling Brian O’Connor at Masan University. She rubbed her eyes, which felt dry and gritty. She’d tossed and turned all night, barely managing to grab a couple of hours of sleep. 

“Oh, Mommy!” she wailed. “I want you and Daddy back! I don’t know what to do!”

She wept into her hands, deep, wracking sobs that shook her body, feeling ashamed as well as anguished by her inability to stop crying. She was a 42-year-old, accomplished businesswoman running a successful crisis communications firm. Granted, she was the company’s sole employee, but business was steady, and she had money in the bank, thanks to her parents allowing her to live at home. She rented space occasionally in a coworking building in Manhattan’s West Greenwich Village but did most of her work from the cozy sunroom in the house. 

Grace forced herself to stop crying and wiped her eyes. She had to pull herself together. She picked up the mug, brought it to her lips, then stopped. The coffee tasted terrible and was worse cold. She’d never learned to brew a good pot of coffee. Her dad had been the coffee king of the family. Her mom only drank tea. Grace stood and stretched, trying to loosen tight muscles in her shoulders and back. She dumped out the cold coffee and placed the mug in the dishwasher, then grabbed a can of Diet Coke from the fridge and returned to her laptop. She was a crisis communications expert. She could handle this.

Grace opened a new post and wrote a message to Hoon Kim, telling him about her parents’ deaths and thanking him for his work. She asked him to continue his efforts to confirm whether Brian was her brother and for him to send her his latest invoice. 

Once that was done, she showered and dressed in a clean pair of jeans and a lightweight sweater. She packed her laptop, her mother’s letter and paperwork, along with a notebook and pens, into her oversized bag, and walked to a cafe several blocks away. She ordered a latte and a toasted bagel, then found a table in the rear of the cafe. The waitress brought Grace’s order over as she set up her laptop and pulled the paperwork out of her bag. Grace thanked her, took a grateful sip of the excellent coffee, and immersed herself in the search for her brother.

Grace was so intent on her work, she jumped at the sound of a chair being pulled back and looked up to see Jay lowering himself into it. Like her, he was dressed casually in a pair of jeans and a red and black rugby shirt. She spotted the waitress eyeing him with interest and suppressed a smile. Jay was good-looking, with a hint of his mother’s Korean features and his dad’s height. He was fit from years spent playing competitive ice hockey and still got together with friends for informal games. His brown eyes were flecked with green and shaped like his mom’s. His straight nose and firm jawline came from his dad, as well as his full lips and easy smile. He carried himself with an athlete’s grace and when he spoke, the low timber in this voice captured and held attention.

“Do I have a booger hanging out of my nose or something? You’ve been staring at me for a while.”

Jay’s voice broke into her reverie, and she blinked and looked away.

“Sorry, I haven’t had enough sleep. I didn’t realize I was staring.”

Grace picked up her latte and drank, brushing away her embarrassment at being caught staring. Jay was her best friend. They’d met in sixth grade, weathering the confusion of middle school and the turmoil of high school. They’d been there for each other through the heady excitement and heartbreak of first loves, achievements, and perceived failures. She’d often teased him about the girls who’d waited for him after every hockey game and hung around his locker at school. He was like her brother.

Wasn’t he?

“You’re staring again.”

Jay leaned across the table and stared into her eyes, something they used to do as kids to get on each other’s nerves. Grace snorted and flicked his nose with her finger, and he reared back in his seat, face contorted in mock pain.

“You always beat up on me!” he complained, in a fake whiny voice.

Grace laughed; a genuine laugh that felt good. She drained her latte and signaled the waitress for another one. The waitress nodded and pointed at Jay. Grace nodded, and the waitress grinned, giving her a thumbs up. 

“So, what’s up? Why’d you want to meet here?” Jay asked.

Grace grimaced.

“My house is too empty without my parents. I don’t want to be there right now. Plus, my coffee-making skills leave a lot to be desired.”

“You can say that again,” Jay grinned, then blocked the wadded-up napkin Grace threw at him. 

“Ow!” he said, as he batted the napkin away. It flew over his shoulder and landed in one of the mugs the waitress was carrying over to their table. 

She set it down in front of him and plucked the soggy paper out of it, spraying his shirt with coffee.

“I’m so sorry!” the waitress cried, mortified. 

She hastily placed Grace’s latte in front of her and pulled a napkin out of her apron. Instead of handing it to Jay, she leaned over him and dabbed at the stain on his shirt. Grace laughed at the look of surprise that crossed Jay’s face.

Jay gently took the napkin from the waitress and thanked her for her help. The waitress blushed and suggested he try pouring club soda on the stain. She returned to her post behind the counter and Jay turned his attention back on Grace.

“Okay. We have coffee and a little entertainment. Now, tell me what you’ve decided to do in regard to your… your mom’s other kid.”

Grace’s stomach dropped, and grief squeezed her heart. She willed herself not to cry. Her eyes felt gritty and swollen enough. 

She took a deep breath and said, “I thought about it all night. I think I want to do what my mother asked me to do. I want to find him and meet him.”

She had been looking down at her hands as she spoke. She raised her eyes to his and found compassion in them, as well as something else she couldn’t identify.

“I support whatever decision you make. When the time comes, would you like me to go to Korea with you? My Korean is way better than yours,” he added, to break the tension.

Grace smiled. He was right. His mother, who spoke English nearly perfectly, insisted on Jay speaking Korean with her. Like the dutiful son he was, he deferred to her wishes. Grace’s mom hadn’t been as diligent, and she’d grown up speaking a mixture of Korean and English, jokingly referred to as “Konglish.”

She stared at her laptop, which showed Masan University’s homepage on the screen, feeling a frisson of anxiety but also a sense of curiosity about this man who could possibly be her older brother. Was he married? Did he have a family? Would he welcome or reject the news he has a younger sister?

“You’re right,” she said, after a long pause. “Your Korean is way better than mine and to be honest, I would love to have company on this journey.”

Grace stopped, then added, “No, not just ‘company.’ I would love for you to go with me.”

He grinned.

“Of course, you would,” he quipped.

He pushed his chair back and stood.

“As much as I’d love to waste a morning with you, duty calls.”

He turned to go, then turned back to her.

“Hey,” he said, his voice softer. “If you don’t want to spend the night at your house, come hang out with us. You know we have room, and my mom will try to stuff you with food. She’s worried about you. I’m hoping she makes a pot of doenjang jjigae.”

Tears prickled the backs of Grace’s eyes, but she pushed them back.

“Doenjang jjigae sounds so good right now. But I get all the tofu.”

He grinned.

“Not if I eat it all first, before you get there.”

He turned and strode to the cafe entrance, waving at the waitress as he passed her. For some reason, it irked Grace. She shook it off, chalking it up to grief, and checked the private website to see whether Mr. Kim had replied to her message. He hadn’t, so Grace spent a few hours answering emails and writing press releases for two of her current clients. 

#

Hoon Kim’s reply arrived during dinner. Grace’s phone dinged and she pulled it out of her pocket. Nancy frowned at her.

“You know I don’t allow phones at dinner.”

Grace opened the website on her phone and clicked on the new post.

“It’s a reply from Mr. Kim,” she said.

Nancy hurried over to her and read the message over her shoulder, as Jay watched them intently.

“Read it out loud,” he commanded.

Grace read through the message silently, then handed the phone to Nancy.

“Dear Miss Sloane,

Please accept my sincere condolences on the deaths of your mother and father. They were very kind, and I enjoyed working with them to search for Mrs. Sloane’s son. I will continue my work, as you have requested. I am meeting with Father O’Connor this afternoon and will write to tell you about the visit this evening. 

As for the invoice, your parents were very generous, and there are no outstanding charges at this time.

Again, my deepest sympathy to you during this time of heartbreak. I wish you peace in your heart.

Hoon Kim.”

Grace wiped her eyes with her napkin as Nancy finished reading the message. She handed Grace the phone and squeezed her shoulders before moving away. She picked up Grace’s bowl and ladled doenjang jjigae into it, making sure to include extra pieces of tofu. She placed the bowl in front of Grace.

“Eat. You need your strength. Also, if you don’t eat, Jay will steal your tofu.”

Grace gave a watery smile.

“My stomach is in knots. I’m not sure I can eat.”

“Try. Then, we will wait together for Mr. Kim to tell us about his visit with the priest.”

Grace nodded and dipped her spoon into the savory soup, flavored with miso, potatoes, green onions, pork belly, and fat cubes of tofu. Nancy had added extra slices of jalapeno, giving the soup a spicy tang. Nancy was right. She did need to eat. She had quite the journey ahead of her.

#

Grace looked out the window of the Korean Airlines Boeing 787 as the flight reached its cruising altitude of 40,000 feet. Jay sat next to her, reading a Scottish crime novel. Grace looked at her laptop, which was open to Hoon Kim’s latest message on the private website. 

“Dear Miss Sloane,

I had an eventful conversation with Father O’Connor. He confirmed that Brian O’Connor is indeed your half-brother. He also remembered your mother, from the few years she volunteered at the orphanage. He had guessed that Brian was her son because she spent so much time with him, and there was always love in her eyes when she looked at him. It was a terribly sad day when the orphanage’s officials demanded that she leave, fearing she would form an even stronger bond with the boy, which would complicate any adoption plans. 

When Brian reached the age of ten years old with no opportunities to be adopted, Father O’Connor made plans to adopt him. He moved into the mission, along with three other boys, and they received formal education and support. Brian showed a level of empathy that was rare in someone so young, and he pursued a career in social services. At one point, Father O’Connor thought Brian would enter the seminary and train to become a priest, but he decided to attend university instead. 

He found work in the Department of Social Services in Seoul for many years before accepting a position at Masan University as a professor in the School of Social Welfare, where he received his degrees. He has completed a Ph.D.

Brian never married.

I am traveling to Changwon tomorrow to meet him. I hope your flight to Seoul is uneventful.

Best Regards,

Hoon Kim.”

Grace’s eyes kept going to the words, “Brian never married.” She wondered what kind of life he had led, whether he’d had any girlfriends, or if his biracial features prevented him from making friends or finding love. Her heart ached at the thought of anyone living a solitary life because they’ve been shunned. Did he harbor hate for their mother? Would he want to meet his half-sister? She closed her eyes as her heart gave a painful lurch. 

“Penny for them.”

Jay’s voice intruded into her thoughts.

Grace sighed.

“I keep reading Mr. Hoon’s latest message. He said Brian never married. I wonder why – and whether he has a significant other. It makes me sad to think he’s been solitary because he’s biracial.”

Jay nodded, thoughtfully.

“I never thought of that. We didn’t suffer hardships growing up in New Jersey as biracial kids. I wonder how life has been for those who grew up in orphanages and missions because their mothers could not afford the financial burden or bear the shame of raising a kid whose father was an American serviceman who turned his back on them.”

Grace pictured her mother, young, pregnant, and heartbroken. What pain did she endure, emotionally and physically, to bring Brian into a world that judged, scorned, and dismissed women in her situation, and rejected their biracial offspring? Her mother must have grieved for her son her entire life, the aching longing of spending time with him in the orphanage but not being able to reveal her true self, then the agony of being torn away from him after being made to leave the orphanage, then again when she met Grace’s dad, married, and moved to the U.S., unable to claim Brian and give him the upbringing Grace had enjoyed. 

Grace leaned back in her seat and accepted the roasted barley tea the flight attendant offered. She resolved to not dwell on her mom’s heartbreaking choice and the consequences to Brian’s identity and upbringing, but it was difficult to set it aside. She had researched online and found a New York Times article from 1976 that estimated between 20,000 and 40,000 mixed-race babies were born in Korea since World War II, when American troops first arrived in the country. Mixed-race children seemed to have less access to good education and job opportunities, and little to no chance of marriage. The fact that Brian was a lecturer with a Ph.D. at a major Korean university was rare. The more she thought about her mom and Brian, the more she realized she wanted to meet her older brother. She hoped Mr. Kim could help make it happen.

“You’re still thinking about him, aren’t you?”

Grace felt Jay’s hand close over hers. The contact comforted her. She was so fortunate to have him in her life. She could not undertake this journey on her own. And not just because he spoke Korean better than her and was an attorney. He’d been by her side through all her troubles and challenges. He’d been her biggest cheerleader, celebrating her successes and nursing her through losses. Jay squeezed her hand, and she squeezed back. 

Mr. Kim was waiting in the baggage claim area. Grace had imagined him to look like a Korean version of Mike Hammer, as tall as Jay, broad-shouldered, and gruff. In reality, he was closer to her height and slender, with short, black hair shot through with silver at the temples. His lined face lit up when he spotted her and Jay, and he tucked the sign he’d been holding into his pocket and hurried over. He shook her hand with both of his, smiling and bowing. Grace placed her hand over his, so she was also shaking his hand with both of hers and bowed to him deferentially. Mr. Kim repeated the gesture with Jay, who mirrored the older man’s movements, speaking in fluent Korean.

They grabbed their bags and followed him to the curb, where he’d parked his small SUV. A security officer strode over and yelled at him, gesticulating with one hand. Grace didn’t need to understand Korean to know the officer was ordering Mr. Kim to move his vehicle. They hopped in and Mr. Kim hurriedly pulled away from the curb, causing the car behind them to honk angrily at them.

As he drove, Mr. Kim spoke to Jay in rapid Korean. Jay held up his hand at intervals so he could tell Grace what was being said. Grace came to understand that Mr. Kim had contacted Brian, who confirmed he’d spent his first five years in an orphanage. Father O’Connor had told Brian about his mother, who’d volunteered at the orphanage to be close to him, and how the orphanage’s managers had chased her away when they learned she was his mother. Brian had been heartbroken to learn of his mother’s death and was eager to meet Grace. Could they travel to Changwon? Mr. Kim said it was about a five-hour journey by train. 

Mr. Kim dropped Grace and Jay off at their hotel, telling them he’d return in the morning around nine. Grace and Jay checked in, dropped off their bags, then ventured out to find somewhere to have dinner. Grace was amazed and a little overwhelmed by the sheer number of people in the area, which she learned was the popular Gangnam district. There were restaurants and shops in every direction, including inside their hotel, a high rise of glass and gleaming metal. 

They ducked into a restaurant that looked less busy than those around it and were greeted by a middle-aged woman with an angular face and kind eyes. She ushered them to a table by the window, so they could watch the comings and goings outside as they dined. She spoke in halting English until Jay reassured her his Korean was fluent. Her expression brightened at the news, and she exclaimed in Korean. Grace guessed the woman was complimenting Jay’s mom on her success in raising her mixed-race son with Korean culture, language, and respect. 

The woman patted Jay on the shoulder and hurried off, returning with glasses of water, cups of jasmine tea, and hot towels. Grace wondered whether they’d receive menus, and asked Jay about the lack of them as they wiped their hands with the hot towels. Jay revealed he’d asked the woman to bring whatever she thought they would enjoy. Grace felt a twinge of anxiety over this, as there was no telling what the woman would bring and there were many traditional Korean dishes she couldn’t stomach.

The woman returned, pushing a tray laden with small dishes of kimchi and vegetables. Grace recognized nearly all the banchan, and her stomach growled as the woman placed all the dishes on the table. She couldn’t resist taking her chopsticks and plucking a sliced lotus root, braised in sweet soy sauce. It had been one of her mom’s favorite side dishes to prepare, and a lump formed in Grace’s throat as she bit into the familiar flavors of sweet soy sauce, vinegar, and ginger. Across from her, Jay sat patiently, waiting for their main dishes to arrive. He’d never eaten banchan before the main dishes arrived, no matter how many times she urged him to think of banchan as appetizers. 

After a short wait, the woman reappeared, pushing a cart laden with food. Grace’s eyes grew wide as the woman wheeled the cart over to them. She’d hoped some of the food would be for other tables, but the woman slid plates onto the table, pushing banchan together to make room. Grace recognized tteokbokki, spicy rice cakes, kalbi, beef short ribs, and an iron pot containing their favorite doenjang jjigae. There was also a fish dish and slices of pork belly, fried, salted, and slathered with sesame oil. 

“How are we going to eat all of this?” Grace asked with a growing sense of awe and trepidation.

Jay grinned and tucked his napkin into the collar of his shirt.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m starving. They hardly fed us on the plane. That kimbap did nothing to ease my hunger.”

He dipped his spoon into the doenjang jjigae, fishing out several pieces of tofu. He and Grace had been raised at communal dinner tables, where soups were eaten out of the same pot instead of in separate bowls. Grace looked at the other diners and noticed they were also sharing pots of soup, along with other dishes that looked delectable.

Their meal lasted two hours, and both were groaning by the time the check arrived. Grace had not eaten so well since her mom and Jay’s mom teamed up for a big dinner at Jay’s house, inviting all their Korean friends and their families to join them. Grace remembered working hard alongside her mom, making what she knew and under her mom’s guidance for the dishes that were unfamiliar to her. Tears sprang up in her eyes at the memory, and a wave of pain washed over her at the tremendous loss of both her parents.

“Hey.” 

Grace looked up at Jay, tears sparkling in her eyes. 

“My mom should be making this journey. I looked through the papers she left again, and something clicked in my brain. Brian’s birthdate is March 29th. My mom marked a heart on that date on all the calendars in our house. I can’t begin to imagine the grief she carried around for so many years. And…”

Grace’s voice broke.

“…and, sometimes, I wonder whether she looked at me and missed him even more; whether she resented me.”

Jay moved to the chair next to hers and wrapped his arm around her, pulling her to his side. 

“Don’t ever think that, Grace. Your mom loved you very much. And she loved your brother very much. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have written you that letter. She would have taken her secret to the grave. You both are extensions of your mother. You’re her legacy. And she wanted you to know each other. That’s how much she loved you.”

He handed her a napkin and she wiped her eyes. The woman who waited on them hurried over, a worried look on her face. She spoke rapidly in Korean to Jay, who answered, a soothing tone in his voice. The woman’s worried look changed to an expression of compassion, and she said something to Jay in a softer voice. He nodded and murmured, “Kam sa ham ni da. Thank you.” She nodded in return and left them alone.

Jay nudged Grace.

“Come on, let’s go back to the hotel. I’m tired and I know you’re exhausted.”

They stood and made to leave. The woman came over, a paper bag in her hand. She pushed the bag into Grace’s hands, patted her arm gently, and moved back to her perch behind the cash register.

Grace didn’t open the bag until they reached the hotel. The woman had wrapped several desserts – sweet rice cakes and cream puffs. She handed the bag to Jay.

“Here’s something for your sweet tooth.”

Jay peered inside the bag and grinned.

“You’re missing out, Grace.”

Grace rubbed her stomach.

“I’m too full to even look at food.”

She rose on her tiptoes and kissed Jay’s cheek.

“Thank you for being here,” she said. “Thank you for having my back.”

Jay looked down at her, emotion in his eyes.

“To quote the great Severus Snape, ‘Always.’”

He turned away and pushed the elevator button, as Grace tried to identify the strange feeling that overcame her at those words. She hadn’t read the Harry Potter novels, but she had watched the films in high school. She vaguely remembered that Professor Snape, who always treated Harry so badly, had harbored a secret love for Harry’s mother all his life. Always. Why did Jay quote Snape with that word?

Grace turned to look at Jay, but the elevator arrived, and he ushered her in. 

“I’m going to grab a coffee. See you in the morning, G.”

She opened her mouth to reply, but he’d already turned to walk away as the elevator doors closed. She went to bed with a head full of questions and a heart filled with turmoil.

The next morning, Jay seemed to be back to his old, best friend self. They visited a cafe advertising mochi toast and milky coffee and bought treats for the train ride. Mr. Kim met them at the train station. They found seats together and settled in for the journey. Jay and Mr. Kim conversed, but Grace spent the journey looking out the window at the landscape as their train sped down the South Korean peninsula toward Changwon, a city south of the larger and more bustling port city of Busan.

They arrived in Changwon around three in the afternoon. Mr. Kim phoned Brian to let him know they’d arrived and relayed to Grace and Jay that Brian would like to meet for dinner at his favorite restaurant at seven. This gave them time to check into their hotel and freshen up, before grabbing a taxi to the restaurant. When they arrived, Grace was surprised to see the restaurant was an American-style burger place. 

She looked at Jay, who grinned and said, “I like your brother even more!”

Grace smiled and said, “Maybe I do, too.”

Mr. Kim led the way to a table in the back, where a man was sitting. He rose when he saw them heading his way. Grace gasped. She would have recognized Brian anywhere. He looked so much like their mother. He had her dark brown eyes, nose, and straight, black hair, which fell around his shoulders. She knew he was in his 50s, but his face was unlined, and his long hair, along with his outfit – jeans, a polo shirt, and loafers, made him look much younger.

Grace’s eyes met his and for a moment, the world disappeared. Brian hesitated for a beat, then strode over, hands held out in welcome. He grasped both her hands with his, grinning broadly.

“Hello, Grace!” he exclaimed, his voice a melodious tenor. “I am so happy to meet you!”

His English was accented but easy to understand. He pulled back and looked at her, beaming.

“You look a lot like our mother.”

“So do you,” she replied. “In fact, I think you look more like her than I do. I have my father’s curly brown hair and green eyes, but you have nearly all of Mom’s features.”

Brian’s smile widened.

“I’m so pleased to hear I look like her. I wondered, and the photos Mr. Kim showed me were nice, but I didn’t know how much I resembled her. I guess you can’t tell when you’re the one who is looking.”

He turned to Jay and shook his hand before turning to Mr. Kim and bowing slightly.

“Mr. Kim, thank you for bringing my sister to me. I am very grateful.”

Mr. Kim waved away Brian’s words and replied in English, “I was just doing my job. I am glad that this one has a positive ending.”

Grace turned wide eyes at him.

“You speak English, and well!”

His face split into a rare grin.

“A lot of my work involved mothers looking for biracial children they had to give up to orphanages, or fathers looking to finally connect with children whose moms they abandoned so many years ago,” Mr. Kim explained. “I would not be a good businessman if I did not speak English.”

He winked and Grace smiled.

Brian insisted Grace sit across from him so they could chat as they ate. Grace asked him why this burger place was his favorite.

“I am half American, so I was curious about their culture and food. When the High Five opened, I came to check it out and fell in love with their cheeseburgers. And French fries.”

They fell into easy conversation. Brian included Jay and Mr. Kim but most of his attention fell on Grace. He asked question after question about their mother. Grace did her best to answer every question without breaking down, fighting back tears that seemed to have taken up permanent residence behind her eyes. 

Grace pulled her tablet out of her bag and opened a file containing photos of the family. She watched as Brian scrolled through the photos, a wistful expression on his face. He paused often on photos showing just their mom, drinking in every detail almost hungrily. He smiled at a photo of Grace, Mom, and Dad at her college graduation. She was dressed in her graduation gown and held her tasseled cap in her hand, the words, “Ancora imparo” written in glitter.

“Ancora imparo,” he murmured. “Still, I am learning. So fitting for a college graduate.”

Grace was surprised. 

“You translate Latin?”

He chuckled.

“I grew up in a mission. All the priests were either English, Irish, or American. And we read Latin every day.”

“Our mother loved Latin,” Grace said. “She called it a beautiful language.”

Brian looked stunned, and Grace watched as his eyes brightened with unshed tears. He pushed back from the table, muttered a low, “Excuse me, please,” and rushed off toward the restrooms. 

Grace’s heart ached for him. She knew he was doing his best to hold himself together emotionally and thought he was doing great, but she was also waiting for the cracks to appear. The news that she had an older brother was shocking and a bit overwhelming for her, but it was doubly so for Brian, who was being introduced to the woman who had given him up after he was born because he happened to be the product of a union between an unwed Korean woman and an American serviceman, who returned to the US rather than take responsibility for his unexpected family.

She wiped tears away and waited for him to return. Jay and Mr. Kim sat silently as well.

“Should I go after him?” Jay asked.

Grace shook her head. 

“No. Give him time. This has been an emotional bomb for him, learning about his mother, reconciling the fact that she had given him up, then had gone on to live a fulfilling life with my dad and me. He’ll come back when he’s ready. Or not. It’s his choice.”

Grace picked at her food, stomach churning with anxiety, her appetite gone. Five minutes later, Brian returned. His eyes were puffy, and his nose was red, but his expression was kind, and she could tell he wanted to spend time with her.

Brian slid into his seat and bowed his head in apology. Grace covered his hand with hers and squeezed it.

“This is so much for you to take in,” she said softly. “I’m sorry that this is so overwhelming. I can’t imagine how you’re feeling right now.”

Brian gave a sad smile.

“I’ve missed out on so much. But I am also grateful that she cared enough for me to place me in a good orphanage. Father O’Connor told me she was the woman who took care of me when I was young. He also told me the orphanage managers made her leave when they discovered she was my mother. So, I grew up knowing that she cared for me. I waited for her to return, but she never did.”

He paused and wiped away tears.

“When Mr. Kim contacted me, I was so happy, thinking of meeting her again and possibly becoming part of her family. But then, he told me of her tragic passing…” 

Brian stopped and raised his napkin to his eyes, overcome with grief. Grace got up and sat next to him in the booth, wrapping her arms around him and holding him as he sobbed. Tears coursed down her cheeks and she buried her face in his shoulder, joining him in shared heartbreak.

They rocked together for several long minutes before Brian wiped his eyes and lowered his napkin. He handed Grace a clean napkin so she could wipe her eyes. She sat up but kept her arm around him. He seemed to welcome the gesture because he didn’t move away.

The waitress came to clear the table and asked whether anyone wanted dessert. Grace thought Brian would decline, but to her surprise, he smiled and said, “Their apple pie is the best I’ve ever tasted. I haven’t tasted many apple pies, though,” he added sheepishly.

He ordered apple pie and coffee for everyone, confiding to Grace, “I love coffee. I spend so much of my earnings at Starbucks.”

At Grace’s surprised look, he said, “Yes, we have Starbucks here in Changwon. My drink is a triple grande caramel macchiato. What’s yours?”

“A triple grande caramel macchiato!” 

They beamed at each other, and Jay groaned.

“Another one! Do you know that Starbucks’ caramel macchiato is not an actual macchiato? It’s a drink Starbucks made up and called a macchiato. The real macchiato is completely different.”

Brian shrugged. 

“Whatever they call it, that is my favorite coffee drink.”

The waitress returned with apple pie and coffee, and they all dug in. Brian was right, Grace thought. The apple pie was delicious. The coffee wasn’t bad, either. The longer they talked, the more connected she felt with Brian. She spotted some of their mother’s facial expressions as he spoke. There was no way Brian would know this, but she decided not to tell him right now. This was an overwhelming evening for him, and she didn’t want to drop any more emotional bombs.

She broke that promise a few minutes later, though, when Brian shared that he spent his birthday every year having a conversation with her in his mind. He wondered whether she thought about him or even remembered his birthday.

Grace took Brian’s hand as she said, “Brian, for as long as I can remember, Mom has circled March 29th on every calendar we had. And every year on that day, she’d go out for several hours. Dad and I never know where she went or what she did while she was gone, but I now believe that wherever she was, she was spending time with her memories of you.”

This news sparked a new flood of tears, which Brian quickly wiped away. 

“I’m happy to know she did not forget me,” he said softly. 

He brightened.

“I have an actual yeodongsang, little sister, after years of not having a family. I mean,” he amended, “Father O’Connor and the others at the mission were like family to me and they gave me a good, solid life. And love. But to have an actual relative feels…” 

Brian pondered, searching for the right word.

“Good,” he finished, simply.

The waitress came over to tell them the restaurant would be closing shortly. They left the restaurant and huddled outside on the sidewalk, loathe to go their separate ways. 

Mr. Kim bowed to them and said goodbye. He took both of Grace’s hands in his.

“My work is finished. I will leave you to your reunion. Miss Sloane, it was a pleasure to meet you and an honor to work for your mother and father.” 

He bowed and waved to Brian and Jay, then stepped into a car that was idling at the curb. He waved out the window as the car drove away.

Grace promised to visit Brian on campus the following day. He hugged her, shook Jay’s hand, and loped off in the opposite direction of their hotel. Jay called for an Uber, and they stood on the sidewalk. Jay slipped his arm around Grace’s shoulder and drew her to his side. Automatically, she wrapped her arm around his waist and gave him a side hug.

“From what I witnessed, I’d say this first meeting is a success,” he remarked.

“It went a lot better than I imagined,” Grace agreed. “I was picturing awkward, stilted conversation with someone who doesn’t speak English very well. Instead, we hung out with a hip professor at an American burger joint.”

Jay chuckled. “He sure doesn’t fit any stereotype. You know, as I watched you talk, I noticed you use some of the same gestures and facial expressions.”

“Yeah, I noticed Brian used a lot of the same gestures and facial expressions as our mom. There was no way for him to know that, so it must be genetic.”

“And what a coincidence that you two share the same affinity for fake caramel macchiatos from Starbucks,” Jay added.

“Yeah,” Grace laughed. “Pretty cool.”

A car slid up, an Uber sticker on the windshield. They got in and sat in companionable silence during the short drive to the hotel. They continued in silence to the elevator. Outside Grace’s room, Jay said, “I hope you get a good night’s sleep. It’s been a heavy-duty couple of months.”

Grace looked up at him.

“I feel strangely at peace right now. The stress that built up after learning I have a half-brother and trying to decide whether I wanted to continue my mother’s search for him is gone, now that we’ve finally met.”

She sighed.

“I’m heartbroken that my mother isn’t here to fulfill her mission to find and reconnect with her son. I know now that she loved him and never forgot him. I’m glad he knows that, too.”

Grace yawned. Jay placed his hands on her shoulders and turned her to face her hotel room door.

“Sleep. We’ll pick things back up in the morning.”

Grace turned around to face him again.

“Jay, I don’t have the words to express how much it means to me that you’re here on this journey. You’ve always been my rock. I’ve always counted on you, and you’ve never let me down.”

He looked down at her and she finally saw in his eyes the emotion he’d been holding back. 

“I meant it when I said it last night. I’ll be here for you, with you, always.”

Grace’s breath caught as she realized what he was saying. She rose on tiptoes and kissed him softly. 

“Always just became my favorite word.”

With that, she slid her keycard into the door and entered her hotel room. The door clicked shut behind her, leaving Jay standing on the other side.

Grace considered opening the door and inviting him in, but she knew he’d say no. That was okay. They had all the time in the world.

#

Author’s Note

I used the following sources to research historic reference in The Legacy:

New York Times: Now-Grown Children of G.I.’s in Korea are Bitter – by Richard Halloran, Special to the Times. June 2, 1976

Presbyterian Historical Society: Mixed-Race Children in 1960s – 70s in Korea and ECLAIR – Youngeun Koo, guest blogger. March 17, 2019

This story was inspired, in part, by my experience as a child living in South Korea in the 1960s. I was born to a Korean mother and American serviceman father. My parents married, but my father was away in Vietnam when I lived in Seoul between 1966 and 1970. The Korean children in my neighborhood bullied me regularly over my biracial looks and absent father. During drives to school, we regularly passed an orphanage where many biracial children lived. I remember seeing them outside, watching my taxi drive past. I remember asking the driver why these kids who looked like me didn’t go to school. He answered, “Because nobody wants them.” That conversation disturbed and remained with me for decades. I don’t know how many mixed-race orphans grew up to meet either of their birth parents. My heart hopes some did, or at least, were adopted into loving families.

Su Ring     AuthorSuRing.com