just alike. Did that mean that Laurie wasn’t really her aunt? Chris not her uncle? Jacob not her cousin? How much of her life was a lie?
The entire landscape of Autumn’s past had changed in an instant. So where had Mary’s real mother gone? Why hadn’t she been around after Mary had escaped the Skinners? For that matter, where were Mary’s other relatives?
Autumn recalled the conversation she’d had, not too long ago, with Laurie when she’d asked if Laurie could offer any information on who Autumn’s father might be. What she’d learned today explained even that interaction. Laurie knew the truth, obviously. She knew but she’d kept Mary’s secret, because she was Mary’s best friend if not her true sister.
A rattle at the back door suggested her mother was back—finally—and had received her text to come to the store.
“There you are!” Autumn said, rushing into the back room to meet her. “What took you so long?”
“It’s been...quite a day,” she replied and slumped into the seat at the desk.
“Where’s Laurie?” Autumn asked, expecting her “aunt” to walk in next.
“At home. My car was at her place, so I picked it up and drove over alone. What’s going on? Did you get hold of Oliver’s parents?”
Her mother assumed this was about the pregnancy. That Autumn was still upset about that. And she was. But for the time being, she’d shoved that problem into the back of her mind. She needed to deal with this first. “Not yet.”
Mary’s eyebrows slid up. “Then...what’s wrong?”
Autumn knelt before her mother and took her hands. “I know, Mom,” she said simply.
Mary stiffened. She even withdrew her hands. “You know what?”
“I know who you really are, what happened to you, who my father is.”
Her mother’s mouth fell open. “Who told you?” she asked, her voice hoarse from the shock.
“No one, really.”
“Then how...”
Autumn took a few minutes to explain. She figured her mother could use the time to come to grips with the fact that the secret she’d carried for so long, and guarded so fiercely, was no longer a secret at all.
By the time she finished, Mary sat, silent, her head bowed.
“Mom? Aren’t you going to say anything?”
“I’m sorry,” she murmured without looking up. “Laurie has been after me to tell you the truth for years. I probably should have. I’ve been living a lie—my whole identity was...manufactured. But I chose protection over honesty. I didn’t want you to know the truth, didn’t want you to ever question my love for you or feel as though you might be less than what you are because of who your father is. I didn’t want Taylor and Caden to be burdened with the knowledge of that, either.” A tear dropped onto her lap as she added, “I wanted to stop the poison, to suck it all up and hold it within myself so that it could never touch you or your kids.”
It was hard to learn her mother had been living a lie. Autumn had to ask herself—would she rather have known? There were so many ramifications that it was tough to say. Certainly not when she was a child. She wasn’t sure she’d feel comfortable telling Taylor and Caden even now, and they were further removed from it than she’d been. “You know what?” she said softly.
Her mother looked pale and drawn—and seemed somewhat resigned—as she lifted her gaze. “What?”
“You did the right thing.”
Mary blinked more quickly. “I did?”
“I would’ve done the same,” she admitted and knew it was true. Learning who her father was hadn’t changed her life in any positive way. Not knowing had driven her crazy at times, but was this any better? “Why did that private investigator come to town after so long? Who sent him?”
“He told me it was the Skinners’ daughter.”
“The child you had to watch whenever they went out.” Autumn had read about that in one of the articles.
“Yes. Her name was Tammy. She was the only thing that made what I went through bearable. I loved her like a little sister, and she did what she could to help me, considering she was young and vulnerable, too.”
Like a little sister. Those words stuck out. It hadn’t escaped Autumn that Tammy would actually be her sister.
“But it wasn’t Tammy,” her mother continued. “It was Nora.”
Autumn rocked back. “She’s out of prison?”
“You didn’t find anything that mentioned her release?”
“None of the articles I came across were recent enough. They were all from back when it happened—or later, once you were free and