grandmother was saying her entire childhood was a fabrication.
She’d never questioned her mother’s impulsive decision to marry her father after knowing him so briefly. Since Delilah consulted the stars for so many things, it was hard to find more . . . grounded reasons for what she used to do. Half the time, Emily thought Delilah had picked her dad for his last name since she always said she liked how “Delilah Strong” sounded. Emily’s memories of him were of a warm, patient man who loved her and put up with her mother’s flitting in and out of their day with resignation mingled with affection.
But . . . he wasn’t her biological father.
Chapter Six
Emily felt as if she’d reached the crest of a roller coaster, her stomach heaving as she wished desperately to stop time. But that couldn’t happen, and all her thoughts tumbled about in her head while she sat motionless in the disaster of her kitchen.
Another piece of her past was unraveling all because of her mother’s screwups. Did Delilah even love Jacob Strong, or had he been a convenient husband? That had been her worst fear growing up, that her mother hadn’t truly loved her dead father. Stumbling to her feet, Emily leaned heavily against a dull counter and stared around the kitchen wide-eyed. This had still been a general store in the early eighties, and her mother had worked here part-time. Teen pregnancies had still been somewhat of a scandal to most people. Had Delilah stood in this very spot, wondering what she’d do with her life, feeling unable to confide the truth in her own mother until forced? It made Emily wonder what kind of relationship they truly had. Delilah’s desperation must have forced her to flee Valentine Valley—leaving her family, and whoever Emily’s father might have been. Perhaps he hadn’t even known. Or perhaps her mom hadn’t known his identity. The way she’d gone through men, never being without one long, spoke a lot about her behavior.
She scanned the rest of the letter.
If Dorothy did right by you, this won’t come as a shock. I pray she came to her senses and told the truth, understanding that you deserved to know. But sometimes she gets it in her head that she’s right, damn the consequences. If you didn’t know—I’m sorry, child. Forgiveness is one of God’s graces, but he makes us work hard for it. I ask for your understanding on my own behalf, too, for not being able to reach my only child. It is a failure I pray over every night. Rosemary Thalberg says I obsess too much, that I did my best, that the next generation will heal the mistakes of the past. I tell her she’s a busybody, full of too much sunshine and rainbows. But deep in my crotchety old heart, I hope she’s right.
I pray for you, too, my little Emily. Your past may have some heartache, but only you can determine your future. And may it be a long and happy life. You have all my love.
Grandma Riley
A tear slid down Emily’s cheek, a wry smile twisted her lips. The letter sounded just like the grandma she remembered, the one who liked to walk in the rain wearing big rubber boots, who stubbornly spent hours in her garden even though vegetables refused to grow for her.
Part of Emily still didn’t want to believe Grandma could be telling the truth about her dad. And with everything going on in her life, it seemed too overwhelming to think about. Perhaps she didn’t even want to pursue it. What would it matter? All those important years after Jacob Strong died had been spent without a father, and looking for one at this late date seemed almost selfish. She might disrupt an entire family.
A family she should have been a part of. But it was too late.
And perhaps her mother had actually been protecting her from a man who didn’t deserve to be a father. Instead, Delilah had given her Jacob Strong, kind and wonderful, his memory still a balm when she needed to be soothed.
Hands shaking, she folded up the letter and thrust it into her purse, as if it were a live snake she didn’t want to touch again. She went back to relentlessly bagging garbage in the apartment, exhausting herself so she didn’t have to think, only taking a break when it was time for lunch. She pulled the container of apple tarts out of her backpack, then