yet you never once let me step forward and never will. And I’ll never understand it. The only conclusion I can draw is that at one point in time, you did love me enough to save me, to make sure our baby was safe, and I’ll remember you that way.
Our daughter is so beautiful. She’s thriving, and I know it might be hard for you to look at her and see the mistake you made in loving me, but please try to open up, Roman, and show her the man I fell in love with.
When you look at her, I hope you feel at peace with the reason for your sacrifice, because I’ve showered the piece you gave of yourself to me with the love I will forever feel for you.
D
I read the letter over and over, calculating and recalculating the timeline, all the while praying for the facts to change.
My mother killed Tobias’s parents.
My mother.
Not my father.
Horner Technologies was a chemical plant twenty years ago. She made a careless mistake and killed two people. Accident or not, my father covered it up.
The only thing Roman Horner was guilty of was being a cheap, shrewd, and unethical businessman.
I race to the bathroom and empty my stomach before sinking onto the cold tiles.
I pull up to my mother’s house, a large three-bedroom on a lakeside lot. It’s not at all ostentatious, but the garden reminds me a lot of my father’s as I round the house following the music that drifts from an outdoor speaker. I find her there amongst the bare branches with a glass of wine by her side. Timothy is leaning over her, as they exchange words, pressing a kiss to her temple before he spots me over her shoulder. His greeting is warm, as is his smile.
“Hey there, Cecelia. Didn’t expect to see you today.”
My mother shoots from her chair, a ready smile on her lips as she turns to me. “Hey, baby. I was just thinking about calling you.”
“Glad you’re in the mood for conversation.” Her smile fades when she sees the look on my face just before I pull the letter from my purse.
“What’s wrong?”
Timothy stands by eyeing us both as I make my way toward her. She flicks her attention to the letter again a second before her face goes ashen and turns to Timothy.
“Give us a minute to catch up, babe?”
Timothy nods and eyes me, clearly sensing the situation. “Will you be staying for dinner? I’m going to put a few steaks on in a bit.”
“No, I have to get back, but thank you.”
Tension fills the air even with the overabundance of it already between us as Timothy takes his leave, and my mother reaches for a cigarette, lighting it up as she watches me closely.
“My letter?”
“Why was I safer?”
She blows out a plume of smoke, pulling her sweater tighter to her. She lifts the bottle of wine in offering, and I shake my head.
“I’m not here to catch up.”
“I see that,” she swallows. “Give me a second.”
“To think of more lies?”
Her eyes drop as she lifts the glass to her lips and takes a hearty drink.
“Why was I safer?”
“Your father was the most beautiful man I’ve ever laid eyes on. Truly. Not one woman in that plant went a day without fantasizing about him, I’m sure of it. And I was one of them.”
“Answer my question.”
She gives me a sideways glance, her tone biting. “Do you want the whole truth or a quick answer?”
“How could you? How could you let me believe he didn’t want me, how could he!?”
“Because it was safer that way.”
“And you think he loved you?”
“I know he did, as he loved you.”
“He made us go without all those years! He regarded you like you were nothing, treated you horribly. You call that love?”
“I call it penance. Sit down, Cecelia.”
I walk up to where she stands, her scars shining in her eyes as she pleads with me to listen to her.
I take one of two seats that case a small garden table in between and grab her wine.
“Fine. Talk. And I swear to God, Mom, if you leave anything out, this will be our last conversation.”
I don’t miss her faint, pained smile. “You’re so much like him in a way. Eyes that convey so much and at the same time cut so deep. But you’re horrible at hiding your feelings. You have too much heart to be anything but a beautiful and loving woman, no matter how much it