True to Me - Kay Bratt Page 0,1

cushion in case she dragged on longer than the doctors predicted.

How strange that she would receive a credit on the cost of her mother’s death. That was something she couldn’t even begin to process.

After all the medical and business papers were dealt with and organized, she started on the boxes stashed under her mother’s bed, sure that there she’d find a clue. Instead she found box after box of old pictures, school papers, and crafts. Her mother had kept everything. It took hours, but Quinn looked through stacks of photos of her life from kindergarten until college graduation, many of them of her and Maggie, her best friend from childhood.

She picked up one and smiled. In the shot the sun shone down on Maggie’s hair, making it almost seem to be on fire, a red that flamed bright in her younger years before it began to lighten. The contrast between the two of them was evident—Quinn’s golden brown, native Hawaiian skin a startling contrast to Maggie’s pale, freckled face.

Putting the photo aside, she dug deeper through brittle corsages and ticket stubs from the many events they’d attended together. So many memories, but nothing from her mother’s earlier past.

Quinn persisted.

She started on her mother’s jewelry box next, separating out the costume pieces to see if there was anything of value. She found a diamond stud earring but couldn’t find the match to it. Finally, she emptied the box and turned it over, and when she saw that one of the corners had come loose at the bottom, she pulled it and realized it was a false bottom.

Underneath was a single photograph.

In the picture, two young women dressed in graduation caps and gowns sat astride horses, their closeness evident in their body language and expressions. Even through the adolescent features, Quinn could tell one of them was definitely her mother. She turned the photo over and saw Carmen Crowe and Me scribbled on it with a date of a year before Quinn was born.

Who was Carmen Crowe?

Quinn wished she’d pushed her mother more to talk about the past. Over the years, as Quinn grew older and more curious, her mom had only told her that Maui was a beautiful and magical place, but her childhood had been ugly. The few times Quinn had tried to squeeze more out of her had caused her mother to retreat into silence. It was clear that her mom had loved Maui, but whatever it was that had kept her from returning there must’ve been traumatic. Quinn had hoped one day her mother would be ready to talk about it.

That day never came.

But if Quinn could find this hopefully living, breathing person from the photo, it could help her find out something about her mother. Carmen was obviously someone important. Important enough that it was the only photo of her past she’d saved. So was she a best friend? Cousin?

As though her mother’s death wasn’t hard enough to get over, Quinn was also spiraling because of the quietly explosive way she’d left. She couldn’t quite believe it or even process it. Not that Quinn had known her father at all, but it was still mind-boggling that she’d spent her life resenting the wrong man. All she knew was the man she’d thought was her father, Wesley Maguire, was someone her mother had been with for a short time many years ago. When they’d parted ways, Quinn was the only thing left of their relationship.

She’d been too young to remember him, but her mother had tried to reach out to him occasionally. As a young girl, Quinn had dreams that he’d show up at her door, ready to take her to the annual Daddy-Daughter Dance, holding a bouquet of flowers and apologizing for taking so long. He would be tall and good-looking, his eyes sparkling down at her with pride.

That never happened, but she’d still held out hope that he’d find her again in time to attend her high school graduation.

That didn’t happen either.

By the time Quinn was in college, she’d given up thinking he’d magically appear to walk her down the aisle on her eventual wedding day. And now her mother’s words echoed through her head at least a hundred times a day.

Wesley Maguire is not your father.

After the dust settled and the impact of that statement had finally worked its way through her brain, Quinn still couldn’t hate her for it. The truth was, she would miss her mother so much. Already missed her. Her mom