Pregnant.
My mother. Gerald.
I could not make the pieces fit.
Gerald’s voice grew rougher.
“Her family hated me. Said I was beneath her. Said I’d ruin her life. I didn’t come from the kind of people they wanted their daughter tied to. I had grease under my nails and no inheritance. Richard Crawford, on the other hand, had a family name, a business degree, and a father who owned half the real estate in town.”
“My father,” I said automatically.
Gerald’s jaw tightened.
“The man who raised you.”
The words landed like stones dropped one by one into deep water.
“I don’t understand.”
“I didn’t either,” Gerald said. “Not for twenty-six years.”
He took a breath and looked toward the window, where the morning light had started turning the blinds silver.
“Ellie disappeared for three weeks. Wouldn’t answer my calls. Wouldn’t see me. Her mother told me she’d gone to stay with relatives. Then one day I got this.”
He handed me the letter.
