Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 115468 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115468 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
I gasped, bringing them to my chest.
“I read through some of them,” Bree said. “I hope that wasn’t an intrusion but I…we wanted to understand what happened, so that when we told you about Nathan, we could offer any additional information we might be able to.”
“No, it’s not an intrusion. I appreciate it.” I wanted to know what happened, but I couldn’t focus on the written words. I couldn’t hear the story from my mother’s voice without losing it completely.
Bree nodded with such kind understanding in her eyes. “There are pages missing, but we believe the gist of it was Nathan had begun backsliding and having episodes. He went into the hospital himself for a short time and because of that, she must have held off telling him about her pregnancy, and then…” She sighed a heavy sigh. “Everything happened with Archer and his mother, and Nathan’s brothers. He was thrust into the position of caring for Archer, and your mother left town having never told him she was expecting his child, or it’s possible she didn’t yet know and decided later not to contact him.” She nodded to the small pile of pages from the two-and-a-half-month period nine months before I came into the world. “There’s tragedy in there, Rory, but there’s also love. He’d served as a ‘master sergeant’ in the army and that’s what she called him. Even we never knew why Nathan signed some of his paintings that way. He often did things that were inexplicable. Only, this time, it wasn’t inexplicable at all. The ones signed M.S. are from the time period when he was with your mother.”
“Master sergeant,” I whispered. “M.S. His moniker was based on her nickname for him.”
Bree nodded, her gaze moving to the paper I was holding. “It’s my guess that it made him feel loved. It made him feel important and helped him remember who he was…before. Those pages are your parents’ love story. I only wish it had had a happier ending.”
I looked down at the pages, running my fingers over my mother’s writing. No wonder she’d always seemed so sad when I asked about my father. No wonder she’d never been able to speak about him. “I just…I wish she had felt like she could tell him about me and at least bring me to visit.”
“Maybe she believed he was too far gone,” Haven offered. “Or that knowing about you would tear him in two. It would have made him choose between duty and love.” Archer and Travis both nodded at Haven’s assessment while Gage’s distraught face flashed in my mind. Duty and love. How familiar. Even if I wasn’t at all sure that Gage loved me like I did him. I pushed the image of Gage aside—I couldn’t think of him now.
“One last thing,” Bree said, handing me what I saw was a photograph. “This was with one of the entries.”
I took it and blinked down at the photo of my beautiful, smiling mother, wearing that long-ago blue dress, and standing next to the man who was obviously Nathan Hale in his military dress clothes. “That was from the spring gala at the Metropolitan Club,” Bree said softly. A tear tracked down my cheek and for a moment, I simply couldn’t speak. I’d not only found the truth about my father, I had a picture of him with my mother. And from the way they were standing, the way he’d been looking down at her when the camera clicked, I could see they’d been in love. I placed the photo between the diary entries, a pile of the most precious things I owned.
“Thank you.” I looked around at each of them in turn. “Thank you to all of you, for being here.” I stood shakily and Faith jumped up too. “I hope you’ll forgive me if I don’t stay. This has all been…very overwhelming.”
Bree and Haven stood too, worried frowns on both their faces. “I’ll call to check in later,” Bree said. “After you’ve processed.” She shot a look at Archer, who gave her a small nod.
They walked Faith and me to the door and we exited out onto the porch. As I stepped down to the stone path, a couple of dogs came bounding out of the trees. My heart leaped and I turned, moving toward them and bending to greet the white one as she made a beeline for me. “Hi, girl. Oh hi,” I said, finding instant solace in the presence of the pups. “What a pretty girl you are.” The other one whined and danced around and I spent several minutes scratching their heads and then rubbing their bellies as they flopped down to the grass and grinned with happiness. My confusion lifted and my heart lightened as I found that old familiar surety that I felt interacting with dogs. The white dog came to her feet and butted my hand again and I put my hands on her head and looked her in the eye before touching her nose with my own and whispering, “Thank you.”