Chapter 32
Fifteen Years Earlier
I leaned back against my little car, packed to the brim with laundry and books and heaps of unnecessaries I wouldn’t need
for a weekend. I always overpacked, but with Lincoln in the picture I’d committed even less time to whittling down my selections.
He held me in a hug, sandwiching me between him and the car.
“You sure you have to go?” he asked.
“Mama would have my head if I missed the boat festival. It’s an annual summertime tradition.” I squeezed him, then pulled
back. “So yes, I’m sure I can’t stay.”
He dragged his fingertips lazily across my shoulder, then paused at the base of my neck, flashing me a grin.
I grabbed his hand. “Don’t you start that or I’ll be hours late.”
Lincoln sighed and stepped back to pull my car door open. I climbed in and blew him a kiss, then I took off. I needed to make good time if I wanted to stop at the local library and check its records and old newspapers. It was the first step in searching for my father, and I had a plan: look at one year before my birth and fan out from there. The man might not be local, and he may not have stuck around, but Magnolia was a lifetime Beaufort resident. So keeping the science of conception in mind, he had to have been in town nine months before my birth, if nothing else.
It was a long shot. The search would take time—especially if the library hadn’t yet made its archives digital—and it would
be a piecemeal start. I could almost guarantee it would be painful. But this was all I had to go on.
***
Three hours later, I was a picture of disappointment. The only reason I wasn’t in a puddle on the floor was thanks to the
kind librarian, Rhonda. She’d helped me pull the microfilm from storage rooms and sat with me, but the stuff was bulky and
unbelievably time-consuming to navigate. I spent my only hour and a half here figuring out the machinery and reading one article
about a local knitting group that was making blankets for the children’s hospital.
“And you’re sure you couldn’t get a name?” the librarian asked.
I shook my head.
“It’s not even on the birth certificate?” she asked.
“Blank by design,” I said.
“That’s too bad. If you had a name, we could do a records search on our database. Not that I could guarantee anything, but
it wouldn’t be hours of combing through newspaper articles. We’d just have more options overall.”
I nodded. “Thanks for your help anyway; I’m going to see what I can do to find out the name.”
She patted me on the back, and I could tell she felt for me. If I were more familiar, I bet she’d have given me a squeeze.
“I’m here Monday through Friday if you ever need me. Even if it’s just for a good cry.”
The drive over to the house was short, and as I crept up the driveway the double-deep wraparound porch appeared. Magnolia
sat out there sipping a drink. Vodka soda with lemon and lime, if I were a betting woman.
“Drive was ok?” Magnolia asked. She wore a pressed white button-down that had been starched to heaven and back. Her oversize
gold studs caught the sun as she drank from her glass.
“Yup,” I said, then yawned. “I’m tired, though. Had to cram in a couple papers early to skip out for this weekend.”
Magnolia patted the corner of her mouth, checking her red lips. “Well, school’s important for now, but it’ll just be a matter
of time before you’re more concerned with society life here. Before long you’ll be engaged, eventually married...”
“I’m not so sure,” I said.
“Nonsense. You and Grady are prized by this community.”
I walked to the porch railing, leaning over. “That’s lovely and all, but we broke up. I’m with Lincoln now, remember?”
“It’s nothing but a silly bump in the road. I know Grady will forgive you.”
“And what if I don’t want to be forgiven?” Or need to be.
“You’re really that willing to give up a catch like a Suffolk?”
I knew before I spoke that I was making trouble, but on the heels of my library letdown, I didn’t care. “You didn’t end up
snagging anyone, and you’re doing ok. You’ve actually done quite well without my father, right?”
Magnolia prickled. “Every mother wants better for her child than what she had.”
I huffed, and my limbs went loose. “Won’t you tell me more about him? Just a name? Please , a name is all I need.”
Magnolia dropped her hands into her lap and sighed. “I guess we’re doing this again then.”
“One little name won’t hurt,” I said.
“One little name that will open the floodgates to the past.” Magnolia lifted herself out of the chair. “You don’t know what
you’re doing. I’ve protected you and loved you and given you everything you could want all these years, and that’s not enough?”
“I can handle it, Mama. A name is all I’m asking for.”
“It’s a whole lot more than that.” She shook her head. “And you’ll be sorry if you keep up with this; you’ll only have yourself
to blame.”
“I’m done not knowing. I’ll manage it fine. The not knowing is what I can’t handle.”
“This is real trouble, real people, real hurt beyond anything you’ve ever known. It’s not a little treasure hunt.”
I swallowed the fear that boiled up. The little voice that said maybe she was right. She knew him, after all. I held up my
hands. “I’m sorry.” I sighed. “I don’t want to ruin the weekend.” It was true, but also I didn’t have any more ammunition
to battle her. I would never be more convincing with my hypotheticals and my feelings.
Magnolia pulled in a deep breath. “You’re right. We should be getting dressed for the event.”
I followed her inside, and for the rest of the evening I played along. I fought the angry tide that rode in like waves as
I pushed it away with my insistence that anger wouldn’t do any good. I smiled and I joined in the brainless chitchat. I sipped
and nibbled and didn’t chew my nails.
I was the perfect daughter.
I was her perfect Magnolia.
Even if my insides felt volcanic.