Chapter Twenty-Six #3
I lean into his touch; grateful he was here with me. That they all were. The way they had my back means more than they could possibly know.
A vibration penetrates the air. Justice reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone. He looks at the screen before placing it up to his ear. “Clemson, what’s up?”
When his gaze moves to his brothers, they circle in closer.
“We’ll be there.” He hangs up and slips the phone back into his pocket. “That was Craig. He found something. He wants us to meet him at the abandoned warehouse on Old Miller Road.”
“That’s forty minutes away,” Braxten says. “Why so far?”
“I don’t know, but it sounds like whatever he has for us is big.”
“Let’s go,” Knox says, pushing forward. “I’ll drive.”
Braxten follows while Justice hesitates, looking down at me.
“Go,” I tell him. “I’ll be fine.”
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
He leans down, giving me a kiss, filling my sad heart with something more beautiful. Afterward, his forehead rests on mine, breath tickling my lips. “We’ll talk about this more when I get back.”
I nod.
He moves for the truck just as Knox starts it, the loud roar of the engine slicing through the air before it peels away. Composing myself, I wipe away any remainder tears and head inside to find Thatcher in the kitchen.
“Everything all right?” he asks, concerned.
“It is now. The guys just got a call from Craig though. They said they’ll be back soon.”
He nods.
“Where’s Hannah?” I ask.
“Colorin’ in the living room. Go on and see her, I’ll make you some tea.”
“Thank you.” I walk into the other room and find her kneeling on the floor, pencil crayons scattered about.
She looks up at me, her smile diminishing at my expression. “You okay, Mama?”
“Yeah, baby, I’m okay.” I sit next to her and pull her against me, needing to hold her. “I love you, Hannah. So much. Do you know that?” Now more than ever, I feel the need to remind her of that.
She hugs me back, her small arms squeezing me tight. “I love you, too.”
Swallowing back my emotion, I find my smile once more and look down at the picture she’s drawing. “What do you have here?”
“A picture of our family. That’s you and Daddy,” she explains, pointing to the left side of the page. “This is Papa Thatcher.” He stands next to a tractor, holding something in his hand.
“What’s that?” I ask, pointing to the object.
“His harmonica.”
“Perfect.”
She directs my attention to the other side of the paper. “Over here is Uncle Knox and Uncle Braxten.”
The both of them holding guns brings a smile to my face.
“Who are these two?” I prompt, pointing at two small stick people.
“That’s me and my little brother or sister.”
My gaze swings to hers, every muscle in my body growing stiff.
“Remember that day I threw a coin in the wishing well?” she says.
I nod.
“That’s what I wished for. That you and Daddy will get married and I’ll have a little brother or sister.”
My heart flutters with the same hopes and dreams. “I want that too,” I admit on a whisper. They are so close to becoming a reality, they are within my grasp, I can feel it, and I will fight to make that happen for us all. “Never give up wishing, Hannah, that’s how dreams come true.”
“I won’t, Mama.”
Pressing a kiss to her head, I leave her to finish the picture then head back into the kitchen with Thatcher.
“Have a seat, darlin’,” he says gently, bringing me a steaming cup of tea. He sits in the chair beside mine then takes my hand in his. “Talk to me.”
I look down at his missing fingers; the same mangled hand that comforted me six years ago when I sat in this very same spot, having no one else to turn to. This man has been more of a parent to me than my own ever have.
“You know, one of my biggest fears when I was pregnant with Hannah was that I wouldn’t be a good mother. Not only because of how young and inexperienced I was but also because I never had a good one. I never had someone who loved me, so how was I supposed to love my own?”
I look up at him, tears building in my eyes once again.
“But the moment she was born I knew there was no way I wouldn’t love her with every single breath I took. She became my entire world and it made me question how my own mother never found that love for me. Why does she hate me so much, Thatcher? I don’t understand what I did wrong.”
His hand squeezes mine, the sadness taking over his expression reflecting the one in my heart. “It’s nothing you did, child.”
“I try to tell myself that but now knowing what it’s like to be a mother I feel like there has to be a reason. A reason she harbors so much anger and resentment toward me.”
A look passes across his face, one I can’t decipher.
“I feel like there’s something I should tell you,” he starts, shifting in his seat.
“I’d heard the rumors years ago but never paid them much mind since this town has always been famous for talk.
However, the more time that passes, and after knowing how awful that woman has been to you, I think it’s worth mentioning. ”
“What is it?” I ask, curious about what could have him acting this way.
“Back in the day it was said your father often enjoyed female company on the side,” he divulges. “One of those said women ended up pregnant and it got real messy. So messy that she ended up leaving town.”
I peer back at him, shock rocking me over what he reveals.
“Your mother was pregnant at the same time, or so she said, but some people didn’t believe she was ever pregnant.”
“Well obviously she was because here I am.”
His expression turns more solemn. “There was a short time when your mother left town. It was during her pregnancy and she never came back until after she had you.”
I sit up straight, my heart beginning to beat wildly in my chest. “What are you saying? Are you trying to tell me my mother isn’t my real mother?”
“I know it sounds crazy, it was to me too, but…haven’t you ever noticed you don’t look a thing like her? Not one single trait.”
I open my mouth then close it, thinking it over. I’ve always resembled my father over my mother but even then I don’t look much like him either. We share some similarities but not many.
The more I think about this insane possibility, the more it would make sense of why she would hate me so much, but if I’m not hers then whose am I and where is she now?
I look back at Thatcher, the need for answers burning in my heart.
“I have no idea how you could even find out the truth,” he says. “But I’m sure—”
“Gwen,” I speak up, her name popping into my head instantly. “She would know. She has to.” The possibility has me pushing to my feet. “I have to go see her.”
“Now?”
“Yes. It can’t wait.”
He stands, reaching for my arm. “I understand how you must be feeling. But wait for my son to come home. I don’t want you driving upset like this.”
“I’ll be fine. I promise.” I grab my purse and search for Justice’s truck keys, finding them on the counter. “Will you watch Hannah for me?”
“Of course, but please, Ryanne—”
I cut him off with a kiss to the cheek. “I’ll be back before dark.” Without another word, I run out of the house, a sense of urgency filling me, the need for the truth. A truth I’m beginning to feel all the way down to my bones.