Chapter 41
Fifteen Years Earlier
It was the fall semester of my senior year, and I sat in a trendy new Charleston restaurant—a renovated garage with floor-to-ceiling
windows, chrome fixtures, and icy-white modern art. Every sound bounced off and around the hard surfaces, a noisy cloud that
covered the place. Design wise, it was uninspiring, but the reputation of the food and cocktails had spread. I sat beside
Grady and across the table from Magnolia and Delta.
“Go easy on the bread basket there, honey,” Magnolia said to me, followed by a coy wink to Grady.
I reached for another pat of butter and swiped it on my bread generously. “Oh, I’m doing the butter diet, Mama. Surely you’ve
heard of it.”
“Oh, you ladies settle down,” Grady said from inside his bourbon glass. “Y’all both have as much bread as you’d like.”
In the two months since school had started, he’d called and checked in, even once sent just-because flowers. He’d even arranged
this dinner as an opportunity to see me—and probably to use family pressure to hammer home how well it fit for me to take
him back.
I glanced up from my plate of grilled snapper and mashed potatoes, and my heart stopped when the blur of a familiar figure passed the window. A perfect replica of Lincoln’s height, his frame, his walk. Could it be him? Or just my mind playing tricks? And if it was him, had he seen me? Did he see me here with Grady?
Part of me hoped he did; I wanted him to see me out with another guy, looking like I’d moved on.
But then I remembered that Lincoln was gone. He’d left me just like the very first man in my life.
“How’s the fish?” Grady asked.
He still hadn’t gotten up the guts to ask his mother. But I had been back to the Beaufort library several times, and during
each visit the librarian, Rhonda, sat and worked alongside me. She was patient and always prepared with a tip, but neither
her expertise nor my persistence took me anywhere close to uncovering the identity of my father. Not without a name.
“Good. It’s really good.” I glanced over the table. “Delta, how’s the steak? Sure looks incredible.”
She finished her bite. “It’s to die for, honey.”
I watched her surreptitiously as we fell into the quiet of polite eating. Delta Suffolk sat right here across from me with
the information Magnolia refused to share. I had a right to know, and if Grady wouldn’t ask her, I would. There wasn’t a chance
she’d give in over the phone, so it had to be tonight, in person.
By the time the plates and glasses were cleared and the bill was delivered, I was beginning to panic about missing out on
cornering Delta. Then she excused herself to the ladies’ room, and I took my chance.
“You know what, I’ll head there too,” I said.
Magnolia tutted as she reached for the bill. “Delta doesn’t need an escort.”
I ignored my mother and followed Delta into the bathroom. I stood waiting by the sinks when she emerged from the stall.
“Oh,” she said. “Mack, I didn’t realize you were right behind me.” She smiled and started the water.
I slid in beside her at the sink and followed suit. “Well, between you and me, I was hoping for a moment with you.”
Delta’s eyes glinted as she caught my gaze in the mirror. “Is this a little something to do with my son?”
I smiled regretfully. “Not this time. But who knows, maybe in the future, we’ll have more to discuss,” I lied.
“All right, sweetie. Well, ask away.” Delta snatched a few paper towels from the dispenser and turned to face me as she dried
her hands.
I steadied myself and looked her in the eyes. “I need to ask you about my father. I’ve searched public records, the library
archives, the internet—all of it—and I’ve come up empty-handed. Magnolia won’t even tell me a name. I know you knew my mama
back when she had me, even from before that, so you have to know.” I stepped closer and took her dry hands in my desperate
soapy ones. “ Please , Mrs. Delta, tell me what you know.”
Her face slowly fell, every drip of excitement over the possibility of a tidbit of romantic gossip draining. She was still
and white. “I’m sorry, Mack.” She gently pulled her hands from mine. “You know I can’t betray Magnolia’s trust.”
“I wouldn’t tell her it was you,” I said. “I promise. She’d never know.”
Delta shook her head and turned away. She reached for another paper towel. “What I can tell you... is that you’re better off knowing nothing. Your mama is a wise woman, and I would’ve made the same choice
in her position.”
Delta pulled a tight smile before tucking her chin and ducking out of the bathroom. Tears threatened at the back of my throat, so I dipped into a stall and slammed the door behind me, latching it. I dropped onto the toilet and let my tears run.
First, I’d been certain I’d figure it out like some amateur true crime podcaster on a lucky streak. Next, I’d hoped Grady’s
attempts with his mother would give me somewhere to start. And then I’d thought she’d tell me, like I had a better pulse on
her than her son. All of it seemed embarrassingly optimistic looking back.
I was never going to find him. Not without a starting point.
Not when all the rest of them were in on it together.
The rest of them who thought they knew better than me. My mother especially, keeping and withholding this information, just
like she’d done of herself for so long. Thinking she knew better.
And now Delta Suffolk and her audacity to think she, too, knew what was best for me.
Grady would probably take their side too; he always toed the family party line. He would tell me to cut it out, knock it off,
enjoy the lavish life I had. Because what good comes from prodding and prying? It’s nothing but uncouth for the women in our
circles.
I pulled out my phone and texted the only person I knew would understand completely because of his own family issues: my friend
Fitz. As if he’d been waiting for the text, his reply came immediately. I’m getting in the car. Be there in 10, 15 tops.
It felt like the only thing holding me up was his care.
I pushed out of the bathroom stall and did my best to wipe the streaked mascara from my cheeks. I walked out into the restaurant
and stopped at the table where the three of them waited quietly.
“Thanks, everyone,” I announced. “I’ve got a ride on the way, so I’ll wait at the curb.” I waved my phone to suggest I’d called
a rideshare. “See y’all soon.”
I walked away before they could protest—away from them and the life they’d love to see me trapped inside. I walked away feeling wound up and torn up and completely misunderstood. No feeling was quite as jarring as not belonging among the people who were supposed to be like family.
When Fitz pulled up and I slipped into his passenger seat, I felt rescued. I was safe, and there in the safety of his car
I let myself cry.