Chapter 41
Robyn Jennings lived in a small ranch on the southwest side of Wilmington. Maggie used the address from Will’s application
that Josh had texted her weeks ago. She pulled along the curb, studying the property.
Darkness obscured the unattached garage, and the home itself boasted a tiny stoop centered between two large lit windows.
Someone was home—hopefully not Will. But it was a Friday night and he was young. Probably out with friends.
Maggie’s heart thudded at the thought of coming face-to-face with the woman who might’ve had Ethan’s other child.
Ethan’s other child .
No, it wasn’t true. She was about to prove that to herself.
She squeezed her eyes closed, welcoming the black void. If only she could make all of this disappear so easily. But she couldn’t.
She opened her eyes again. She was here for answers.
Gathering courage, she opened the door and slipped into the night. Gravel crunched beneath her sandals as she walked up the
short driveway. An old white Dodge hunkered just outside the garage. Her legs wobbled as she followed the pavers to the steps
leading to the stoop.
The night air smelled of lilacs and earth. Cars whipped past on the main road just outside the subdivision. Somewhere in the distance a siren pealed. As she climbed the steps a warm breeze lifted her hair.
On the darkened stoop she drew a steadying breath and then knocked. Her respirations were quick and shallow as if she’d just
finished a run on the beach. Questions buzzed inside her head like a dozen angry bees.
She was biting her nails. She lowered her hand.
God, help me. She winged the ancient plea heavenward. She hoped He would forgive the ambiguous request. She couldn’t seem to formulate anything
more meaningful.
The door swept open and a woman appeared, silhouetted by the light behind her and shielded by the patio door between them.
Was it the woman they’d found online?
“Can I help you?”
“Are you—are you Robyn Jennings?”
The woman tilted her head. “Who’s asking?”
“My name’s Maggie. Um, I wondered if I could have a minute of your time.”
“What’s this regarding?”
Maggie gathered her courage. “Your son.”
The woman glanced over her shoulder, then thrust open the patio door. But rather than inviting Maggie inside, she scurried
onto the porch.
Maggie made room for Robyn, who closed the entry door behind her and remained inside the enclave of the open patio door. Maggie’s
stomach sank like an anchor at her suspicious behavior.
“What do you want?”
“I’ve recently become aware that”—she swallowed hard—“that you may have known my husband, Ethan Reynolds. Is that true?”
Maggie whipped out her phone and pulled up the photo of young Ethan. She turned it around, hands trembling. “This is my husband—my late husband—when he was twenty. Did you know him?”
Robyn gasped. A solid five seconds passed before she tore her eyes from the photo. “I—I never knew that man. Never knew anyone
by that name.” She reached for the doorknob. “You should go. I’m in the middle of something.”
She was lying. “Please. I need to know—”
“You have to go.” The patio door was falling shut.
“Did he love you? Did he know he had a son? Please, you have to tell me.”
Robyn whipped around. “I already told you I never knew him. I’m sorry but I can’t help you.”
“Wait.” Maggie shoved a piece of paper at her bearing her phone number. “Could we talk another time? I’m leaving town tomorrow.
I don’t live here.”
Robyn stuffed the paper into her jeans pocket and closed the door firmly behind her. A second later the pneumatic closure
released the patio door and it, too, clicked shut.
The encounter had been so quick. Mere seconds. But as she turned and took the steps, Maggie’s knees wobbled precariously.
She steadied herself with the railing.
Robyn couldn’t get away from her fast enough. Her denial had contradicted her response. Maggie hadn’t had to see the woman’s
expression to know she was evading, lying.
It wasn’t DNA but it was awfully close. She fled to her car and closed herself in, wishing the darkness would swallow her
up. She wanted to get as far away from this place as possible. She started her car and pulled from the curb.
Vision blurry, she dashed tears from her face. Could he really have done this terrible thing? She pressed a hand to the ache in her chest, her mind whirling with questions. If her suspicions were true, had Ethan known about Robyn’s pregnancy? About his son? Had he kept in contact with her? With Will?
This was just too much to bear. Isn’t it enough that You took him from me? Couldn’t You have just left it at that? Now he’s gone and I can’t even get answers.
And now my memory of him, of what we had, is forever sullied.
***
“Mom?”
Will’s mother jumped at his sudden appearance. Then she dashed into the connecting kitchen and grabbed a dishrag. “Will. I
thought you were in your room.”
His gaze sharpened on her even as dread roiled in his stomach. “Who was that at the door?”
“It—it was just someone selling... cookies.”
Mom was a terrible liar. Even if her ridiculous response didn’t give her away, the tremble in her voice and the frenetic cleaning
would’ve. He was shaking a little himself. The knock on the door had pulled him from his room. Only one of his friends would
come over this time of night. But it hadn’t been Levi or Braden. It was a woman.
“I heard what she said, Mom.”
His mother’s widened eyes locked on him for a moment. Then she glanced at the closed door.
“The window’s open. I heard what she said. ” His own voice trembled. When you were the product of a sperm donor, you didn’t hold out much hope of ever knowing your biological father. But that hadn’t stopped Will from wondering and searching.
And now the answer seemed to have washed up like a seashell on the shore. He’d been too shocked to move. And by the time he’d
gathered his wits, the woman was gone. “Her husband must be my biological father.”
Mom scrubbed a spot on the counter. “We don’t know that.”
It was one thing not to know the answers to his questions, another to simply withhold them from him. “I can tell you’re lying,
Mom. Were you lying about the IUI too? She talked like you knew him. Like you had a relationship with him.”
“No! I swear that’s the truth. She was mistaken about that.”
Her expression and tone seemed sincere enough. “What’s his name?” He’d stepped into the hallway too late for introductions,
if there’d been any.
The rag stopped its frantic motions. His mom slumped her shoulders, her whole body heaving with her breaths. “I couldn’t say,
but—she showed me his picture.” Mom met his gaze, her expression softening. “Did you hear the part about him...?”
“Being dead? Yeah, I heard that part. So you think it was him? That her husband is my biological father?”
Mom set down the rag and came over to him. Her eyes teared as she regarded him warily. “I don’t know.”
Will’s throat swelled closed. “But now he’s gone and I can never know him. Never have a conversation with him.”
“I’m sorry, honey.” Mom touched his shoulder.
He flinched away. “Why did you lie to her? Why did you chase her away? I could’ve talked to her and learned about him at least.”
“I’m sorry. Her husband died a-and she seemed so distraught.”
“What about me? Did you think for a minute about what I might’ve wanted?” She knew he’d always wanted to find his biological father.
Something about the woman snagged in his memory. She’d said something about leaving tomorrow. Something about not living here . “What’s her name? Where’s she from? I have to find her.”
Mom’s face crumpled. “I wish I could tell you, honey. I’m so sorry.”