by Kay Bratt
ALSO BY KAY BRATT
Wish Me Home
Dancing with the Sun
Silent Tears: A Journey of Hope in a Chinese Orphanage
Chasing China: A Daughter’s Quest for Truth
Mei Li and the Wise Laoshi
Eyes Like Mine
The Bridge
A Thread Unbroken
Train to Nowhere
The Palest Ink
The Scavenger’s Daughters
Tangled Vines
Bitter Winds
Red Skies
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Text copyright © 2019 by Kay Bratt
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
Published by Lake Union Publishing, Seattle
www.apub.com
Amazon, the Amazon logo, and Lake Union Publishing are trademarks of Amazon.com, Inc., or its affiliates.
ISBN-13: 9781542008075
ISBN-10: 1542008077
Cover design by Shasti O’Leary Soudant
To Amanda
My Gypsy Girl
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
From the Author: The Story Behind the Story
READERS DISCUSSION GUIDE
About the Author
Chapter One
Quinn held the small box in her hands, so focused on the contents that even the busy Savannah traffic outside the condo couldn’t penetrate her thoughts. The box felt weightless. Other than the tiny molecules painted on the side, it was plain and unassuming.
But it could be the link to her future.
Or her past.
At this point in her life, both were uncertain.
The only thing she knew for sure was that she needed to begin living again. Before she could do that, she needed to put her mother to rest. In her latest self-help book, she’d read that grief never ends, but it changes. That it’s a passage, and not a place to stay. Quinn needed to pull herself out of the pit of sorrow she’d been living in before she drowned in it.
An hour earlier, she’d watched the final episode in the latest season of Long-Lost Family, a series that highlighted family reunions between people who’d never met, and she couldn’t help but think of what results the small box could bring to her own life.
After checking the activation code, she scanned the terms and conditions, noting that whether she was pleased with the results or not, she couldn’t sue. That meant even if they turned up a serial killer for a father, too bad, the company wasn’t responsible. The consent form was especially entertaining, asking for her signature to better understand the human species.
Quinn could definitely use some assistance in that department.
She filled the small tube with her saliva and capped it. The motion felt strange. Sterile. Such a scientific method for an enormously emotional subject. Quickly, before she could change her mind again, she dropped it into the envelope and sealed it shut, then packed it back into the box. Tomorrow she’d drop it off on her way to work.
Her heart thumped in her chest, beginning the countdown. One second gone, two seconds, three. The waiting would feel endless. But hadn’t she already waited her entire life? What was a few more weeks?
This was it. If all went well, it could mean the end to a lifetime of wondering and longing. Weeks, the advertisement said. In only weeks she would, or could—or maybe only possibly—have a match. A match didn’t necessarily mean she would have what she needed dropped into her hands. Possibly not names, or even explanations. But it meant information. Information could lead to the truth, and the truth to her father.
Her stable, comfortable life had turned complicated. How does a woman come to grips with the fact that the mother she’d known and loved for thirty years had kept such a huge secret from her?
It was a slow progression from the onset of illness to her mother’s death. Quinn had been there for her as much as any daughter possibly could. There had been time. More than enough time. So why had her mother waited until her very last moments to confess?
“Wesley Maguire isn’t your father,” she’d whispered, holding Quinn’s hand to her face before telling Quinn her final wish. “Take me back to Maui.”
In her shock, Quinn hadn’t had time to process the proclamation, much less to ask if he wasn’t her father, then who was? The confession was startling, and her mother’s eyes had begged for forgiveness, even as the light in them faded away.
The weeks that followed were heavy with grief, and in the moments when Quinn could set her sadness aside briefly, she’d searched through every document she could find in her mother’s apartment, sorting through the tangled yet mundane details of a life now gone.
While part of her struggled through the realization that she was truly alone in the world—or at least had no family to speak of—the other part of her felt the need to find some clue as to who her real father was. And why had her mother kept it a secret? To give herself the illusion she wasn’t behaving obsessively or erratically, she told herself that she was simply putting her mother’s affairs in order—ripping off the Band-Aid before she even had a chance to heal.
With an intensity that would make her fiancé, Ethan, proud, Quinn sorted through years of hospital bills and treatment summaries. Lists of medications and books filled with fantasies of alternative medicines.
Receipts. So many receipts. At the end, her mother had made sure to leave no bills behind for Quinn to have to deal with. No unpaid mortgage or car loans. No outstanding medical bills. All of it prepaid, even with a cushion in case she dragged on longer than the doctors predicted.
How strange that she would receive a credit on the cost of her mother’s death. That was something she couldn’t even begin to process.
After all the medical and business papers were dealt with and organized, she started on the boxes stashed under her mother’s bed, sure that there she’d find a clue. Instead she found box after box of old pictures, school papers, and crafts. Her mother had kept everything. It took hours, but Quinn looked through stacks of photos of her life from kindergarten until college graduation, many of them of her and Maggie, her best friend from childhood.
She picked up one and smiled. In the shot the sun shone down on Maggie’s hair, making it almost seem to be on fire, a red that flamed bright in her younger years before it began to lighten. The contrast between the two of them was evident—Quinn’s golden brown, native Hawaiian skin a startling contrast to Maggie’s pale, freckled face.
Putting the photo aside, she dug deeper through brittle corsages and ticket st
ubs from the many events they’d attended together. So many memories, but nothing from her mother’s earlier past.
Quinn persisted.
She started on her mother’s jewelry box next, separating out the costume pieces to see if there was anything of value. She found a diamond stud earring but couldn’t find the match to it. Finally, she emptied the box and turned it over, and when she saw that one of the corners had come loose at the bottom, she pulled it and realized it was a false bottom.
Underneath was a single photograph.
In the picture, two young women dressed in graduation caps and gowns sat astride horses, their closeness evident in their body language and expressions. Even through the adolescent features, Quinn could tell one of them was definitely her mother. She turned the photo over and saw Carmen Crowe and Me scribbled on it with a date of a year before Quinn was born.
Who was Carmen Crowe?
Quinn wished she’d pushed her mother more to talk about the past. Over the years, as Quinn grew older and more curious, her mom had only told her that Maui was a beautiful and magical place, but her childhood had been ugly. The few times Quinn had tried to squeeze more out of her had caused her mother to retreat into silence. It was clear that her mom had loved Maui, but whatever it was that had kept her from returning there must’ve been traumatic. Quinn had hoped one day her mother would be ready to talk about it.
That day never came.
But if Quinn could find this hopefully living, breathing person from the photo, it could help her find out something about her mother. Carmen was obviously someone important. Important enough that it was the only photo of her past she’d saved. So was she a best friend? Cousin?
As though her mother’s death wasn’t hard enough to get over, Quinn was also spiraling because of the quietly explosive way she’d left. She couldn’t quite believe it or even process it. Not that Quinn had known her father at all, but it was still mind-boggling that she’d spent her life resenting the wrong man. All she knew was the man she’d thought was her father, Wesley Maguire, was someone her mother had been with for a short time many years ago. When they’d parted ways, Quinn was the only thing left of their relationship.
She’d been too young to remember him, but her mother had tried to reach out to him occasionally. As a young girl, Quinn had dreams that he’d show up at her door, ready to take her to the annual Daddy-Daughter Dance, holding a bouquet of flowers and apologizing for taking so long. He would be tall and good-looking, his eyes sparkling down at her with pride.
That never happened, but she’d still held out hope that he’d find her again in time to attend her high school graduation.
That didn’t happen either.
By the time Quinn was in college, she’d given up thinking he’d magically appear to walk her down the aisle on her eventual wedding day. And now her mother’s words echoed through her head at least a hundred times a day.
Wesley Maguire is not your father.
After the dust settled and the impact of that statement had finally worked its way through her brain, Quinn still couldn’t hate her for it. The truth was, she would miss her mother so much. Already missed her. Her mom had been kind and loving, completely devoted to Quinn. Whatever she’d done or whatever secrets she’d kept, there was no doubt it was out of love. Now that her mother was gone and Quinn had no one but Ethan, she ached to know her father, or at least know who he was. She also realized that whatever she uncovered might be better left buried, but she was ready to learn the truth, good or bad.
And here she was, holding a small cardboard box that could be the key.
She stood and put the box on the table beside the door. Ethan was expecting her to call and give him a rundown of her day. He wouldn’t understand if she tried to tell him that she’d barely been able to function, much less figure out dinner. That she’d faked her way through the day, accomplishing almost nothing on her list, her entire system on full alert because of what she was about to do.
Ethan assumed she was still off because of her mother’s death. He also knew that Quinn couldn’t think of much else other than fulfilling her mom’s wishes by taking her ashes to Maui and putting her to rest. He’d bought tickets and insisted she book the hotel reservations, declaring they’d make a vacation out of it. After Quinn memorialized her mother, of course.
They were set to leave in a month.
“It will help lift you out of this mood, Quinn,” he’d said.
While he went on and on about the adventures Maui had to offer, Quinn was quiet, thinking of the moment when she’d have to leave her mother behind on the island. Traveling there was not going to be the mood-lifter he thought it was. Not for her.
There were things he didn’t know, like the mystery of who her father was. It didn’t feel right to tell him yet—she wanted this to stay between her and her mother for the time being. Quinn had a strong suspicion that the information her mom had been so intent on keeping to herself had probably poisoned her body, inviting the cancer in and allowing it to eat away until nothing was left but the shell of the woman Quinn had nearly worshipped. But even as her mother made her final will and testament, she’d not been able to bring herself to disclose the details of a story that could set her daughter free. Why?
She took a deep breath and readied herself, then picked up the phone.
Her fingers stiffened stubbornly, as though they didn’t want to obey, but eventually there was a ring. Ethan picked up quickly.
“Hi,” Quinn said.
“What’s up?” he answered, his voice already hurrying her along. He was always running behind. “You headed for the gym?”
“No, I’m not. Listen, I need to talk to you.” She felt her stomach clenching.
“Can it wait? I have a meeting in ten.”
“No, it can’t. I need to tell you now.” While I’ve got the courage, she almost added.
“Hold on,” he said. “Let me shut the door.”
She could hear him bumping around, not sure what he was doing, but when he returned, her resolve weakened. Then she thought of her mother. A woman who deserved more than her daughter doing a quick dump of her ashes and then living it up around the island.
“I’m going to Maui alone,” she blurted out.
“What do you mean?” He sounded confused.
“Ethan, I appreciate that you want to go and support me, but I need to do this by myself. I’m not looking forward to saying goodbye to the last of my mother. I want this to be a quiet and reflective time. A time to honor her in my own way.”
“And you don’t want me with you?” he said, his tone turning petulant.
“It’s not that I don’t want you with me. This just isn’t the time to try to enjoy a vacation.” And I am hoping to find my real father. That was another detail she wasn’t ready to tell him.
“Quinn, I know you are still in a bad place, but you aren’t thinking straight. We’ll talk about this when I get home this weekend.”
“No, we won’t, Ethan. I’ve already canceled your flight. I’m serious about this. I’m sorry if it hurts you, but we’ll plan to go again together after I’ve done what I need to do.”
He sighed, long and frustrated.
“Sounds like I don’t have a choice,” he said. “I need to run.”
He broke the connection, and she was left holding the phone to her ear, grasping it so tightly it made her fingers ache. When she lowered it, she was shaking.
Quinn liked routine and avoided drama at all costs. She felt safest in the cocoon she’d built around herself. But all that was about to be undone. Starting with a nondescript white box and a plane ticket, there was a secret with her name on it that Quinn meant to unravel.
Chapter Two
Four weeks later, Quinn arrived in Maui and stood looking out the glass doors that led to a small balcony. Her hotel room was on the highest floor, and the sound of silence engulfed her, unsettling with its hushed roar of reprimand.
She opened the sliding door an
d stepped out onto the balcony, breaking the quiet of the cocoon-like room behind her. The warm Hawaiian breeze caressed her neck, and the sound of the waves breaking in the distance made her feel grounded again.
Goose bumps ran up her arms, and she could feel her mother present there. Quinn could sense her approval of the reasons she was there.
People moved back and forth on the ground, some rather quickly, pulling their luggage, and others slowly strolled the paths bordered with thick, tropical vegetation. Nowhere did she see someone walking alone, as she had been only an hour before, performing what felt like the longest walk into the resort lobby and up to the front desk.
“Aloha,” a young woman had said, a brilliant white smile ready and waiting. “Welcome to Lahaina.”
Ona, as her name tag read, was beautiful with her long dark hair and sun-kissed skin. The woman radiated hospitality, her eyes warm and engaging. The youthfulness of her unlined face made Quinn feel much older than her thirty-two years.
After nearly thirteen hours of travel, she knew she looked a sight. She let her hair drop around her face like a curtain as she fumbled in her purse for a copy of the reservation confirmation.
“You’ll be in room five sixty-five,” the clerk finally said, sliding the key card across the counter.
Huge hotel faux pas, announcing her room number out loud, but Quinn was too tired to point it out to the fresh-faced clerk. She took the card, thankful for a room in which to get out of her travel clothes and shower.
“Have a great stay, Ms. Maguire,” the clerk said.
Maguire. Quinn felt like an imposter as she headed through the lobby to the elevators, following the small map that showed the sprawling resort and its many buildings. A minute later, she found refuge in a luxurious suite that looked out onto stunning scenery.
The sudden lump in her throat surprised her, but, then again, Maui was supposed to be a lovers’ paradise, and watching the people below reminded her of her solo status. She instinctively thought to call her mother and regale her with a description of the beauty before her and the details of her trip over, but, just as suddenly, she remembered the reason she was there, and that she’d never have that daily phone call again.
