by Terri DuLong
“Oh,” was all I could manage to say. Fling? He considered me merely a fling? Was that what Peter really thought too?
“So, look,” he said, reaching into his shirt pocket and removing a piece of paper, which he passed to me. “I know you want to attend secretarial school and I think that’s a very good idea. But it would be much better if you returned to Pennsylvania and went to school up there. This will help to make that happen.”
I felt the paper burning my fingers and looked down to see it was a check. For ten thousand dollars. A wave of dizziness came over me at the same time nausea creeped up my chest. I wasn’t sure if I was going to pass out or throw up, but I had the presence of mind to shove the check toward him before running in the direction of my cabin, where I promptly threw up in the azalea bushes.
Chapter 13
Mavis Anne was thrilled that I had invited Ben and Jonah for Christmas day, and I had to admit it had been fun. She kept saying that Koi House was jubilant to have so many happy people filling its rooms.
I sat at the kitchen counter a week later sipping my coffee before going to the yarn shop. Thoughts of Ben were running through my mind. The relationships I had been involved with over the years had all started with an attraction. Ben certainly had not attracted me at our first meeting. Quite the opposite. He had been rude and upset with me. And yet, after a few weeks of getting to know him, I felt drawn to him. I loved watching the interaction between him and Jonah. The love they shared was obvious, and Ben’s consenting to rescue Lucy and Ethel proved it. He was a nice man and a good father. We’d met because of Jonah, so initially it never crossed my mind that we could share a romantic interest.
But when he’d called me the evening before, I began to wonder. He’d extended an invitation to have dinner at their home again. He thought I might like to see how Lucy and Ethel were settling in. This was far from a romantic reason, but I still wondered.
I finished my last sip of coffee and looked at Lotte curled up asleep in a patch of sunshine on the kitchen floor.
“You be a good girl,” I told her. “I won’t be gone long to the yarn shop.”
I walked in to find only Mavis Anne and Chloe sitting at the table knitting.
“Where is everybody?” I asked.
“Yarrow had to run to Walmart for some things,” Mavis Anne said. “And it’s a quiet morning here in the shop. I’m glad you came over.”
“Yeah,” Chloe said. “It gives us a chance to catch up. So what’s going on with you? I haven’t seen you since Christmas day.”
I removed a cowl from my knitting bag and nodded. “I know. I had some work that had piled up. After taking a month off to move and then Christmas, I thought I should devote some time to catching up. My clients understand but I don’t like to get too behind in my work. So there isn’t much going on with me. How about you?”
“Quiet at the moment,” Chloe said. “And that’s not always a bad thing.”
I laughed and nodded again.
“I’ve been wondering,” Mavis Anne said, “did you ever find out any information about your father? I know you wanted to pursue that.”
I let out a sigh. “No. I’m afraid not. I hit a dead end before I really even started. I found someone named Peter Maxwell who lived in Jacksonville, but there’s hardly anything about him online.”
“So you don’t think the man your mother married was your father? The man named Garfield,” Chloe said.
“I honestly don’t know what to think. Jim Garfield died before I was a year old. I didn’t even know him. I was really raised by a single mother.”
“Whose name is on your birth certificate?” Mavis Anne asked.
“Jim Garfield. But a woman can put any name on a birth certificate, can’t she? I have no proof that she even married him. No photos. Nothing.”
“And your mother never told you about him or his family or where he was from?” Chloe stopped knitting and stared at me.
I shook my head. “Nope. I used to badger her with questions. She would say his family was all gone. He had nobody. And she said he was from out west. The only other thing she would tell me was that she met him while working in Jacksonville, it was a brief romance, they married, and then he died. When I’d try to ask more questions, she’d refuse to answer. By the time I was a teenager I had stopped asking.”
Mavis Anne nodded. “Believe me, I know about family secrets. They might stay hidden for a while, but eventually . . . they do have a way of coming to the surface. So after your mother died, you found this photo of you, her, and a strange man?”
“Right. And I’m assuming that this man is my father. But the mystery is why did she write ‘Peter Maxwell’ on the back of the photo, if Jim Garfield is my father?”
“Hmm,” Chloe said. “Because maybe he’s not?”
“I’m thinking the same thing,” I said. “That’s why I’m trying to find something related to Peter Maxwell, but I’ve pretty much hit a dead end. I did find somebody by that name on the Internet, though. He owned a manufacturing company in Jacksonville, so there’s a connection there. But it seems the company is no longer in existence and there was no photo of the owner.”
“I’m hearing about these stories more and more,” Mavis Anne said. “Family finding family. Do you remember the story last year about the twins born in Korea who were separated at birth? They were each adopted into different families. One grew up in Paris, France, and one in New Jersey. And twenty-five years later, they found each other through Facebook.”
I nodded. “I do recall hearing about that. Well, I guess there’s always hope.”
“Of course there is,” Chloe said. “Look at my friend Sydney in Cedar Key. She went there to start over and ended up finding Sybile, her biological mother. So it’s certainly possible.”
We moved on to discuss some new knitting patterns and yarn.
“Oh, I wanted to tell you,” Mavis Anne said. “I put in an order for the Toshstrology Collection for 2016.”
My head snapped up from my knitting. There’s nothing like new yarns and patterns to make a woman’s heart beat a little faster. “Is that collection the Madelinetosh yarns done with patterns for the zodiac?”
“Yes,” Mavis Anne said. “The patterns came out through Marinade Designs on Ravelry. One was released each month, and the colorways for each zodiac sign are amazing. I’ll be carrying all the yarn here at the shop.”
“My birthday is later this month,” I said. “So I will definitely purchase some yarn along with the pattern.”
I placed my knitting in my bag and stood up. “Time to go home for lunch. I’m invited to Jonah’s house for dinner tonight, so I thought I’d bake some cookies to take with me.”
“Oh, really?” Mavis Anne said, a grin covering her face. “Don’t you mean Ben’s house?”
“Well, yes, but I’m sure it was Jonah’s idea to invite me. He wants me to come over to see how Lucy and Ethel are settling in.”
“Hmm, right,” she replied. “But don’t be too sure it was all Jonah’s idea.”
I waved a hand in the air and laughed. “Oh, Mavis Anne, you’re too much of a romantic. Ben and I are just friends.”
“Famous last words,” I heard Chloe say as I walked out the door.
* * *
Jonah answered the doorbell the moment I pushed it, making me think he’d been watching for me out the window. Skidding on the tile right behind him were Lucy and Ethel.
I bent down to pat them while juggling a plate of cookies in my other hand. One of the dogs must have smelled them, because the next thing I knew the plate flew out of my hands, cookies landed on the floor, and both dogs were trying to gobble up as many as they could.
“Oh, no!” I exclaimed, while trying to hold the dogs back with Jonah’s help.
I heard deep laughter and looked up to see Ben rushing toward us. The fact that my cookies were ruined wasn’t my first thought. I realized that this was the first time I’d heard a genuine belly laugh from Ben Wellingt
on. I shook my head and joined his laughter as he reached for both dogs by their collars and held them back as Jonah and I scooped up cookies.
“I am so sorry,” I said.
“Not a problem,” I heard Ben say. “Jonah, go get the broom and dustpan.”
I continued to push the cookies together and was grateful I’d used a plastic plate. At least we didn’t also have glass to contend with.
Jonah returned, and we worked together to sweep up my cookies before placing them in the trash.
“I think this proves these girls need obedience training,” Ben said. “I’m really sorry about that. After you went to the trouble to make cookies.”
His words were sincere, but I couldn’t help noticing a slight grin on his face.
“Ah, well,” I said. “Dogs will be dogs. That’s why we love them. I just feel bad we don’t have the cookies.”
“It’s okay,” Jonah said. “Betsy baked us a blueberry pie this morning.”
I laughed and knelt down again to pat the dogs. “Come here, you naughty girls,” I said.
Ben released their collars and both dogs ran to me, covering my face in kisses.
“They’re just beautiful,” I said, standing up. “I think they’re very happy to be living with you, Jonah.”
“I love them so much, Petra. I really do.”
“Okay, now why don’t you take them in the yard for a little while so Petra and I can enjoy a glass of wine before dinner.”
I followed Ben to the kitchen, where the aroma of Italian food filled the air.
“Smells good,” I said.
“Betsy made a pan of lasagna for us, and we’ll have salad and garlic bread with it.”
I watched as he uncorked a bottle of red wine, filled two glasses, and passed me one.
“That sounds great,” I said. “Thanks.” I took a sip and nodded. “Very nice.”
“Let’s sit out on the patio. The weather has been mild for January.”
“Yes. Once I left Pennsylvania, I never looked back. I got spoiled by winters in the south.”
“I feel the same way. You had mentioned your mother passed away. How about your father? Is he still in Pennsylvania?”
I shook my head. “I never really knew who my father was.”
I saw the look of interest that crossed Ben’s face. “Was that difficult for you?”
“I didn’t think so while I was growing up. But lately I’ve been giving thought to who my father was.”
Before I knew it, I was sharing my story with Ben. When I finished, I wasn’t sure whether I was more surprised that I had opened up to a person I didn’t know that well or that he seemed completely interested in what I had told him.
He took a sip of wine and nodded. “Yes, that has to be difficult not having any answers. So do you intend to keep searching?”
“Well, I think I’ve hit a dead end. But yes, I was thinking about joining Ancestry.com to see if I might be able to track down this Maxwell family.”
“I think you should. I feel it’s important to know where we come from. Most of us take it for granted because we have all the answers. But for people who don’t, I think there’s a need to find the pieces to the puzzle.” He paused for a second before saying, “If there’s anything I can do to help, just let me know.”
By the time I left Ben and Jonah’s home, I knew two things for sure. Even if we never progressed beyond friendship, I felt fortunate to have Ben Wellington as a friend. And after spending another enjoyable evening with him, I had to question if perhaps my feelings might be progressing beyond friendship.
Rhonda May 1969
When I’d returned to work the morning after my encounter with Mr. Maxwell, I’d found an envelope from Peter in my box. I had asked Cynthia to tell Peter I wasn’t feeling well and had to cancel my date with him the evening before.
I walked outside to read his letter in private.
My dear Rhonda,
I’m so terribly sorry you’re sick and I will miss seeing you this evening. We need to talk, but please do not be concerned about Marion. Give me a chance to explain. Unfortunately, my father has insisted I leave in the morning to tour some of our offices out of state. It looks like I could be gone about two weeks. I’ll miss you a lot and I can’t wait to see you when I return. I love you, Rhonda. And I always will.
My love forever,
Peter
And here I was two weeks later waiting for Peter to return and unsure what to do.
I turned over in bed as a wave of nausea gripped me. I made it to the toilet bowl just in time. Sitting on the floor with my face in my hands, I heard Cynthia say, “Rhonda? Are you okay?”
I nodded and swiped my hand across my clammy forehead. “Yeah.”
She reached out her hand to help me up. “Come on. Let’s sit outside. Some fresh air might help.”
I followed her to the porch and sat down, gulping in the scent of salt air.
“You’re pregnant, aren’t you?” she said.
I felt the tears stinging my eyes. “I think so,” I whispered.
“Holy shit. I thought you were using protection.”
“We are. We did. But . . . that very first time . . . we didn’t.”
“Oh, God,” she groaned. “And the timing is right. That was late March, wasn’t it?”
I nodded as I made an attempt to push away another wave of nausea.
“Does Peter know?”
I shook my head slowly. “No. He’s been out of town on business.” I took some slow, deep breaths to quell the nausea. “Besides, I’m not sure I want him to know.”
She reached out and gripped my arm. “Are you nuts? Why not? He loves you like crazy. He’d marry you in a second.”
I had never told Cynthia about the money Mr. Maxwell had tried to force on me. I was too embarrassed. The thought of that money made me feel dirty. I knew Peter’s family would never accept me. And no matter what Peter had written, I questioned whether two people from such different backgrounds could ever build a successful marriage.
I took a deep breath. “Because I’m just not sure that would be the right thing to do. That’s why. And . . .” I shifted to look her in the eyes. “You have to promise me, and I mean promise, that if I choose not to tell him, you will support me and never say a word.”
“But, Rhonda . . .”
“Promise,” I said, raising my voice. “It’s my choice. Not yours. As my best friend, you have to promise.” Before I knew it, I felt tears coursing down my cheeks.
Cynthia patted my hand. “Okay. Okay. I promise. Of course I do. But I don’t agree with you.”
“You don’t have to. I just want your word. If I don’t tell him, you never will and you’ll never tell anyone.”
After a second, I heard her say, “Yes. I do promise. But Rhonda, you can’t get through this alone. What the hell are you going to do? Are you going to tell your mother and go back to Pennsylvania?”
I let out a sarcastic chuckle. “Go back home as an unwed mother? No, I don’t think so.”
“This is what I mean. Then we have to do something.”
My head snapped up. “What do you mean by that?”
“Well . . . I know abortion isn’t legal, but . . . I also know there are some safe places you can get the procedure done. I can help you.”
I couldn’t believe this was my best friend talking. My entire life was falling apart, but one thing I knew for certain—I could not get rid of this baby. It was a part of Peter and me.
“No,” I said emphatically. “Absolutely not. I won’t even consider an abortion. Or adoption. I want this baby. It’s not the best circumstances, but I don’t care. I want this baby.”
Cynthia blew out a breath and nodded. “Okay. Then I’ll support you. But we have to find somebody who can help us. Who can tell you what you should do. You’re supposed to be working here another month. Do you plan to avoid Peter when he returns? I don’t think he’ll let you go that easily, Rhonda.”
She was
right. I knew that. I also knew in that moment that my mind was made up. I would not tell Peter about the baby. I couldn’t.
When I remained silent, she said, “How about Joyce?”
“Joyce?”
“Yeah, she’s like our supervisor here and has looked after us. She’s a great person. I think she could give you some advice.”
“Maybe,” I said, doubtfully.
Cynthia jumped up. “Okay. That’s it. You talk to her today. You’re going to have to confide in her. We both know she can be trusted.”
* * *
I had made an appointment to meet with Joyce in her office later that afternoon.
Sitting across from her at her desk, I clasped and unclasped my sweaty hands.
“What can I do for you, Rhonda?” A sincere smile crossed her face. “Is everything okay?”
The gentle tone of her voice and her compassion caused another flood of tears.
She jumped up and passed me a tissue. “Gosh, are you ill?”
I shook my head and then blew my nose. “No. Not ill.”
“What is it then?”
“I need your help. I’m . . . I’m pretty sure . . . I’m . . . pregnant.”
I heard the gasp as she stood beside me and put a hand on my shoulder.
“Oh,” she said and walked back to her chair. She was silent for a few moments. Then she folded her hands on the desk, leaned forward, and nodded. “Okay. And how can I help you?”
“I don’t know.” I felt the start of tears again.
“Let’s start at the beginning. I happen to know that you’re seeing Peter Maxwell. Is he the father?”
“Yes.”
“Have you told him?”
“No.”
“Do you plan to?”
I hesitated only briefly before saying, “No.”
“Can I ask why?”
I blew out a breath. “Because . . . as much as we love each other... and we do, it would never work. We’re from two different worlds. I know that. I knew that when I met him and first started dating him, but . . .”
