always comes back to me.
If you keep calling here, I’ll take out a restraining order against you.
The letter’s vileness made bile rise in Sam’s throat. She let the letter drift onto the bed and wrapped her arms around her midriff, trying to stop her body’s trembling. Tears gathered at the corners of her eyes.
Her mother had had an affair with a married man. Lisa had been eighteen when she’d had Sam. She must have been seventeen when she’d had her affair with Sam’s father. Sam brushed back tears. Had Lisa been a calculating teenager as the letter inferred, or had he been a manipulator, preying on young women?
Willing herself to stay calm, Sam quickly read through the other letters. All were from Tom’s wife, each mirroring the sentiments of the first letter. With each letter, the writer’s anger and desperation increased. Sam almost felt sorry for the wronged wife.
Chewing her lip, Sam set down the last letter. Understanding of what Lisa had gone through began to chip away at the wall of resentment Sam had built around her heart. She’d never understood her mother. Maybe she’d never tried.
Determined to discover all she could about her mother and her father, Sam reached for the newspaper article that had fluttered from the envelope.
The headline read¸ Tom Ericson, real estate developer, dies in fiery crash. The picture accompanying the article showed an older version of the guy standing by the Mustang.
Sam read on, Tom Ericson, age 59, a descendant of one of the original Swedish families that settled in Delaware, was killed today when his Ferrari crashed into a barrier on I-95 south of Wilmington. He died on impact. Police believe speed and alcohol played a role.
Sam skimmed through the rest of the article, reading about Tom Ericson’s many accomplishments, his family’s wealth, his charitable giving and his standing among the state’s elite. She released a bitter chuckle. He was a fine, upstanding man all right.
The article went on to say Tom Ericson was survived by his wife and two sons. Sam had half brothers, one close to her age. She was Tom Ericson’s only daughter, unless one of his other girlfriends had a daughter. She wondered if her brothers knew about her. She doubted it. Pity for her own mother rushed through her.
Blinking back tears, Sam reached for the last envelope, one addressed to her, when her gaze lit on the date of the newspaper with the obituary notice. She grabbed the piece of paper from the bed where she’d let it fall.
“Oh. My. God.” The tears came freely now. The newspaper was dated the day she’d found Lisa in bed with Kurt. The truth broke through her muddled thoughts like shafts of sunlight breaking through dark clouds. Lisa, a woman who turned to sex whenever life became a burden, had read that the father of her daughter, a man she’d probably loved, had been killed. Knowing Lisa, she’d turned to the only man around—Kurt, who’d been staying with them for the weekend.
Lisa was weak, but so was Kurt. Hurt and betrayed, Sam had run into Aiden’s arms. And hurt him. What a vicious cycle.
Swiping at her tears, Sam put aside the article and reached for the envelope with her name scrawled in Lisa’s girlish handwriting.
With a feeling of dread, she pulled out the sheets of paper and began to read. The letter, dated the day after Sam had graduated from law school, began, My darling Samantha, please forgive me.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
I KNOW I’VE hurt you badly, Sam read , but I never intended that incident with Kurt to happen. I’m truly sorry. Someday maybe you’ll understand why I betrayed your trust and why I selfishly thought only of myself and my needs that day. I don’t expect your forgiveness, but I hope you’ll try to understand.
I haven’t always been a good mother, but please believe I love you more than anyone in the world. I’m so proud of your accomplishments and of the way you put yourself through school. Yesterday seeing you graduate from
Rebecca Hamilton, Conner Kressley