“I sincerely hope, Mr. Rhodes, that we never have a relationship. Now kindly leave me and my family alone.”
“You’re going to regret this.”
Olivia smiled. “You know what? I doubt it. Oh, a word of warning—if you show up in my office or my courtroom again, I’m going to throw the book at you.”
Mike’s eyes widened and Olivia realized she’d probably divulged too much. “Thank you, Officer Lusk,” she said formally.
Olivia shut down her computer and reached for her coat and purse. Once she got home—late—she’d tell Jack everything that had happened.
Forty-Five
Roy hadn’t shared his suspicions with Corrie. He needed to deal with this in his own way. After all, the postcards had been addressed to him and him alone; only with the fruit basket had the messages started coming to Corrie, as well. But all communication had ceased after Valentine’s Day. There’d been nothing in any form for weeks now.
It didn’t matter; he knew. Furthermore, she knew that he knew, which was, he suspected, why he hadn’t received any further postcards or anything else.
He’d discovered she had been adopted and raised in California. Then he’d run into a dead end. But her recent actions in the Puget Sound area had given her away. His first break had come when he’d finally talked to the florist who’d taken her order; from then on, things began to fall into place.
“Roy?” Corrie interrupted his thoughts Saturday morning as he sat at the breakfast table. “You’re very quiet.”
Roy set aside the morning newspaper and reached for his coffee as Corrie slid a plate of scrambled eggs in front of him. “I was reading the paper.”
“Considering how long we’ve been married, do you seriously believe I don’t know when something’s bothering you?”
He shook his head. She could always tell.
Corrie sat across from him, placing her elbows on the table. “How long have you known?”
“A while,” he returned casually.
“Then what are you waiting for?”
“I don’t know. I hate to admit this, but I’m a little nervous. It’s me she’s angry with, you know.” He was sure of this. And much as he wanted to take responsibility, wanted a relationship with his unknown daughter, he had trouble accepting the changes that would come into his life. Linnette and Mack would need to be told and that worried him. He hated the fact that his children might think poorly of him or their mother.
“What you’re feeling is guilt,” Corrie whispered, her voice shaky. “I feel it, too, although intellectually I know I shouldn’t. Giving this child up to a loving family was the very best choice I could’ve made. I loved her, but at the same time, I knew I wasn’t capable of caring for her on my own.”
What bothered Roy wasn’t simply guilt about the adoption. It was his own failures. “Corrie—”
She cut him off. “I’m the one who made the decision, the one who signed the adoption papers. I don’t know why she singled you out. She has no reason to be upset with you.”
Roy made a pretense of eating, acting as though this was a normal morning conversation. “Before we seek her out, we have to discuss it with Linnette and Mack.”
Corrie scooped up a forkful of egg, but didn’t take a bite. She lowered her head. “I agree.” Then she glanced up and smiled. “I called Mack last week.” She raised her head to look at the kitchen clock. “He should be here in an hour.”
After all these years, Roy shouldn’t be surprised by anything his wife did. In this instance, however, her sense of timing was uncanny. “What about Linnette?” He’d always been close to his daughter, and confessing his failures to Linnette, and Mack, too, wasn’t going to be easy.
“I thought we should tell them one at a time.” She met his eyes. “Is that the way you’d like to do it?”
He nodded. Telling his children…This, above everything else, would be the most difficult part of the whole situation.
Mack arrived at nine. Roy didn’t know what Corrie had said to persuade him to drive from south Seattle to Cedar Cove this early in the morning. Generally, Mack avoided his father. And thinking back over the last few years, Roy accepted the blame for their estrangement.
He wasn’t completely sure when this rift between them had started—when Mack was in high school probably. Roy had wanted his son to play football the way he had; Mack chose soccer. In his disappointment, Roy had refused to attend any of Mack’s games. That had been childish, and he regretted it deeply. From then on, their relationship had degenerated into a clash of wills. It almost seemed as if Mack had made a point of provoking his father. Corrie’s heartbreak was something else Roy laid at his own door.
Mack stood awkwardly in the living room, hands tucked in his pockets. “Mom. Dad.” He acknowledged each one with a curt nod. “You wanted to talk to me?”
Corrie nodded and indicated he should sit down. Mack did, perching on the outer edge of the chair, presumably in case he needed to make a fast getaway. He was a fine-looking young man, Roy thought, studying his son as though he were a stranger. As tall as Roy was himself, he had curly hair, which he wore longer than Roy liked—no doubt why Mack had chosen that style.
Roy looked at Corrie and she looked at him. They should have discussed the best way to broach the subject beforehand. He understood why they hadn’t. Talking about their first daughter was just too painful.
“Your mother and I have something to tell you,” Roy announced, sitting beside Corrie on the sofa.
She reached for a tissue and wadded it tightly.
Mack went very still. He frowned. “Are you two…splitting?”
Roy shook his head. “Never,” he said, taking Corrie’s hand. “Your mother’s stuck with me for the rest of our natural lives.”
That seemed to reassure their son, who smiled briefly.
“Before we explain why we asked you to come over this morning, there’s something I need to say first.” Roy cleared his throat. This seemed to be the day for difficult conversations. “I love my wife and I love my children.”
Mack shrugged, seemingly indifferent.
“What I’m attempting to tell you, Mack, is that I love you. You’re my son. My only son. I know we’ve had our differences over the years, and I blame myself for those. From the time you were a teenager, I gave you the impression that you were a disappointment to me. You weren’t. And you aren’t. I expected you to live up to what I felt was your potential—not that it was my right to determine what you should be or do. But despite everything, you followed your own path. That took grit and character.” He paused and looked away. “I’m proud to call you my son.”
Mack stared at him hard, as if he wasn’t sure what to say.
Roy stood, extending his hand. Mack met him halfway but it wasn’t a handshake they shared, it was a hug. By the time Roy sat next to Corrie again, his eyes were moist, and he saw that Mack’s were, too.
Corrie didn’t pretend to hide her own tears, which streamed down her face unchecked. “There’s…more,” she said after a few moments.
“More?” Mack glanced at Roy, who nodded.
“There’s something else you need to know,” Roy said, studying his hands. “It isn’t easy to say this.”
Mack leapt to his feet. “You’ve got cancer!”
When Roy shook his head, Mack subsided into his chair but still looked apprehensive.
“You mean this father-son thing doesn’t have anything to do with…why you asked me to come over this morning?” he asked.
“No, but what I’m about to tell you will come as a shock.” And he launched into the whole story.
Their news did astound Mack. He held up his hand and stopped Roy halfway through. “You mean to say you got Mom pregnant when you were in college?”
Roy nodded.
“He didn’t know,” Corrie explained hurriedly. “I never told him.”
“She couldn’t.” Roy wasn’t willing to let Corrie take all the responsibility for this. “And that was my fault. But it doesn’t matter now. We want you to know you have a sister who was given up for adoption.”
“Wait.” Once again Mack was on his feet. He clutched his head with both hands, as if to hold all his thoughts inside. “She’s the one who’s been sending you those postcards?”
“We believe so,” Corrie said quietly.
“Another sister?”
“Yes.”
“I have two older sisters,” he whispered, obviously finding this hard to take in. “Does Linnette know?”
“Not yet.”
Mack continued to gaze at them in astonishment. “When do you plan on telling her?”
The relief Roy felt at revealing this part of his past with Mack made him want to finish what they’d started. “Let’s do it now,” he suggested.
“I’ll phone Linnette,” Corrie said, sharing his eagerness.
While she was in the kitchen, Roy and Mack sat in the living room, still a bit awkward with each other.
“I’ve been doing some hiking in the Olympic rain forest,” Mack remarked.
“I always enjoyed hiking myself,” Roy said, and then added tentatively, “perhaps one weekend the two of us could do a day hike. There are some great ones in this area.”
Mack grinned. “I’d like that.”
Corrie returned from the kitchen. “Linnette has some kind of arrangement with a friend this morning. But she said if we came right away, she’s got half an hour.”
They piled into Roy’s car and he drove to the apartment complex on the Cedar Cove waterfront. Their daughter met them at her front door.
Linnette noticed the changed relationship between Roy and Mack immediately. “Hey, you guys,” she said as the three of them gathered in her living room. “What’s going on?”
“Prepare to be surprised,” Mack said, exchanging a grin with Roy. “You’d better sit down.”
“It must be good news,” she said, glancing from one to the other with a puzzled frown.
“It’s wonderful news,” Mack said.
Linnette spread her hands wide. “Then tell me!”
“We have a sister,” Mack blurted out.
Reacting the same way as her brother, Linnette was instantly on her feet. “What?”
Slowly, refusing to omit any detail, Corrie and Roy told their story for the second time that morning.
Linnette sat dumbfounded, hardly able to ask questions. “I have a sister?” she repeated. “We have a sister?”
“I wanted to tell you,” Corrie said. “A dozen times, at least, I tried. But you always seemed to have something going on in your own life and I didn’t want to burden you with more.”
“Oh, Mom, I can’t imagine you going through this alone. You were so young….”
That sufficiently elevated Roy’s guilt. When Corrie answered their daughter, she didn’t blame him, nor did she discount how agonizing a time it had been.
