Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 101758 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 509(@200wpm)___ 407(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101758 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 509(@200wpm)___ 407(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
We all nod at her, everything sounding perfectly normal so far.
“And I thought, I’ve always wanted to see Paris, so I should aim for that. But to go there, I need a passport. So, I had to go through all of the papers in the office at home, and that wasn’t an easy feat because my Gran was an awesome ice cream maker, but horrible with paperwork.”
She swallows hard.
“Anyway, I finally found my birth certificate, and, well.”
Her shoulders fall.
My back goes up.
Tucker and I share a look.
“I didn’t know,” she says softly, and the rest of us stay absolutely quiet. “I promise, I didn’t know.”
Ava reaches over and takes Indie’s hand. “Okay. What didn’t you know, Indie?”
“My mom left my dad when I was just a baby,” Indie admits, and all the hairs on my body stand on end. “I don’t remember her. Dad died in a boating accident when I was ten, and I came back to Montana to live with Gran and Gramps.”
“Where did you live before that?” Tucker asks.
“We were in Oregon,” she replies. “Through the years, my grandparents never really talked about my mom. I know they didn’t like her, and it was kind of a sore spot. All I knew was that her name was Heather.”
No way.
Easton sits back.
Tucker’s eyes narrow.
Ava’s hand goes to her mouth.
“I always assumed that my parents were married, but that must not be the case.”
“You can show us the birth certificate, Indie,” Harper says softly, and Indie nods, unfolds the paper, and sets it in the middle of the table.
At first, none of us moves to pick it up.
Then, Tucker reaches out and takes it, and his eyes skim over it.
“Heather Hendrix,” he reads aloud.
“Wow,” Ava whispers.
I don’t have words.
“So, we know our mom left us for a guy named Patrick,” Tucker says.
“Patrick is my dad,” Indie says softly. “Well, he was. I don’t know anything about them. About how they came to be together, nothing. Dad wouldn’t talk about it when I was small, and then he was gone. And my grandparents were happy to have me, and loved me so much, but they were tight lipped too. I’m telling you all right now, I don’t want anything from any of you. I don’t need anything. But I will be damned if I’ll keep anymore secrets. I won’t do it.”
She shakes her head slowly.
“We can fill in some holes, as far as what we know,” I tell her, my stomach rolling. Harper gently takes Belle from me and puts her back in her car seat so she can sleep while we talk. “Mom had been having an affair for a while by the time our dad found out. Ava was a baby, not even walking yet. When Dad discovered the affair, he told Mom that she had to choose. And she chose your dad.”
Indie’s eyes fill with tears.
“After that, we aren’t sure,” Easton says, picking up the story. “We never heard from her again. We know that they left Silver Springs because this is a small town and it was a huge scandal for a woman to abandon her kids, but we didn’t know where she went.”
Indie’s eyes go round and she swallows hard. “You never heard from her again? How is that possible?”
“She didn’t want us,” Ava says. “Or anything to do with us. No birthday calls, no Christmas cards. Zilch. So, if she left when you were tiny, too, I’d say we all dodged a bullet.”
“Ava,” Indie begins. “How old are you?”
“Thirty,” Ava replies.
“I’m twenty-three. So, my parents were together for years before they had me. Like, at least six years. And then they had me, and Mom immediately left. Is she allergic to kids? What the fuck is the deal?”
We’re quiet for a moment, lost in our own thoughts, and I have to take a deep breath because I have so many conflicting emotions rolling through me.
I’m pissed.
And I’m . . . frustrated.
I remember my mom as being funny and engaging and silly when I was little. She told stories and sang songs and had us help her in the garden. I was young, not quite in school yet, when she left, but I remember her being a good mom.
And then she was just gone. Without an explanation or a goodbye, she left.
Because women leave.
Until they want something.
And yeah, I see the irony here. I can’t remember Ivy from high school, not one little sliver of a memory, but I can see my mom in my head like it was yesterday.
That’s so fucked up.
I know I’m supposed to be the bigger person right now and welcome Indie to the family, but I don’t know how I feel, and I don’t want to hurt her feelings. She didn’t ask for this or cause it.
So, I keep quiet.
“We have another sister,” Easton says slowly.