She stares at me. “A couple of letters? How about sixteen?”
“What?”
“Including one last winter.”
“What?” I get up, although that isn’t a terrific idea. “That many?” I put a hand on my forehead, suddenly dizzy, though it might not be from the bug. “Why wouldn’t I have gotten them?”
Her lips thin. “Maybe someone else read them and decided you shouldn’t get to.”
“But who? And why?”
She takes a breath and looks away.
“What did you write to tell me, Sylvia?” I ask again.
Her throat works before she speaks. “I wrote the first time to tell you that I was pregnant.”
“By Luke.”
Her gaze locks with mine. “Byyou.” I stare at her and she comes back to the table, sitting down again. I sink into my chair. She’s vehement when she continues, and I appreciate that she’s as determined to sort this out as I am. Her eyes are wide, her gaze steady, and I could be looking straight into her soul. “I haveneverbeen with Luke. Not once. Not then and not since.” She’s so serious that she obliterates any doubt. “Before Sierra was born, the only man I was ever with was you.”
I blink. “But that means…Sierra ismydaughter.”
“She is.”
I feel so many things all at once that I have to sort them out slowly.
How is it that I didn’t know?
I have a daughter.
Where did Sylvia go? How did she manage?
I have a daughter.
How do we go forward from here?
Why didn’t I get the letters?
When I can’t pick what to ask first, Sylvia continues. “I wrote again in February when she was born,” she says, her voice husky. “And I sent you a picture of her. I wanted you to see how beautiful she was. I thought it might change your mind.” A tear spills and I feel like the worst asshole on the planet. “But you didn’t reply even then.” There’s bitterness in her voice and I can understand that. “Then I sent you a picture of her every year on her birthday, so you could see how she was growing up. I wrote and told you where wewere over and over again, Mike and you never even replied once.”
“Sylvia, I never saw those letters. Are you sure you sent them to the right address?”
She gives me a lethal look, then recites the address of the farm perfectly. “I sent you one just a few months ago, Mike. I sent it righthere.” Her voice breaks but I can’t make sense of this. She sounds like she’s telling the truth, but where are the letters? How could so many of them go astray?
Somebody had to have taken them. I can’t explain that.
But Sierra is my daughter and Sylvia told me so. She was furious with me because I never replied. It all makes sense.
“Sierra is my daughter.” I say it out loud and Sylvia nods once before her tears fall in earnest. She buries her face in her hands and I can’t believe that I’ve inflicted so much hurt without having one clue.
I am the asshole who fathered a child and never raised one finger to help. I never knew, but I’m not inclined to give myself that excuse.
“Sylvia, I’m sorry. I had no idea.” She doesn’t look up but I’d feel betrayed in her place. “Where did you go?”
“Una’s sister, Eileen.”
“So, you were with family.” This is a huge relief to me, but she shakes her head.
