“I need to tell you something else now, Mom.”
Her mother listened as she talked about the accusations Casey was making against her. Then asked a few questions. She sighed before getting to her feet and walking away. Minutes later she was back, with a card in her hands.
“I’m an environmental lawyer, Hope. Criminal law is not my strength. This is your father’s card. He sent it to me, and asked me to give one to you and Ryan, in case you needed him. I’ve never done so, but I think if this situation escalates he could help you. He’s a very good criminal lawyer.”
“I don’t want anything to do with a man who didn’t want anything to do with us. Besides, it won’t go that far I’m sure. Cubby will find who’s responsible.”
“Not strictly true, Hope. He paid support, and then when he grew up, he tried to reunite, as I said.”
“I don’t want it.”
“That’s up to you, but he’s the best in his field, and it’s fair to say he owes you.”
“I don’t want that bastard’s help.”
“There is no need to cuss, daughter.”
“Sorry,” Hope mumbled. No one could tell you off like a parent.
“Now, you and the baby are welcome here for as long as you like. I will offer no words of censure on that matter, as there is another life now to consider. But I will add one more thing.”
“What?”
“Paul is a very good man. He will make a fine father.”
Her mother walked away again. Hope’s gaze followed her black-clad back until she had disappeared.
She’d come home in the hopes of finding some peace after her world had imploded, and what she’d found was… what? Craziness, uncertainty. Insanity?
“I need to walk,” Hope said out loud. Getting to her feet, she hurried to her room and pulled on her only other pair of shoes, battered trainers.
“I’m going for a walk, Mom. I’ll be back later after book club.”
“Okay. But remember you need to look after yourself now.”
“Right. Got it, thanks.”
Was her mother actually looking forward to a grandchild? Her reaction had not been what Hope expected, it was fair to say.
Leaving the house, she headed right at the end of the drive. Pulling out her phone, she then looked at the white card in her hand. The silver writing said Jacob M.P. Robertson. Criminal lawyer. Hope felt the ridiculous urge to punch the numbers into her phone. Seconds later, she heard it ringing.
She’d been curious about her father. Who wouldn’t be? But she’d put him out of her head, because he’d walked away from them, and not looked back.
How did Newman feel about not knowing the identity of his birth parents? Had it tugged and pulled at him his entire life?
Her mother had said he was a good man. That had been a surprise, because Hope hadn’t thought her mother thought anyone a good man.
“Robertson.”
“I—ah.”
“Hello?”
“Um… my name is Hope Lawrence.”
The silence on the other end made her nerves climb.
“Hello, Hope Lawrence. I wondered if the day would come when I would hear my daughter’s voice.”
