Anna squeezed his hand, then freed herself to hug Kelly. “I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you the full story in the beginning, but I made a promise.”
“I should have trusted you.” The two best friends continued to hug and cry some more.
Over their shoulder, Jack caught Owen’s gaze.
“I told you,” Owen mouthed.
Jack closed his eyes and drew in a long breath, silently prayed. “Help me, Lord. I know I should forgive her and not hold a grudge, but she not only hurt me, but Anna as well.”
Words from the letter surfaced to mind.I can only pray that for once, I will do what is right in the eyes of my God.If he allowed his anger to simmer, it would turn to bitterness and eventually affect his relationship with Anna. Was he willing to risk that? No, he wasn’t. Nor was he willing to cut ties with his sister, which only left one option.
He tapped on Anna’s shoulder. “Excuse me, may I cut in?”
Anna moved aside, and Jack embraced his sister.
“Do you forgive me?” Kelly whispered. Her tears soaked into his shirt.
“You’re my baby sister. Do I have a choice?” He smiled at her. “I love you.”
“I love you too, second biggest brother.”
Her comment brought laugher to the room. When they were children, she’d introduce Owen has her big brother and Jack as her second biggest brother since he was younger than Owen but older than her.
His mom whistled loudly to capture everyone’s attention. “Now that we have that settled, let’s eat.”
“Wait a minute,” Tommy called out as everyone started to walk away. “Did you say Weston Island?”
“Yes,” Anna said, giving her a sideways glance. “Why?”
Tommy hesitated and traveled his gaze around the room. “I may know who can tell the story of Edwin and D.”
Chapter Twelve
Anna had never in her life been glad for a water main break, until one closed the school on Monday. She was exhausted, even after going back to sleep until ten once she’d received the notification.
She was exhausted in every way possible. Her emotions were all over the place, not attending church yesterday threw off her week, and she needed time alone to process the weekend.
Unfortunately, but fortunately, she’d only be by herself until six tonight. Maybe earlier if Jack was able to get off work early, but he had a busy week with the annual Easter events coming up in two weeks. His company is the only one she wouldn’t have minded, though she remained grateful for the few hours alone during the day.
She stuck a readymade lunch in the microwave, poured another cup of coffee, then went to her sofa to enjoy the morning, er, early afternoon, beverage. The stack of papers they’d brought back from Weston Island sat on the coffee table. By the time she’d finished grading papers last night, she’d been so tired she’d barely made it from the living room to her bedroom. Any further research wouldn’t happen until she’d had sleep.
Picking up the papers now, she leafed through them. She found the obituary for Edwin, dated 1950. Included in the list of survivors were his wife, Davinia, daughters, Fay Anderson, Isabella Lombard, and son, Titus Smith, along with numerous grandchildren and great-grandchildren not listed by name.
Excitement exploded in her soul. Could it be? After all their searching, could the answers have been right in front of them the entire time? She grabbed her tablet and searched records for Fay Anderson. An obituary appeared from January 25, 1983.
Her mouth dropped when she saw the date of birth. September 16, 1899, the day before the letter. Goosebumps covered her arms.
My heart is no longer my own, as you shall soon discover. As I sat in church yesterday morn and listened to Reverend Mathers, I could not focus attention for the pain I was experiencing.
If D was, in fact, Davinia, the entire narrative wasn’t as they had believed. There wasn’t another man in her life, but a baby girl. The pain wasn’t emotional, at least not solely, but the physical pain of labor.
Curiosity got the better of her, and she continued to follow the trail. Fay’s obituary listed four children, three daughters and a son. Anna’s interest laid primarily in the son, Randall Anderson, born in 1922. He passed in 1999, leaving behind one daughter and three sons, Randall Jr, Michael, and Seth.
Chills pricked her. There was no way this could all be a coincidence. She didn’t answer all the questions, but hopefully they’d find out tonight, when they met with Seth Anderson, Tommy’s grandfather.
She had to call Jack. He answered on the second ring, and she didn’t give him time to speak. “Have you taken your lunch yet?”
“No, why?”
