Camelia remained silent, although she had much to say. It was Raph’s job to tell the girl the truth.
“I’ve known for a while now that you are not my father by blood,” Pamela whispered, as if she was afraid to speak out.
Camelia’s hand flew to her mouth, but she could not suppress a gasp.
The silence that followed was deafening. Raph looked at a loss for words as Pamela’s eyes remained fixed on him, bright with tears she refused to let fall.
“I sometimes hear the maids speaking about how my birth makes no sense. How no lady claimed you as the father of her child. I would love to know the truth and to one day meet my real father if he is still alive.”
Raph’s throat worked, and his fists clenched around a napkin. Camelia longed to reach out to him, but she feared he would reject her advances.
“Raph, if you will excuse me.” She stood up to leave, but Raph motioned for her to stay. “This is between you and Pamela, Raph.”
“You will not go anywhere, Camelia. This is a family matter, and you are family.”
Camelia sat back down. After their morning spat, she wasn’t sure what she was to him. She stayed stock still as the silence enveloped them again.
“So, it is true?” Pamela looked between them. “I just needed you to say it,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “Once. Just once, I needed you to look at me and not lie.”
The silence that followed was a living thing, savage and suffocating.
“But you are my daughter!” Raph said passionately, the words torn from somewhere raw and bleeding. “Blood or no blood, you are mine.”
Pamela flinched as if struck. Raph’s words came from a place of love, but he executed that love in a way that a young girl would not understand.
He was already moving, rounding the table, reaching for the girl. “Pamela?—”
Pamela leaned back, trembling. “Don’t touch me.”
“I will tell you everything, I swear. But you have to trust me that I did it all to protect you.”
The hurt was plain in her hazel eyes. She pushed her chair back and made for the exit.
“Pamela!” Raph called out to her.
“Is everything about my mother even true?”
“Yes, everything about her is true.”
“But there’s more, isn’t there?”
“I will tell you everything, I promise.”
“And did you know the truth, too?” She looked pointedly at Camelia.
“Yes,” Camelia admitted. She was done with the lies.
Tears spilled from Pamela’s eyes. “I trusted you. I trusted both of you!” she cried.
“Pamela, please sit down, and I will tell you everything you need to?—”
Before Raph could finish, Andrew appeared in the doorway, his face ashen, with a letter outstretched like a death warrant. Raph snatched it from his hand, ripped it open, and read it. The paper shook in his fist as though it might ignite.
Camelia watched the color drain from his face until he looked like he was carved from marble.
“Raph,” she breathed, “what does it say?”
Pamela made a sound and pressed both hands to her mouth before she ran out of the dining room.
