Page 106 of Nineteen Letters

“Morning, sweetheart. Come sit. I was just about to make some toast.”

I smile when she pulls out a chair for me. “You’re not angry?” I ask.

“A little.” Christine tries to look stern, but it’s not very convincing. “I don’t enjoy being misled.”

“I’m sorry. Dad still loves you, and I know that you’re hurt by what he did, but if you’re honest with yourself, you’d have to admit that you still care about him too.”

She sighs as she takes the seat beside me. “You’re right, I do. He was the love of my life and feelings that intense don’t just disappear overnight. But I’m not sure if I’ll ever be able to get past the betrayal.”

I want to remind her it was just a kiss, but I don’t. I’m pretty sure I’d be equal parts pissed off and heartbroken if my husband kissed another woman too.

I place my hand on top of hers. “I understand why you did the things you did, I do, but you played your part in this too. You neglected him. You shut him out when you needed him most.”

She sighs. “I know, but I was in a bad place. I lost both my parents in the space of a week.”

“I get that, I do. And I’m sorry you went through that. From the little Braxton has told me, you had good reason for being depressed, but Dad loves you; you should have let him help youthrough that. Shutting him out only made matters worse. Can’t you see that?”

“I …”

When tears rise to her eyes, I pull her into my arms. “It’s okay, Mum. Everything is going to be okay. I just wish you would let go of the anger and hurt. It’s destroying you.”

Within seconds, her tears manifest into racking sobs, but I don’t let her go. I don’t try to stop them either. She needs to get them out and finally grieve so she can move forward.

A long time passes before they finally stop. “I’m sorry for making you cry, but I bet you feel better for it.” I reach for the tissue box that’s sitting in the centre of the table, passing it to her. “As much as I’d love to see my parents back together, I’d settle for you two being friends.”

She gives me a hopeful smile. “Friends I can do. We had a nice time last night.”

“I’m happy to hear that.”

When she goes to stand, I stop her. “You sit, let me make you breakfast.”

“Thank you,” she says tenderly, and I know she’s thanking me for more than breakfast.

These people are my family and have done so much for me. I want to give something back because I care about them … that much I know.

As I’m buttering the toast, memories of the dream I had last night flutter around in my head. Was it just a coincidence? My parents talked about my doll, Annabelle, during dinner. I’m not sure if that’s the reasoning behind it, or if there is something more to it.

There is only one way to know for sure. They never mentioned if she was found, but in my dream, Stephen said she was lodged under the back seat.

I glance at Christine over my shoulder. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.”

“Did you ever find out what happened to Annabelle?”

“Your doll?”

“Yes.”

“Your father found her in the car. If my memory serves me correctly … I think she’d fallen under the seat.”

I can’t stop the grin that tugs at my lips as I quickly turn my face away so she can’t see it. It might be nothing … just a silly coincidence. I don’t want to get my hopes up, or anyone else’s, for that matter. But maybe, just maybe …

Could this be the first sign of my memory returning?

Chapter 30

Braxton