Discovering (Lily Dale #4)(44)

“Stephanie didn’t.”

“Yes, she did. I told her. Years ago.”

“But she said—”Dad shakes his head. “She said a lot of things. And I’m starting to realize that there are a lot of things she didn’t say— and could have.”

“Some of them might have just been too painful for her.”Gammy lays a hand on Dad’s arm. “She didn’t want anything to do with her father. He hadn’t been a part of her life from the time she was a young child—probably too young to remember him.”

“I always told her she should try to find him, though. Family is family.”

“Yes, and blood is thicker than water. But that didn’t stop my daughter from shutting me out of her life, either.”

Calla is taken aback by her tone. She’s never heard her grandmother speak angrily of Mom.

Now might be a good time to ask Gammy whether they’d had some kind of argument that had driven them apart. Something about dredging the lake.

But . . .

Not with Dad here.

“You know how stubborn Stephanie could be.”Dad pats Odelia’s arm. “I’m sure she had her regrets. For the record, I encouraged her to mend the fences with you, too.”

“I’m sure you did.”

“I still can’t believe she knew where her father was all along. Why didn’t she tell me?”

“Maybe she was afraid you’d talk her into getting in touch with him. And that it would dredge up all those emotions she’d managed to bottle up for years. And that he’d reject her all over again.”

“Maybe he wouldn’t have,”Dad tells her, as Calla wonders if her grandmother is just talking about Mom.

“Well, we’ll never know, will we?”

“I don’t think it’s fair.”Calla speaks up at last.

Both Dad and Gammy look at her.

“He should know what happened to Mom. You should have told him, Gammy.”

Odelia hesitates. “Maybe I should have, but . . .”

“Why didn’t you?”

“Maybe I’m afraid of the same thing Stephanie was.”

Dredging up old emotions.

Being rejected all over again.

She never stopped loving him, Calla realizes in surprise, watching her grandmother reach up to brush a tear from the corner of her eye.

And over her shoulder, a pair of figures materialize. One is a striking auburn-haired woman with a coiled bouffant. She has on plaid Bermuda shorts, knee socks, and loafers. She’s laughing up at a handsome man with sideburns, wearing a paisley-patterned shirt tucked into peg-leg pants.

They’re gone the instant before Calla realizes who they are.

Gammy and her husband, in happier times.

Stunned, she looks across the table and sees, in Odelia’s weathered face, a hint of the young beauty she once was.

Her grandmother pushes back her chair abruptly, gets up from the table, and heads for the doorway.

“Where are you going?”Calla asks worriedly, wondering if she, too, caught a glimpse of the past—and couldn’t bear it.

“Wait here. I’ll be right back.”

Odelia disappears into the front of the house.

Calla and her father exchange a glance.

“I probably shouldn’t have brought it up,”Calla says guiltily. “You know—about her telling Mom’s father that she’s . . . gone.”

Even now, months later, it’s hard for her to say it aloud any other way. Dead . . . murdered. . . . Those words are much too harsh.

“No, you were right to say it,”Dad assures her. “He deserves to know . He’s still her father, no matter what. If it were me . . .”

He falls silent as Odelia returns to the room, carrying a piece of paper.

She hands it to Dad.

“What is it?”Calla asks, leaning over his shoulder.

She sees the name Jack Lauder and a Pennsylvania address in Odelia’s spidery handwriting.

“I don’t have a phone number. He’s unlisted. But that’s where he is. Or at least, he was, last I knew.”

“Odelia—”

“Calla’s right. He deserves to know about Stephanie. And that he has a beautiful granddaughter.”

Calla looks questioningly at her father. He folds the slip of paper into his wallet.

“Thank you, Odelia.”

She nods.

Seeing the faraway look—and hint of tears—in her grandmother’s eyes, Calla knows she’s thinking of the wife and mother she once was, and the husband she loved so very long ago.





NINETEEN

Lily Dale

Thursday, October 11

10:26 p.m.

No wonder nobody uses a dial-up connection anymore. It takes forever to accomplish even the simplest online task.

Waiting for her e-mail to load, Calla can hear the faint sound of Ramona’s laughter coming from downstairs.

They’re still playing poker at the kitchen table. At least, they were, when Calla interrupted her homework an hour ago to go down for a snack. Her appetite had finally drifted back to her as she worked on her math.

Or maybe it was more like, math was so horrible she needed a diversion.

“Come play with us, Calla,”Ramona invited, sitting at the table with Dad, Odelia, and Odelia’s friend Andy, who liked to drop in to check on Gert, a product of his cat’s recent litter.