The Wedding Dress(102)

She had a father with a name and reputation. Her great grandmother broke laws for the sake of her convictions. Her great grandfather, Daniel, was a revered Birmingham banker and philanthropist.

Her family tree was revealing fine, thick branches.

When Noelia halted the conversation to serve iced teas, the pleasantries took over. Weather. Summer vacations. News tidbits.

But when Noelia settled back in her chair, Hillary dove right into the meaning of their visit.

“Noelia, what happened?”

“Oh, so many things can happen in a marriage. Especially ones with cracks like mine and Colby’s. We didn’t have children so we were both more devoted to our careers than each other. When Colby had the chance to teach at FSU, we both agreed he should take it. I’d stay here and continue my work with the Alabama Fine Arts Institute. We’d visit on weekends and holidays. It was only for a year. We’d been married over twenty, so we believed we could endure. But then, all the cracks started spreading.”

“Do you know why he took up with Mama?” Charlotte held her tea without sipping. She felt anchored to the cold glass in her hand.

“Sure. She was young, beautiful, intelligent. Called Colby out on his stuff and didn’t let him run roughshod over her. Colby always did like a good challenge.”

Charlotte smiled. “Sounds like Mama.”

“From what I gather,” Noelia said, “she fell pretty hard for Colby. He was fascinated with her, but coming out with a student affair would’ve ruined his career. Darn near ruined our marriage, but trust me, he cared more about his career than either Phoebe or me.”

“Then why did he risk it all?”

“Midlife crisis? Wanted to feel young again? What would you do if you were a forty-five-year-old man and a beautiful twenty-one-year-old was willing to give herself to you? Colby had many strengths, but at that time, resisting temptation was not one of them.”

“Did you ever meet Mama?”

“No, I didn’t. While Colby and I weren’t happily married, I loved him and didn’t want to meet the woman who nearly stole him from me. Then I learned about you.” Noelia eyed Charlotte while reaching for an envelope. “She sent Colby a registered letter.” She passed the letter to Charlotte by way of Hillary. “She wanted support so she could buy a bigger house in a nicer neighborhood. She wanted Colby to recognize you. Admit you belonged to him.”

Charlotte’s hand trembled, fumbled, to read the letter. All the surreal rightness of this visit began to slip away. The cold sensation of the tea glass raced from her hand to her heart.

“But I didn’t want her, or you, in our lives,” Noelia said. “We’d patched a few of the cracks and were getting along. We had a life planned, trips to take, and frankly, at fifty, I didn’t want half my weekends spent with a little girl consuming my husband’s time. I tore up the picture she sent, but I couldn’t bring myself to throw away the letter.”

“You never showed it to Colby?” Hillary set her tea on the coaster and angled to read over Charlotte’s shoulder.

“No, but, Charlotte, he did know about you. Unfortunately, out of sight, out of mind. We sort of arrived at this unspoken settlement that your mother surely had moved on, found a good man, married, birthed more children. It’s what I wanted to believe. Since Colby never said otherwise, I assumed he did too. I heard Phoebe died about a year after the fact. A friend of Colby’s brought word.”

“So you knew she died? That I had no one? Yet you still kept my father from me.” The woman who drew Charlotte in with her inviting, mama-like appearance left her trembling and angry.

“I’d convinced myself you were better off. That you didn’t need to know Colby. Why interrupt everyone’s life?”

“I was twelve. I had no life. And what little I did have was interrupted by someone crashing into my mother’s car and killing her.”

“I’m not proud, Charlotte.” Noelia’s voice trembled with watery emotion. “Just being honest. When Colby and I divorced, I realized how selfish we’d both been, but it wasn’t my place to tell him to get in touch with you. Or my place to tell you about Colby.”

“But it was your place to hide my mama’s letter? To make sure he didn’t get in touch with Mama or me?”

“When I was his wife, yes. I protected what was mine. But not a month went by I didn’t think of you.”

Charlotte walked around the coffee table. Sitting made her ache. But her legs were putty and her knees barely held her steady. “I’m not sure what to do with all of this . . . I . . .”

“I sent you some money last year.”

Revelation dawned. Pieces fell into place. “The hundred grand,” Charlotte whispered.

“Just something . . . just something . . .” Noelia brushed the first flash of tears from her cheeks, supple and slightly lined. She looked younger than her seventy-something years, but her shoulders rounded with the burden of her story. “After the divorce, I moved to Florence to be near my sister’s children. I spent a lot of money on a house too big for me and spoiling my nieces and nephews. One day while looking for some bank papers, I found your mother’s letter. I thought, mercy, where did the years go? So I looked you up on the Internet. I didn’t expect to really find anything, but I discovered your shop. I felt proud for you. So I had my bank wire a hundred thousand dollars to you anonymously.”