Sunrise Point (Virgin River #19)(20)

“I should have, but I didn’t want to force you to lie or be secretive. There’s no other way to put it—she was vengeful when she didn’t have her way. That worried me.”

“But you said you lost even your visitation,” Nora said.

“I did, but not in a legal action. I went to pick you up for our day together and you weren’t there. Things like that happened very often. And Therese started screaming at me, accusing me of terrible things and I lost my temper. I punched a hole in the wall. I don’t think I ever punched anything in my life before that, or after. I’m just not that kind of person.”

“I remember that hole!” Nora said. “She never fixed it!”

“She called the police and there I stood with banged-up knuckles. While you played at a friend’s house, I was taken away in handcuffs.”

“And then?”

He shook his head. “I knew it was bad for you, that it was never going to get better. There were so many fights and standoffs when I came to get you, I stopped coming. I didn’t know what else to do, didn’t know how to protect you from that anger. I saw lawyers, but I wasn’t going to get custody of you and trying to see you only lit a fire in her. Therese had feuds with anyone who would talk to me. She was completely estranged from your aunts because they checked on you on my behalf. They haven’t spoken since you were seven or eight years old.”

“Aunts?” Nora said weakly.

“Therese was the youngest of three girls and a good many years separated them. Her eldest sister is deceased now, but Victoria is still alive, living in New Jersey. She was named in your mother’s will. And I didn’t know your mother had died until it came to my attention that checks I’d been sending for alimony and support weren’t being cashed. I don’t think there’s anything you can do about her will, I’m sorry.”

Nora put her head in her hands. “Checks? Will? Aunts? Oh, my God.” She looked pleadingly at Noah. “This is nuts. This can’t be true. She said there was no family, that there was never any support. I was on partial scholarship and I worked—my mother only paid for textbooks, nothing else.”

“You could’ve gone to Stanford for practically nothing,” Jed said. “I’m a professor there. Your mother said you had no interest.”

“I only went to college for a year.” She looked at Jed. “If this is true, she must have been completely insane.”

“I don’t think so,” Jed said. “At least not clinically. I’ve done a lot of reading and have talked to a few professionals—there are people who lie, manipulate, hold terrible grudges who are not mentally ill but have anger problems the rest of us just don’t understand. And what made her so angry? I have no idea.”

“And you couldn’t do anything?”

“Nora, she was completely functional. She held a full-time job, paid her bills, raised a child. You were clean and fed. You did all right in school. You seemed happy and had friends…unless I came around and the whole world went to hell…”

“She was a train wreck! She didn’t have friends, at least not for long. She lied about her family, about you. There was never a single picture of you in the house, not one. And why didn’t she get fired from her job? Explain that?”

“I don’t think she was well liked by everyone, but you have to understand that especially in a situation like hers, an educational institution, just being difficult and slightly dysfunctional on the job wasn’t going to get her fired. She knew how to do her job, and she had a great deal of seniority. I know she had problems from time to time, but for some reason there never seemed to be consequences. I can give you the names of a few coworkers—they might talk with you. In that envelope you’ll find a list of the books I read, trying to understand who she was. I can’t say I came to any conclusion—just a lot of guessing.”

“When did you get a divorce?” she asked.

“I moved out when you were four years old and we divorced quickly.”

“Why do I think I was six? That’s what I remember.”

“I stopped coming for you when you were six—those two years must have been the worst of your life—your mother and I fighting every time I came, hiding you from me, refusing to let you come with me. I never went to the house without a fierce battle. So I stopped.”

“I thought this might give me answers,” she said. And when she said that, Noah reached for her hand, giving it a squeeze.

“I’m so sorry,” Jed said. “You were used as a pawn and eventually I abandoned you, hoping that would set you free. I can’t imagine the trauma. Counseling might be in order. I’ve had a lot of it.”

“How could you trust a counselor? She was a counselor!”

“Listen, Nora—there are good and bad in every profession—doctors, lawyers, teachers—”

“Clergy,” Noah put in. “Jed’s right. And a lot of troubled people study counseling to try to figure out their own issues. I might’ve been guilty of that myself.”

Her eyes filled when she looked at Noah. “I’m exhausted. I don’t think I’ve ever been this tired in my life.”

“Maybe you and your father should continue all the questions and answers over the phone or computer. Take it one swallow at a time. You can use my computer at the church—we’ll set up an email account for you.” Noah glanced at Jed.