A Different Blue(166)

not only physically, but in every other way. I had no idea who I was. I convinced myself I

didn't know who he was either.” I paused to corral the emotion that wanted to spill over. “But

he was mine all along. And I was his.”

Stella had begun to cry. When I finished talking she covered her face with her hands, and a moan

of such torment broke free that I knelt in front of her and did something I would never have

been able to do before Wilson. He had mourned with me, held me, propped me up, pushed me

forward, and asked for nothing in return. And because he had done that for me, I was able to put

my arms around her. I hugged her tightly, and I didn't let go. I felt her sag against me, and

then she was clinging to me desperately, sobbing, grieving for a man she had mistreated, for a

daughter she had failed, and for a granddaughter she had lost. So many secrets, so many poor

choices, so much pain.





Chapter Thirty





In the end, I went to see Ethan Jacobsen, too. I was tired of secrets, tired of skeletons, tired

of the not knowing. I was shaking out the cobwebs and tearing down the heavy drapes, letting the

light shine in on a life that had been nothing but dark corners. It wasn't a long meeting nor a

particularly pleasant one. Ethan Jacobsen was just a regular guy with a plump wife, a couple of

cute blonde kids – Saylor and Sadie – and a spotty dog. My father looked nothing like his high

school picture. His youthful scowl and his spiky blond hair had been replaced by a benign smile

and a balding head. He had grown soft and middle aged. The only thing that time hadn't altered

were his arresting blue eyes. He stared at me with those blue eyes, and I'm certain he noted I

had them too. I'm sure he noted my black hair and olive skin and the resemblance I held to a

girl he had once certainly cared for, at least for a while.

But he didn't deny me. He told me I was his father and that he would like to get to know me. He

asked me about my life, my dreams, and my future with Wilson. I answered vaguely. He hadn't

earned the right to confidences. But maybe someday. I promised I would be in touch. I wanted to

get to know my sisters. Cedar City was only about three hours from Boulder City, and I was

willing to drive. Family had taken on a whole new importance to me because I had a daughter who

would someday want all the answers. And I would be able to give them to her. Every last detail.





[page]I asked my grandmother once if it was worth it . . . the work she'd traded my grandfather

for. I didn't want to hurt her, but I needed to understand. She rattled off a bunch of facts and

interesting details.

“Well, in 1984, the Paiutes received 4,470 acres of land scattered throughout southwestern Utah

and a $2.5 million fund from which we can draw interest for economic development and tribal

services. Our health care is so much better, as well as our education opportunites. We have been

able to build new houses, open and operate a couple of factories. But we have to continue to

fight for water rights, to keep our land, to keep our people thriving. There is always work to

be done.” She smiled brightly, but her hands shook, and she had trouble meeting my eyes. After

a while she spoke again.

“The truth is, on a personal level, it wasn't really worth it, Blue. When it's all said and

done there are so many worthy causes, so much work to be done, so much good to do, but if we