Page 178 of Unexpected Redemption

She was so close to righting this wrong.

Tears spill over, running down my cheeks. “Why didn’t you?”

Wringing her hands in her lap, she lowers her head. The air of sadness surrounding her burns through my armor, letting mercy slip inside.

“Violet, I couldn’t do it.” Her eyes water, and she squints to keep from crying. “One afternoon, I told Lionel I was going to the store and left you two at the condo. Then I drove to your father’s house.” Her eyes flutter open, and she looks off in the distance. “And I saw him washing his truck in his driveway. Waving to neighbors and listening to music. Seemed like a nice enough man, even if I was sour at him for deflowering Abby.”

I roll my eyes at her phrase, quickly shaking it off when she pins her sorrowful gaze on me.

She takes my hands. “Baby, I couldn’t do it. No matter how long I sat there, I couldn’t force myself out of the car. I couldn’t walk up to him, introduce myself, and confess what I’d done. I couldn’t risk . . .”

Regret clogs her throat, halting her confession.

Never seen her this broken up. In public, no less. However, our backs are to the festival goers. But still.

Her audible sob surprises me, and I itch to comfort her. Moving close, I pat her back soothingly.

Eventually, I prod her to finish, “Couldn’t risk what, Mama?”

After taking a steadying breath, she admits, “Him taking you from me. I’d already buried my only daughter. Losing you would have been too much. I wouldn’t have survived it.”

Oh, my heart.Damn bleeding thing.

“Mama,” I start, unsure of the right words. I come up with nothing, so my sentence dies in my throat.

“Lettie, I never meant to hurt you. Or Alan.”

I suspect I know the answer to this next question, but I ask it anyway. “Why did you do it?”

“Abby was my whole world. But I made a lot of mistakes while raising her. When she left us, I was . . . a broken woman.”She exhales, shaky and jagged. “We had you, though. A little version of her. Innocent and pure. Radiant as the sunshine. Untainted by all the mistakes that drove Abby to become an unwed mother without the means to support herself.”

“Why didn’t she tell my father? He’d have helped support her.”

“She tried, Lettie.” Reaching into her pocketbook, she pulls out a handkerchief and dabs at her nose. “He was on a top secret mission or some such fiddle-faddle. Military runaround. All we knew is he would be deployed for up to eighteen months.”

“And when he got back?”

“We’d moved by then. Left Columbus.” She presses her lips into a thin, white line. “I told Lionel I wanted to move away from the memory of our daughter. Needed a fresh start in a small town. And I found one with a good church and far enough away that Alan wouldn’t find us or come looking for Abby.”

This is news to me.

Her words trigger another question to leap to the forefront of my mind. “Why didn’t Papa tell me about my father? If he came clean about being my grandfather, it makes no sense for him to withhold the rest.”

After glancing behind us to ensure no one is watching, she breaks down. We’re talking tears. Loads of them. Sobbing into her hand. Blowing her nose.

The works.

Is this an act for sympathy, or is she genuinely this upset? I’ll probably never know.

All the same, I comfort her with a warm embrace.

When she finally gathers her composure, she explains what caused the dam to break. “I sinned, Violet.”

Should’ve known.

“How, Mama?”

“I lied to your father. I told him I’d reached out to the Army and learned Alan was killed in action. And he believed me. From that point on, he was more agreeable to go along with the plan to keep everything quiet. I convinced him there was no good reason to ever tell you about your birth parents because it would only cause you pain.” She shakes her head, wiping her eyes with her hankie. “Father, forgive me.”

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