Page 41 of Secrets

The third folder has her grandparents' death certificates with copies of their wills. Both her grandparents died when she was four, but she assumes this might be needed for something down the line. Maybe.

The fourth folder has insurance information for the past fifteen years. Considering her mother changed jobs like most people changed underwear, there are a lot of papers shoved into that one folder. So much so, it tears at the seam. And trying to get that folder back in after finding nothing current was like trying to shove herself into a sports bra before her skin had completely dried after a shower.

"Jesus, Mom," she mutters as she wastes another thirty minutes on useless documents. "I'm buying you a shredder for no reason other than getting rid of shit."

The fifth and sixth folders have tax information and job applications filling them to the point of tearing along the seams once again. It's been two hours, and she has nothing that looks anything like an end-of-life document. But she still has four folders in this drawer, and who knows how many in the other two.

"Shoot me now. Someone, please, shoot me now. I’ll even leave the door unlocked for burglars to come inside. They’d have a hell of a time finding anything in this mess, but they’re welcome to search. As long as they shoot me."

The eighth folder has her groaning. "This isn't anything legal. It's a fucking sticky note that saysI don't want to live on a machine.Great. Well, at least I know what you don't want now that I'm fully responsible for you and your decisions."

Standing up, a letter in the same folder catches her attention, and she picks it up. The front of the envelope says Ryan Hennessey. There's no address under his name, but it has a stamp and her mother's return address in the corner.

Sutton opens the letter and falls back into the chair, the words in her mother's handwriting knocking the wind out of her.

Grace makes it through surgery, and she's expected to make a full recovery. It took two days, but she's finally awake and coherent.

"Sutton, hunny, I'm going to be fine," Grace says, her grungy brown hair in desperate need of a good washing.

Sutton knows her mother would lose her mind if she knew just how grimy she looked right now, but that's the least of her concerns at the moment.

"If you really want to make Mommy feel better, you could get me something that has actual flavor. No seasoning whatsoever isn't going to save me. In fact, I think this weird meat product they gave me might just kill me."

Holding the letter Sutton found in her mother's filing cabinet, she decides to just surprise her with the contents.

"This letter is probably fifteen years too late, but I thought you should know in case you wanted a reason to try and shape up your life. To give you a purpose to do your best and stay out of jail. To be better in this life. My daughter, Sutton, is yours."

Her mother's eyes narrow. "What's that?"

"The night I planned to tell you I was pregnant was the night you got yourself locked up for four years for stealing from your parents," she continues. "Sutton has no idea she's not Cannon's daughter, and she won't unless you can keep your ass out of prison. You need to stop the drugs and stealing-"

"Sutton, stop!"

"...and fighting. I think you have the potential to be a good father if you can figure out first how to be a good man. Sutton will never know about you unless you shape up. Stay out of prison and get your life together."

Looking at her mother, she waits. Waits for some epic explanation about this lie.

"Where did you get that?"

Not the answer Sutton wanted. "I had to find that end-of-life document you said you had, which turned out to be nothing more than a sticky note. This was in that same folder."

"Did you re-organize my desk? I have everything exactly where I can find it, and now I'm going to have to re-sort everything!"

The change of subject does nothing to deter her. In fact, it just annoys her more. "Who the hell is Ryan Hennessey?"

"You read the letter. What are you looking for?" Grace says.

Her stomach drops. She really isn't a Cannon. "What am I looking for? I don't know, Mother, how about the truth? Because you've apparently not told it to me for the past twenty-three years."

"Just forget about Ryan Hennessey, Sutton. As far as everyone's concerned, Cannon is your dad."

"Marvin Cannon may be on my birth certificate, but your letter says he's not my father. Ryan Hennessey is."

The fork and knife rest on the plate in front of Grace, and she folds her hands in her lap. "What do you want from me? Hmm?"

"The truth!" she exclaims and stands from the chair she sits in. "Why have you lied to me my entire life?"

"Because Ryan is a low-life scumbag who doesn't deserve you in his life."

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