Page 86 of UnScripted

“Wait. I’m confused. My adopted Mom, Carol, said Dee died when I was two. That can’t be right.”

“No. Dee died when I was twenty. I remember that well.”

“Why would she lie to me?”

“Carol?”

“Yeah, hold on I need to make a call.” Picking up my phone I call home.

“Mom?”

“Hey, sweetie! How did it go? I know you were nervous about meeting your brother.”

“It’s going well. I’m still with him. Listen, I need to ask you something. I’ll forgive you if you lied but I need to know—did Dee die when I was two or ten?”

She sucks in a breath, “I’ve never lied to you honey. I received a phone call when you were two from a woman who said she was with the adoptive agency. She told me Dee had died and asked for our address to send you the letter.”

“Okay. That’s weird. I’ll call you later and we can talk more about Thanksgiving.”

“Sounds good, sweetie. I’m sorry I wish I could tell you more.”

“That’s okay. I love you.”

“Love you too.”

Shrugging my shoulders, eyes meeting Duke’s puzzled ones I tell him, “She’s telling the truth. So, who called her telling her Dee was dead? And why?”

“Some secrets will never be uncovered,” he shrugs, “but we found each other and that’s all that matters now. Come on there’s something I want to show you.”

“Okay.”

He helps me out of the booth dropping a twenty and ushers me out the door of the diner. Zipping up my jacket, I throw my head back giggling at the first flakes of snow falling all around us.

“Didn’t they have snow in Chicago?”

“Yeah. There was plenty, but the flakes were never this light or fresh.”

“You love Springdale. Don’t you?”

“I do.”

He opens the passenger door for me and rounds the truck sliding in. “It’s ironic. I couldn’t wait to leave. But now I’m seeing it all again through your eyes. Most people can’t wait to leave and go to some big city.”

“I hate cities. There’s nothing fresher than the air of Springdale in late spring.”

He smiles, turning on the car. Warm air blows through the vents as he drives through town, up the hill and through the gates of the cemetery.

“Duke?”

He doesn’t answer but parks on the side of the road getting out. I open my door without waiting for him. He takes my hand and leads me over to Dee’s grave.

“It’s beautiful,” I gasp placing a gloved hand over my mouth in shock.

Behind her headstone is a beautiful angel carved from stone, arms outstretched, wings open as she looks down.

“Maybe she was an angel after all. She gave me a sister and that counts for something. Maybe you were her saving grace; proof that she did something good with her life that cancels out the bad. Hell, I know I’ve done unforgivable things. It’s time Creed and the boys forgive Dee Dee Stanton.”

“Thank you,” I whisper, swiping tears.

“Rog and Shanna have been lighting up my phone wondering how we’re doing.”

“Well, you can text back that we’re doing just fine. Actually, we are doing fantastic.”

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