“Landscaper. Cliché, right? Rich wife and the gardener.”
“Was he married, too?”
“No. At least I did that right. Honestly, I didn’t know Sam wasn’t your biological father until you got older and you looked like…him.”
I collapsed in the chair, gazing up at the ceiling. “Did you bring it up in the divorce to hurt Sam?”
Her laughter was void of humor. “I’m not that shallow. Despite what you might think. He insisted on a paternity test. I asked him why it mattered, but he had to know.” She examined her fingernails, true regret etched into the fine lines on her face. “I took you in, told you it was a throat swab for strep. They were collecting the sample. I’d already told Sam I’d been cheating on him for most of our marriage, it was just confirmation. Years later, I guess he’d discovered he was infertile.”
“You can leave now.” I had no compunction to move. I could stare at the ceiling all day, pondering the chess pieces of my life.
“Wesley.”
“Go, Mother.”
She rose to her feet and her heels snapped a slow rhythm as she left the way she came.
Minutes—hell, hours had ticked by when I sat forward with a huff. I pressed my palms to my eyes, then looked around at the house. I didn’t like this house, had searched for one like I’d grown up in, had thought maybe Sam would come for visits.
A glint caught my attention. Something lay on the floor between the couch and the glass end table.
I hated the furniture, too.
Retrieving the object, the emptiness within me filled with remorse. Guilt. Sadness. Loss.
The small package I held was a Wesley Crusher action figure.
Chapter 22
Mara
“Cards are more fun with more than two people.”
I laid my hand down. Mom had a point and I should tell her.
After the debacle at Wes’s house, I’d been too numb to cry. I’d spent the rest of the day sorting through the leftover stock and uploading it online to sell. The funds would help me buy a new business wardrobe. If I was hired.
“I’m not seeing Sam anymore. Actually, Mom, can I tell you a story?”
Everything poured out. I started as far back as Dr. Johannsen, editing out the part where anxiety for Mom’s health had distracted me. Then came Sam, the mall, Wes as Sam, Wes as Wes, and Sam as not Wes’s biological dad.
Not one tear shed.
Mom’s face tinted several shades throughout the tale. “Wow. Mara. I wish I could’ve helped.”
“I didn’t want to worry you.”
The deep sigh of disappointment tore me apart. Not burdening Mom only gave her the impression that she couldn’t even carry out the basic motherly duty of listening.
“I understand, but Mara…”
My phone buzzed. Absentmindedly, I glanced at my screen.
Wha—
I didn’t cover my incredulous expression in time.
“What’s wrong?” Mom asked.
“It’s Wes.”
“And it was Wes, who went by Sam, that treated you so horribly yesterday?” Mom’s tone was carefully neutral.
“Yes.”
My phone kept ringing.
“You’re going to ignore him?”
We waited until my phone quit. Then it started again. With shaky hands, I shut my phone completely off.
“Are you going to be okay, Mara?” Mom’s soft voice broke down the last barrier I had built.
“No, Mom.” Tears welled and rolled down my cheeks. “I let him break my heart.”
Wes
I strolled past giant brick buildings. A clash of old-style and modern gave the campus a rich appearance that spoke of its history and the promise of its future. Men and women meandered by, not a care in the world, talking excitedly about weekend plans. When had they started looking so young? My university years felt like ages ago.
Women, girls really, smiled at me. I paid them no attention. Only one reason brought me to Mara’s almost alma mater.
I’d done my research, met with both Franklin, who knew my father’s history with the school, and Helen, who’d taken what Mara had gone through personally. Between the three of them, they’d come up with a plan. Franklin had arranged the meeting and I had gone in search of the special guest. We’d waited until Friday afternoon after Helen had checked that Dr. Johannsen’s last class of the day ended at three forty-five. I worried it’d be a freak call-in-sick occurrence but Dr. Johannsen was dedicated to his students, in so many ways.
I found the correct building and couldn’t help but smile at the name etched into the plaque at the door. I located the classroom with no trouble as all the students filed out. I gave it a couple of minutes while stragglers exited and was about to turn inside when I heard a giggle. A couple strode out.
It was him. Average height, not bad looking, with sandy blond hair, ol’ Jake would turn heads. Probably not enough for his taste, which was perhaps why he’d chosen a profession that gave him access to and power over vulnerable young women.
The girl, obviously a student, had a look of awe as she walked with Dr. Johannsen down the wide hallway. Most of the classrooms were empty. I tracked them to a pod of offices that occupied the end of the hallway.
Dr. Johannsen had his hand on the door handle when I flagged him down.
“Excuse me, Jake. We need to talk.”
Jake narrowed his eyes in irritation. The girl viewed me with open interest, her doe eyes guileless and her clothes and hair overdone.
“I’m sorry,” even Jake’s voice was average, “I have a meeting with a student.”
I smiled, my boardroom grin that told everyone I wasn’t fucking around. “What a coincidence. It’s your meeting with students I want to talk about. I’m a friend of Mara’s.”
Jake’s eyes flared and he dropped his hand off the doorknob. He touched the girl on the elbow. “I’m sorry. We’ll have to meet next week instead.”
“No. You won’t.” My gaze stayed on Jake. “A word of advice. This guy is a sexual predator and he doesn’t care about your education as much as what’s between your legs.”
She gasped and backed away, giving me a wide berth, then
