“But when did you know?”
“That same time frame.”
“Didn’t Edward know about me before?” I’m suddenly confused. “I thought he didn’t want me. Didn’t he want her to, you know, get rid of me?”
“Sib, he didn’t know your mother was pregnant with you. He was overseas.”
“But I found unlabeled letters my mother wrote.”
He shrugs. “If that’s the case and Deborah sent them to Edward, why does she still have them?”
“No idea.” I frown. “Did he ever get married?” I pretend I don’t know about his life, about the obituary that mentioned his wife and kids.
“Yes.”
“Children?”
“Two.” But he adds hurriedly, “They live on the East Coast. I think Boston. And his ex-wife moved there too. I’m sorry I lied to you. Eddie and I were good friends. I was a pallbearer at his funeral when he died. It’s a sensitive topic. He was one of my best friends. It’s reprehensible to me, such a waste of a good life.”
I double over, feeling like I just had the wind knocked out of me. He hurries to my side.
“Are you okay, Sibby?” His huge palm swaddles my shoulder.
“I’m okay,” I moan as a stabbing pain guts me, bringing me to my knees. He doesn’t move his hand away until I’m settled on the cold tile.
“Be right back.” He steps out for a minute and returns with a bottled water, then pushes it into my hands.
“I wish I could crawl down there with you,” he says with a ragged inhale. “But these bones creak now. I’m not as limber as I once was.”
“You and my mother have that in common. You both keep saying you’re old.”
He chortles. “I feel like it most days.”
I look up at him sadly. “Do you talk to Edward’s kids or ex-wife?”
“I don’t. And Sibley, let me ask a huge favor. You might feel like you want to reach out to them for some kind of closure or to find out about your father. Understandably, you’d want to feel some kind of connection to your dad.” He runs a hand through his thinning salt-and-pepper hair. “I want to discourage this because they don’t know about you or know that Eddie had a love child.”
“Was he also married when my mother got pregnant with me?”
“No.” He moves back to his chair, settling with a thump. “But no one else could hold a candle to your mother, and his ex-wife knew that. There’s a lot of sadness in that family. I don’t want to open old wounds, especially for those kids.”
“You don’t think after all this time, Edward’s family might forgive the situation?”
“Unfortunately, no.” He shakes his head glumly. “It would be awful for both his ex and Debbie to have to relive their relationships with Eddie. Neither would appreciate the gesture.” He adds, “And your mother’s health is, well, frankly, I was relieved when you came home and I heard your voice.” The chief yanks at the top button of his shirt. “At first, I thought she was having hallucinations about you being at the house.”
“What do you mean?”
“When she started calling into the station, I thought she was lonely, desperate for attention. I don’t blame her. She’s out there by her lonesome.” He sighs. “I told the other guys to go easy on her, just pacify her. I can’t tell you how many times we went out to the farm to check the premises. She swore a masked man was living on her property, down in the root cellar or the barn. She’d find items, but we never could locate the stranger or their stuff. One time, she said a drug dealer was living there and left his stash. We couldn’t find that either.”
“Is that why the root cellar is finally locked?”
“Yes. I didn’t want there to even be a question about if someone was using it as their hideaway. I get why she’s scared to be on the farm alone,” the chief discloses. “It’s not like her fears are unfounded. She was attacked, and then the rash of break-ins . . . not to mention, the prison’s her close neighbor.”
“Speaking of outsiders . . .” My cheeks blush at my impending question. It feels weird to ask an older adult about dating. “Have you seen anyone at the house? Like, is she dating anyone?”
Surprised at the question, he gives me a thoughtful glance. “No. I can’t say I have.”
“Nobody at church?”
“I haven’t been there in a while.” He smirks. “This job seems to take up a lot of my free time.”
I chew a nail, absorbing this information.
“Between us, this is an unpopular sentiment, but some of the farms are being asked to sell.”
“Yes, by eminent domain.” My jaw tightens. “I’ve seen the mail, and we’ve discussed it.”
“I’m no doctor, and I’m no expert, but this might be a blessing in disguise for her.” He throws his arms in the air. “But what do I know?”
“I disagree, but that’s a conversation for another day. We have a heritage farm, and that’s worth more than they could offer.”
“I’m not versed in what that is, I’m afraid.”
“I’ve been doing some research, and farms that have over forty acres and are over a hundred fifty years old have different stipulations and rights than your average farm.”
“Interesting.” He steeples his fingers. “Makes sense, though.”
“Speaking of relics,” I tease, “are you gonna stay in town after you retire and the young’un Miles Fletcher takes over the force?”
“Hardly. Though he can deal with the uptick in crime.”
A knock on the door interrupts us, and it’s another police officer, one I don’t recognize. The chief nods at him, slapping a hand on the desk. “I guess this means I should go help Officer Dudley.”
I brush myself off and stand up, giving him a small smile. We part the same way we greeted, with a tight hug and a chaste kiss on the cheek. I sniff at the
