“What does that mean?”
She shook her head.
“Please, don’t read the rest.”
I turned back to the letter.
Only a few paragraphs remained.
The man who is Alyssa’s biological father is still alive.
Alyssa suddenly raised her head.
” What ? “
I continued reading.
And he was closer to that family than you can imagine.
My heart was pounding against my ribs.
I looked around me.
Dad had spent eleven years preparing for this.
He had gathered documents.
Assets moved.
Letters have been preserved.
And apparently discovered something that could destroy more than one marriage.
I read the last paragraph.
Candace, I’m sorry I waited so long. I was afraid that if I told the truth, you’d be hurt again. But I understand now that protecting a lie only gives it more time to hurt you.
Then the last sentence.
Ask Vivian who was in the delivery room the night Alyssa was born.
I lowered the letter.
Nobody moved.
Alyssa stared at her mother.
“Who was there?”
Vivian did not reply.
” Mom. “
Still nothing.
“Who was in the delivery room?”
Vivian’s knees buckled.
She gripped the back of the chair.
And then someone behind us spoke.
A man’s voice.
Old.
Trembling.
But undeniably familiar.
“It was me.”
All heads turned towards the doorway.
I knew that voice.
I had heard it hundreds of times during my childhood.
It belonged to the man who stood next to Dad in all the old photographs.
Dad’s business partner.
His closest friend.
And the person who had always been presented to me as practically an uncle to Alyssa.
Richard Mason.
He stood in the doorway, holding his hat against his chest.
Alyssa stared at him.
“Mr. Mason?”
Richard looked at her.
Her eyes filled
with tears.
And then he uttered the words that made Vivian collapse into the chair.
“I was there the night you were born, Alyssa.”
He swallowed.
“Because I was your father.”
No one spoke.
Not even Alyssa.
