Chapter 7
I read the letter.
My hands were shaking.
*Dear Daniel,*
*I'm writing this because I need you to know the truth. The baby is yours. I'm pregnant. And I know you're married to Marianne now. And I know you love her. I would never do anything to hurt her. Or to destroy your marriage.*
*But I need you to know. The baby is coming. And I'm going to raise her alone. I don't want anything from you. No money. No support. No recognition. I just wanted you to know. You have a daughter. Her name is Sarah. And she's perfect.*
*Someday, if you ever want to meet her, you know where to find me. Until then, I'll raise her to be a good person. And I'll tell her that her father was a good man who couldn't be with us.*
*Love always,*
*Rachel*
I stared at the letter.
Daniel had a daughter.
Another daughter.
From before we were married.
From an affair.
He'd had an affair.
Gotten another woman pregnant.
And he'd never told me.
Thirty-two years.
He'd kept this secret from me for thirty-two years.
I felt sick.
My whole body was shaking.
The man I'd loved.
The man I'd trusted.
The man I'd built a life with.
Had been lying to me since before we were married.
He had another family.
Another daughter.
And I'd never known.
I looked through the envelope again.
There was another letter.
More recent.
From five years ago.
*Dear Daniel,*
*Sarah is getting married. She wants to meet you. She's always wondered about her father. I told her I'd write to you. If you want to meet her, come to the address below. Next Saturday. If not, I'll understand. And we'll never bother you again.*
*Rachel*
And there was a photograph.
Tucked in the envelope.
A young woman.
Beautiful.
With Daniel's eyes.
Daniel's smile.
Sarah.
His daughter.
And there was a note on the back of the photograph.
In Daniel's handwriting.
*My daughter. I met her. She's wonderful. I'm so sorry, Marianne. I should have told you. I was too much of a coward.*
I dropped the photograph.
Daniel had met her.
Five years ago.
He'd known about his daughter for thirty-two years.
And he'd never told me.
I sat on the floor of the bedroom.
Surrounded by Daniel's papers.
Surrounded by his secrets.
And I cried.
I cried for the husband I thought I'd had.
For the perfect marriage I thought we'd shared.
For the life I thought we'd built together.
All of it had been a lie.
Well, not all of it.
The love had been real.
I knew that.
The cottage had been real.
The memories had been real.
But there had been this.
This secret.
This other family.
This other daughter.
And I'd never known.
I didn't know what to do.
Should I be angry?
Should I be hurt?
Should I try to find Sarah?
I didn't know.
I sat there for hours.
Thinking.
Remembering.
Thirty-two years ago.
Daniel and I had been newlyweds.
We'd been so happy.
So in love.
And all that time, he'd known.
He'd known he had a daughter on the way.
And he'd never said a word.
I understood why.
He'd been scared.
Scared of losing me.
Scared of destroying our marriage.
Scared of the shame.
But understanding wasn't the same as forgiving.
And I didn't know if I could forgive him for this.
That evening, Bradley came to the cottage.
He found me sitting on the porch.
Staring at the lake.
Holding the photograph of Sarah.
"Mom?" he said. "Are you okay?"
I handed him the photograph.
And the letters.
He read them.
His face went through a dozen emotions.
Shock.
Confusion.
Pain.
Anger.
"Dad had a daughter?" he said.
I nodded.
"Your sister," I said.
Bradley sat down beside me.
He stared at the photograph.
"She looks like him," he said.
"I know."
"Did you know?"
I shook my head.
"I just found the letters today. Ashley said Daniel had secrets. Dark secrets. I think this is what she was talking about."
Bradley was quiet for a long time.
"What are you going to do?" he asked finally.
"I don't know," I said. "I don't even know if she's still alive. Or where she is. Or if she wants anything to do with us."
"We could find her," Bradley said. "If you wanted to. Thomas could help. He has people who can find people."
I looked at the photograph again.
Sarah.
Daniel's daughter.
My stepdaughter.
If I wanted her to be.
I thought about Daniel.
He'd been a coward not to tell me.
But he'd also been a good man.
A good husband.
A good father.
He'd made a mistake.
A huge mistake.
But he'd also given me thirty-one wonderful years.
And the cottage.
And Bradley.
And a lifetime of memories.
I thought about what Ashley had said.
That Daniel's secrets would destroy everything.
But she was wrong.
This secret didn't destroy my love for Daniel.
It just made it more complicated.
More human.
He wasn't perfect.
He was just a man.
A man who'd made a terrible mistake.
And spent the rest of his life trying to make up for it by being the best husband and father he could be.
"Let's find her," I said.
Bradley nodded.
"I'll call Thomas tomorrow."
The next morning, Thomas started looking.
It didn't take long.
Sarah was alive.
She lived in Chicago.
She was a teacher.
She was married.
She had two children of her own.
Twins.
A boy and a girl.
Ten years old.
Rachel, her mother, had died two years ago.
Sarah had been trying to find Daniel.
She'd hired a private investigator.
But Daniel had died before they could find each other again.
Thomas found her address.
Her phone number.
Everything.
I sat in the kitchen.
Staring at the phone number.
Should I call her?
What would I say?
*Hello, I'm your father's wife. The one he never told you about. The one he stayed married to while you were growing up without a father.*
It sounded terrible.
But I had to call her.
Daniel would have wanted me to.
He'd wanted to meet her.
He'd wanted her in his life.
And now that he was gone, it was up to me to make it right.
I picked up the phone.
I dialed her number.
My hands were shaking.
She answered on the third ring.
"Hello?"
Her voice was soft.
Warm.
Friendly.
"Sarah?" I said. "My name is Marianne Whitcomb. I was married to Daniel Whitcomb. Your father."
There was a long silence.
Then she gasped.
"You knew?" she whispered.
"I just found out," I said. "I found your mother's letters. And your photograph. I'm so sorry, Sarah. I had no idea. If I had, I would have found you years ago."
She started crying.
"I always wondered," she said. "If he ever thought about me. If he ever cared. My mother said he was a good man. But that he couldn't be with us. I never knew if that was true."
"He was a good man," I said. "And he cared. Very much. He met you five years ago, didn't he? At your mother's request."
"You know about that?"
"He wrote a note on the back of your photograph. He said you were wonderful. And that he was sorry he was too much of a coward to tell me about you."
I paused.
"Sarah, if you're open to it, I'd like to meet you. And your family. You're family. Whether you want to be or not. And Daniel would have wanted you to know that. He would have wanted you to be part of our lives."
She was crying harder now.
"I'd like that," she said. "Very much."
We made plans.
She and her family would come to the cottage the following weekend.
I hung up the phone.
I felt light.
Like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders.
Daniel's secret wasn't a curse.
It was a gift.
A new family.
A daughter I'd never known.
Grandchildren I'd never met.
And somehow, I knew Daniel was smiling.
He'd gotten his wish.
His family was coming together.
Even if it was happening after his death.
Ashley had been wrong.
Daniel's secret hadn't destroyed me.
It had given me something new to love.
But Ashley wasn't done yet.
That afternoon, I got a call from the police.
Ashley had been released on bail.
A technicality.
May you like
She was free.
And the police had reason to believe she was coming after me.
