“Trudy comes across as a strong woman. And she is—don’t get me wrong. But inside, she’s terrified. I was talking to Beatrice after Trudy and Pati left. Beatrice knew Trudy’s husband. She said he was a good man. Strong, dependable. He took care of Trudy; he loved her and wanted to give her the world. When he died, Trudy was devastated. She’d not only lost her husband, but she’d also lost her best friend.”
I followed my daughter’s gaze to King. He sat at the bar on the other side of the room, talking to Jingles. But his eyes never left Grace.
“Beatrice told me it took Trudy over ten years before she was willing to date. It wasn’t until Pati got married and Trudy started seeing a man named Frank.”
My body tensed up at the sound of the man’s name. Grace smiled at me and shook her head. “You’ve got it bad.”
“Yeah, I do. Go on,” I encouraged her.
“Well, according to Beatrice, Trudy and Frank dated for less than a year before she called it off. She said she liked Frank well enough, but not enough to give up her home and live with someone else again.”
“Does Frank live in town?” I asked, trying to keep my voice soft and even.
“It doesn’t matter,” Grace said with a chuckle. “That was more than a decade ago. And they both agreed what they had wasn’t enough. Frank got married a few years later, and Trudy was at their wedding, wishing them the best.”
“And Harold?” I asked, knowing where my daughter was headed with this.
“Harold was different. According to Beatrice, Trudy and Harold burned hot and fast. They were together for four months before he introduced her to his children.”
“And they didn’t like her,” I guessed.
“No, they didn’t.” Grace held my hand in hers and looked up at me. “Harold hurt her, Dad. As soon as his kids said no, he dropped her like a hot potato and married Edith. Edith didn’t have baggage, according to the kids. There weren’t any children in her life that would compete for an inheritance.”
“Son of a bitch,” I cursed.
“Three strikes and you’re out. That’s how Trudy sees it.”
“Or maybe third time’s the charm,” I said absently.
“What about you?” Grace asked.
I looked down at my beautiful daughter who looked so much like her mother. “What about me?”
Her eyes dropped to where she held my hand and I felt her fingers tighten around mine. “Are you still in love with Mom?”
Now it was my turn to take a deep breath. I closed my eyes and blew it out, stalling while I tried to figure out how to answer that question.
“I will always love your mother, baby girl. But...”
“But she left you.”
“She did. And she took you with her. I missed out on your whole life because she ran away from me. I almost missed out on this.” I placed my other hand on her protruding belly and felt my grandchild kick. “She took everything away from me.”
“She was scared.”
“Of what?” I asked, wondering if Grace knew more than Christina realized.
“Everything.” Grace closed her eyes, and I felt her body tremble. “I’m not sure how much you want to know. I don’t want to hurt you.” She looked up at me with tears in her eyes and suddenly, every last bit of emotion I held for Christina was gone in an instant.
Grace knew something. Something she’d been holding onto for years.
“I have a journal, baby.”
“What?” Her eyes widened as she turned in her seat.
“When we were in New Orleans, Gator gave me a journal your mother wrote. She started it when she got sick. I haven’t read it all yet, but the way she wrote it was like she was confessing her sins. She was talking directly to me. She gave it to Gator so if I ever came looking for you, he could give it to me.”
“Gator knew you were my father?” Her voice rose as she tried to stand. King was across the room in a heartbeat, pulling her into his arms. The glare he turned on me would have had George Stone shitting his pants.
