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Feeling much older than his twenty-seven years, Roark left the apartment, but didn’t feel much like heading back to his empty loft.
Forty minutes later he let himself into his mother’s apartment. He’d called ahead to let Mrs. Myott know he was coming. She had leftover pot roast waiting for him. Seated at the center island, he wolfed down the meal. She’d slow-cooked the meat and it practically melted in his mouth.
Mrs. Myott drank coffee and watched him over the rim of her cup. “When did you last eat?”
“On the plane. It’s been a hectic few hours since I landed.”
“Here’s the envelope that came for you today.” She slid a plain manila envelope toward him.
Roark set down his fork and picked up the envelope. It bore his name and nothing more. Curious, he slit open the flap with his knife and pulled out a smaller envelope bearing his mother’s bold handwriting.
She’d addressed the envelope to Edward Waverly.
“Who sent this?”
“I don’t know. I received a call from the doorman that he’d received an envelope addressed to you.”
“Did he say which courier service dropped it off?”
“It never occurred to me to ask.” Mrs. Myott had also recognized the familiar handwriting. Sadness darkened her eyes. “Why would someone send you a letter your mother wrote to Edward Waverly?”
“I have no idea.” Roark suspected she told Edward she was pregnant and never received a reply. If he’d wanted nothing to do with an illegitimate son, why then had he written a letter to Vance telling him about his half brother so many years later?
Hoping for a clue as to who sent his mother’s letter, Roark peered into the envelope and spied a sheet of paper. He pulled it out. An unfamiliar
hand had penned a short note.
Your mother wrote this letter to Edward Waverly. You are as much a Waverly as Vance.
Vance was the only person Roark could imagine having access to Edward Waverly’s personal correspondence, but he knew Vance’s handwriting and this wasn’t it. Mystified, he handed Mrs. Myott the note and then carefully pulled a sheet of yellowed paper from the envelope.
To My Love,
I have kept a secret from you all these years and done you a terrible wrong. You have a son. Roark turned eighteen yesterday and enlisted in the marines. I have never been so proud of him, nor so filled with regret. I know now that by holding him too tight all these years, I instead drove him away.
I’m sorry I didn’t tell you the truth sooner. When you left me I was devastated. It took months for me to accept that I mustn’t blame you for moving forward with your life. I could never have been the wife you needed. The world outside these walls is too big and too terrifying for me to face. In the end, my fears were stronger than my love for you.
Many nights I paced the floor, debating whether or not to tell you about Roark. In the end, I was afraid that if you knew you had a son you would take him into the world and away from me. I couldn’t bear to lose both of the men that I loved. Please don’t take your anger with me out on Roark. From a stubborn and clever boy he has grown into a determined and intelligent man. You will be proud to claim him as your son.
Forever yours,
Guinevere
Here was the admission from his mother Roark had been waiting all his life for. He stared at his mother’s letter. Strange how he felt no different now than he had a moment ago. No lights came on in his mind. Nothing snapped into place. The words left him numb.
He didn’t even care that Edward Waverly had never sought him out after discovering the truth. What good would it do to resent a man who’d been dead almost five years? His parents’ relationship was complicated and colored by bitterness. It was their difficulties that had kept them apart his entire life. Nothing at all to do with him. And in a strange way, Roark was glad he and Vance had been able to begin their relationship free of their father’s baggage.
Then, slowly he became aware that one change had happened. Reading his mother’s letter had dispelled the restlessness that drove him to spend his days seeking his place in the world. He knew where he belonged. Who he was. The hazy doubts he’d always carried in the back of his mind about being Vance’s half brother were a thing of the past. He was a Waverly. In blood if not name. Waverly’s wasn’t a straightjacket to be avoided at all costs, but his family’s legacy and he was going to do whatever it took to save it from the likes of Dalton Rothschild.
“Roark, are you all right?” Mrs. Myott had come to stand beside him. Her hand covered his.
He blinked and reoriented himself in the penthouse. The hum of the refrigerator. The lingering scent of the pot roast. The comforting sight of Mrs. Myott’s face. “I’m fine. Just need to make a phone call.”
Even though he wasn’t sure if she’d pick up, Roark dialed Elizabeth’s number. To his relief, she answered.
“Roark?”
“Someone delivered a ten-year-old letter to the penthouse from my mother to Edward Waverly telling him about me.”
