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And that's when Leif saw it.
Everett was the man he'd been looking for.
"Well, I'm happy to meet you," Leif said, glancing at Hilda, who nodded, a knowing look gracing her features. She held up her hand indicating she had to go say hello to someone else and left them.
“Well, I'm happy to meet you, Leif. So tell me, how is your mother? Where is she?"
"I'm afraid she passed away last summer," Leif said.
Everett literally paled, his eyes filling with deep sadness. "Oh, I'm so sorry to hear that. I would have loved to talk to her. So much was left unsaid between us." He paused then ran a hand across his brow. "Wow. I'm sorry to seem so shaken. I looked for your mother for a long time. Telling you we were close is a bit of an understatement. We had actually planned to marry. It was a secret, of course. I had a girlfriend in college and I wanted to break it off with her face-to-face, but, Jesus, this is..."
"Would you like to sit down?" Leif slid a stool over to the man, who was becoming less polished by the minute. "A drink, perhaps?"
"Scotch will work," Everett told the bartender. After sipping a good single malt, Everett lifted a sheepish gaze to Leif. "Sorry about that. Just hit me out of the blue. Calli meant a lot to me, and this felt so...I don't know. I'm glad you told me, though. There's been this hole in my life all this time.”
The butterflies in Leif’s stomach had turned into fighting cats, scratching and twisting with a mixture of dread and hope. It wasn't the best time. Things were so…up in the air but Leif was tired of not knowing. ''Thing is, when my mother left Magnolia Bend, she was pregnant."
Everett set his near empty glass on the bar with a thump, which sounded like a gavel. "Pregnant?"
Leif nodded. "With me."
"Oh, Christ." Everett looked at the people around him, talking about things like the weather and the food they'd be selling at the festival. So mundane in the midst of the biggest revelation Leif had ever laid on anyone.
"I don't understand," Everett said, shaking his head, looking ashen and sick. "She never told me. Why would she do that? Was it because of Simeon? I'm having a hard time understanding what's going on. Why you're here."
Something shriveled inside Leif. Suddenly he understood his mother's propensity to run. He felt the urge to get out of Louisiana. Leave the hard stuff behind.
"My mother never told me who my father was. On her deathbed she pleaded with me to correct that wrong, so I've spent the past few months researching her time here in Magnolia Bend, trying to set things right. You were the last person on my list."
Everett looked at him. "You look like her."
''Almost exactly like her."
Everett turned away, blinking tears, looking scared. ''Are you telling me I might be your father?"
Leif didn't say anything. The night had literally shredded apart right in front of him, littering the ground with regret, uncertainty, and shame. He wasn't about to compound it.
"Like right here at this shindig... you're telling me Calli was pregnant with my son. And I never knew?" Everett asked.
His voice had risen so Leif pressed a hand in his direction. "I'm not sure of anything. I didn't know she'd been in Louisiana until she told me on her deathbed. I'm just trying to fulfill her wishes and find out the truth.” Leif picked up the glass the bartender had filled when he poured Everett his shot and motioned for another pour.
"I'm sorry. I need some air," Everett said, rising suddenly, sending the stool skidding backward. Charging toward the huge bank of French doors off to the left, Everett ran, leaving Leif feeling empty, that age-old fear of rejection rearing its ugly head.
No hugs. No smiles. Just emptiness.
But what had he expected?
Finishing the drink, Leif stood, avoiding those around him who seemed to want to talk about, no doubt, the Abigail nudie sketch, and got the hell out of the gala.
No one stood in his way.
Not even Cal, who seemed as if he were about to say something, but turned in the other direction instead.
Leif strode into the night, heading toward his car, not even caring at this point that he'd downed three shots of whiskey and shouldn't drive.
Hell, he'd add that to the colossal speeding ticket in his pocket.
What did anything matter at this point? Everything was shit.
