AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I shut the door. “I forgot the paperweight.”
“Paperweight?”
“The personalized crystal paperweight that my mother gave my father on their first anniversary. He always keeps it on his desk. You didn’t grab it, did you?”
“No.” He shakes his head. “But now that you mention it, I do remember seeing it beside the file tray. You hang out here. I’ll go get it.”
“Are you sure?”
He nods. “I know you don’t want to go back up there.”
I don’t. I really don’t.
“Thanks.”
“I’ll be right back.” He’s already walking briskly toward the elevator.
Once I’m closed into the car, a sense of tranquility moves through me. I wouldn’t say I’m at ease. Recent events have been earth shattering and will take a long time to recover from.
But after today, I’m only going to look ahead. To the life Micah and I will share together.
My hand automatically covers my stomach. This has become a habit, touching my belly and anticipating the day when I’ll be able to feel tiny kicks coming from within.
Every night before we settle down to bed, Micah gently lays his head on my stomach. When I see him this way, and I think about the new life we’ve made that’s half him and half me, I’m overcome with such blissful happiness that I can hardly breathe.
This is enough to eclipse all the anguish and sorrow. We’re free to love each other and await the arrival of our baby.
It’s always intense, the yearning to hold him close, breathe in his warmth, feel his heartbeat. I can’t wait to be with him again and I know I won’t have to wait long. We’ll enjoy a quiet night at home. Maybe get some takeout food, watch a movie, make love for hours. Such ordinary nights are the stuff happiness is made of.
As I tenderly rub the vaguely swollen hill beneath my hand, again I think of my mother.
Over the course of my life, she became more legend than human. Uncle Josh’s blunt words were troubling. I’ll never truly know who she was and I can only guess what would have been different if she’d lived.
I’m going to blame my sentimental hormones for the intense urge to look at her face right now.
There’s a metal grate separating the front seat from the backseat in Uncle Josh’s police cruiser. From up here, it’s impossible to reach back and access the box we took from my father’s office.
Leaving my purse behind, I exit the passenger seat and open the door to the back. The box sits on the opposite side so I slide over and reach inside.
The first picture I pull out isn’t the one I was looking for. This is the one taken at Uncle Josh’s police academy graduation. The Ballerini brothers are shoulder to shoulder, Uncle Josh looking very much like a younger clone of his big brother. Both of them black-haired and handsome and likely hopeful for the future.
I’m sure Uncle Josh will always feel pain when he looks at pictures like this, but the passage of time will go a long way toward healing him as well. He’s the closest thing to a parent that I have left and I hope he wants to remain a big part of my life.
Just as I’m about to set the picture aside and reach for a different one, a face catches my eye. It’s a slightly blurry face, in the background just off Uncle Josh’s left shoulder. The man smiles for a different camera. He also wears a police uniform.
And I’ve met him before.
Here, the years have melted from his face. After all, this photo must have been taken almost two decades ago. But that long pointed chin is distinctive and I have no doubt in my mind that I’m looking at the man who was once introduced to me as Dr. Reggie Spigato.
Uncle Josh swore up and down that he had no idea my father was lying about his health issues. He insisted he was just another innocent party who got swept into my father’s web of lies and manipulation.
This photo casts doubt on everything I thought I knew.
It’s not plausible that Josh wouldn’t recognize a man who had obviously graduated from the police academy the same time he did. All along, I assumed my father had hired an actor to masquerade as the doctor.
The truth, however, appears to be more complicated.
What if the imposter was a friend? A friend who had been asked to perform a small favor and put on a brief act for an audience of one.
