She filled a glass with water from the tap and stood over the sink as she drank it. Catching her breath, Libby carefully set the glass down and tightly closed her eyes. “I miss you, Mom.”

She had said the words often during her years at boarding school. And as she had done then, she stood in complete silence, listening for a response that never came.

Tonight, it was just the hum of the air-conditioning. Just as she had as a kid, she felt alone and lost.

She walked upstairs and opened the door to her father’s office. Her mother may not have answers, but her father would.

“Okay, Daddy, let’s see what else you left behind for me.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

LIBBY

Sunday, June 14, 2020

Bluestone, Virginia

Libby sat at her father’s desk, smoothing her palms over the polished wood surface. The overhead fixture did not emit enough light to fully illuminate the room, so she switched on the floor lamp she had bought for her father a couple of years ago. The extra light boosted visibility and chased away the shadows.

She tapped her finger against the neat desktop. Finally, she opened the file drawer and saw only two files. She knew immediately they were there for a reason. The first file read Important Papers in her father’s customary Sharpie scrawl on the tab. The second folder was not marked.

She removed both and carried them into the kitchen, where she set a pot of coffee to brew. Already resigned to insomnia, she pried off the lid of the plastic tub containing the lemon cake. Fork in hand, she took several bites as she stared at the two folders. A wall clock ticked in the house in chorus with the sound of the coffeepot gurgling.

She poured herself a cup and opened the Important Papers file first. As advertised, it held a list of items that needed to happen after his death. Her father had given a duplicate to his attorney, and so far, his attorney had dutifully ticked off the items on the list. Taxes. Utilities paid. Stock sales. Lou Ann. Even lawn care was covered.

Dad had planned well, but this she already knew.

She took several more bites of cake and drank coffee as she went through the papers. There were her parents’ marriage certificate, unused passports, the deed to this house, and finally her birth certificate.

She inspected her birth certificate. It was not her original from New Jersey but one issued by the Commonwealth of Virginia that listed her adopted parents’ names. It was an amended birth certificate—a.k.a. an ABC to those in adoption circles. It did not tell her full story but was the official document that had gotten her registered for school and allowed her to apply for a driver’s license and passport. It was her official identity, but it really was not totally her.

She smoothed her fingertips over the official watermark and the state seal embossed on the ivory paper trimmed with a blue border design. She replaced the papers in the file folder, closed it, and shifted her attention to the second folder.

She centered it in front of her, held her breath, and opened it. Inside was a letter in an envelope. It was not postmarked, but inscribed in neat handwriting was My Dear Girl. Carefully, she opened the envelope and removed the single sheet of paper.

My Dear Girl,

You are but hours old, but already you’re proving to have a strong set of lungs and a bit of a temper. I like that about you. Better to come into this world knowing what you want than spend decades pretending that another’s dream is your own. As I stare at you in the nursery, I can already see that you will rise above the others of your generation and achieve great things. You’re a little marvel, and I still can’t believe you are a part of me.

In the years to come, you will learn that your mother could not keep you. Like you, she was not really grown up. She can barely take care of herself, and though I know she loves you, she doesn’t yet have the thoughtfulness a good mother lavishes on her child.

Like you, I believe she is destined to do great things. It is my prayer that you both will realize your dreams and that one day you will meet again and compare your wonderful lives.

I want you to know, neither she nor I made this decision lightly. Giving you away has broken my heart, and I will never forget you. Ever.

Always know, my perfect little angel, that your mother and I love you a great deal.

Yours always,

Olivia

Libby sat back, her head spinning. She did not know whether to faint or throw up. Tension rippled through her body until finally she reminded herself to breathe.

Olivia. As in Olivia Carter?

She was Elaine’s grandmother. Hers was the greenhouse that Elaine was restoring.

Jesus.

If Olivia had written this to her . . .

I still can’t believe you are a part of me.

From what Libby had pieced together about Olivia, she knew Olivia had had only one child. A boy. And that boy had had one daughter. Elaine.

Libby’s father would not have saved Olivia’s letter unless it was vitally important. He had created a sole file for the letter because he was worried it might get lost in the shuffle of the other documents.

Absently, Libby held the letter to her nose, inhaling the very faint perfumed scent of Olivia Carter. The woman had been dead twenty years, but if she closed her eyes, she could feel her presence in the room.

Her father had not had the guts to give her this when he was alive. He needed death to stand between them before he could reveal the truth.

Elaine was her birth mother.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

SADIE

Friday, March 6, 1942

Bluestone, Virginia

“Sadie, you’re damn lucky,” the sheriff said as he sat at her kitchen table. Sadie’s mother sat beside her with her hands folded in a white ball. “Mrs. Carter has refused to press charges or lay any liability or property claim against you. She refuses to blame you for the accident.”

“It wasn’t my fault,” Sadie said. But she stopped short of saying that Miss Olivia had been driving or that she had been teaching her how to drive for months.

“Of course, Dr. Carter doesn’t want you to return to Woodmont or to drive his wife ever again,” the sheriff said with a slight smile. “And if he sees you on his land, he’ll swear out a warrant for your arrest.”

“It was no one’s fault. The road was slick,” Sadie argued.

Her mother laid her hand over Sadie’s. “We hear what you’re saying. Sadie won’t be a trouble to the Carters no more.”

The last few days, Olivia had spent her time digging in the cold soil, chopping through the fine layer of frost. Sadie tried to imagine the lush green vegetables that would spring from the earth by summer. It all looked so bleak now, but in time it would be lush and full again.

Sadie had hoped that time would ease the anger of Dr. Carter. She had hoped the wounds would mend and bear fruit like the winter soil. Come summer, when the honeysuckles bloomed, she hoped all would be fine.

“And I don’t want to see you making any more mash,” the sheriff said. “I’ll be paying frequent visits here to make sure of that.”

“But you had an agreement with my brother,” she said. “Johnny said we could cook and sell as long as we gave you a cut.”

The sheriff cleared his throat. “There’ll be no more of that. The last thing I want to do is get on the wrong side of Dr. Carter.”

There still was no word from Danny, but Johnny was sending some money home from the army. Her mother had her piecework, but all of it together was not enough to settle the rent due at the end of the month.