50 Harbor Street - Debbie Macomber [114]
Roy nodded.
“He didn’t know,” Corrie explained hurriedly. “I never told him.”
“She couldn’t.” Roy wasn’t willing to let Corrie take all the responsibility for this. “And that was my fault. But it doesn’t matter now. We want you to know you have a sister who was given up for adoption.”
“Wait.” Once again Mack was on his feet. He clutched his head with both hands, as if to hold all his thoughts inside. “She’s the one who’s been sending you those postcards?”
“We believe so,” Corrie said quietly.
“Another sister?”
“Yes.”
“I have two older sisters,” he whispered, obviously finding this hard to take in. “Does Linnette know?”
“Not yet.”
Mack continued to gaze at them in astonishment. “When do you plan on telling her?”
The relief Roy felt at revealing this part of his past with Mack made him want to finish what they’d started. “Let’s do it now,” he suggested.
“I’ll phone Linnette,” Corrie said, sharing his eagerness.
While she was in the kitchen, Roy and Mack sat in the living room, still a bit awkward with each other.
“I’ve been doing some hiking in the Olympic rain forest,” Mack remarked.
“I always enjoyed hiking myself,” Roy said, and then added tentatively, “perhaps one weekend the two of us could do a day hike. There are some great ones in this area.”
Mack grinned. “I’d like that.”
Corrie returned from the kitchen. “Linnette has some kind of arrangement with a friend this morning. But she said if we came right away, she’s got half an hour.”
They piled into Roy’s car and he drove to the apartment complex on the Cedar Cove waterfront. Their daughter met them at her front door.
Linnette noticed the changed relationship between Roy and Mack immediately. “Hey, you guys,” she said as the three of them gathered in her living room. “What’s going on?”
“Prepare to be surprised,” Mack said, exchanging a grin with Roy. “You’d better sit down.”
“It must be good news,” she said, glancing from one to the other with a puzzled frown.
“It’s wonderful news,” Mack said.
Linnette spread her hands wide. “Then tell me!”
“We have a sister,” Mack blurted out.
Reacting the same way as her brother, Linnette was instantly on her feet. “What?”
Slowly, refusing to omit any detail, Corrie and Roy told their story for the second time that morning.
Linnette sat dumbfounded, hardly able to ask questions. “I have a sister?” she repeated. “We have a sister?”
“I wanted to tell you,” Corrie said. “A dozen times, at least, I tried. But you always seemed to have something going on in your own life and I didn’t want to burden you with more.”
“Oh, Mom, I can’t imagine you going through this alone. You were so young….”
That sufficiently elevated Roy’s guilt. When Corrie answered their daughter, she didn’t blame him, nor did she discount how agonizing a time it had been.
“I was fortunate to have supportive parents,” she explained. “They never pressured me one way or the other when it came to deciding my baby’s future. Mom and Dad backed me one hundred percent.”
The doorbell chimed. “That’s Gloria. We were planning to go shopping at the mall.”
“I’ll get it,” Roy said. He was closest to the front door.
Gloria’s eyes widened when Roy let her into the apartment. “I believe we’ve met,” he said, extending his hand. “I’m Linnette’s father—and yours.” He heard the gasp behind him as his family took in what he’d just said.
Gloria gave him a slow smile. “I wondered when you’d figure it out.”
Roy hugged her, nearly choking on emotion. Then he turned to face his family, one arm around Gloria’s waist. “Corrie, this is our daughter.”
Corrie rushed forward, tears flowing down her face, and threw her arms around Gloria. “Oh, baby,” she murmured. “My baby.”
“Gloria,” Linnette said in a shocked voice. “You? It’s you?”
Gloria, who was weeping now, nodded. “You can’t imagine how excited I was when I discovered you were my new neighbor. It seemed like fate when you moved in practically next door.”
“I felt a bond with you from the beginning,” Linnette told her.
Gloria wiped the tears from her cheeks. “Now you know why.”
“How did you find us?” Corrie