Don't Say a Word - Barbara Freethy [98]
Alex came to her side, squatting down next to her. "Why don't you open it?"
"Do you think I should? It's my mom's personal letter. She meant to mail it the day before she died. I remember watching her struggle to write it, but she said she had something important to say."
"Maybe a confession," Alex suggested. "Go on, open it."
"Why would she confess to someone named Rick Sanders?" At his pointed glance, she slid a finger under the flap and opened the envelope. There was one piece of notepaper inside. Julia took a breath and began to read. "Dear Rick. I know we agreed not to speak, but I must let you know that I'm very sick. I don't think I'll make it another month…" Julia's voice faltered as she realized she was reading some of her mother's very last words. "I can't." She held the paper out to Alex.
He took over. "I'll think of you fondly always. I know you were angry with me for what I did, but it worked out the best for all of us. Julia is a beautiful woman now. And I have another daughter as well. My life turned out to be very happy. I hope that you, too, were able to find some happiness. I know you made the ultimate sacrifice, but I was never surprised by your actions. You were and are the most heroic man I've ever known. Love, Sarah."
Alex lifted his head, his gaze meeting hers. "Who do you think it is?" she asked. "Who is Rick Sanders?"
"Maybe we should ask your father."
"I don't think so. I don't believe he would want to read a letter like this from my mother to another man, one signed with love."
Alex turned over the envelope. "The address is in St. Helena. That's about an hour and a half from here, isn't it?"
"Just north of Napa. You're not thinking of going there, are you?"
"Why not? You said your mother wrote this letter just before she died, and that it was important. I think we should deliver it personally."
"It's odd how she spoke of me by name, as if the person would know me, but not Liz," Julia mused. "You're right. We need to go there."
"What about work? Do you have a show tonight?"
"That was the call I made earlier. I've already arranged to cover my job for a few days, so I can devote my time to figuring out what's going on." She paused. "We haven't completely finished here."
"It doesn't look like these boxes are going anywhere."
"You're right about that. I'm sure my dad hasn't set foot in this room since he moved in." She hesitated. "I should say good-bye to him. And I should probably talk to him about the drinking he's doing. Liz is right. I have been shirking my responsibilities in that regard."
"That sounds like too long a conversation to have right now. And one you should probably have when your father is one hundred percent sober," he pointed out.
"True. I guess it can wait. I just hope my mother wasn't having an affair with Rick Sanders. My father would be devastated-" She stopped abruptly, clapping a hand to her mouth. "Oh, my God. You don't think Rick Sanders is my real father, do you?"
Julia had two hours to ponder that question on the drive to St. Helena, a small town in the wine country north of San Francisco. She'd been focusing so much on her mother that she hadn't thought about her biological father, but it made sense that her mother would have written to him just before she died. What didn't make sense was that she'd kept him a secret, never told Julia who he was or where he lived, which wasn't all that far from where she'd grown up.
As Alex turned off the freeway, Julia rolled down the window and let the fresh air blow against her face and through her hair. It really was a beautiful area, she thought as they passed apple orchards and fields of grapevines from which were made some of the best wines in the world. Growing up in an Italian family, she'd certainly tasted her fair share of red wine, but she'd never actually toured the wine country. Her father and uncle had gone a few times, but her mother had never been interested.
Why? Because the wine country was too close to someone of significance in her life?
"You haven't said a word in