Page 110 of Perfect Pitch

She told me the secret to finding the piano and the old homestead long ago because, “You have a right to know our family history, Austyn. It doesn’t matter whether you’re a male, a woman, or a cyborg. You’re a Kensington. And that history can only be passed on through you.”

“That must have hurt to have admitted that, Mama,” I say quietly.

“It did. At that point, we introduced ourselves, and he made some cutting remarks.”

“Of course he did.”

“For as much as being a Kensington has been a blessing in many ways, you and I both know it carries with it a fair share of burdens.”

“Just a fair share?”

My mother cuts her eyes to mine. “I was going for the understatement, darling.”

“That’s a hell of a one, Mama. So what happened next?”

“I told him he was stupid if he believed everything he heard about me and I started to walk away.”

My eyes round. “And he?”

“Stopped me. Said I was right. In some ways, it was freeing. Here was this... boy? Man? Who had these preconceived notions about me and I saw them shatter in seconds. Maybe that was the first moment I fell in love with him? I really don’t know.” My mother’s breath shudders out of her.

Their story is burned in my memory now. Eyes wet, I still can’t get past one thing and say, “He was playing the piano.”

“He wasn’t just playing it, baby, Beau was making magic on it. His name was Beau Miller.”

I reach for her hand and grip it tightly. “My father’s name is Beau Miller.”

She hedges. “Legally, yes.”

My head tips to the side, causing my braids to brush against my bared midriff. “What does that mean?”

Then I’m handed a book I’ve never seen before. It’s a baby book. I frown in confusion. “I already have one of these.”

“This is your real one, sweetheart.”

I suck in a breath and flip it open. The first page has the confirmation of my mother’s pregnancy. Quietly she narrates what I’m reading. “Can you imagine Gramps’s reaction when I told him I was pregnant? Especially when he didn’t know I was dating anyone?”

“Oh god. Mama, you must have been terrified.”

“I was more terrified for Beau, if you want to know the truth. But after hours of screaming and yelling at me, I finally crumbled and told him the name. He packed me into his car, and we drove over to the Millers’ house.”

Before I can turn the page, she takes it and lays it aside. “There was exactly one reason I asked you to wait until you were eighteen before you asked me for your father’s name.”

“Why?”

“To protect you,” she explains simply.

“I’ve asked for years if he’s an axe murderer,” I half joke.

“You might wish he was.” She stands and reaches for my hand. Leading me over to the desk, she explains, “Gramps confronted the Millers only to find out your father—”

“Biological father, because Uncle Jesse and Uncle Ethan were more my fathers than anything this man ever was,” I correct her.

My mother presses a kiss to my cheek. “Be sure to tell them that the next time you’re home. Your biological father had left town.”

“You have got to be kidding me,” I hiss.

“You knew this, Austyn.” Her voice holds a note of exasperation.

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