Page 20 of Unmasked Legacy

Two houses down from my old place.

I’m going to see if I can find Paul.

6

Reaching up, I carefully knock on the door.

The first house I went to, two houses down on the left of my old home, wasn’t Paul. In fact, it was a grumpy old woman who cursed at me and told me to get out of town and that she didn’t want me bringing bad spirits into their neighborhood. Clearly hating me as much as the rest of them, I got the hell out of there.

That only leaves this house – a worn-down little cottage with peeling white paint and an overgrown garden.

It’s sad, like the love has been sucked right out of this place.

Knocking again, I’ve just lowered my hand when the door opens, revealing a man possibly in his early fifties. He has soft brown hair and kind green eyes. He’s well built, but his body is slightly hunched, as if he’s tired. The moment our eyes meet, though, I know I’ve found the right person. I know because he jerks like he has seen a ghost, then a sadness washes over his features that runs deep.

“I’m sorry to bother you,” I say quickly. “But are you Paul?”

His eyes dart behind me, then come back to mine. “How did you find me?”

I almost exhale with relief.

“I found this.”

I hand him the letter, and he doesn’t even need to open it to know what it is. His face scrunches in pain, and it rips my heart into pieces. This man is broken, broken because he was clearly in love with my mother.

“Can I come in?” I ask, softly.

He nods, stepping aside.

I enter his home, which is clean and tidy on the inside. He points to a small sofa, and I take a seat before he sits across from me, the letter held tight in his hand like he’s afraid to let it go.

“I heard you were back in town,” he murmurs, staring down at his hands a moment before finally looking up at me.

“Were you and my mother having an affair?”

I blurt the words, unable to help it.

Paul’s mouth tightens before he nods sharply.

“I’m sorry,” I go on. “I know this must be difficult, but I just ... I need answers. So many things feel wrong about my life, and I spent most of it thinking my mother died in an accident, only to find out her death was ruled as a suicide.”

“She didn’t kill herself,” Paul growls, his voice low. “She would have never left you willingly.”

My heart aches. “I’m starting to believe that, and I guess we both know who was behind her death, but I want to know why.”

“How much do you know about your father’s past?”

I shake my head. “Only the lies he told me.”

“It was dark. Your mother told me all about him. He was raised with a mother who was free with herself, so to speak. His father, who he believed was a good man, worked and did everything he could to provide for his family, only to have her constantly going around with other men behind his back. He knew about it, and, eventually, it got to be so much that he took his own life, leaving his kids with her. She couldn’t handle them, so she threw them into the system and never looked back.”

Oh.

I never knew that.

He always told me he had great parents who died of old age before I could meet them.

Is every single thing he told me a lie?

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