Page 46 of Everything We Left Unsaid

“There’s something I need to tell you about him. Several somethings, actually, but... I...”

“What’s wrong? Did he do something to you? Is he-”

“No, no! Nothing like that. It’s just that... well... I was wrong about him.”

A stretch of silence fills the room before Roselyn speaks. “How so?”

“He didn’t do what I thought he did.”

“What? You’re not making any sense.”

“All those texts. That letter. It wasn’t him. It was somebody pretending to be him.” Abby finds her voice and the words come spilling out like a waterfall. “He was in Africa the whole time. He lost his phone and couldn’t call me to tell me he was leaving. It was all so last minute.”

As she recites the whole story, I nearly break down hearing it all from her perspective. Tears thicken her voice when she gets to the part where she realized I was telling the truth. The guilt and regret she felt was an unbearable weight on her shoulders. I just want to hold her and comfort her and tell her everything is going to be okay.

“Oh, Abby.” That’s all Ros can say.

“You should see him with her,” Abby adds after a moment. “He’s an amazing father.” Hearing her say those words is like hearing the angels sing.

“So you believe him?” she asks.

“Yes, I do. I didn’t at first. Even after the whole signature thing, I doubted him. But my grandmother showed me the proof.” She sniffles and I yearn to hold her and comfort her. “And now I can’t believe I ever doubted him,” she cries.

“Shh, it’s okay.”

After a few minutes, Abby calms down and stops crying. “I need you to talk to Phil. He threw Jacob out the other day.”

“I think I’d like to talk to Jacob first,” she replies, and I stiffen. This can’t be good.

“Okay. He’s here with me. I left him out in the hall so I could talk to you.”

“Well, bring him in. Might as well get this over with.”

I step away from the door, not wanting to seem like I was eavesdropping, even though that was exactly what I was doing. My back is to her and I’m several feet away when Abby calls my name.

I turn toward the sound of her voice and my heart aches at the sight of her red, puffy eyes and flushed face. She waves me over and I step inside Roselyn’s office. She sits across the desk from us like a tiny Irish mob boss, her expression unreadable, elbows resting on her desk with her fingers steepled.

“Have a seat,” she instructs, and I comply. “I understand my husband was...” she pauses, waiting for the right word to come to her, “inhospitable to you the other day.”

“He wasn’t thrilled about my presence in your establishment.” I try to brush it off and act like it wasn’t as big a blow as it was.

She chuckles, which is the first sign of emotion she’s shown since I walked in. “You could say that again. We’ve been under the impression the last two years that you made some terrible choices and caused our beloved niece an immense amount of heartache.”

“I understand. His reaction was completely justified, considering what your family was made to believe.” She nods her head in agreement.

“Abby and Ama both seem to have faith that you’re telling the truth. Ethan,” she starts doubtfully, “seems to be on the fence.”

“He’s coming around,” I assure her, though my confidence in that prospect is wavering as we speak.

“So I hear.” She grins and huffs out a laugh “My nephew can be quite stubborn, but once you win him over, he’s loyal to a fault. Now,” she says, clapping her hands together. “I believe the last person we need to convince is my bull-headed husband.”

It takes me a moment to understand what she’s saying. “So you believe me?” I ask, stunned that she hasn’t demanded proof. It’s disconcerting the number of times I’ve had to say that recently, but I push that thought out of my mind.

“I do,” she confirms. “Abby and Ama are both intelligent, perceptive women and I trust their judgment. If they say your story checks out, then who am I to question it?”

“Thank you.”

“Now, your uncle may not be so easy to convince,” she warns Abby. “But I’ll work on him.” She stands up and comes around to the front of her desk. “And as for you,” she says, reaching for my hands. “You’re always welcome here.” She gives them a quick squeeze before letting go.

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