Page 21 of Everything We Left Unsaid

Jacob

I slam thepen and paper down on the table and rake my hands through my hair. Leaning over the table, clenching my jaw tight to keep from screaming, I try to make sense of everything that just unfolded. I thought that finding out why Abby kept Chloe from me would give me a sense of peace, but all it did was raise more questions. Who would do this? Who has this kind of access to my family, to my father’s personal stationery, and would want to completely fuck with my life? It has to be someone who works for us. There are several people in and out of our house on a daily basis, but how could they have found out about Abby? About us?

My phone.

Abby claimed to receive text messages from me that I never sent. I couldn’t have sent them. I was on another continent and my phone was lost somewhere in my house. Whoever found it must have been the person who texted her and sent that letter. Shit, the letter.

Abby’s sobs break through my haze and I pull her into my arms. I can’t imagine how she felt or what she thought when she received this letter. No wonder she refused to talk to me when I called. But how could she believe that was me? I thought she knew me. I thought what we had was special and that she felt it, too.

“I didn’t write that letter,” I repeat, hoping the proof of my signature exonerated me. “And I never sent those texts. Somebody had my phone. Somebody was using it without my knowledge. I lost it before I left for Africa,” I explain. “I didn’t have it for six weeks.”

She pulls away from me, sniffling and wiping her nose. “What? You were in Africa?” she asks incredulously. “Why?”

“The internship. I went to Sudan.”

She takes another step back, her eyes narrowing in a glare. “You told me you didn’t get the internship,” she states, her voice laced with accusation. “So, either you’re lying to me now, or you lied to me back then.”

I heave a deep breath and try to calm my rising temper, reminding myself she doesn’t know, that she doesn’t trust me because someone made her believe the worst of me. “I’m not lying. I never lied to you,” I proclaim. “Someone dropped out at the last minute. I found out less than forty-eight hours before I had to be at the airport that I was going and had no way of telling you.”

“What? I don’t understand!”

“I lost my phone,” I answer in a low voice, defeat settling deep in my bones. “After they told me I was chosen to go as an alternate, I lost track of it. My family and I were celebrating, and I just didn’t think about it. It wasn’t until that evening when I went to call you so I could tell you the good news that I realized it was missing. I tore my room apart looking for it. I harassed Luke, but he didn’t have Tiff’s number anymore.” Recognition flashes in her eyes. She knows at least that part is true.

“I looked everywhere for you, but you weren’t on social media. I even tried calling Rosie’s right before I boarded the plane, but they were closed. I vowed to find you when I got back.” She squeezes her eyes shut and tears stream down her cheeks. The truth is finally coming out, and no matter how much it hurts, she needs to hear it all.

“When I got home, someone had found my phone. I was elated that I’d finally be able to talk to you again, and then you shut me out.” She winces at the memory, knowing it’s true. “I thought you were mad because you hadn’t heard from me in so long. Then I thought you couldn’t possibly have felt the same way about me as I did about you if you could so easily cut me off like that. So I just stopped trying.”

“That wasn’t it at all!” she cries, her shoulders shaking as she buries her head in her hands. I pull her back to me and wrap my arms around her. Her arms encircle my ribs and she presses her face into my chest, soaking my shirt with her tears. It feels good to have her in my arms again. It feels even better knowing she didn’t just cut me out of her life for no reason. She thought I wanted nothing to do with our daughter. What she thought I wanted her to do... I can understand why she never wanted to talk to me again. But at the same time, she never gave me a chance to explain myself. When she received my call that day, not knowing I’d been out of the country for six weeks, she should’ve heard me out. I could’ve been calling to say I’d changed my mind, or to say I was sorry and beg her forgiveness, for all she knew.

A renewed ache settles into my chest. I know I need to get some distance to get my head on straight, so I release her and settle my hands on her upper arms, gently pulling her away from my chest.

“I think we both need some time to process this.” She nods and sucks in a shaky breath. “I’m going to go now. I’ll…” I begin, but I don’t know where to go from here. Do I come back tomorrow and hang out with Ama and Chloe, or should I wait until evening for Abby to be home? Fuck this. She’s my daughter, and I’ve spent enough time away from her. I’m not going to tiptoe around anymore, not now that everything’s out in the open. “I’ll be back tomorrow to see Chloe,” I assert, releasing my hold on her. She nods again, unable to speak, and bows her head in defeat. I turn and walk away, leaving her standing in the kitchen, both of our heads reeling from this revelation.

I’m at Abby’s house early the next morning, but not early enough to see her before she leaves for work. Ama greets me at the door and Chloe comes running toward me, her tiny body slamming into my legs.

“Dacob!” she croons, and my heart soars. She may not know who I am to her yet, but she can sense our connection. I reach down to her, unsure if she’ll let me pick her up. She raises her dimpled arms and lets me lift her into mine.

“Hi,” she says in her soft, sweet voice.

“Hi, baby girl,” I return her greeting, smiling like a damn fool as we walk to the kitchen table. “Something smells good.” My stomach growls as a delicious aroma wafts through the air.

“We were just sitting down to breakfast. Would you like to join us?” Ama offers.

“I’d love to.” I take a seat at the table next to Chloe’s highchair as Ama settles her in it to eat. “This looks amazing,” I praise, looking over the spread. She’s covered all the breakfast bases: Pancakes, bacon, eggs, orange juice, and coffee. “Do you guys cook like this every morning?”

“No, just on the weekends.” I look at her quizzically. It’s only Thursday, and until I got here, it was just her and Chloe. She catches my expression and smiles at me weakly. “I figured you might be by this morning, so I went ahead and made a big breakfast. Chloe usually just eats fruit and eggs with her mama.” She brushes her fingers over Chloe’s soft curls, and the look of pure adoration lighting up her features makes me grateful that she’s in my daughter’s life.

“How did you know I’d be by this morning?”

“Abby told me about last night.” She gives me a sympathetic look, understanding flashing in her obsidian eyes. “I know what type of man you are. I knew you’d be over here trying to make things right.” She grabs my hand from across the table and holds my gaze. “I doubted you. I’ll admit it,” she begins regretfully. “When Abby showed me that letter and told me what happened, I didn’t want to believe it. But I did.” Her shoulders slump and she hangs her head, the weight of a thousand heartaches bearing down on her.

“For two years, I let myself believe you were the villain in this story,” she admits guiltily. “I watched my only granddaughter fall apart and slowly put herself back together. I watched her become a mother, an absolutely amazing, wonderful mother,” she adds, tears brimming in her eyes. “She worked her fingers to the bone, finished school, got her degree, and landed the job of her dreams. And she did it all by herself. I was so proud of her, but I resented you.”

Her confession stings. Not just because she resented me, but because she believed I could be that person. I know it’s not fair to feel that way. She didn’t know me. We only had a handful of encounters the whole time I was here, but after the incident with Caleb, I would’ve thought she’d have more faith in me than that.

“But after she told me what happened last night, I felt so relieved. Relieved that you weren’t who we thought you were. But even more so, I was relieved that I didn’t have to doubt you anymore.”

“So, you believe me? You know it wasn’t me who wrote the letter? Or sent those texts?”

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