Page 95 of My Ex-Best Friend's Wedding

I see her trying to process this and I hold my breath, not sure if she’ll want to see and hear the details of the past I’ve never mentioned. Jake looks far less uncertain than I feel, but then he always has.

“Who owns it now?” Lauren asks, looking pointedly at theFOR SALEsign that my eyes keep skittering past. “Do you think we could go inside?”

“My father wrote me off when I refused to give you up. According to Aunt Velda it was left to some distant cousin. I don’t think he ever lived in it and I’m not sure how many times it’s changed hands.” I don’t add that I made it a point not to know.

“There’s a lockbox on the front porch, so I’m assuming it’s empty,” Jake said. “We could probably peek in a few windows without anyone calling the police.”

Lauren does exactly that. I follow along, but I can’t bring myself to look. Not looking doesn’t stop the rush of memories.

“I loved the backyard the most. Mama...” I freeze at the sound of the word. I can’t remember the last time I said it. Or even really allowed myself to think it. “She planted a big flowering dogwood back there. Sometimes... I’d almost forgotten, but sometimes she’d have Beulah bring us iced tea and lemon bars out there. Just the two of us.”

We walk around the side of the house while things I never knew I remembered fill my head and pour out of my mouth. All the things I could have shared with my daughter but keptlocked away instead. So that I wouldn’t miss them? Or so that she wouldn’t know that her grandfather didn’t even want her to exist?

“Oh, this is so pretty,” Lauren murmurs when we come to the brick patio beneath the branches of the dogwood. “It’s so much tamer here than Nags Head and the Sandcastle.”

“Yes.” My eyes blur with tears. “I guess choosing something entirely different was no accident.”

Jake puts an arm around my shoulders as Lauren peers in the French doors.

“Don’t know what you folks are doin’ back heah, but you really need to call the Realtor before you go poking around.”

The voice not only startles it dredges up more memories. It’s weaker than I remember and so is its owner, but the old-school Richmond accent is unmistakable. “Mr. Burke?”

“Yeah. Who’s askin’?”

“It’s me.” I walk closer. “Kendra Munroe.”

Lauren blinks up at the name I walked away from when I left Richmond. The name that had meant so much to my father that he’d rather lose his daughter than have it besmirched.

“Well, now.” He peers at me through Coke-bottle glasses. “It is you, isn’t it? I don’t suppose either of us looks exactly like we used to.”

“No, I don’t suppose we do.”

He looks at Jake. “Aren’t you the Warner boy?”

Jake laughs. “Guilty. Though it’s been a while since anyone called me a boy.”

“And who’s this pretty woman?” He nods to Lauren.

“This is my, our, daughter, Lauren.”

“Well, now. Isn’t that something?” His smile is tinged with memories of his own. “Your father never mentioned you after you... left. He always was a right tough nut to crack.” His sigh is weary. “Never knew him to change his mind or stop worrying about what others thought of him in all the years we wereneighbors. Course, I guess he had his hands full what with your mother’s illnesses and all.” He shakes his head slowly with what looks like real regret. “I didn’t know they had a grandchild. Damn shame how they died so young. Most usually we get a might smarter with age.”

When he departs the three of us stand staring at one another. I’m not sure what should happen next.

Lauren

I stand on the back patio of a house I’ve never seen or even heard of, staring at my parents and into a past I can’t believe is mine.

I’m exhausted from Bree’s and my race to reach Lily and from the glut of adrenaline and emotion that have been slamming into me like meteors crashing into the earth. Witnessing the power of a mother’s need to protect her child is something I’ll never forget.

My life has already changed and expanded since I let Bree back in it. I’m not sure how much more I can take. I can tell where my mother’s headed. But am I ready to go there? After refusing to forgive her for keeping things from me, can I refuse to listen to whatever she chooses to share?

“My father never forgave me for running from the altar, for being pregnant and unmarried, for refusing to give you up.” Kendra swallows. “He found all of those things humiliating. A poor reflection on him.” Her hands twist together. She looks down at them for a moment before forcing herself to meet my eyes. “I never understood why he always chose public opinion over his own flesh and blood. He never acknowledged that my mother suffered from depression. Maybe if he had she would have received better treatment. Would have had a chance of getting better. I’ll never know.” She shrugs. Unlike Shane Adams’sshrug that revealed a lack of feeling, my mother’s reveals too much. “And I didn’t treat my mother any better. Deep down I never really forgave her for being too weak to stand up to him. For choosing to please him instead of choosing her daughter and granddaughter. Though I guess that’s a little bit like refusing to forgive a Chihuahua for not being a Doberman.”

She pauses and draws a breath that even I can see is shaky. “It turns out forgiveness is a tricky thing. It’s hard to ask for. And even harder to give. Especially all the way and without reservations or conditions.” She looks at my father and her face fills with what looks like amazement. “I still don’t know how Jake has managed to forgive me for keeping you from him. But I am so very grateful.”

She meets my gaze again. “I can only say what I said before. I honestly believed I was protecting you both. And I guess I was trying to protect a stranger who reminded me too much of my mother. The thing is, my parents died before forgiveness was ever asked for. And all these years despite the hurt and anger I still feel, I wish more than anything that we had found a way back to each other. In the end, Lauren, we never know how long we have.”

---