“All right.”
“Chatham said that there was a fourth man who might be my father. Is that true?”
Quinn expected Sylvia to deny the accusation, but she seemed to shrink into herself, staring into the fire as if she could find an answer in the flames. She suddenly looked older than her forty-eight years, her expression one of utter defeat. Quinn hadn’t realized how badly she wanted Sylvia to deny the existence of a fourth man until she saw the slump of her shoulders and the sudden pursing of the lips, giving Quinn the answer she needed.
“Yes, there was a fourth man,” Sylvia finally admitted, pinning Quinn with her gaze. “I didn’t tell you about him because I didn’t want you to think badly of me. Telling you that you had three possible fathers was hard enough.”
“Who was he, Sylvia? Was he a friend of Robert Chatham?”
“No.”
Sylvia reached for her glass and finished the wine in one long gulp before reaching for the bottle and refilling her glass. She was clearly upset, but Quinn felt surprisingly calm. Now that it was out in the open, she felt a strange sense of detachment instead of the pain of betrayal she expected to feel. She was there simply to learn the facts.
“I told you that my father and I moved after my mother left us,” Sylvia began.
“Yes.”
“I was new to the village, and it’s not easy to make friends when you are a teenage girl. You know how cliquey women canbe. I was lonely, especially at the weekends, since no one included me in their plans. I spent a lot of time reading and watching television to pass the time.”
Sylvia stole a peek at Quinn then carried on with her story. “My father hired Steven to make deliveries for him since he couldn’t leave the shop unattended, and I was too young to drive. There were several deliveries each week, and sometimes Steven took me along with my father’s blessing. He said I needed to get out of the house, so I did. At first, I didn’t really want to go, but as I got to know Steven, I began to enjoy spending time with him. He was easy-going and made me laugh. One thing led to another,” Sylvia said, shrugging her shoulders.
“Were you in love with him?” Quinn asked, wondering why Sylvia had been reluctant to talk about him.
“I suppose I was infatuated with him for a time, but he was married, you see. He had two children. I was nothing more than a plaything for him, an amusing diversion. When I told him that I was pregnant, he told me to sort it out on my own and stopped taking my calls. He was afraid I’d destroy his marriage.”
“And how did Robert Chatham know about you two?” Quinn asked.
“Steven did some work on the Chatham estate, as gardener and handyman. He must have let something slip.”
Which was why Robert Chatham thought Sylvia was easy pickings when he invited her to his house that night, Quinn thought, but didn’t say anything out loud.
“Is there a possibility that he’s my father?” Quinn asked.
“I hadn’t been with Steven for several weeks before that night at Robert Chatham’s house. His wife had the flu, so he wasotherwise engaged, taking care of his girls,” Sylvia said, her tone bitter. “I suppose it’s possible, but you were born exactly nine months after that night. You could have come late, of course. I never even thought of that.”
“So why did you tell him you were pregnant if you didn’t think he was responsible?” Quinn asked, probing for holes in Sylvia’s story.
“I was young and scared, and I hoped that he would help me, or at least offer me some support. I never expected him to leave his wife and children; I just wanted to know that he cared. But he cut me dead instead. I was too much of a threat to his home life.”
Sylvia angrily wiped away the tears that had begun to slide down her cheeks. “I’m sorry, Quinn. I’m not the mother you deserve. I royally cocked things up, but I paid for my stupidity and I continue to pay for it. That night has haunted me my whole life, and it will be the undoing of any relationship I might hope to have with you. I better go,” Sylvia said as she sprang to her feet.
“Sylvia, wait,” Quinn said. She’d been angry after speaking to Robert Chatham, but now all she felt was pity for this woman who’d had a bunch of callous, cruel men ruin her life. She’d be damned if she allowed them to continue to cause damage.
“Sylvia, I don’t think badly of you. We all make mistakes, and as you said, you’ve paid for yours. I don’t care what you did and with whom. I only wanted to know the truth.”
“Thank you,” Sylvia said as the tears began to flow again. “Quinn, I know that you feel driven to know who your father is, but for God’s sake, please, let it go. Nothing good can come of it. These men are not worthy of having you for a daughter, and whether you were fathered by Steven Kane or Seth Besson, you arethe person that you are, and nothing will change that. Learning the truth will only cause you pain.”
Quinn walked over to Sylvia and put her arms around her, hugging her mother for the first time in her life. “I know you are right, but I won’t be able to rest until I find out. Sylvia, I need to know where I come from and who my ancestors were. I need to fill in the blanks so that I can move forward.”
Sylvia nodded. “I know. And I hope you find the answers you seek. I just don’t want you to be disappointed with the people who’ve created you.”
“I’m not,” Quinn replied and meant it. “I’m glad that you found me, and nothing I learn from this point on will change that.”
“I hope you’re right. I would hate to lose you all over again.”
“You won’t. Now, let’s pick a date for our get-together. I want you to meet Gabe… and Emma,” Quinn added, gratified by Sylvia’s hopeful expression.
FORTY-FIVE