Nora looked at the numbers carved into Bren’s gravestone. Twenty years ago, Morris’s daughter had come into the world without his knowledge. Not only had Celeste wronged him by not telling him about their child, but she’d also denied Bren the chance to know her father.
“That must have been some phone call,” Nora said. “To hear from your ex-girlfriend after so many years would have been enough. But to learn that you had a daughter too? I can’t imagine.”
Morris worked the muscles in his jaw. “It was an email, actually. Cecily used a library computer to find me and to create an email account. I didn’t believe her at first. About Bren. I thought it was a trick of some kind. A way to get money. It sounds awful when I say it out loud, but I hadn’t heard a word from her in over twenty years.”
“I would have been suspicious too,” Nora assured him.
“Then she sent me pictures of Bren. Tons of them. Brenna was the spitting image of my mama. There was no denying that she shared my DNA. Cecily didn’t want money. She didn’t want to make waves. She just wanted Bren to live where I lived. To get to know me over time. Cecily didn’t have any family, and if something happened to her, she wanted Bren to have at least one person looking out for her.”
Nora’s limbs were stiff with cold, but she couldn’t move until she heard the rest of Morris’s story. “Did she tell you about Wolf Beck? Did she say that he might hurt Bren? Or her? That he would do anything to get Juliana’s book?”
“No.” Morris sat back on his heels. “I had no idea that Cecily was in danger. I just figured that she’d outgrown the homesteading lifestyle. She refused to talk about Still Waters, and I assumed she felt a sense of shame for embracing creature comforts like running water and central heating. When I stopped by to see her at the store after she moved in, she told me that we could only be friends if I focused on the present and future, not the past.”
“That doesn’t seem very fair.”
Morris slowly got to his feet. “She made an exception when it came to Bren. She’d tell me whatever I wanted to know about our daughter, and since Bren was the one I truly cared about, the bargain was fine with me.”
“Did you get a chance to learn things about her?”
“A few.” Morris pointed at the daisy crowns. “I knew about those. I knew that when she got older, she liked the irises that grew by the riverbanks better. She loved to sew, put on fashion shows, catch fish, and draw. She started making jewelry when she was knee-high.” He dipped his hand in his coat pocket and showed Nora his prize. It was one of Bren’s crystal necklaces. “I love to hold this—to know that my daughter made it.”
Nora didn’t say anything. What comfort could she offer to this man—this father—who’d lost a child within days of seeing her face for the first time?
But Morris didn’t need Nora to speak. He needed her to listen. To hear his story. “I only met Bren for a second. I felt okay about that second because I thought we had plenty of time.” He shook his head. “She was polite. Said hello and kept on doing what she was doing. I tried not to stare. Tried not to freak her out. But she looked so much like my mama. It was hard for me to leave the shop. To go on about my business knowing that my girl was in the same town. I couldn’t think straight.”
“Did Connie know? About Bren?”
Morris looked like he might be sick to his stomach. “Yes. Connie made a scrapbook for my mama’s seventy-fifth birthday, which was half a year ago. She went through hundreds of pictures of my mama, including the one she used as the album cover. My mama was twenty-one when it was taken, and—Hold on, I can show you.”
Suddenly, his phone was in his hand and he was scrolling through hundreds of thumbnail images.
“Look at this, and tell me what you see.”
Nora saw a young woman with long, dark brown hair and pale skin. She had an aquiline nose, a stubborn set to her jaw, full lips, a heart-shaped face, and a mischievous expression in her eyes. “She and Bren could be sisters.”
Morris pocketed the phone. “That’s why, when I saw pictures of Bren, I knew she was mine. Connie saw Bren the day she and Cecily were moving in. She asked Cecily a bunch of questions. When she found out Cecily was from Alabama, well, that’s when she came up with a whole new agenda for her women’s group.” He groaned. “I was going to tell her everything. I just wanted a few days—a week at most—to let this new reality sink in before I told Connie and my kids. We were still relative newcomers to town. I was still figuring out my role at the church. And here was Bren. It was a lot. I just wanted a few days. But that was the wrong decision. When I got that first email from Cecily, I should have told Connie right then. I don’t know why I kept it from her.”