Karen Templeton - Fathers and Other Strangers

It was a shock, all right. But for very different reasons. While Hank stood there, paralyzed, staring at the photograph, Blair came in, hugging the pup to her chest. “Libby’s gotta go home, and I said I’d walk her, so is it okay to leave the puppy here with you? I think he’s getting pretty tired.”

Slowly, Hank forced himself to look up from the photograph…into a face uncannily like the image in his hand. As he did, he caught Cal’s frown at his obviously flummoxed expression, then saw his brother’s gaze dart to Blair. Hank finally found his voice, told Blair, sure, go ahead and leave the pup. After she left, Cal pried the photo from Hank’s grip. “Holy sh—” He looked at Hank, confusion swimming in his eyes. “That is totally weird…Hank? Hey—you okay?”

Hank grabbed the photo out of Cal’s hand. “Watch the dog,” he muttered on his way out the door.

The pounding on the cottage door sent the cat streaking into her bedroom and shaved five years off Jenna’s life. Then Hank roared her name and irritation gave way to stark terror, that Blair was hurt, that a forest fire was bearing down on the motel—

She yanked open the door, recoiling at the fury blazing in Hank’s eyes. Before she got her mouth open, he thrust a photograph into her hand.

“That’s my mother, when she was fourteen. Look like anybody you know?”

Jenna blanched: it was all there—the red hair, the freckles, even the shape of the eyelids. “Oh dear God,” she whispered. “This could be—”

“Yeah. So how about you tell me what the hell is going on here?”

Jenna swore, nausea swamping her as she sank onto the edge of the sofa, staring at the photograph. Look at him, her brain directed. Her eyes refused to obey.

“This isn’t exactly playing out the way I’d hoped it would,” she said.

“And what way might that be?”

His sarcasm knifed through her. Unable to breathe, to think, she looked up into a bitter, unforgiving gaze that turned her blood to ice. And yet from somewhere came the strength to bear the brunt of his anger.

“Look, you’ve got every right to be mad. Just not at me.”

“That’s for me to decide. Well?”

“Where’s Blair? I can’t risk her hearing any of this. Not yet.”

“She’s gone back to Libby’s for a minute.” He crossed his arms. “So talk fast.”

Still hanging on to the picture, Jenna got up, telling herself in a few minutes the worst would be over, that she should be grateful the decision had been wrested from her hands. Her mouth dry as dust, she went over to the sink for a glass of water. “It’s very possible that Blair’s your daughter.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“When my sister died,” she said, filling her glass from the tap, “she left a diary. According to an entry in it dated nearly fourteen years ago, you and she had a brief affair. An affair which left her pregnant.”

“That’s nuts. I never dated anyone named Stanton.”

“Not Stanton. That’s my married name. Hollins. Sandy Hollins.” As she gulped down her water, she watched him process this information. “Ring a bell?”

“Yeah. I remember Sandy. But you’ve got no proof I’m Blair’s father.”

“No, I don’t.” She picked up the photo from where she’d set it on the counter and handed it to him. “But you do.”

His gaze shot to hers; Jenna ached for the confusion in his eyes. “So why didn’t she tell me she was pregnant?”

“Sandy didn’t tell anyone she was pregnant. Until she showed up on my parents’ doorstep in her eighth month.” She paused. “She’d been using. The baby almost didn’t make it.”

He stared at her, hard, for several seconds, then walked over to the window, staring at his mother’s photograph in the light. There were a hundred things Jenna could have said. Not a single one of them would have made a bit of sense. So she waited.

“And you didn’t know about me until you read this diary?”

“No. I swear.”

“But that was…what was it you said? A few months ago?”

She almost smiled. “You don’t miss a single detail, do you?”

He didn’t smile back. “That’s why they paid me the big bucks.”

“It took a while to locate you,” she said and left it at that.

Hank was quiet for a moment or two, although Jenna could sense the tension writhing inside him. “Thought women were real funny about diaries. Reading someone else’s, I mean.”

“I wouldn’t have touched it while Sandy was alive, even if I’d known of its existence. But my sister was an enigma, to put it mildly.” She sighed. “Look, Blair thinks Sandy died from an overdose. Which is technically true. What she doesn’t know is that it was apparently deliberate.” Hank swore; Jenna went on. “So I thought maybe the diary would give me an insight or two into who the hell she was. Why she was so obviously unhappy. The last thing I expected was to stumble across a name she refused to reveal for thirteen years.”

Hank set the photograph on the table, then dragged his hand down his face. “I’m having a little trouble here…”

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