Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 100275 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 501(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100275 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 501(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
“Sorry. I’m looking through a box of random documents that belonged to my mom. Trying to find . . .” I blow out a breath. “I don’t know.” I set a stack of large envelopes on my lap. “I miss you, Fitz. And I’m not saying that to guilt you, I just—”
“I miss you too.”
His words wrap around my heart, giving it just what it needs after I showed that photo to Dwight. Uncle Dwight.
I open my mouth to say I love you, but I stop short of those three words. He knows I love him. We’ve come too far. I don’t want to spook him. I want him to feel my love but not feel suffocated by it.
“I’ll book a flight for the end of October.”
“Sounds good.”
“Bye,” I murmur before ending the call.
Just as I suspected when I threw these papers in the box, they’re a bunch of tax returns, old rental agreements, and car-loan documents. Another envelope has my father’s death and birth certificates.
Karl Hayden Andrews
He was thirty-seven when he died—a computer engineer for NASA.
I don’t remember much about him, but I remember watching a shuttle launch from Kennedy Space Center. I remember being on his shoulders. At least, I think I remember. Maybe my mom showed me a picture, and I’m remembering that.
Her death certificate is in its envelope, which I shoved into the box before moving to Missoula. I sift through the papers to see if her birth certificate is there, but I come across mine first and set it aside to put it in a spot where I can find it easily.
I continue searching for her birth certificate and find it folded between her high school and college diplomas.
My chest grows heavier with each passing minute. Both her diplomas and her birth certificate say Samantha Grace Keane. Nothing has the name Lauren.
Why did she change her name?
I call Melissa.
“Hey. How are you doing?”
“Good,” I say, without sounding believable. “I need to find Barbara Keane, Dwight’s daughter. Today, I showed him a picture of my mom, and he knew . . . he knew right away that she was his sister.”
“Damn.”
“I know. Right? I think I knew before I showed it to him, but I was still taken aback when he confirmed it. So I’ve been digging through this box of stuff I kept after cleaning out my mom’s place. I found her birth certificate and her high school and college diplomas. Her name was Samantha Grace Keane. Not Lauren Samantha Mendes, which she told me was her maiden name. The truth’s been right here all along.”
“Shit, Jamie. That’s . . .”
“I know. Trust me. I know. So before I announce a reunion with my uncle Dwight, I need to find Barbara, if she can be found. Something tells me she’s the only one who can help me make sense of this.”
“You need a private investigator. When I searched for Barbara Keane, my head was spinning because I couldn’t find any mention of her beyond the articles about the fire. And if she’s married, she’ll have a different name. But that’s beyond me. I’m not an investigator.”
“Is that crazy? Getting a private investigator?”
“Crazy is trying to figure this out yourself.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
The private investigator I hired is backed up, but he promised to start looking into Barbara Keane as soon as possible. On the one hand, I’m relieved because I’m still struggling to come to grips with the idea that my mom lied to me. On the other hand, I just want it over, the mystery solved, so I can move on with my life.
This trip to Missoula for the weekend is exactly what I need to keep my mind off the debacle of my past.
A few phone calls and daily texts are not enough.
I’m dying to see Fitz. Will and Maren too.
“Oh my god! That face says everything.” Maren gives me a mock-pouty expression when I exit the airport in Missoula.
“Hey!” I park my roller bag and hug her. “What look are you referring to? What face?”
She releases me. “I told Fitz and Will I wanted to pick you up. I said you’d be most excited to see me.” She takes my roller bag and pulls it toward the parking lot. “But your face dropped the second you spied me.”
“That is not true.” I clasp her free hand and squeeze it. “I have missed you something fierce.”
“But have you missed me as much as say . . . Will?”
I giggle.
“Or, uh . . . who’s that other guy you lived with? Oh, Calvin. Surely you didn’t miss that asshole.” She unlocks her car and deposits my bag in the back before turning with a sly grin.
I bite my lips together. Eyes wide.
“Matching tattoos.”
I nod slowly, knowing I must look like a mammoth pile of guilt.
“What’s it like to fall in love with grumpy Calvin Fitzgerald? Better yet, how is that possible?”