Believe In Me
Ethan stared at the woman seated stiffly at the kitchen table, her hands clasped in her lap. Behind, her niece stood with her arms folded and a bewildered look on her face.
The older woman offered a tentative smile. “Please, have a seat.”
Ethan pulled out the chair opposite hers and sank onto it. Briefly he rested his elbows on the tabletop and then, thinking his bearing too casual, pulled them back. With his spine straight against the seat back, he laid his palms on his thighs, keeping his eyes on her—the mother he couldn’t remember.
Her smile widened, affection softening her eyes. “You are so handsome. You look so much like your dad, I’d know you anywhere.” She spoke with a slight accent, which he’d expected, but her voice had a deeper tone than he’d imagined. She also looked smaller and more delicate in person than she had in the old photographs he’d seen, though her smile had the same deep curve.
He didn’t reply at first; he could hardly manage to breathe. He found it both disconcerting and fascinating to look at this stranger’s face and see elements of his own features. In the photos he hadn’t noticed the strength of the resemblance. At fifty-five she was still slender and attractive. Her straight blond hair, bobbed at her chin, had only a single gray streak curving down one side.
He had a million questions to ask her but couldn’t quite find his voice.
She spoke again, gently. “How did you find me?”
Ethan cleared his throat and shifted slightly on the vinyl chair cushion, able to form words at last. “I hired a private detective. I knew you’d returned to Holland when I was a few months old and then married an Englishman a year later, so I was surprised to learn you were living only three hundred miles away from me.”
“I divorced Andrew and moved back to Canada almost twenty years ago,” she said.
Tess broke in, leaning closer to gape at her aunt. “Back to Canada? You lived here before?”
Ethan let his gaze settle on the young woman who, though not a blood relative of Rianne’s, was as close to her as a daughter. Curious about her, at this point he’d only formed the impression that she was gracious—and quite pretty, even with her long, ash brown hair tied back with an old scarf and a smear of yellow paint across her jaw.
Rianne turned to Tess and explained, “I lived in Ottawa briefly, with my first husband, Adam. I met him at the end of the war—he was with the allied forces that liberated Holland. It was a whirlwind romance. I came back to Canada with him, but I returned home soon after our baby was born.” She glanced at Ethan, then back at her niece. “I’m sorry I kept it a secret all this time—I was too ashamed to tell you that I abandoned my own child.”
Tess dropped her gaze to her hands, twisting her fingers together. Then her eyes found Ethan’s, and as she considered him silently for a moment, sudden warmth spread beneath his breastbone. Even the intense emotion of seeing his mother couldn’t keep him from losing his focus for an instant to the younger woman’s eyes; their rich, dark shade of brown reminded him of burnished bronze, warm and luminous.
He reeled his thoughts back to the woman he’d come to the house to see—and the disturbing fact that she’d been living only hours from his home since he was a boy and never made the trip to see him.
Rianne’s lips pressed tight as she looked into his face, and even before she spoke he could tell she’d guessed what he was thinking. “I came to see you a couple of times. I watched you playing baseball with your friends at a park near your house, but I kept hidden. You had a new mother, and I was in no position to interfere. You see, I was unwell. I’ve been unwell, off and on, for a long time.”
Ethan stared at the woman seated stiffly at the kitchen table, her hands clasped in her lap. Behind, her niece stood with her arms folded and a bewildered look on her face.
The older woman offered a tentative smile. “Please, have a seat.”
Ethan pulled out the chair opposite hers and sank onto it. Briefly he rested his elbows on the tabletop and then, thinking his bearing too casual, pulled them back. With his spine straight against the seat back, he laid his palms on his thighs, keeping his eyes on her—the mother he couldn’t remember.
Her smile widened, affection softening her eyes. “You are so handsome. You look so much like your dad, I’d know you anywhere.” She spoke with a slight accent, which he’d expected, but her voice had a deeper tone than he’d imagined. She also looked smaller and more delicate in person than she had in the old photographs he’d seen, though her smile had the same deep curve.
He didn’t reply at first; he could hardly manage to breathe. He found it both disconcerting and fascinating to look at this stranger’s face and see elements of his own features. In the photos he hadn’t noticed the strength of the resemblance. At fifty-five she was still slender and attractive. Her straight blond hair, bobbed at her chin, had only a single gray streak curving down one side.
He had a million questions to ask her but couldn’t quite find his voice.
She spoke again, gently. “How did you find me?”
Ethan cleared his throat and shifted slightly on the vinyl chair cushion, able to form words at last. “I hired a private detective. I knew you’d returned to Holland when I was a few months old and then married an Englishman a year later, so I was surprised to learn you were living only three hundred miles away from me.”
“I divorced Andrew and moved back to Canada almost twenty years ago,” she said.
Tess broke in, leaning closer to gape at her aunt. “Back to Canada? You lived here before?”
Ethan let his gaze settle on the young woman who, though not a blood relative of Rianne’s, was as close to her as a daughter. Curious about her, at this point he’d only formed the impression that she was gracious—and quite pretty, even with her long, ash brown hair tied back with an old scarf and a smear of yellow paint across her jaw.
Rianne turned to Tess and explained, “I lived in Ottawa briefly, with my first husband, Adam. I met him at the end of the war—he was with the allied forces that liberated Holland. It was a whirlwind romance. I came back to Canada with him, but I returned home soon after our baby was born.” She glanced at Ethan, then back at her niece. “I’m sorry I kept it a secret all this time—I was too ashamed to tell you that I abandoned my own child.”
Tess dropped her gaze to her hands, twisting her fingers together. Then her eyes found Ethan’s, and as she considered him silently for a moment, sudden warmth spread beneath his breastbone. Even the intense emotion of seeing his mother couldn’t keep him from losing his focus for an instant to the younger woman’s eyes; their rich, dark shade of brown reminded him of burnished bronze, warm and luminous.
He reeled his thoughts back to the woman he’d come to the house to see—and the disturbing fact that she’d been living only hours from his home since he was a boy and never made the trip to see him.
Rianne’s lips pressed tight as she looked into his face, and even before she spoke he could tell she’d guessed what he was thinking. “I came to see you a couple of times. I watched you playing baseball with your friends at a park near your house, but I kept hidden. You had a new mother, and I was in no position to interfere. You see, I was unwell. I’ve been unwell, off and on, for a long time.”