Amelia didn’t like to lie, had sworn never to lie again after her disastrous falling-out with her children. But now Blythe was asking her to do just that.
She turned away from the kitchen window, where she had been peeking out at the handsome man talking to Marin, the two of them sitting side by side on one of the benches, gazing out at the water. Their heads occasionally bent together.
“I’ll tell him the truth eventually. I will,” said Blythe. “But our relationship is in a very fragile state right now.”
“So why does he think you are both out here? Who does he think I am?”
“Marin lost her job in New York. Her boyfriend broke up with her. She needed to get away, and Kip knows that. I told him you and Kelly are friends of Marin’s.”
Amelia shook her head.
There was another reason, a deeper and more disturbing reason, why Amelia wasn’t in the mood to do Blythe’s bidding. The conversation with Nadine was bothering her more than she cared to admit. Whatever had happened between Blythe and Nick was none of her business, but the thought of their affair being the last straw, the event that drove him to end his life…it was tough. She had long blamed herself for his unhappiness. But to learn that he had had his heart broken all over again by someone else?
“I don’t appreciate being a party to this. Especially since my son was the one hurt the most.”
“What?” Blythe looked stricken.
“Nadine told me he came to Italy heartbroken after your affair. Why? Did he ask you to leave your husband and you refused? Did he know you were taking his baby away from him?”
Blythe’s eyes widened. “Amelia,” she said slowly. “I don’t know what Nadine told you—but none of that is true.”
“Well, it might be unpleasant. But that doesn’t mean it isn’t true.”
“No. Nick did not leave Philadelphia heartbroken. He was excited to leave Philadelphia, to see his sister. He told me he never felt comfortable far from the sea. He wasn’t in love with me. It was a passing thing. By the time I found out I was pregnant, we were out of touch. He told me he was never coming back—that he was happy in Italy.”
Amelia shook her head. “If he was happy in Italy, why did he kill himself?” she shouted, her voice shrill despite her best efforts to stay calm. Blythe flinched.
“I don’t know anything about how he died. That’s something I’d hoped to learn on this trip and I just never found the nerve to ask you.”
“He drove his motorcycle off a dirt road one night.”
Blythe shook her head. “It was an accident. It had to be. The Nick I knew loved life. He was reckless, maybe a little lost. But that’s it.”
“I wish I could believe you.”
“Amelia, I want you to know, for your own peace of mind, that Nick never wanted anything more from me than the brief affair we had. And he wrote to me about how happy he was in Italy.”
Blythe seemed so earnest. Either she was in denial or she had rewritten the script of her own history. “You don’t have to tell me these things just to appease me. I won’t give away your secret.”
Amelia couldn’t look at that woman another minute. She tossed her apron on the counter and walked out of the kitchen.
“Dad, I can’t believe you came all the way out here,” Marin said, wishing for a more private place to talk with him. But the season was peaking and the town was jam-packed. Amelia’s house was a refuge—albeit an emotionally complex one.
It was a comfort to look into his sharp, confident blue eyes, to feel his steady arm around her shoulder. His calm, his confidence, had been her emotional benchmark for her entire life, and she had been foolish not to reach out to him sooner.
But her happiness at seeing him was tempered by her certainty that he was disappointed in her for the pregnancy, and also by her mother’s terrible secret. A secret Marin was now complicit in keeping.
“I considered coming up to New York to talk to you after the whole situation at Cole, Harding,” he said. “I didn’t know you would be leaving.”
“It was a spur-of-the-moment decision.”
“It’s not like you to run away from problems.”
She sighed. “It’s complicated.” Understatement of the year.
“Marin, I think the best thing you could do for yourself is get your career back on track.”
“Dad, come on. You know better than anyone that would be challenging enough after the way things went down at Cole, Harding, and Worth, the gossip item in the Post. Now I’m pregnant. I’m not exactly a desirable candidate.”
“It’s a temporary setback.”
“You really believe that?”
“I can pull some strings.”
She shook her head. “Dad, no. That’s the last thing I want.”
“We’ll discuss that more another time. The most important thing is your health. You’re okay?” He turned to her, his eyes crinkled in concern.
“I’m fine, Dad. The doctor said everything looks good so far. Strong heartbeat.”
Kip nodded and squeezed her hand. “And the father?”
“I haven’t told him yet. I’m sorry,” she whispered. “You must be so disappointed in me.”
He tightened his arm around her. “Never. We all make mistakes. I think you’re handling yours with great strength. I’ve never loved you more.”
It suddenly felt difficult to breathe. The weight of it all was just too much. In that moment of unconditional love, she couldn’t keep her mother’s secret. Her parents’ marriage was over, but he would always be her father. In the end, her paternity was her truth to tell.
She turned to him.
“Dad,” she said. “I didn’t come out here for a vacation.”