8

Emily’s body shuddered and went into a cold sweat when Gerard Blatts, her father’s estate attorney, read her father’s will to her the next afternoon. “What? Who?” She managed the guttural response from her clenched throat.

The attorney reread the statement. “‘I leave my grandfather’s watch and all my stocks and bonds to Anna Johnson.’”

“Who is Anna Johnson?”

“Your sister. Well, half sister, technically.” Mr. Blatts handed her a sheet of paper with Anna’s full name and address, phone, and email.

“I don’t have a half sister,” she said, handing it back. “I’ve never heard of this person in my life.”

“Your father never explained the logistics of it.”

“Logistics?” What an obtuse statement.

“Your father never told me who her mother was or when it happened. I don’t even know how old this woman is. I literally have no other details other than that address and what she’s entitled to via your father’s last will and testament.”

“You mean she could be younger than me?”

“Maybe. It’s possible. I really don’t know.”

Emily’s theory about her father’s potential affair was spooling questions in her mind. And then it hit her. Anna was the “other woman.” But had it been an affair or not? Had her father produced another offspring before he was married to Mom? Or had it happened during? Mom and Dad had been married eight years before Emily was born. She had to admit she didn’t know a lot about their marriage before she’d come into the picture. It seemed odd that neither of them had ever mentioned Anna to her. Had Mom known? If Mom hadn’t known about Anna, then why would Dad have kept it a secret from her?

But what if she had recently found out before her fatality? That coupled with her secret terminal cancer … Well, that was enough to put anyone over the edge—the edge of an embankment along a windy, two-lane road where she crashed to her death. A thought bolted through Emily. What if Mom’s accident had actually been a suicide? A queasiness churned up in her stomach. That would explain why Dad had wanted to keep her mother’s cause of death from her all these years.

“Why didn’t he tell me any of this before he died?” she asked, a hollow feeling emptying her chest cavity. And then almost immediately answered herself in her head. He tried to tell me.

“I was instructed very clearly never to contact Ms. Johnson. That is your job.”

“Me? Oh no …”

“Your father stated in his will that he wanted you to reach out to her. I think he hoped you two might foster a relationship down the road.”

“I don’t think so,” she said, tension constricting her voice. “That’s asking a lot. Too much.”

“Are you angry about the way things have been divided? Because we could contest this will, based on—”

“Angry? No. In shock? Definitely.” The will stated that Emily would retain the bulk of her father’s estate. The house. Vehicle. Bank accounts. Retirement funds. Besides, even if Dad had left her nothing, she would never have asked her father for anything. She had survived estranged from him thus far. And she could survive without his estate. But confusion riveted her. Another huge enigma. How many more would she have to uncover as things went along?

“Did my father have contact with her? Did he know her?”

“I don’t really know. He didn’t mention any direct contact. So I’m guessing not. At least not recently.”

“I don’t understand. How am I supposed to just call this woman up out of the blue and tell her that I’m … her long-lost—This is ludicrous!” She couldn’t bring herself to say sister. It was too strange.

“I’m sorry. I know this piece of news is hard to swallow.”

“What do I do?”

“Give yourself a little time. But not too much. If you don’t inform her within thirty days, I will be compelled to send a certified letter. And if that happens, I suspect you’ll find her knocking on your front door shortly thereafter. So if I were you, I’d take the reins on this.”

“Can you arrange a meeting for us? Maybe here. Somewhere neutral?”

Mr. Blatts shook his head. “I’m sorry, Dr. Hartford. The instructions were explicit. I am not to reach out to her.”

Emily sighed and rose from the high-backed leather armchair. She paced to the window of his office that overlooked downtown Freeport. Thirty days. The last thing she wanted was legal trouble.

“Have you ever had any cases like this before?” Emily asked, hoping for his advice.

He shook his head. “Put yourself in her shoes. You’ve never known your biological father. You’ve always wondered about him. Hoped to meet him someday. How would you receive the news?”

Emily was suddenly flooded with compassion for this Anna Johnson. Here she had been, yearning for family connection all these years. Emily folded up the piece of paper and slid it into her coat pocket.

“How much is she getting from the stocks and bonds?” Emily asked, thinking about all the years Anna had been cheated out of knowing their father.

“If she sold them today … roughly half a million.”

A thought flitted through her brain: Is this guilt money? She quickly dismissed it. Dad had always been a generous and fair man. He must have known enough about Anna to know she needed the money. This was her father’s desire and she must respect it, even if she didn’t understand it.

“There are instructions in this envelope for Anna on how to access the funds,” said the attorney. “I know this is a difficult time, and I’m here if you need me.”

“Thank you.”

She took the envelope and left his office. As she stepped onto the main street of Freeport, suddenly it hit her. She had a sister. Maybe this wasn’t a bad thing. She had always wanted a sister.

Emily pulled the paper out again and looked more closely at the address. Rock River. This whole time, her flesh and blood had been just an hour away. A sudden sadness overwhelmed her, filling her with a tangible, tight pain. Her sister would never know the amazing father, Dr. Robert Hartford, of her youth. Just as Emily would never be able to know the father of the last twelve lost years. No amount of inheritance could ever make up for that.