Page 55 of The Ghost and the Graveyard (Knight Games 1)
"There's some in the cabinet above the fridge."
I stretched to open the little door he motioned toward. I never used that cabinet. Too hard to reach. Sure enough, there was half a bottle of scotch there. I poured him a glass. "Did you store this up there before I moved in?"
"Actually, it was here since before Prudence died. I used to come visit her occasionally. She kept it for me."
Uh-oh. "Dad, please tell me you weren't having an affair with her." Prudence was almost twenty years older than my father. I shuddered to think they were somehow involved.
"No. No, affair. We were just friends."
I squinted in his direction. "Close enough friends that she left you her house when she died, kept your favorite liquor, and had this under her bed." I retrieved the scrapbook from where I'd left it in the island cabinet and flopped it down in front of him.
"What's this?"
"You tell me."
He scrubbed his face with his hands, flashing his Rolex in the process. "Maybe it would be better if I started at the beginning."
"Yeah, I think that would be best."
The way he ran his thumb across his eyebrow and took a swig of scotch before he started told me I needed to sit down for this. I pulled up a stool.
"Your mother and I had tried for years to have a baby. She had some female problem I never really understood. We'd given up entirely by the time you came along. You were a miracle. Such an incredible surprise." He took another drink.
"Go on." I wasn't sure what this had to do with Prudence, but I'd asked him here to tell me about mom's death. I guess he was starting there.
"We were so happy. When you've wanted something for so long and think you'll never have it, and then someone tells you fate has changed her mind, and you're getting it after all...well, I don't know if I can explain how that feels. Anyway, when Elena went into labor, we were ready. The nursery was done. We couldn't wait to bring you home."
I placed my hand on his and nodded.
"At first, everything proceeded as expected. The birth itself was rough, but the doctor said it was normal. But then she started to bleed. They pressed on her stomach and gave her medicine, but they couldn't stop it. She died. But you knew that, didn't you?" The scotch was gone. He stood and poured himself another.
I held my tongue. So far, he hadn't shared anything I hadn't figured out on my own. But I could feel it coming. There was something else. Something big.
"I never told you this before, Grateful, and I'm so sorry to admit it. I couldn't even look at you when you were born. I didn't hold you. I didn't name you." My father's voice came out shaky, and his eyes welled with tears. "I left. I abandoned you in that hospital the moment I found out she was dead."
It took me a while to process what he was saying. "Do you mean you left me at the hospital with no intention of coming back...ever?"
"Exactly. I never even asked about you for two full weeks. I just ran."
Holy shit. I felt like someone had slugged me in the stomach.
"Finally, I came to my senses. I returned to the hospital and found the nurse who'd delivered you. I begged her to tell me where you were. I figured you'd be in foster care somewhere with the state. The nurse pulled me aside and explained she'd taken pity on me. She'd forged my name on a few documents to make it look like I was a normal, caring father, and she'd taken you home herself. Then she returned you to me. She..."
Fuck. My dad was losing it, crying openly into his glass. I'd never seen my father cry. I circumnavigated the counter and snaked my arm around his neck.
"That's why I named you Grateful. There was no one more grateful than I was to have you and for the nurse who saved our family."
Eyes wide, I wondered how different things must have been back then for a nurse to take a chance like that. She could've gone to prison and lost her license. The story was almost unbelievable but then so was the sight of my father sobbing in my arms. "So that's why you sent the nurse a card every year on my birthday."
"You remember that?"
I nodded. "Who was the nurse, Dad? Can I meet her?"
"No. I'm sorry. I'd intended to introduce you someday, but she passed away so suddenly." He slid the scrapbook in front of him and started flipping through the pages. "I guess this was her way of remembering you. She didn't have any children of her own."
The room began to spin. "What?"
"The nurse who kept you in my absence was Prudence Meriwether. You're living in her house."
