“This is Leah, a first-time visitor,” Sophie said to them.
“Thanks for joining us,” Trina said warmly.
“I just met your daughters.” Leah motioned toward Sophie and Abigail. “Do you have other children?”
“No, these two keep us on our toes.” Trina made a wry sound of amusement. “Do you live nearby, Leah?”
“A few hours away, actually. I’m just in town for the day.”
The opening notes of another worship song began. Jonathan gave Leah a polite nod before facing the stage.
No! She’d had so little time.
“Whenever you’re back in town, please stop by again,” Trina said.
“I’d like that.”
Trina swiveled to the front.
Trina exuded an elegant yet friendly vibe. Jonathan’s demeanor struck Leah as reserved, proper.
They had not recognized her.
Was she relieved or sorry?
More relieved than sorry. Her highest hope for today had simply been to see Jonathan and Trina. Meeting them had been a boon. The disappointment sifting through her was due only to the fact that their exchange had been so brief.
Be grateful, she told herself, resuming her fake singing. Jonathan and Trina had led her to Sophie, Logan, and Abigail. She’d learned things she hadn’t been able to learn in weeks of investigation. She’d learned that the Brooksides had two children, both daughters. She’d learned what her father and sister looked like. What their voices sounded like. Their manner.
Sitting side by side on the pew before her, they formed a clear family unit. She could sense the long history, ease, and affection between them. They probably had no idea that Sophie was not their biological child.
Should Leah tell them at some point that she and Sophie had been switched at birth?
A case could be made that she had that right. If she divulged the truth, she might gain a family, and they might gain a daughter.
But wouldn’t inserting herself into their lives be like thrusting herself, uninvited, between them on that pew? If she did so, she’d probably fracture their close-knit, familiar status quo.
She might also fracture the close-knit, familiar status quo she shared with Dylan, because if she came clean to the Brooksides about her identity, then Sophie would no doubt want a place in Dylan’s life.
Yet Dylan was so very much Leah’s. She didn’t know if she could share him with Sophie or stand for him to know she wasn’t who he’d always believed her to be.
Was it selfish of her to deprive Dylan of his blood sister? Or would that be somewhat acceptable in this case, because Dylan already had a sister? He couldn’t mourn the lack of Sophie, because he had no inkling that anyone was missing from his life.
It made her head hurt to wrestle with the ramifications of the choices before her. Which course was moral, right, compassionate?
She didn’t know.
As the service progressed, Leah noted every whisper, glance, and shift of position the Brooksides made.
Why had she and Sophie gone home in the arms of the wrong mothers all those years ago?
Nothing she’d uncovered so far had shed light on that issue.
Essentially, mathematics was the art of solving problems. While she pondered whether to reveal herself to Trina and Jonathan, she’d begin solving the problem at the heart of her switched-at-birth story.
What had gone wrong on the day of her birth?
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
When Ben found out that Sebastian planned to spend the second weekend in October in Misty River, he’d asked Sebastian to help him chaperone his club’s fundraising table at the football game. Sebastian had said he would.
But his motives had not been pure.
The fundraising tables were positioned past the ticket booth. Spectators walked toward those tables before forking in two directions to take their seats. Dylan played football. Leah would probably come to the game to cheer for her brother. Based on the location of the tables, his chances of seeing her were excellent.
He was not a saint. Nor was he as good a friend as he wanted to be.
If Leah showed, he’d pay the price for his sins because talking with her tortured him as much as it pleased him. A smarter man, a man with more self-control, would have stayed away.
Ben had left the table to get the kids drinks, so Sebastian finished unloading T-shirts from a cardboard box. Straightening, his attention pulled toward the ticket booth—
Leah.
She’d hadn’t seen him yet.
A Misty River High pennant poked out of her purse, and she carried a padded bleacher seat over one arm. She’d dressed in a blue-and-gold football jersey, jeans, and slip-on sneakers. Once again, her hair looked like she’d ridden in a convertible. It curved close to the corner of her eye on one side and was tucked behind her ear on the other side. Her face was soft in the most appealing way. Quiet contours. No harsh angles. The pale pink of her lips complemented the pale pink of her cheeks.
Her vision dashed past him, then back.
He gave her a slow smile as emotion ignited within him for the first time in what felt like weeks. Everything about the setting dimmed, except for her. Guilt remained.
Approaching, she glanced at the club’s sign. “Are you volunteering for the Equity for All student club this evening, Dr. Grant?”
“I am. I’m a big fan of the Equity for All movement and their catchy slogan.”
“Which is?”
“A woman’s place is in the House and in the Senate.”
“Very catchy. And do I miss my guess, or is that a Susan B. Anthony quote on your T-shirt?”
“I don’t think you often miss your guesses, Professor.”
“Let me see.” She nodded toward the T-shirt one of the girls had given him to wear when he’d shown up for duty. The T-shirts they were selling came in four terrible colors—pink, lavender, peach, and aqua. He’d told himself he’d been lucky to score an aqua shirt. But he didn’t feel lucky. They’d only ordered women’s sizes, and even the XXL was too tight. He pulled the shirt down in front so that she had a better view.
“‘It was we, the people; not we, the white male citizens,’” she read. “Ah, in reference to the Constitution. Susan B. Anthony indeed.”
“Yes.”
“Well, obviously, I’m going to have to purchase one of those shirts.”
“Was it my effective modeling that sold you on it?”
“That, and the opportunity to support gender equality. But mostly your modeling.”
She leaned forward to select a shirt, and he caught the scent of lavender. Not too sweet, but distinctive. She handed cash to one of the girls. “It’s nice of you to assist Ben this way,” she said to him.
“To be honest, I showed up for the free T-shirt.”
She laughed. “And yet you’re the one who’s present, and Ben, the faculty advisor for this club, is absent.”
“He’ll be right back.”
She studied him like he was a chess game she was winning.
“Are you a football fan?” he asked. The round pin attached to her jersey showed a picture of Dylan, kneeling in his football uniform.
“Growing up, I went to exactly one football game. When I was in middle school.”
“To receive an academic achievement award at halftime?”