Nessa flipped the picture over and read, “‘Me, Everett, his fraternal twin brother, Ernest, and my best friend, April, on our wedding day. Ernest and April were our witnesses.’”
“I never even knew that we had a great-uncle,” Nessa said.
“She only mentioned him one time to me. She said he was a preacher, but he died a year after the wedding when a rattlesnake bit him,” April told them.
Nessa giggled under her breath. “My dad got a double dose of religion. First from going to church with Nanny Lucy all the time, and then from the uncle that he looks like. And I bet you’re named after her best friend, April.”
“Could be, but I always figured that she just named me that because I was born in April, and she didn’t want to come up with a name,” April answered.
“We should all do one of those DNA tests and figure out more about our ancestors.” Flynn opened another envelope of pictures.
April would rather forget all of them, not do a test to figure out things. Just looking at the stuff in the suitcase made her slightly nauseated. She grabbed a tissue from the television stand and sneezed into it. “No, thank you.”
“I’d do it just to see if Daddy is a descendant of Noah or maybe Moses.” Nessa laughed out loud as she pulled another piece of paper from the envelope.
“I should go to the waterfall,” April said. “Lightning could shoot through the ceiling and hit you for comments like that.”
“I’ve said far worse, and I’m still alive,” Nessa said, and then she lowered her voice. “Well, well, well, no wonder Nanny Lucy didn’t want you digging around in the closet. This is your birth certificate, April, and it has your father’s name on it.”
April’s chest tightened, and her pulse raced. The room started to go dark, but she shook her head and took a deep breath. Her hands trembled when Nessa passed the paper over to her. “I’ve never seen this.”
“And here’s the adoption paper, and your original Social Security card.” Nessa handed them to her.
“I never knew that Nanny Lucy adopted me, either.” April laid both documents on the floor in front of her and stared at them. She had always figured that the birth certificate would have “father unknown” on it.
“Why didn’t you have a copy of your birth certificate? Didn’t you need it for something or other through the years?” Flynn asked.
“Nanny Lucy took it to school when she enrolled me in kindergarten. I didn’t need it after that. She must’ve gotten my Social Security card when I was born. I’ve never seen the birth certificate before right now,” April whispered, unable to take her eyes off the papers. “I didn’t ask many questions. I learned early on that her answer to most anything like that was to tell me it wasn’t any of my business.” She gave the certificate to Flynn. “This is all overwhelming.”
“Well, from what this says, your father was Lucas Green, and until Nanny formally adopted you, you were April Green,” Flynn said as he studied the piece of paper.
April had a father somewhere out there in the world. Where had he been? Did he even know he had a daughter?
“When Nanny Lucy was mad at you, did she mention anything about your father?” Nessa peered over her shoulder.
April shook her head. “Maybe the sin she kept fretting about was that she killed him. I wonder if he loved my mother, or if I’m the result of a date rape or a one-night stand.”
Flynn pulled his phone from his pocket. “You want me to see where Lucas Green is these days? I can look him up on the internet. I’ll just add ‘Blossom, Texas,’ so we narrow it down. You might even meet him.”
“I’m not sure. What if he ran out on my mother, or what if he was a married man?” April asked around the lump in her throat. Her palms got clammy, and her breath caught in her chest. “This is too much information for one night. It makes me want a double shot of whiskey to calm my nerves.”
“Well, I want to know, and he’s not even my father,” Flynn said as his thumbs flew on the phone’s keyboard. “I’m sorry, April.”
“What?” April was suddenly hungry for information about this Lucas Green.
Flynn read from his phone. “I found an old obituary dated thirty-one years ago. ‘Lucas Green, sixteen years old, of Paris, Texas, was killed when a drunk driver struck him as he was walking to town, two days before his junior year began. He leaves behind his foster parents, Lola and Melvin Sully, and two foster sisters, Crystal and Jamie Davidson, ages four and six.’”
“Good grief!” Nessa gasped. “Aunt Rachel was pregnant, the father of her baby was killed, and she had to live here with her super-religious mother. What a mess.”
Tears flooded April’s cheeks, dripped off her jaw, and left wet dots on her T-shirt. “I never knew him or even his name, so why do I feel grief for him now? Why didn’t Nanny Lucy tell me these things?”
Nessa draped an arm around April’s shoulders and gave her a hug. “I’m sorry, but maybe Rachel refused to tell her who your father was until you were born, or since he was already dead . . .”
April laid her head on Nessa’s shoulder. “Dead, alive, married with six other kids. I deserved to know.”
“Yes, you did,” Flynn agreed. “Even if she didn’t tell you until . . . Hey, when I scrolled down, there’s a picture of Lucas. It’s a newspaper print, but at least you can see what he looked like.” He handed the phone over to April.
She held the phone at the right angle to get the best picture and cocked her head to the side. “He was just a kid, but then so was my mother. I wonder if Nanny Lucy even knew they were dating, or how they got to know each other, since he was from Paris.”
“I’ll see if I can find out for you,” Flynn said. “I bet he was originally from this area, and when he got put into foster care, they sent him to Paris. But I promise, I’ll try to get some answers for you.”
“Thank you,” April sighed. “I appreciate that, Flynn.”
“No problem,” he said as he picked up another picture and handed it to April. “Look, here we are, all three of us. I remember when this one was taken. Nessa is still crying because we’d just buried Waylon number one.”
Nessa reached into the suitcase and brought out a small pink diary with a key dangling from a faded blue ribbon tied to the clasp. “Was this yours?” She offered it to April.
“Never saw it before, and never had a diary. Do you think it was my mother’s?” April handed the phone back to Flynn and took the diary.
“Only one way to find out. Open the thing.” Nessa put the package of pictures she’d been looking at back in the suitcase.
April slipped the key into the lock, but it broke off when she twisted it. She was on the verge of throwing it across the room when Flynn took it from her hands, pulled out a pocketknife, and sliced through the pink leather strap.
“There you go,” he said. “If it belonged to your mother, you might find something in there to bring you closure about her relationship with your father.”
“Thanks.” April opened the book and read out loud. “‘I am Lucy Anne Anderson, and my mother gave me this diary for my sixteenth birthday. The first thing I want to say is that I’m in love with Everett O’Riley. My mother wants me to like Ernest since he’s such a good boy, but my heart belongs to Everett.’”