We hadn’t talked much about my family, especially my mother. Knowing what I did now, it seemed weird to talk about her to Hillya. I shook my head. “No,” I replied.
“I’m sure she misses you,” Hillya said.
I thought about that a moment and decided I would be honest here. “She misses not having me around to control.”
Hillya frowned then. “What do you mean?”
“Mom and I are very different,” I told her. If she was going to open a door, I would test it to see how far I could walk into it.
“How so?”
“My mom is vain; she is very judgmental and she has an idea of what my life should look like that I don’t agree with. I love her, I overlook her issues, I accept her for who she is. She just can’t do the same for me,” I replied.
Hillya tilted her head to the side. “You must be more like Honey,” she said.
I looked at her then and decided to walk through the door. “Or like my father.”
Hillya didn’t give much away, but I could see her tense. She forced a smile that didn’t match the uncertainty in her eyes. “Did you know him? Your father?” Hillya asked me.
“No. I never got the chance. He died when I was two years old. My mom refused to speak of him or answer my questions about him. It’s something I think will always stand between us.” I finished and I waited. The ball was in Hillya’s court now. This wasn’t how I had imagined this conversation would play out, but it was happening and I realized I was ready for it.
“How did he die?” she asked me.
“She said a motorcycle accident somewhere in Georgia, but she has never been honest with me about things and I don’t know if that’s true.”
Hillya sat there silently for several moments and I wondered what I would do if she changed the subject. Could I do that? We were so close to it now and I wanted to know. I had wanted to know most of my life. Now, that it was opened up, I didn’t think I could let her close it again.
“Perhaps she had her reasons,” Hillya said finally.
All my life I had taken the responses about my father and accepted them. My mom would tell me nothing and only get angry when I asked any questions. My Gran would say she didn’t know more than my mother had told her. They had both lied to me. If Hillya was who I believed her to be then I wasn’t going to let her lie to me too. Gran had sent me here for a reason, and I didn’t think it was because of my baking.
“Can I see the photo of Rebel?” I asked her then.
Her chin shot up and her eyes went wide as she looked at me in surprise or maybe it was shock. I waited for her to think it through and respond. I wasn’t in a hurry; I had waited my whole life and I could wait a few more minutes.
“You know,” she whispered.
That was my answer. The one I needed. The clarification that my father had been Hillya’s son. My gran had sent me here with that letter for this reason. She hadn’t told me because she was doing what my mother wanted, but she was leaving the clues there in front of me to figure it out myself.
“I didn’t at first,” I told her.
“Then how… who?” she asked, still searching my face for answers.
I didn’t want to bring up Rio yet. “I found my mother’s old letters in my gran’s attic. They were written to a guy named Rebel. He was also my father, or at least reading the letters it appeared that way.”
Hillya stood up from the stool and wiped her hands on her apron. “I should have told you. Honey said I could if I wanted to.” She gave me a sad smile. “The letter she sent me. She said, well, would you like to read it?” Hillya asked.
I nodded. “Please,” I replied.
Hillya walked over to the front door and locked it and turned the sign to closed. Then she walked to the door leading to the back. “Come with me, Henley,” she said then went through it and I stood up and followed.
I had never been in Hillya’s office until this moment. The door had been open at times and I had glimpsed inside from a distance, but this was my first time actually inside it. There were several photos around the room, a round rose-colored rug, a large white chair and ottoman and fresh flowers in a vase.
“Here,” Hillya said, taking a letter from her desk drawer and handing it to me. I held it a moment, recognizing Gran’s handwriting before opening it up.
Hillya,
If you are reading this then I am gone. The girl who brought it to you is our granddaughter, Henley. She is bright, talented, intelligent, and a human being to be proud of. Just as I hold regrets for the things I never told her, I also leave this world with regrets for not forcing my daughter to give you the opportunity to know your granddaughter. It was a disservice to you. It was wrong and something I will stand before God and answer to. Please forgive me. I made mistakes out of fear that Henley would be kept from me if I didn’t follow her mother’s demands.
Henley is here for the summer to complete a list of things I asked of her if I didn’t survive. She’s a talent in the kitchen. She makes the best gluten, dairy, and nut-free sweets you’ve ever eaten. And she makes these fancy bowls with her own homemade granola the kids are all about these days. Hire her. Let her update that menu of yours and get to know her. Right the wrong done to both of you.
I want her to know she comes from a line of strong women. Love my girl for me and I’ll be sure to give your son a big hug when I see him.
Honey
I closed the letter and blinked to clear my vision as the first tear rolled slowly down my face followed by the next one. I wiped them away and held the letter out to Hillya. “Thank you,” I said hoarsely.
“You keep it,” Hillya said.
I nodded and sniffled as I tucked it into my shorts pocket.
She stepped around the desk and picked up a frame as she did. Then she walked to stand in front of me and handed it to me. “This was your father,” she said.
I wiped at more tears as they spilled onto my cheeks then took the frame and stared down at it. He was older than the photos he had been in with my mom but not much older. He had facial hair in this one.
“From the day he was born that boy had me on my knees in prayer. Never a dull moment, never a moment’s peace, and he if it wasn’t for that charming smile of his, I think he might have killed me.” She said this with fondness and love in her voice. “You have his smile. It was the first thing I noticed that day. After I read Honey’s letter, I wasn’t sure my heart could take it. Having you here as a reminder of all I had lost. But then you smiled and, in that moment, you looked just like him. It was the first time in twenty years I had seen his smile.”