Swept Away by Gwynne Forster

Author:Gwynne Forster
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2000-10-14T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 8

Veronica stared at the envelope, fully aware that its contents would probably alter the course of her life. Needing fortification, she made a fresh pot of coffee, went out on her porch in the early morning sun and sat down to read the first letter she’d ever received from her father.

“Veronica, my dear daughter,” she read. “You can never know my delight in receiving your note. I understood that your aim was to be courteous, but I am also aware that you needn’t have written me, and I thank you. It gave me pleasure that I cannot express, knowing I could help you when you needed me and that you let me help you. I took pride in your successful debut as a singer and in that spectacular review. To share in your glory, even at a distance, gave me much joy. And you can’t know how glad I am that you were with Schyler in those hours when you both thought I might have been lost. Knowing you are there for each other will always be a comfort to me. I hope the time will come when you’ll feel up to telling me something of Esther. I need desperately to know how she lived and died. And I want to know more about you. Much more. Call, or write, if only a postcard. I’ll be happy to hear from you. Love, Your father.”

She read it a second and then a third time. Finally she read between the lines, picking up what he hadn’t said, listening to his restraint, sensing his effort not to let her feel pressured. The part about her mother puzzled her. If he’d been interested in them and how they’d lived, would he have left or, having left, wouldn’t he have stayed in touch with them? She put the letter in her incoming mailbox among the missives to be answered later, correspondence about which she hadn’t made up her mind. She knew she couldn’t ignore it, and she didn’t want to ignore it.

Several days later, she still hadn’t come to terms with her time with Schyler at the lighthouse. His revelations had stunned her. What strength he had in refusing to allow his circumstances to beat him down! First the foster homes of his youth, and after all he’d overcome, the degradation of a jail term that he didn’t deserve. And for the first time, he’d needed her. She’d felt it because, for once, he hadn’t tried to hide it. At her party, he’d been possessive, eager for everyone present to know he was with her, but he’d promised nothing and hadn’t asked for anything. At the lighthouse, though, something different, sweet and binding, had crept into their relationship. But if she couldn’t make peace with her father, did he, could he care enough to accept her?

She dialed her stepfather, hoping to ward off an approaching morose mood. “Hi, Papa. You must have had your hand on the phone. How are you?”

“Doing pretty good. Thought I’d do a little dusting.

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