A Son's Tale

“You ever think of Rose Sanderson, Dad?” They didn’t talk about what had happened. Ever. His father had established the rule early on. That way they never made mistakes, spoke out of turn, or were overheard.

“Yes.”

The rule of silence had been established for a young Cal. But the habit had stuck. Cal wasn’t sure what he was doing.

“Not a day goes by that I don’t think of her.”

He wasn’t surprised. They didn’t have to speak about the past to know that it lived with them.

“You still hate her that much?”

His father had practically spit the woman’s name when he’d told Cal never to speak of her again.

Cal had hated her, too. For a lot of years.

“No, I don’t hate her. If I ever did, it wasn’t for long.”

Cal lay back in his chair and looked to the ceiling. “But you’re angry with her.”

“No, son, I’m not angry with her. I feel sorry for her.”

Cal wondered again why he was instigating this conversation. Why everything was changing just because a young boy had run away.

And because he’d had a call from the Comfort Cove Police Department.

Two things that didn’t really affect their lives at all.

“You feel sorry for her?” He felt strangely removed from the situation.

“Of course, who wouldn’t? She had her two-year-old daughter snatched away from her. Gone. And no explanation. No answers. No chance for goodbyes. Or even closure. Her whole world fell apart. I should have been stronger. More understanding.”

He sat forward, his gaze skimming the files on his desk. “You’re kidding me.”

“No.”

“Dad, she said she loved you. That she would marry you and honor and cherish you—and me—for the rest of her life. And then the first time that love was challenged, she turned on you. She didn’t trust you at all. She believed you’d hurt her child! She told the police so. She threw us out and wouldn’t even let us get our stuff. She ruined our lives.”

“She was out of her head with grief. She had to blame someone. I was there.”

Morgan had been beside herself with worry and fear, but she hadn’t blamed anyone. Except herself.

“She turned on you within the first hour of Claire going missing and never changed her mind. Never came to her senses or remembered that we were family.”

“We don’t know that. We had no contact with her after those first few weeks.”

“Because she got a restraining order.” Any further contact had been up to her. If she’d ever missed them, wanted to speak with them, she could have sought them out. Lord knew, Cal had spent years hoping…

“I can understand if she just didn’t have anything left to give us,” he said now. “But she didn’t have to take our lives fr

om us.”

“She had to do whatever it took to get her daughter back.”

His conversation with Ramsey came to mind. Again. Claire was still missing. So what Rose Sanderson had done hadn’t worked.

And his father, whose life Rose stole, was just waiting to grow old enough to die.

CHAPTER TWELVE