She hadn’t realized that Cassie’s friend was Jon’s friend Mark, but she remembered the conversation.
“I’m on one, too,” Jon said, with one arm still draped around her.
She felt like shaking him off. They didn’t know each other well enough for that kind of familiarity.
“Mark was certain that Nonnie had written to the scholarship committee on Mark’s behalf,” Addy continued.
“My mom applied for it for me,” Dana said, because she believed it was true, and she couldn’t figure out why they’d all followed her out to the desert to talk about her scholarship.
Surely this could have waited until Monday?
Or at least until she and Josh got back into town?
“No, she didn’t,” Addy said. “Your mother didn’t write to them and neither did Nonnie. I’ve suspected as much for a while, but just received a letter today, a confirmation....”
“Which is why we were all coming to see you when we ran into Josh and found out you were missing,” Mark interrupted softly. Kindly. With a compassion in his eyes that calmed the sudden, irrational fear that had sprung up inside her.
“She told Mark first, and then they came to find me,” Jon piped in.
“You, Mark and Jon have something in common,” Addy was telling Dana. Everyone, including Josh, was watching her now. Scaring her. They all knew something.
Even Josh.
“What?” she asked. If it was bad, she didn’t want to know. Jon was smiling. But he was holding on to her, too, as if she might break or something.
“No father,” Jon blurted.
“Except that we do have a father.” Mark stepped forward, taking her other hand from Josh.
“We do?” Dana asked, completely confused, and wishing Josh would take her in his arms again. And then, “Wait, I do? You’re talking about my birth father? You know who he is?”
“We do,” Mark said again. “We know who your father is, Dana. You know Nonnie raised me. I don’t know if you knew that Jon grew up without either of his parents.”
She shook her head, not sure what anything meant. Lillie had said something about Jon’s childhood, but...
Mark stepped closer, leaning in so that his eyes, the kindness there, was all she saw. “The three of us have the same father, Dana. Our scholarships are from him. You’re our sister.”
She felt as if she was frozen in a photo, could see it from a distance. “You and Jon are brothers?”
The two men looked at each other and then, simultaneously, at her. “Yes.” Mark spoke for both of them.
Dana fell against Josh, who was directly behind her.
“Your father’s name is William Birmingham,” Addy said softly when Dana wasn’t sure she could hear much of anything. “He’s spent most of his life either drunk or in jail, and in between, he fathered three children across the country by three different women.”
“Apparently he sobered up during his last stint in jail and started a dot com that matches former convicts up with jobs and support, charging a finder’s fee that’s paid only after the convict has been straight and on the job for a year,” Mark said quietly.
“With all the years he spent in jail, he knew what it would take for a guy like him to get it right and found a way to give back to others.”
“He’s quite a wealthy man,” Addy said, her voice less emotional than Jon’s or Mark’s, giving Dana something to focus on, a slim clutch of reality to cling to.
“Somewhere along the way he tracked down the people he’d wronged in the past—without their knowledge—and found out about the three of us,” Mark added from beside Addy. “And that’s when he created the Shelter Valley Scholarships.”
“There’s enough money in the fund to provide educations to students for the rest of our lifetimes as long as it’s invested right,” Addy told her.
“Is he still alive?” Dana asked.
“Yes, and now that he knows he’s been found out, he wants to meet all three of you.”
Dana looked from one to the other of the men at her sides. To Lillie and Addy—and she started to cry again. Forcefully. Sobbing. The torrent that gushed forth was completely out of control.
She had brothers. And soon-to-be sisters-in-law. And cousins. She had Josh, and she was having his baby.
Her baby had grandparents who would welcome her.
Her father wanted to meet her.
She wasn’t the stepchild anymore.
Arms were around her. Holding her up. Supporting her. So many arms. A circle of them.
And she knew that whatever came next, whatever kind of man William Birmingham turned out to be, whether he loved her or not, she was not second-best.