father said when she pulled outside his building.
"I was thinking I don't visit you often enough," Molly said, and her father smiled.
"We all do what we can. But I thought there was another reason."
"What do you mean?" Molly heard the sharpness in her voice as she followed her father into his flat.
"Just that you might be feeling a little raw," her father said gently. "I know the divorce goes through around now."
Molly's shoulders sagged. In her worry and confusion about the locket and its meaning, she'd almost forgotten about Dan. Almost, but not quite. He was always there, or the loss of him was, like an ache.
"Dan and I talked it out a few days ago," she admitted. "We can file the papers anytime now."
"But you haven't yet?" her father guessed shrewdly and Molly shrugged.
"There's hardly been time..."
"I was thinking perhaps you didn't want to."
"Not you too, Dad," Molly protested. "Everyone is hoping we'll reconcile, but it's not going to happen."
"I've said I'll support you no matter what," her father replied steadily, "but of course I'd rather see you happily married--"
"That's it, though, isn't it?" Molly interjected. "Happily."
"Were you two happy before this incident at the Christmas party?"
Molly bit her lip. "Yes, we were. A bit stressed, perhaps..."
"About what?"
Molly looked away, trying to keep her voice casual. "Well, you know we were trying for a baby." She didn't mention, didn't want to remember, the two miscarriages that had preceded the ill-fated party, or how low she'd been feeling because of them... even though the doctors said it was just bad luck.
"That can be stressful," her father agreed. "Your mother and I tried for you for quite some time, as you know."
Molly's heart ached. How could she ask her father about Edward Longton? How could she even give voice to the suspicions clamoring inside her?
"Tea?" her father asked and Molly nodded, her heart suddenly thudding.
"Dad," she said, her voice sounding too loud in the little lounge, "have you ever heard of Edward Longton?"
Her father's hand stilled on the kettle for a moment, even though his face remained blank. When he looked up at Molly, he smiled easily.
"It's been awhile, but yes. He was a friend from the old days."
"How did you know him?"
"He was a friend of mine from university. When I travelled for business, he checked up on Mum for me. You know I was gone for weeks at a time... it made me rest easy to know she was being looked after."
Looked after all too well, Molly thought. Her father glanced at her.
"How have you come to hear of him?"
Molly took a breath. She couldn't evade her father's question, as much as she wanted to. She wished she'd never brought the issue up, even though she knew it would have had to be dealt with at some point.
"He died, and his solicitor sent me a locket. Apparently he wanted me to have it."
"Ah." Her father looked bemused as he carefully unwrapped two tea bags.
Something about that 'ah' made Molly say slowly, "you know, don't you? Whatever it is, you know."
"Molly," her father replied, "there is very little concerning your mother that I don't know."
Molly swallowed. "And me?"
Her father's look was sharp. "What about you?"
"Why would Edward Longton send me a locket? With a picture of Mum inside?" Her voice broke, and she blinked back tears.
Her dad crossed over to her and grasped her hand in his. "Are you thinking that Ed--Edward Longton--is your father?"
Molly stared at him with wide eyes. "Is he?"
"Molly." Her father closed his eyes briefly. "Look at your face, my girl. Look at your nose. No one can doubt you're my daughter."
Sweet relief rushed through her, making her almost dizzy. "Then why did..."
"He send you the locket?" her father finished. He shook his head slowly. "I don't know. Maybe as one last link to your mother." He paused, his expression thoughtful. "He loved her, you know. Very much."
"How can you say that?" Molly spun away, filled with a sudden, nameless rag.
"I was thinking I don't visit you often enough," Molly said, and her father smiled.
"We all do what we can. But I thought there was another reason."
"What do you mean?" Molly heard the sharpness in her voice as she followed her father into his flat.
"Just that you might be feeling a little raw," her father said gently. "I know the divorce goes through around now."
Molly's shoulders sagged. In her worry and confusion about the locket and its meaning, she'd almost forgotten about Dan. Almost, but not quite. He was always there, or the loss of him was, like an ache.
"Dan and I talked it out a few days ago," she admitted. "We can file the papers anytime now."
"But you haven't yet?" her father guessed shrewdly and Molly shrugged.
"There's hardly been time..."
"I was thinking perhaps you didn't want to."
"Not you too, Dad," Molly protested. "Everyone is hoping we'll reconcile, but it's not going to happen."
"I've said I'll support you no matter what," her father replied steadily, "but of course I'd rather see you happily married--"
"That's it, though, isn't it?" Molly interjected. "Happily."
"Were you two happy before this incident at the Christmas party?"
Molly bit her lip. "Yes, we were. A bit stressed, perhaps..."
"About what?"
Molly looked away, trying to keep her voice casual. "Well, you know we were trying for a baby." She didn't mention, didn't want to remember, the two miscarriages that had preceded the ill-fated party, or how low she'd been feeling because of them... even though the doctors said it was just bad luck.
"That can be stressful," her father agreed. "Your mother and I tried for you for quite some time, as you know."
Molly's heart ached. How could she ask her father about Edward Longton? How could she even give voice to the suspicions clamoring inside her?
"Tea?" her father asked and Molly nodded, her heart suddenly thudding.
"Dad," she said, her voice sounding too loud in the little lounge, "have you ever heard of Edward Longton?"
Her father's hand stilled on the kettle for a moment, even though his face remained blank. When he looked up at Molly, he smiled easily.
"It's been awhile, but yes. He was a friend from the old days."
"How did you know him?"
"He was a friend of mine from university. When I travelled for business, he checked up on Mum for me. You know I was gone for weeks at a time... it made me rest easy to know she was being looked after."
Looked after all too well, Molly thought. Her father glanced at her.
"How have you come to hear of him?"
Molly took a breath. She couldn't evade her father's question, as much as she wanted to. She wished she'd never brought the issue up, even though she knew it would have had to be dealt with at some point.
"He died, and his solicitor sent me a locket. Apparently he wanted me to have it."
"Ah." Her father looked bemused as he carefully unwrapped two tea bags.
Something about that 'ah' made Molly say slowly, "you know, don't you? Whatever it is, you know."
"Molly," her father replied, "there is very little concerning your mother that I don't know."
Molly swallowed. "And me?"
Her father's look was sharp. "What about you?"
"Why would Edward Longton send me a locket? With a picture of Mum inside?" Her voice broke, and she blinked back tears.
Her dad crossed over to her and grasped her hand in his. "Are you thinking that Ed--Edward Longton--is your father?"
Molly stared at him with wide eyes. "Is he?"
"Molly." Her father closed his eyes briefly. "Look at your face, my girl. Look at your nose. No one can doubt you're my daughter."
Sweet relief rushed through her, making her almost dizzy. "Then why did..."
"He send you the locket?" her father finished. He shook his head slowly. "I don't know. Maybe as one last link to your mother." He paused, his expression thoughtful. "He loved her, you know. Very much."
"How can you say that?" Molly spun away, filled with a sudden, nameless rag.
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