on a minute.” Roger’s voice sounded a long way off. Soon, he sat beside her on the couch, supported her head and wiped her face with a cool, damp cloth. He brought a glass of water and forced a few drops between her lips. She had trouble breathing, and she gasped for air.
“Tell me I’m dreaming, Roger. I can’t believe you said what you did.”
Roger smoothed the damp hair back from her face, for he had been overzealous in wetting the cloth.
“It’s true, Violet. I received a call about her a few minutes ago.”
Violet caught his hand. “Tell me everything.”
“Linda Conley, a life prisoner, has terminal cancer, with a life expectancy of six months. They’re looking for her next of kin to give her a home so she won’t have to die in prison.”
Violet shuddered and shook her head in disbelief, grasping Roger’s hand as if it were a lifeline. “Roger, you can’t understand what you’ve just said to me. I’ve never needed a friend more than I do now.”
He squeezed her hand. “You have a friend, so don’t worry. Whatever it is you’re facing, I’ll be with you all the way.”
She sat up, pressing her hand to her forehead. “Who else knows about that phone call?” she asked finally.
“No one in Maitland. Fortunately, I was alone in the office when the call came in.”
“I won’t lie to you, but I would rather die than answer that question. I thought when I moved to Maitland, I had left the past behind, and now it’s pursued me here.”
Roger patted her hand. “Your past doesn’t matter to me, and I wouldn’t have approached you if it wasn’t my official duty. I don’t want to do anything that will hurt you, but you know I can’t return that call and say I couldn’t find the answer. From your response, it’s obvious you do know Linda Conley.”
Violet smiled slightly. “One of the things I’ve always admired about you, Roger, is that you do what you think is right regardless of the consequences, so I would never blame you for doing your duty because it involves me. It’s just difficult to unearth the past.”
“Is Linda related to you?”
“Linda Conley is my mother, but I don’t remember ever seeing her, because I was only two years old when she shot and killed my father.”
Violet hadn’t looked at Roger when she blurted out the truth. The words left a bitter nasty taste in her mouth. After a moment, she glanced sideways to see how Roger had taken the news. His brown eyes were deep dark pools of despair, also displaying another emotion. Was it shock? In his line of work, Roger often encountered appalling situations, and she thought he would be hardened to it by now, but his face registered horror. And no wonder, Violet conceded. A law officer would think twice before befriending a murderess’s child. If this news circulated around Maitland, she could bid Larry goodbye, but would she lose Roger’s friendship, too?
Lowering her lashes, she said softly, “Think any less of me than you did a few minutes ago? Do you still consider me a reputable teacher for your daughter?”
Roger moved closer to Violet, his arm encircled her shoulders, and he shook her gently. “Stop that kind of talk. I’ll admit I’m concerned, but only for your sake. What a burden you’ve carried all of your life! I have wondered occasionally why you didn’t talk about your family, but I thought that was your business, and it really didn’t matter to me.”
Violet buried her head on his shoulder, and his hands roamed soothingly over her curly hair.
“Do you want to tell me any more about it?”
“I really don’t know much more than that. I’ve always lived with my mother’s sister and her husband, and I have their version of the episode. Aunt Ruth said that my mother acted in self-defense, but that my father was from a wealthy family, and normally, a large portion of their money would have come to my mother and me, so the Conleys tried to prove that she had murdered him to justify stealing my inheritance. They had enough money to hire the most powerful lawyers. My aunt feels my mother’s attorney was not capable of standing up to such high-powered lawyers. The verdict was guilty, and she was sentenced to life imprisonment without mercy.”
“Have you had any contact with your father’s family?”
“None! I don’t even know where they live. My Aunt Ruth wouldn’t tell me anything about them. My uncle was an archaeologist, and he and Aunt Ruth traveled all over the world, but after they took me in, she stopped going with him, and moved with me to Minnesota. That’s where I grew up, and after I graduated from college, Aunt Ruth thought I would be better off not to return to her home. She wanted me to be hard to find should the Conleys ever try, for she feared that if I was my father’s heir, they might try to dispose of me. I thought it was a rather ridiculous idea, but she’s right about most things, so I was eager to move to Illinois.”
“And you’ve been happy here?”
“I have never enjoyed complete happiness. I’ve always felt unwanted, rejected by my father’s people and my mother. I can’t forgive them for that, and it eats away at my peace of mind.”
“But if your mother was sent to prison when you were a child, she couldn’t have done much for you. I don’t consider that rejection. Didn’t you ever go to see her?”
“Vaguely, I remember going to a large brick building when I was a child and seeing a woman, but Aunt Ruth said that my mother didn’t want me exposed to a prison environment. She thought the experience of seeing her incarcerated would be psychologically harmful to me. She told Aunt Ruth not to contact her again.”
Violet paused. She had to rein in her emotions and bolster her courage before she told Roger anything else. She took a deep breath and settled into one corner of the couch with her feet curled under her body.
“So not having a real, live mother, I fantasized endlessly about one. As I walked home from school, I imagined that my mother would meet me at the door with a kiss and a hug, and take me to the kitchen for fresh-baked cookies and milk. It was my mother, not Aunt Ruth, who dried my tears, and bandaged my knee when I fell off my bike. And she kissed me fondly beaming with pride when I brought home excellent report cards. She was beautiful, kind and sympathetic, and she made me happy.” Violet shook her head to rid her mind of a comforting childhood dream.
“The year I graduated from college, I had occasion to be traveling through Kansas, and I found out where she was imprisoned, and feeling self-righteous and full of sweetness and light, I went to see her. She refused to see me. My own mother refused to see me!” Violet struggled for self-control, but her usual well-modulated voice gave away her emotions. “Can you imagine that?”
“But why?” Roger said compassionately. “Surely she gave a reason.”
“Oh, yes, she sent back a message that she wanted me to leave and forget I had a mother, that a meeting wouldn’t do either of us any good. To my dying day, I’ll never forget how that hurt me.” She paused and wouldn’t meet Roger’s eyes when she said, “And may God forgive me for such an unchristian thought, but when I wanted to see her, she told me to forget that I had a mother—now that she’s dying, she wants me to take her in.”
“I’m not so sure about that. The woman who telephoned me
