Frank’s health began failing shortly after his 78th birthday.
I woke whenever his breathing changed.
I memorized every beep from the monitors.
On the last night, the doctor asked me to step into the hallway.
“It may only be a few hours, Rosalie.”
I nodded because speaking would have broken me.
“It may only be a few hours, Rosalie.”
When I returned, Frank appeared to be asleep.
I sat down and slipped my hand beneath his.
His fingers suddenly closed around my wrist… hard.
“Promise you’ll hear me out before you hate me,” he suddenly said.
I stared at him.
“I could never hate you.”
“Promise you’ll hear me out before you hate me.”
His hand felt cold against my skin.
“I’ve lied to you your entire life.”
I forced a smile. “Dad, you’re exhausted. Let me get the nurse.”
“My mind is clear.” He tightened his grip. “Everything you believe about your childhood, about who I am… is incomplete.”
My heart began pounding.
“What are you talking about?”
“I’ve lied to you your entire life.”
“I need you to discover the truth before I die, even though I was begged to take it to my grave.”
Questions crowded into my mind.
Was my biological father alive?
Had Frank hidden letters from me?
Was there another family somewhere?
Another version of him I had never known?
Was there another family somewhere?
Frank reached beneath the blanket with trembling fingers and pulled out a folded scrap of paper.
He pressed it into my palm.
