Prologue - Leanne

Leanne had been dreading Cara’s sixteenth birthday for years.  She promised herself she would finally tell Cara the particulars of her conception, but now that the day was here, she realized it was much too soon.  Cara was still too young, she thought as she gazed at her daughter’s cheeks, still touched by the fullness of babyhood.  The story would have to wait another year or maybe two.  Graduation might be a better time  . . .but the book lay finished on her wooden desk in the sunlit corner of the room.  It is time, she told herself.  Keeping it from Cara longer was just prolonging her own agony.  She went to the wooden table with its carved curlicues and multiple shelves and drawers and lifted up the book she had started when Cara was thirteen.  The scent of ink wafted through the pages.  She had printed the manuscript only yesterday. 

“It’s time,” she told herself, gazing through the window at a patch of sunlight warming a fresh spring tulip.

Cara was still sleeping when Leanne tapped at her pink door.  Her daughter woke suddenly, without a trace of sleep on her face.  It was a swift marvel which had defined Cara since birth.  Her long smooth hair was hardly rumpled from a night of slumber and no lines marked her face, even after eight hours on a pillow.

“Happy Birthday, sweetie,” Leanne smiled at her long, lean daughter.

“Hi Mom,” Cara rubbed her eyes and smiled back.  “Thanks!  I can’t believe you’re awake before me.”

“I’ve been waiting for this day for a long time, honey.  I couldn’t sleep in on such a momentous occasion.”

“Oh, Mom,” her daughter rolled her eyes and squeezed Leanne’s hand. 

 “There’s something I’ve wanted to tell you.  Since before you were born,” she said.

“You mean, about my Dad?” Cara asked, sitting up at attention, her smile vanishing.

“Well, yes, him too, but there’s more to it than that.  I wanted to get everything as correct as possible, so I’ve been writing it down.” she handed over the wrapped package.

“I don’t see what you’ve been waiting for, Mom,” Cara tore open the gift.  “I’m a lot more mature than you think I am.  I don’t even know where you’re from!”

“I know honey, I was about your age when . . . well, you’ll see.  I’ve tried to be as fair as possible.  Read it all before you make any judgments.”

Cara was already reading the book her mother had taken years to prepare.  Leanne kissed her daughter’s cheek and crept softly from the room, ready to answer the questions that would come soon enough.  She went to prepare herself a cup of tea, hoping to steady her shaking hands.