Something About Sophie Read Online Free PDF Page B

could only have been the sad and difficult circumstances of her birth. If the woman had wanted her to know any of it, she’d had plenty of opportunity and many methods of doing so. It seemed pointless—and was very uncomfortable—to expose her now, and in this way.
    Hollis, his wife, and teenaged children had arrived before her. Their expressions were perplexed and defensive before and after she was introduced to them. Before they could ask, she answered, “I don’t know why I’m here. Your father wrote and asked me to come—not to this, but to see him—but he’d already passed away before I got a chance to talk with him.” She faltered. “I’m sorry for your loss, by the way. I should have said that first. But . . . so, anyway . . . I don’t know why I’m here.”
    â€œWhat’s your connection?” asked Hollis, a wiry-built man who looked to be in his early forties, with thinning blond hair and pale blue eyes. He must have been his mother’s son, as he didn’t look like the pictures she’d seen of his father.
    â€œTo your father? I never met him.”
    â€œYour parents?”
    â€œNot that I know of . . . at least not my dad or he would have said something when I told him why I was coming down here to—” She stopped abruptly.
    â€œTo what?”
    â€œTalk to your dad.”
    â€œAbout . . . ?”
    â€œWell, I don’t know exactly. He said he needed to talk about my mother, my birth mother. I’m adopted. When my parents lived in Charlottesville, going to school, at the university? That’s when they got me and we moved to Ohio, right after they graduated. That’s where my mom’s family was . . . is still, actually.” She could feel the blood begin to drain from her face, her skin breaking out in a cold sweat. Dear God, what if what Arthur Cubeck wanted to say about her birth mother was that he was her birth father ? That would certainly be something to get off his chest—a minister, in a small town, with children older than she was? Oh, yeah. Now she really didn’t want to be there. “My . . . my parents were told that my birth mother was a young girl, a teenager.” Aw, God! What had the man been thinking to announce his indiscretion with a teenager to his children, to the public? She could jump in her car and speed out of town, but his reputation would be ruined, forever, and his children—“My dad would have said something if he’d ever met yours—he’s good with names, never forgets anybody. A letter would have been enough.”
    The tension at the base of her neck seeped into her temples and began to throb as Craig and Lucy Chamberlin entered, without their children, and sat on the opposite side of the table from Hollis. They greeted the family quietly and, of course, looked at her curiously but asked no questions. So Hollis’s wife, Jane, explained, “She’s here to find out who her birth mother is.”
    They smiled, nodded, looked even more bewildered, and were far more polite than the Florida cousins who came twenty minutes late, squabbled over the remaining chairs, and then turned to Mr. Metzer asking, “Who’s that?”
    With a gentle smile, he said, “That young lady’s name is Sophie Shepard from Marion, Ohio. Ms. Shepard, you met Hollis and his family, so let me introduce you to the others.”
    He went around the table and when he was finished, Richard Hollister, Jesse’s yellow-tie-guy from the day before, reiterated, “But who is she? What’s she doing here?”
    â€œShe came at my request. She is one of the beneficiaries named in Arthur’s will—which I will proceed to read without further ado.” Hollis leaned forward, looked at her with new curiosity but said nothing. The lawyer sat and cleared his throat, looking anxious, Sophie noted. And who