“The church convinced me not to. They convinced all of us not to, as they like to handle their own affairs internally.”

“I assume he didn’t go to prison.”

“No.” She sighed. “He was acquitted.”

I snorted. “So where is he now?”

“He was forced to retire. He’s in a home not too far from here.”

“And you say Daniel knew? About the . . . that Father Thomas was his real father?”

“Yes, he figured it out after all the allegations. It shook him terribly,” she said. “They were close, he and Father Thomas. Daniel had even taken Father Thomas’s last name, but while he saw him as a father figure, he never suspected he was his real father. It changed everything he thought he knew about the world. That’s why I tried to help him find you. He was sitting up writing a letter to you on the night he was shot.”

“How do you know that?”

“I found it after the attack. The letter was in an envelope addressed to you.”

“But . . . why didn’t you send it to me?”

“I knew nothing about you, Delilah. What state of mind you were in, or what may have been going on in your life. I wasn’t even certain where in the world you were and I wasn’t just prepared to send that out without knowing it would reach you . . . or if you were emotionally equipped to deal with it. I wanted you to be ready for it and I knew you’d come when you were. I’ve been waiting for you. I was waiting for you at the hospital.”

“And Father Thomas was there standing guard, making sure we never spoke.”

With that, she walked around the desk and used another key to unlock a drawer. She withdrew an airmail envelope from it and handed it across. “Here you go. Now I can be certain it’s safely in your hands.”

I took it with trembling fingers. “Thank you.”

“You can read it later when you’re ready. For now, would you like to go visit his grave? I can tell you more about him if you like.”

“Yes, I’d like that very much.”

We spoke for hours, Sister Marguerite and I, and speaking to the closest person Daniel ever had to a mother was the closest I’d ever felt to him. It was a gift he bestowed me on his birthday, one I would cherish until the day I died.

•   •   •

When I finally joined Ruth at the restaurant, I apologized for making her wait so long.

She brushed it off. “These things can’t be rushed. Are you hungry?”