Flynn pulled his phone from his pocket. “You want me to see where Lucas Green is these days? I can look him up on the internet. I’ll just add ‘Blossom, Texas,’ so we narrow it down. You might even meet him.”

“I’m not sure. What if he ran out on my mother, or what if he was a married man?” April asked around the lump in her throat. Her palms got clammy, and her breath caught in her chest. “This is too much information for one night. It makes me want a double shot of whiskey to calm my nerves.”

“Well, I want to know, and he’s not even my father,” Flynn said as his thumbs flew on the phone’s keyboard. “I’m sorry, April.”

“What?” April was suddenly hungry for information about this Lucas Green.

Flynn read from his phone. “I found an old obituary dated thirty-one years ago. ‘Lucas Green, sixteen years old, of Paris, Texas, was killed when a drunk driver struck him as he was walking to town, two days before his junior year began. He leaves behind his foster parents, Lola and Melvin Sully, and two foster sisters, Crystal and Jamie Davidson, ages four and six.’”

“Good grief!” Nessa gasped. “Aunt Rachel was pregnant, the father of her baby was killed, and she had to live here with her super-religious mother. What a mess.”

Tears flooded April’s cheeks, dripped off her jaw, and left wet dots on her T-shirt. “I never knew him or even his name, so why do I feel grief for him now? Why didn’t Nanny Lucy tell me these things?”

Nessa draped an arm around April’s shoulders and gave her a hug. “I’m sorry, but maybe Rachel refused to tell her who your father was until you were born, or since he was already dead . . .”

April laid her head on Nessa’s shoulder. “Dead, alive, married with six other kids. I deserved to know.”

“Yes, you did,” Flynn agreed. “Even if she didn’t tell you until . . . Hey, when I scrolled down, there’s a picture of Lucas. It’s a newspaper print, but at least you can see what he looked like.” He handed the phone over to April.

She held the phone at the right angle to get the best picture and cocked her head to the side. “He was just a kid, but then so was my mother. I wonder if Nanny Lucy even knew they were dating, or how they got to know each other, since he was from Paris.”

“I’ll see if I can find out for you,” Flynn said. “I bet he was originally from this area, and when he got put into foster care, they sent him to Paris. But I promise, I’ll try to get some answers for you.”

“Thank you,” April sighed. “I appreciate that, Flynn.”