BooksBarbecue
Back The Ursulina Save as PDF
Chapters (45)
  1. I know you'll never forgive me...
  2. Part One - Your Father
  3. Chapter One
  4. Chapter Two
  5. Chapter Three
  6. Chapter Four
  7. Chapter Five
  8. Chapter Six
  9. Chapter Seven
  10. Chapter Eight
  11. Chapter Nine
  12. Chapter Ten
  13. Chapter Eleven
  14. Chapter Twelve
  15. Chapter Thirteen
  16. Chapter Fourteen
  17. Chapter Fifteen
  18. Chapter Sixteen
  19. Chapter Seventeen
  20. Chapter Eighteen
  21. Chapter Nineteen
  22. Chapter Twenty
  23. Part Two - Your Mother
  24. Chapter Twenty-One
  25. Chapter Twenty-Two
  26. Chapter Twenty-Three
  27. Chapter Twenty-Four
  28. Chapter Twenty-Five
  29. Chapter Twenty-Six
  30. Chapter Twenty-Seven
  31. Chapter Twenty-Eight
  32. Chapter Twenty-Nine
  33. Chapter Thirty
  34. Chapter Thirty-One
  35. Chapter Thirty-Two
  36. Chapter Thirty-Three
  37. Chapter Thirty-Four
  38. Chapter Thirty-Five
  39. Chapter Thirty-Six
  40. Chapter Thirty-Seven
  41. Chapter Thirty-Eight
  42. Chapter Thirty-Nine
  43. Chapter Forty
  44. Chapter Forty-One
  45. About the Author

I don’t know. To tell you the truth, I never wanted to know, never wanted to find out. Maybe I couldn’t bear to hear the wrong answer. I can’t tell you whether your father was Tom Ginn or Ricky Todd. Sadly, you weren’t in my life long enough for me to see the answer as you grew up. The only person I ever saw in your eyes was me. When I held you in my arms for the first time, I saw this perfect, beautiful, miniature version of myself looking up at me.

You were my daughter.

I knew that, I felt that, I sensed the connection we had. I loved you with all my heart, a love that seemed impossible to me because it went so deeply into my soul. I loved you more than I’ve ever loved another human being, then or since. You have to believe that, sweetheart. I loved you.

But I had to send you away.

Part Two - Your Mother

Part Two
Your Mother

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-One

I spent two weeks in the hospital after Ricky’s assault and then another three weeks at home recovering. It was mid-March before I was really up and around. I’m right-handed, so even though my broken left wrist was in a cast, it didn’t slow me down too much. My cuts healed, and to my relief, they left no noticeable scars. The bruises began to fade. Miraculously, for the blows my head had taken against the floor, I’d escaped having a concussion. As we neared spring, I was feeling healthy and more like myself again.

My brother called several times while I was recovering, but he had a job in New Mexico and couldn’t leave. My father took a few weeks off from the road and practically lived with me during that stretch. He was mostly worthless around the house, with absolutely no experience cooking or cleaning, which meant that most of the time I took care of him more than he helped me. But I liked having him with me for a while, even though we had a way of getting on each other’s nerves. Eventually, though, he had to get back in his truck and start making money again, and the house felt empty after he left. Given what would happen soon, I was grateful for that time we spent together.