Nodding at my inner conclusion, I walk back down the hallway and into the kitchen. I reach for my phone in my back pocket. “Do you have his number handy?”

Hattie holds up a small piece of paper, as if she was anticipating my question. She hands it to me across the island as Danny pours himself a drink. I leave my phone in my pocket for now.

“Did you talk to him?” I ask her, reading the phone number.

“I did.” Danny takes a quick drink of his tea. “Seemed like a nice guy. He said things just never worked out with your mom. She thought it was best if she raised you on her own.”

A wave of frustration has me clenching my fist at my side, my lungs taking in slow drags of air. That wasn’t her decision to make. I could’ve at least known about this man. She never once brought him up, never once shared his name with me when I asked about him. She acted like she didn’t even know who he was, and all this time, she knew. How could she keep this from me? I’ve missed twenty-two years with someone.

No, not just someone. My own father.

I look between Hattie and Danny, swallowing down my irritation. “I’m going to go upstairs and call him. Thank you both so much for finding him for me. And for everything else. I really don’t think I’ll ever be able to repay either one of you.”

“Beth.” Hattie’s mouth pulls down, the lines next to her eyes softening. “You never have to repay us for being your family. We will always be here for you. Our home is yours for as long as you want it to be, you have a job at the bar until you decide otherwise, and Danny will harass any boy you bring home, free of charge.”

Hattie and I share a brief laugh as Danny finishes his tea, not disputing that last remark. I wave at them on my way out of the room. “I’ll be upstairs if you need me.”

Closing my bedroom door behind me, I sit on the edge of the bed, phone in one hand and paper in the other. I’m nervous as hell, but I want to do this. I want to know this man, and a little nervousness isn’t going to stop me from making this phone call.

I dial the number, chewing on the pad of my thumb while I wait for the call to connect. I don’t have to wait long.

“Hello?”

I smile at the deep voice that greets me. “Hi, is this Jon Schilling?”

“Depends on who’s askin.’ If you’re selling shit, I ain’t buying.”

“Oh, no. No, I’m not selling anything. I’m . . . sorry, this is awkward.” I shift uncomfortably on the bed. Just tell him who you are. It’s the whole reason you’re calling. “My name is Beth. I believe you spoke with my Uncle Danny earlier. I’m Annie Davis’ daughter.”

I’m your daughter.

My heart starts beating wildly in my chest as his response is delayed. I bite my thumb again, move around the bed so my back is resting against the headboard, then move back to the edge. I grab the piece of paper off the bed. “I’m sorry. Maybe I have the wrong number. Is this . . .”

“Beth,” he interrupts with a kind voice. “Yeah, I’m sorry, I get those annoying telemarketer calls all damn day. How are you? How, shit, I don’t even really know what to say. Um, how . . . how have you been?”

I laugh quietly, scooting further onto the bed. “I’m good. Great, now, actually. I never thought I would speak to my dad, so, I’m really, really good.”

“Well, that’s good to hear.” His low laugh rumbles against my ear, followed by a few quick coughs. “Sorry to hear about your mom. Your uncle filled me in.”

I pick at the tattered strings fraying from the bottom of my T-shirt. “Thank you. May I ask what happened between you two? My uncle mentioned something about her wanting to raise me alone. I’m just wondering why she would’ve wanted that.”

“We didn’t really get along too well. Except for that one time.” A soft tapping noise comes through the phone. “One second, Beth.”

He sniffs several times a short distance away from the phone. I tug hard at the string I’m twisting around my finger and pull it from the shirt, waiting for him to finish blowing his nose.

“Anyway, like I was saying,” he continues, sniffing a few more times and clearing his throat again. “Your mom and me, well, let’s just say we fought better than anything else. Honestly, Beth, I was only twenty-three when you were born. I wasn’t ready for all that shit yet. Your mom taking care of you was the better thing at the time. I moved a few weeks after you were born to go live with a buddy of mine. Never told your mom I was leaving. Never called her after that. If you’re looking for somebody to blame here, blame me.”

“I’m not looking for somebody to blame. I just wanted to know why she never told me about you. I asked who you were and she never would give me a name.”

“I don’t know about all that. I guess she could’ve been bitter after I left her. Maybe that’s the reason.”

“Yeah,” I agree softly.

Maybe she was worried if I knew who he was, I’d get attached and he’d leave me too. Maybe she was only protecting me.

“We can get to know each other now,” Jon suggests, cutting into my thoughts. “I only missed, what, twenty years? That’s not that bad.”

“Twenty-two,” I correct him, smiling.

“Shit.”

Laughing, I wrap another string around my finger. “How far away is Tennessee from Alabama?”

“‘Bout eight hours, I’d say. Never driven it myself, though. Can’t be positive.”