Summer 1995

One day, a moving van arrived at the house next door to the Parishes. Abigail watched as a brunette and two young girls emerged. The older girl looked to be about thirteen and was a brunette like the woman, and the younger girl looked to be about Jackson's age and had fiery red hair.

"I want to invite her to my birthday party," said Jackson.

"You'd better invite both girls, or you'll hurt the other girl's feelings," his mother replied.

After lunch, Abigail baked a batch of brownies and took a plate of them next door. She rang the doorbell, and the brunette opened the door.

"Hi," said Abigail. "I'm Abigail Parish, and I live next door. I'd like to welcome you to the neighborhood."

The woman smiled and stepped aside so she could enter the house.

"You brought brownies. How nice! Thank you very much. I'm Lynda Nelson, and these are my daughters, Sabrina and Rosalyn. Come on into the den. I'll make us some coffee."

Abigail said hello to the two girls and followed Lynda into the den. It was small but cozy, with a tan shag carpet and cream-colored walls. Abigail saw that a dark gray couch had already been moved into the room.

"Everything looks so nice," she said as she sat on the sofa, and Lynda went to the kitchen to get started on the coffee. "Where did you live before moving here?"

"Virginia," said the older girl, Sabrina. "Mom got a business degree there and worked in the office of a furniture store. They relocated and moved us here."

"That's nice," said Abigail. "Do you miss your friends back home?"

"I guess so. I'm gonna miss my Dad more, though. I spent every other weekend with him when we lived in Virginia. I don't even know how often I'll get to see him now."

"I'm sure you three will work something out," said Abigail.

Rosalyn wrinkled her nose.

"He's her Dad, not mine."

Lynda returned with the coffee, handing one steaming mug to Abigail.

"Let's go ride our bikes," Sabrina said to her younger sister, and both girls went outside. Abigail, still puzzling over Rosalyn's remark, took a sip from her cup.

"Your daughter mentioned you used to live in Virginia."

"Yep. That's where I'm from. How about you?"

"I was born and raised here," said Abigail. "My father died when I was very small. I have a younger sister, Ellen. My senior year of high school, I fell ill and was in a coma for a long time. When I finally woke up, I had a lot of adjustments to make, but with the love of the man I eventually married, I survived and came through it all."

"Wow!" said Lynda. "That sounds like a real love story. I thought what Joe and I had was the real thing too, but he left me in 1984."

"I'm sorry." Abigail began doing calculations in her head. "How old are your daughters?"

"Sabrina's thirteen, and Rosalyn will be ten in August."

"My son Jackson turns nine in a few days," said Abigail. "He'd like both your daughters to come to his party."

Lynda smiled.

"Thank you. I'm sure we can make it. How many children do you have?"

"Two. I also have a daughter, Julie. She's six."

"Sabrina and Rosalyn are from two different Dads," said Lynda. "Sabrina's Joe's, but I don't know for sure who Rosalyn's father is. I mean, I know who he is deep down in my heart, but I never had a paternity test done or anything, and there were seven different guys."

Abigail sputtered, flinging drops of coffee everywhere.

"Seven!"

"Yeah." Lynda giggled. "Went a little crazy, I guess. They were all guys I knew from the community college where I was a student. We all ate lunch together. One of them was Giles Hanson, and he had fiery red hair, just like Rosalyn's. That's how I know he's really her Dad."

Abigail gulped.

"Does Rosalyn know?"

Lynda gasped.

"Of course not! Don't you see what a can of worms that would be opening?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, there's no proof, and it would only make her start bugging me about wanting to meet him, and I don't even know where he is now."

Abigail took a deep breath.

"So what did you tell her about her Dad?"

"Just that I don't know who he is. She seemed satisfied with that."

Abigail suddenly felt a little nauseated.

"I'm sorry, but I think I'm gonna have to go back home now," she told Lynda.