Installment Thirty-Eight

It's a contest who was more shocked by the conversation I had earlier today with both my daughter and my future son-in-law.

The situation is complicated enough for Deborah thanks to her father and mother getting divorced. But now, neither my daughter nor the love of her young life can get their heads around the fact that I know Sean's father. At least I knew him.

"You didn't just know him, Mom," Deborah had rightly pointed out when I tried to explain. "You were in love with him!"

"Sweetheart, it was just puppy love. I was all of 13. But he was my first 'boyfriend', the first boy to kiss me, so of course he holds a special place in my heart." I would never tell her that for years, after I had re-met him again as a young adult, I compared every man I dated to this childhood crush.

Sean confessed that he felt 'outed' as a Kelly, an infamous name in his foreign ministry.

"Have you told anyone my real name?” he had asked me almost immediately. Luckily, from the look of relief on his face, I was able to confirm that I had told no one. (Except of course, everybody knew. I mean, if those old farts I overheard at the Irish tea knew, it was probably common knowledge.)

"Not even your father knows, Deborah."

"Is Sean's father--and your feelings for him--the reason Dad over-reacted?"

"Maybe. But it was so very long ago and your father never even knew him." I looked at both of them when I hammered home this point.

"Did you love my father?"

"Did you ever love mine?"

"Yes and yes to both of your questions."

It was definitely time for a drink. I wonder if the garbage has gone out. I could retrieve the wine box I chucked. I didn't realize I was talking out loud.

"Since when did you start drinking wine out of boxes Mom?"

The comic relief we all felt at that moment was therapeutic and allowed me to ask what was on everyone’s mind.

"So the question now is: how do we proceed?"

The young couple had been sitting throughout this emotional ordeal on a battered old love seat I had dragged in from the street. Someone had left it out with their garbage!

They looked so cute together. They were being incredibly mature, and certainly more adult than Deborah's father.

I had loved Martin. I wasn’t lying to Deborah. But that love was sorely tested by his infidelities (this last one in Beijing being the final straw) and it had ultimately disappeared long before my money did. His embezzlement only made it worse.

And can anything compare to a lost love, especially one that went unrequited?

"Sean," I finally said. "Deborah's grandmother in Montreal has told me to go ahead and arrange any plans that you two kids want. Your wedding is her gift to you both."

Deborah's eyes started to well up. I hadn't told her this news yet. I hadn't told her father yet either. Oh dear.

"Sean, whether your father is involved in any way is entirely up to you. I will handle Deborah's father."

"Mrs. Schuster...Joelly..."

"...it doesn't matter what you call me Sean. Joelly works for me.”

"I honestly don't know what to do about my father."

Gabe! You have such a lovely son. How could you have deserted him? And will I ever know the truth?