Glory English brushed a gentle hand over her mothers collection of literary classics. As if touching them was tantamount to the precious hands that once held them. The past eight months had been emotional hell for Glory and she ached for the loving comfort her parents could have provided if only they had lived.

Her fingers paused at the spine of one of her mothers favorites; John Steinbecks Grapes of Wrath. She pulled it off the shelf, poured herself a glass of merlot and curled up on the sofa. Her mothers presence enveloped her as she fanned the books pages.

Thats when she found the letter.

My darling daughter,

I dont know if Ill ever finish this letter or if Ill have the courage to leave it for you. Theres so much I have to say, I dont know where to begin. All your life Ive been afraid of how you would react. Why hurt you with this shocking revelation? What purpose would it serve?

Yet, I feel compelled to tell you. You have a right to know the truth about your birth.

Glorys hand trembled. Her fingers turned icy cold. A numbing weightlessness gripped her entire body. Her imagination was far ahead of her mothers words. As though it were on fire, she flung the letter across her living room floor. She didnt want to read any more, afraid of what it would reveal. But since the Pandoras Box had already been opened, there was no turning back. She retrieved the folded letter off the floor and continued reading while her heart pounded away.

I was young and relatively happy. My college years were behind me and I was enjoying a fun-filled, carefree summer before settling down in an exciting new job with NBC News, scheduled to begin right after Labor Day.

Remember my friend, Paula Howard? We were so close, but lost track of each other as the years passed. Anyway, Paulas parents owned a summer cottage in Ogunquit, Maine, and Paula had invited me to spend the entire month of August with them.

I thought I couldnt have been more thrilled until the day finally came and we arrived at the cottage, which could more aptly be described as a mansion. It faced the ocean and had three levels of balconies so that the fabulous view and sounds of Maines rocky shore could be enjoyed by all its guests. After spending most of my life in the city, it was like another world to me. What a beautiful wind-down of this transitional period in my life.

I was not the only guest that summer. There were fifteen spacious rooms in that cottage, they called Ratherbee, and all were put to good use. The Howards treated me like family and introduced me to all their friends. By my second week, I had become very close to one particular friend, and that, my darling Glory, is the beginning of my bittersweet story. Bitter because of what I loved and lost (a woman never forgets her first love), but sweet because nine months later, that bright morning in early May, you were born. When I saw your tiny round face for the first time, I cried and called you my little flower, my morning glory, and, as you know, thats how you got your name.

Oh, my God! Oh, my God! What are you telling me, Mom? Why are you telling me this? Glory cried aloud. All the love she ever felt for Steven English seemed to surface and wrap around her heart. But now it invaded like an icy storm, not with the warmth and comfort she had known for thirty-two years.

Daddy, daddy, daddy! she screamed, her cries half-love, half-anger. How could they have deceived her like this?

But she couldnt even vent her anger. Both her parents were gone. Her mothers life was cut short six years ago by a massive heart attack and her dad had succumbed to prostate cancer two years later. The cancer was discovered only three months before her mom died. At first he had accepted his fate with calm resolve and optimism. He studied and dwelled on all the success stories. After his wifes death, though, his will to live drained out of him like sand in an hourglass.

He never knew, my special friend. We parted that Labor Day weekend making all kinds of promises. He lived in Arizona and with twenty-four hundred miles between us, our summer romance was ill-fated. Love has to be nurtured to stay alive, they say. How true. We saw each other every day that August, lived under the same roof. Although he had intended to stay for only a week, he was between jobs and didnt have to start his new one until mid-September. When the Howards invited him to stay longer, he eagerly accepted.

That September we spoke on the phone several times. We made sketchy plans about spending our next vacation together, but with the distance between us, our new jobs and busy lives, we both knew that would never happen. Soon after, the phone calls stopped. I was disappointed, but not devastated, not yet.

By October, I knew for sure that I was pregnant. Yes, then I was devastated. The thought of telling my parents was killing me. My job with NBC News was even better than I had anticipated, but I went through the motions halfheartedly because I knew it would be short-lived. All I could think of was the life growing inside me and how long I could keep that life a secret.

I did a lot of soul-searching those days. Naturally, for me, abortion was never an option. Aside from the moral and religious issues, I loved you from the moment I knew you existed and couldnt wait to hold you in my arms.

A sob caught in Glorys throat. Despite her mothers shocking revelations, she ached to feel her arms around her one more time. Especially now.