Chapter 6
Amber stared at Bo-Seon in shock. “You can’t be serious. My grandmother was raped? And the result of that assault was my father, John?”
Bo-Seon nodded. “She was a Catholic missionary, as you said. After the attack, when she realized she was pregnant, she would never even consider an abortion. She chose to raise the child with love.”
Amber blinked. “But how did Shash get involved?”
“Shash was a handy-man who helped out occasionally at the church. His parents had passed away in a car crash and his family home had a spare room. Constance had been living in a room at the Priest’s house but with the new child she wanted more space. It seemed a good fit.”
She could barely take it in. “They were … roommates?”
He gave a wry smile. “Shash did become fond of her over time, and of the boy. When John was one, Shash offered to marry her. She refused.”
Amber’s mouth hung open. “Why would she do that?”
“Constance was devoted to God. My grandfather remembers that about her. The fire which lit her when she planned out her next missionary challenges. She solely wanted a place to raise John up for a few years. Get him strong enough to travel. Then she wanted to head out to Kenya. To Senegal. And she wanted to do that on her own terms. Just her and little John.”
The pieces were starting to fall into place. “So when the call came for Navajo Code Talkers, and Charlie was set on going –”
Bo-Seon took a drink. “My grandfather saw this as his chance to finally see the world. Shash was his best friend – he wouldn’t let Charlie go off on his own. And so Constance encouraged both to go. Little John was four by then. Nearly old enough to travel. It would be a clean break. Constance and little John would move to a new assignment, Shash would be with Charlie keeping the world safe, and everyone would be happy.”
Amber tapped the table, one of the pieces refusing the slide into position. “But Constance didn’t move on. She stayed on the reservation.”
He gave a small smile. “Shash got letters from her in the months that followed. It seems family life had grown on her. The local parish. The food pantry. The friends she’d made. Over time the idea of going off to Nigeria or Kenya seemed less appealing. She’d become fond of her Navajo neighbors. She was happy with her world.”
He took another drink. “After Shash vanished, my grandfather would open the incoming letters, in case they held some information that shone a light on what had happened. Constance and young John seemed perfectly content in their new situation.”
A pause. “And then, after the family moved south, there was no more contact. I imagine the letters sent to Shash were returned undeliverable.”
Amber nodded. She knew that from John’s research and memories. Shash had simply ceased to exist.
They had never known why.
There were almost too many new threads for Amber to keep track of. She grabbed a hold of one of the most startling ones. “You said that Constance had been raped. Did she know who raped her? Who my father’s real father was?”
Bo-Seon shook his head. “The night of the assault was dark – she never saw her attacker. She was fairly sure he was Navajo, but that didn’t narrow it down, of course.”
A thought struck Amber, and she turned fully to face Bo-Seon. “But that … that means Shash wasn’t even related to my father. My father invested his entire life into finding Shash – his missing father – when in reality his father was probably just a few miles away. They might have even known each other.”
Bo-Seon nodded, his gaze somber. “This is true.”
Amber shivered. “And I am a full quarter … something … something that I have no idea about.”
His brow creased. “You are one hundred percent you,” he corrected. “I am sure your mother and father loved you dearly – and it is that love they invested in you that matters. Not what stray strands of DNA came from some past generation.”
Amber knew that logically Bo-Seon was telling the truth. But emotionally … she still couldn’t quite take it all in.
He finished his drink and dropped some money on the bar. “I thought you should know the whole truth, before you headed home. The Shash who was lost here was not your blood relative. He was just a man who helped a woman in need out for a few years. Your true grandfather is back in Arizona, perhaps. And maybe he passed away many years ago.”
He put out a hand. “It was good to speak with you, Amber. And, in a way, I think it was good for my grandfather to finally share the truth with me. Perhaps we can all now begin to heal. In any case, I wish you a safe trip home.”
Amber shook his hand. “Thank you for coming back to tell me. I appreciate it a lot.” She sighed. “I just wish my father had known about this years ago. To think of all the years he wasted chasing a ghost.”
Bo-Seon nodded. “Indeed. It is a shame.” He gave a short bow. “Have a safe flight home.”
He turned and walked out of the bar.
Her hand went absently to the bear pendant she wore beneath her shirt. Shash had given one to John before he left for the war. Had Shash known he would not see the young boy again? Had he intended this as a gentle way to separate from the young family?
She downed the rest of her drink. Well, unfortunately, now there was no way to know. John had died with many questions left unanswered. It looked like those questions would remain forever lost in the shadows.
She put down her drink –
A hand touched her arm.
She turned with a smile. Surely Bo-Seon had come back. Perhaps he had remembered some more details –
A pair of men stood there. Korean. Tall. Dark suits. Short, neatly cut hair.
Cold eyes.
The hand on her arm turned into a tight grip.
“You will come with us.”
Thank you for reading The Counterfeit Lighthouse. The sequel will be out soon.
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Dedication
To the Sutton Writing Group and Boston Writing group for their helpful support.
To my beloved partner of twenty years and counting.
Most of all, to all my loyal fans on Facebook, Twitter, GoodReads, and other systems, who encourage me in all my series!
About the Author
Lisa Shea was born in Maryland during the Vietnam War to a father in the Air Force and a mother who worked as a journalist. Over the years she has been drawn to make sense of the heart-wrenching chaos which results when war tears apart families.
A portion of the author’s proceeds from this series benefit local battered women's shelters.
Lisa Shea has published over three hundred works in nearly all genres.
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The Counterfeit Lighthouse Page 6