Sandra’s face was etched with worry. “Wasn’t he with you?”
“We’ve been apart for almost two hours now. Hasn’t he come back?” Vince replied.
Hearing voices outside, Sallie emerged from the bedroom just in time to catch Vince’s words. Her tone was urgent, almost frantic. “Did you say you and Timothy have been separated for two hours?”
Vince nodded. “Yeah.”
Muttering under her breath, Sallie fretted, “Why isn’t he back yet? He’s still injured—what if something’s happened? He was already coughing up blood…”
Without another word, she fished out her phone and dialed Timothy’s number. The call went through, but no one picked up.
A wave of panic surged through her. Even Sandra, usually so composed, began to fidget anxiously. “Why is he running around in his condition?”
Vince had come looking for Timothy to discuss something important, but with Timothy nowhere to be found, he simply turned to Sandra. “Since he’s not here, I’ll be leaving.”
Sandra, having spent most of her years abroad, wasn’t familiar with the details between Jessica and Timothy, nor could anyone blame her for what had happened.
Worried for Timothy, Sallie chased after Vince as he headed out the front gate. “Timothy left with you this evening. If anything happens to him, I won’t forgive you.”
Vince let out a cold laugh—short, mocking, bitter.
“Really, Sallie? You have the nerve to say that? I told you before, Timothy’s fate has nothing to do with the Zimmerman family. Our Salome married into your family for seven years, and you nearly broke her. I haven’t even started holding you accountable, yet you’re here blaming me? No wonder she couldn’t stand living with you people!”
He’d settle this score after he dealt with Jessica.
Sallie shot back, her voice tight with anger. “Don’t twist the facts, Vince! How was she ‘nearly broken’? Timothy never once let her lack for anything!”
Vince’s jaw clenched. “Sure, Timothy never denied her food, clothes, or spending money—that’s the bare minimum! But did he ever give her his time? His care? You’re no saint either, Sallie. I can’t believe I never saw through you before. Disgusting.”
With that, Vince stormed off, leaving Sallie fuming and stomping her foot in frustration.
Sandra had been standing quietly at the door, overhearing the entire exchange. It was clear now—the Zimmerman family must despise Timothy.
She sighed.
“Sallie,” Sandra called softly as she walked over. “You should send someone to look for Timothy.”
“I’ll do it right now.”
As soon as Sallie drove off, Sandra took out her phone and called Sheila.
“Sheila, can you come home for a bit? I haven’t been feeling well lately.”
Sheila, hearing the concern in Sandra’s voice, promised to return right away.
Some things, Sandra thought, simply had to be discussed face-to-face.
The children were adults now. There was so much out of her hands, and the realization pained her deeply.
If only Hannah hadn’t passed away, if she’d been there to watch Timothy grow, would he have turned out differently?
Timothy had been raised as the Lawson family’s heir, held to impossibly high standards, and without a mother’s presence, he’d grown into a man of few words and even fewer emotions.
A mother’s love is gentle, enduring. Children touched by it turn out different—softer, more open. But Timothy was raised by men alone, and something vital was always missing.
Sallie, meanwhile, was at a loss as to where to start searching for Timothy. Driving out into the icy night, she kept trying his number over and over.
Finally, after what felt like forever, he answered.
Her voice trembled with relief and worry. “Timothy, where are you? Why haven’t you been picking up?”
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