Ripples spread across the lake surface, and the wild ducks playing in the water, seeming to be startled by something, wing their way into the air and fly away.
It stayed upset for a long time.
Yvonne Finley's lips quivered, her throat feeling as if it had been burned by a hot iron. She couldn't make a sound.
Looking at the man in front of her, his face started to blur in her eyes, pulling her back to her lonely childhood years in the enormous villa, where her only friends were a pile of dolls, and her uncle who came to care for her. Her mother was always absent, given to drinking, and her father was hardly seen months at a time. She even nearly forgot she had a father.
She would probably only see him twice a year.
Each meeting was a hurried one.
The father and daughter hardly communicated at all.
She was too young then, too young to remember many people and events.
