I knew she was not my mother, and I knew he was my father. He was a Cherokee man, she was a white woman. I guess he married her after my mother died in childbirth with me. I guess he married her because he thought he couldn’t take care of me on his own, because he thought there needed to be a woman to give a mother’s love. I wished he had known that I didn’t need her, that I only needed him. He was the perfect father. He hugged me when I felt scared; he kissed me when I got hurt. Noah Gladehaven was my rock. Martha my step mother and Abigail my step sister always told him he was spoiling me. He thought otherwise. I Amelia Gladehaven was 12 when my father died. They told me he had fallen into the river and drowned while he was out hunting. Martha wasn’t the least bit upset neither was Abigail. I myself was heartbroken. My father always hunted with his two brothers and his best friend’s son, Addison, Claude, and Gabriel. They were the only family from my father’s side that I had left. Once they heard of my father’s death they came to my rescue. I was no longer her child, I never was.