And then, in the fall of 1980, Rebecca was standing face to face with her other daughter, Pamela Barnes Ewing, who was saying that it had taken a long time to find her. Pamela didn't have to say who she was; Rebecca would have known those eyes from twenty yards off. But Rebecca panicked. The feelings were coming up too fast. There was so much at stake, so much for so many people. She couldn't, wouldn't respond to Pamela, and so she told her that she was mistaken, she was not her mother. After her daughter left, Rebecca cried her heart out-for Pamela, for Cliff, for herself, for the whole rotten nightmare. And, too, she even cried for Hutch McKinney, Pamela's father, be cause she had only recently learned that Digger had murdered him on that night so many years ago. Oh, it was all a door that was better left closed!
Katherine was attending college in New York City and she asked if her parents would come to visit her. Rebecca gratefully made the trip, desperately needing to be close to her little family, this family. At one point she wondered, just for a moment, if she could ever tell Herbert about her past, but she dismissed it. He was a wonderful man, and she didn't want to hurt him.
Their stay in New York began well. Katherine was vibrant and dynamic as always, and the three had fun making all of the obligatory social rounds in Manhattan. And then Herbert was stricken with a heart attack and died.
Rebecca mourned his death deeply and turned to Katherine for emotional support. But she needed more. She knew what she needed, what she wanted; she wanted aIl of her children, her babies, near her. In early 1981 she flew to Dallas and revealed herself to Pamela, who was forgiving [where did this child get so much goodness in her heart?) and eager to love her.
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