I nodded.
“But I am sorry for not telling you sooner, when I first realized you and Trey were growing closer. Your mother noticed it before I did. She mentioned it several times after you moved in with Trey, saying we should tell you the truth. But I kept putting it off, and after she died and you came home and started seeing Peter, I thought . . . oh, hell! These are just excuses for my failure to be honest with you—honest enough to spare you this pain. Can you forgive me?”
I saw tears in the eyes of this beautiful man who was my true father. Smiling through my own tears, I grabbed another tissue and handed it to him.
“Of course I forgive you,” I said. “I love you so much. I’m so thankful you are my father. Frankly, I wouldn’t want Johnny for a father. Having him for an uncle is more than enough.”
He smiled at that. “Having Johnny as a brother is rather trying at times, too. But he does have his good points.”
“Did Trey go home with him?”
“No. Trey took a cab to the airport. He wasn’t speaking to Johnny or me. He’s pretty upset by this, and I can’t blame him.”
“I should’ve talked to him instead of running upstairs, but I needed time to think—to decide what to do. This has upset everything. All our plans.”
“You can’t marry him, Elise. Johnny is right about that. Not only is marriage between half-siblings illegal in every state, but sexual intercourse is also a criminal offense. The penalties are severe—five years imprisonment in Oregon, and up to life imprisonment in Idaho.”
“How do you know this?”
“I went online after Trey and Johnny left. It’s true, I’m afraid. Whatever happened between you and Trey must never happen again. You must make a complete break.”
“But I love him! We complete each other in ways I never thought possible. I can’t imagine life without him.”
“I’m sorry, sweetheart, but you have no choice.” He kissed my tear-streaked face and left my room, softly closing the door behind him.
Chapter 16
I skipped dinner and lay awake all night, mulling things over in search of a solution to our problem. I went online to verify what my father said and it was true. Having sex with Trey could put us in prison for a very long time. That was pretty scary.
But who would ever know? I thought. My mother was dead. Johnny and my father would never betray us; I was certain of that. The insemination was done privately, with no witnesses or documentation. So why was it a problem for us?
I knew why. Because even if our true relationship remained a secret from the world, nature could not be fooled. I wanted children of my own someday, and the results of my online research were daunting. According to several studies, the odds that a newborn child of brother-sister incest would suffer an early death, a severe birth defect or some mental deficiency were significant.
But that’s not true in our case, my mind argued. Trey and I are only half-siblings, which should reduce the risk. And besides, our genetic testing turned out fine. I had no defective genes, and Trey had just the one. Our children should be completely normal and healthy, right?
I tossed and turned, ignoring Trey’s phone calls and text messages until he finally stopped trying to reach me. By six a.m., I’d pretty much convinced myself that we could go ahead with our plans. Our true relationship would remain a secret and our children would be healthy.
I was just stepping into the shower when a name hit me like cold water: Mrs. Pierce. Trey’s genetic counselor knew the truth about us. She’d told us we were half-siblings, but we’d refused to believe her. She had documented proof of our relationship—proof that others had possibly seen as well, such as lab technicians and office staff. Genetic test results were supposed to be kept private and confidential like other medical records, but medical records systems could be breached.
After a quick shower, I did some online research on the confidentiality of genetic test records. The articles all reached similar conclusions: “Medical confidentiality in clinical genetics is virtually impossible,” and “Genetic privacy laws . . . do not prevent compelled, authorized disclosure of information to third parties (e.g. insurers).”
My earlier optimism vanished as the reality of our situation hit me. Our secret was safe with our fathers, but the genetic tests—the tests I had insisted on taking!—could be our undoing. We’d always live with the fear that someone would discover the truth and reveal it to the authorities.
I closed my eyes as my mind played an image of us in five years or even ten, happily married with good careers and perhaps a child or two, until one day an officer comes to our door with a warrant for our arrest on a charge of incest. Life in prison? For loving Trey? I shuddered.
Trey called again a few minutes later, and this time I answered. “How are you?” he asked.
“Tired. I didn’t sleep at all. You?”
“Same. I still can’t believe this—what they did. My father has done some crazy things in his life, but to impregnate his brother’s wife? It’s insane!”
“He did it to help, you know. He did it out of love for Elise, who wanted Lisa to be happy.”
“Right. Everything he does is out of love for Elise and her blessed memory. He’s stayed celibate all these years. He visits her grave every single week without fail. He sleeps on her side of their bed, and some of her clothes are still in the closet. We grew up constantly hearing about what our mother would have thought or said or done about whatever it was. I’m sure she was a wonderful woman—CJ and Grandma certainly think so. But can you imagine growing up with a sainted ghost for a mother?”
“I’m sorry you’re angry enough to blame Johnny and even your poor mother for our situation, but stop and think. If Johnny hadn’t done what he did for my mother, I wouldn’t exist. Have you thought of that at all?”
“So you’re saying I should thank him for making you my sister?”
“No. I’m saying you should stop blaming him for doing what he thought was right.”
“I’m glad you exist, Elise. I wouldn’t change that for the world. You are everything to me. But how I wish you were Jim’s real daughter instead of my father’s. How I wish you weren’t my half-sister!”
“I know. But I am. We have to face it, Trey. Face it and decide what to do.”
I told him what I’d learned about the possible disclosure of genetic test records and the severe penalties for incest. I told him about the risk of birth defects in children of siblings. And I told him I was scared.
But Trey was undaunted, saying the chances of disclosure, prosecution or birth defects were “infinitesimal.” He thought we could marry in San Francisco as planned, and no one would ever find out we were siblings. And he thought the results of our genetic testing guaranteed our children would be healthy.
“You’re forgetting something,” I said.
“What’s that?”
“The average Joe might get away with keeping a secret like this, but not you. You are a celebrity, Trey. You are a track star—the Steve Prefontaine of our generation. And you are the brother of Quinn Larson, a hugely popular NFL quarterback. Do you honestly think our marriage would escape public notice?”
“Maybe not.”
“No ‘maybe’ about it. And once it’s out there, someone with access to our genetic test results will make the connection. Maybe not right away, but the truth will come out eventually: Trey Larson married his sister! The scandal will damage Quinn’s career, hurt our family, and we’ll go to prison.”
“You’re wrong, Elise. You’re letting your fear run away with you. I still say the chance of disclosure is infinitesimal.”
“Are you willing to risk it?”
“Yes. Absolutely. Aren’t you?”
I didn’t respond.
“Elise?”
“I don’t know, Trey. I need more time.”
His exasperated sigh was loud in my ear. “What’s really bothering you?” he asked. “Is it the fear of disclosure or something else? Are you tur
ned off by the fact that I’m your brother? Is the idea of sex with me suddenly repulsive? Because if that’s it . . .”
“No. That’s not it. My feelings for you haven’t changed. Not at all. But my dad and Uncle Johnny would never sanction our marriage. Even if our relationship remained a secret, it would tear our family apart. Surely you can see that.”
He sighed again. “What I see is that you spent the night thinking of reasons to break up with me.”
“That’s not true!”
“Prove it. Fly back to Eugene so we can talk in person. We’ll work something out.”
We’ll end up in bed, I thought. And all my defenses will crumble. “Maybe next weekend,” I said. “Daddy needs me at the office this week.”
“All right. Next weekend. Get some sleep, and remember just one thing.”
“What?”
“I love you.”
I went to work as usual on Monday, but I couldn’t stay focused on anything as my mind wrestled with our problem. Naturally, Peter noticed my inattention.
“What’s up?” he asked when he found me in the staff lunch room, staring at my barely-touched sandwich. “What’s bothering you?”
“Nothing,” I replied.
He got his sack from the fridge and sat across from me. “Come on, Elise. We’ve been working together for months and shared quite a few Saturdays besides, so I know you pretty well. Something’s obviously wrong. Can I help?”
“No. Thank you, but it’s a private family matter.” Family matter indeed, I thought. My uncle is really my father. My cousin is really my brother. And apparently that old saying is true: incest is best.
“Nothing wrong with your dad, I hope?”
Which dad? I thought. Jim? Johnny? It seems I have two now. But I knew he meant Jim.
“He’s fine,” I said, stuffing my sandwich into its plastic bag. “Excuse me. I’d better get back to work. I’m sorry if I’ve been distracted. I’ll try to do better this afternoon. I shouldn’t let personal matters interfere with business.”
He put his hand on my arm as I rose. Peter had strong but gentle hands, with long, capable fingers. Capable like the rest of him. He was a man I could trust with almost anything—except my deepest secret.
“Are we still friends?” he asked.
“Of course.”
“Good. I just wanted to be sure. And if you ever want to talk, I’m available.”
Talk! I was bombarded with talk that week, as my fathers tried to talk some sense into me. Daddy tried logic and gentle persuasion, but Johnny was not the gentle type. He showed up on Wednesday night and ordered me (in language I won’t repeat) to break up with Trey immediately. His words stung and hurt, especially when he railed about what this could do to our family if we proceeded.
“I’ll be damned before I’ll allow a scandalous marriage to hurt the family!” he declared. “Think of CJ’s career, and Quinn’s. Can you imagine the hell Elias and James would go through if their middle school classmates learned the truth? And what about Mama and Granddad? They’re too old for a shock like this.”
He went on and on, and he did have some valid points, but the onslaught was too much for me. Johnny was a fearsome man and the head of our family, but I did not deserve to be browbeaten into submission by a man who’d done more than a few scandalous things in his own life.
“What about me?” I asked, facing him in the middle of the living room. “What about my feelings? And Trey’s? Don’t you think this was a shock for us? Do you imagine we fell in love for some nefarious reason? We fell in love because we were meant to be together, and I shouldn’t have to explain that to you, Johnny. I know how it was between you and your Elise. I know how you believed in destiny.”
He scowled at that, but I went on. “This is your fault. Yours and Daddy’s. You should’ve told us the truth years ago, as soon as we were old enough to understand. But you didn’t. Were you blind? Couldn’t you see how close we were as we grew up? Why didn’t you say something before it came to this?”
When Johnny didn’t respond, my father finally spoke up. “Don’t blame Johnny,” he said. “I asked him not to tell, because I wanted you to be my daughter. Just mine and your mother’s. No one else’s. I never wanted you to see me as anything less than your real father. I was selfish and I was wrong, but I can’t fix it now. Only you and Trey can fix it.”
“By breaking up, you mean.”
“Yes,” Johnny said. “For all our sakes.”
I turned and walked out of the room.
Chapter 17
T here was one piece of good news during that last week in February: I was approved to enter the University of Idaho’s College of Law in August. Apparently the MacAllister’s arm of influence did not stretch beyond Oregon.
My father was thrilled. The college was just over a mile from our house—easy walking distance or five minutes by car—so he was certain I’d want to continue living at home.
He took me to Chandler’s Steakhouse on Thursday night to celebrate at one of Boise’s most expensive restaurants, insisting I was worth it. We studiously avoided talking about Trey while we dined on steak and lobster, but I could not turn off my thoughts.
“I’ll miss you at the office,” Daddy commented while we lingered over fabulous chocolate mousse. “But we have six months to find a replacement. And I can always rely on Peter to help when needed. He is very capable, you know.”
“Who?”
“Peter. I was saying how capable he is.”
“Yes. Capable. I know.”
“You do like Peter, don’t you?”
“Yes. I like Peter,” I said as I finished my last bite of mousse. “He’s agreed to fill in for me tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow? Why?”
“I’m flying to Eugene in the morning.”
My father placed his fork on his empty plate before he looked at me. “You’re going to see Trey.”
“Yes. He asked me to come. We need to talk, face to face. We need to decide what to do.”
“There’s nothing to decide, Elise. Surely you can see that. Johnny and I are in complete agreement.”
“Well, that’s fine. I’m glad you and Johnny finally agree on something, but it’s not your life. It’s my life and Trey’s. You and Johnny started this thing when you decided to create me, but it’s out of your hands now. Trey and I will decide what to do. That’s why I’m going to Eugene. Let’s go home, Daddy. I need to pack for my flight.”
One week, I thought as the plane touched down in Eugene. I landed here just one week ago to meet with Trey’s genetic counselor. We were hoping for good news, but she gave us a nightmare instead.
The weather hadn’t changed since then. Rain. Endless, drenching, depressing rain sluiced down the tall windows of the terminal. I passed through the security gate to where Trey stood waiting, umbrella in hand.
I smiled as we hugged. “So you do own an umbrella after all!”
“I do now. I bought it this morning to keep you dry.”
“What a thoughtful man.”
“That’s me—although I wouldn’t mind a repeat of last Friday’s warming up activities in the shower.” He grabbed my suitcase. “Come on. Let’s go home. I made one of my specialties for lunch.”
Actually, it was one of our grandmother’s specialties: Vasterbotten cheese pie and a delicious cabbage-fruit salad followed by chocolate sundaes for dessert. So good! Among his other talents, Trey was a fantastic cook. I practically groaned with pleasure.
He grinned at me from across the table. “Satisfied?”
“Oh, yes. I have so missed your cooking since I left Eugene.”
“Just my cooking?”
“No. Everything. I loved living with you. You were so supportive after my trauma with Ben, dealing with my fears and my night terrors. I’ll always be grateful for that. And we had good times, too. Studying and walking and talking and . . .”
“And what?” he prompted.
“You know.”
“I do know, but I want to hear you say it. What else did you love, Elise?”
“You. Loving you. That was the best part of all.”
“Was? Past tense?” He held his breath, waiting for my answer.
I shook my head. “No. Present tense. Loving you is the best part of all.”
He smiled as he came around the table, pulled me to my feet and gathered me in his arms. “Thank God,” he whispered just before he kissed me, when words and thoughts and worries were consumed by the heat of our forbidden passion.
We got no further than the rug on the living room floor. Rain beat against the patio doors in a steady rhythm while we unzipped and unbuttoned just enough to touch, to feel, to join in that primal dance of wonder and joy and glorious completion together, as we were somehow meant to be.
He stayed within me as we came down from the peak, feeling my contractions slowly subside. I looked at his face so close to mine—so much like mine—and my heart was so full of love that it frightened me. My love, I thought. Oh, my love. How can I ever find the strength to leave you?
I felt his lips on my face and heard his soft words of love and reassurance. “All will be well,” he said. “You’ll see. Nothing will separate us.”
He reached up and grabbed a couple of pillows from the sofa, placing them under our heads. We curled up together on the floor, just enjoying the closeness in our intimate cocoon of rug and rain and love. Closing my mind to reality, I yielded to my other senses: the sound of the rain and Trey’s breathing, the musky smell of sex, the sight of wavering shadows on the ceiling, the taste of his lips on mine and the touch of his hands as he unclasped my bra and fondled my breasts until desire stirred again.
“Come with me,” he said. “Come to bed. The floor is fine for starters, but it’s too damn hard for what I have in mind.”
“And what is that, exactly?”
“You’ll find out. Come.”
If I go to his bed, I am truly doomed, I thought. I can’t do this. I can’t.
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