Forbidden- Our Secret Love

by Elise Quinn Larson

  I had to run. But where? I mulled it over in bed that night, with Emma curled up beside me. If Idaho was out, what about Oregon? Grandma and Johnny would take me in, but Ontario was too close to the Idaho border. Granddad Quinn had a big house near Portland, but incest in Oregon was a Class C felony, punishable by up to five years in prison. Of all the states, only Rhode Island and New Jersey did not criminalize incest between consenting adults, though they were not allowed to marry.

  Trey said we’d be safe in Rhode Island. Twice he asked me to go with him, and twice I refused. Just five weeks ago, I rejected his final offer. Rejected him. Sat there in silence as his eyes filled with hurt and he walked away. I’d burned that bridge completely, hadn’t I? Surely I couldn’t mend it now. And even if I could, should I try?

  Unable to sleep, I went outside just before dawn and sat on my mother’s favorite bench in her rose garden, watching the sun slowly rise over the eastern foothills like she’d done so many times over the years. She was a morning person, always up before the sun, ready to start a new day. My heart ached with the loss of my mother, who’d loved me with joyous devotion. I hoped I could emulate her with my own little one.

  “I’m going to have a baby, Mom,” I confided in the stillness of that morning. “You’ll be a grandmother. Imagine that. I wish you could help me raise her like you did me, with little games and silly songs, laughter and so much love. I want to be a good mother like you, and I promise I’ll do my best.”

  The sun suddenly crested the highest hill in a full blaze of light, hugging me with soothing warmth and kissing my tear-streaked face. In that magical moment, I could almost feel my mother’s sweet presence. “Thanks, Mom,” I whispered. “I love you.”

  Chapter 36

  B y the middle of September, I was two months pregnant and still undecided about where I should go. Though Rhode Island seemed like the best choice, I’d be alone in a strange place, far from my family, with no job or resources except for the money I’d saved while working in Daddy’s office.

  Those funds would only last a year, and then what? I’d have to find work of some kind, but would I earn enough to pay for living expenses and child care for my baby? The prospect was daunting.

  Granddad Quinn is rich, my mind suggested. But it didn’t seem fair to involve him in this. I thought of asking Quinn, my very wealthy brother, for some help. But he’d paid blackmail money to protect himself from the scandal of incest, so I doubted he’d come to my aid. Daddy would help, of course, but . . .

  Tell Trey, I thought. Just tell Trey. It’s his baby, after all. We created this problem together and we should solve it together, if we can.

  So I tried. I called several times, but he never answered or called back. My text messages—usually a simple ‘Can we meet?’—were ignored. I had no idea where he lived, but I did know where he worked. After a week with no response from him, I gathered my courage, checked his fall class schedule and waited by the door to his office until his class in medieval literature was over.

  My heart tripped when he walked down the hall toward me, deep in conversation with an attractive young woman. About thirty feet away, he looked up, saw me waiting and paused, saying something to the girl, who shrugged and walked away. I held my breath as he closed the space between us, his face impassive except for the flash of anger in his eyes. He stopped three feet from me, his body tense.

  “I’ve been calling,” I began.

  “Why?”

  “I thought we could meet somewhere. To talk.”

  He shook his head. “I can’t do this again, Elise. I won’t. It’s over. Done. Finished. Do not contact me again. Ever.”

  With that, he unlocked his office door and stepped inside, closing it firmly behind him. When the lock clicked again, shutting me out completely, the last remaining pieces of my heart shattered.

  I drove to Ontario a few days later, wanting to say goodbye to my grandmother. After Elise’s death, Grandma Ellen helped Johnny raise CJ, Quinn and Trey, and she wrapped her love around me as well. I spent many happy days at her house while I was growing up, playing with my cousins and sometimes getting into mischief (usually accompanied by Quinn). I loved being part of our big family, especially when we celebrated birthdays and other special occasions.

  Next to my mother, Grandma Ellen was the biggest influence on me. I admired her many talents, from cooking to gardening to managing a large house and family with a minimum of fuss. Most of all, I admired her endless capacity for love. She loved her sons and grandsons fiercely, along with me, my mother, and Elise’s father, Granddad Quinn.

  Though Johnny was the unquestioned head of our family, Grandma Ellen was the matriarch. While we respected and sometimes feared Johnny, our grandmother ruled through firmness tempered with love. As a child, my grandmother’s disappointment in my careless actions often reduced me to tears (like the time Quinn and I ‘borrowed’ her favorite quilt to make an outdoor tent, accidentally tearing it in two places). Her disapproval hurt me more than any spanking.

  At ninety-one, Grandma Ellen was as mentally sharp as ever. With some help from Johnny, she still cooked three meals every day, worked in her flower beds and kept their house perfectly neat. I was in awe of her. The thought of losing her someday was more than I could bear.

  Grandma welcomed me with open arms on that sunny September afternoon. “Elise! What a wonderful surprise! We can sit on the patio and have some lemonade and a nice visit. How about a Swedish waffle cookie? I just made a fresh batch.”

  “Sure.” I never refused one of Grandma’s cookies.

  So we munched cookies and drank lemonade on the south patio, overlooking an expanse of lawn bordered by a white picket fence and pink, yellow and white roses. I relaxed for the first time in weeks, soothed by the sun and my grandmother’s voice as she chatted about goings-on in the town and neighborhood. But she was a very astute lady, and her attention soon focused on me.

  “Jim tells me you’ve dropped out of law school,” she began. “He didn’t seem to know why. I’m surprised, dear. You’ve wanted to be a lawyer since you were in high school. What happened?”

  Trey happened, I thought. Our love happened. Our baby happened. The unspoken words rose in my throat, practically choking me as I forced them back down.

  Grandma reached across the small table between us, opening her hand in a gesture of encouragement. I placed my right hand in hers and she grasped it firmly, surprising me with the strength in her thin fingers. When she felt the ring on my third finger, she looked at it closely. “How lovely,” she said. “From someone special?”

  “It’s from Trey,” I admitted. “A Valentine’s Day gift.”

  “I see.” She paused for only a moment. “Jim also said that you and Trey are no longer living together.”

  “That’s true. We’re not.”

  “Elise, we can sit here and drink lemonade while we talk about the weather and the neighbor’s new puppy, or you can tell me what’s really on your mind. Sometimes, sharing a secret is the only way to ease the pain.”

  I looked at her, this old and very wise woman who’d experienced the pain of loss, and I knew she’d understand. She wouldn’t judge or reject me. And the words I’d been holding back finally broke free as I gripped her hand.

  “I’m in love with Trey,” I said. “In every way a woman loves a man.”

  “And does Trey return your love?”

  “Yes. At least he did. We were so happy, Grandma, until it all fell apart because of Quinn and the investigation and the media finding out we were living together and . . .” I stopped, aware that I was rambling.

  “But why would that matter?” she asked. “There’s no law against cousins living together, even in a romantic relationship.”

  Should I tell her? I wondered. Would sharing this terrible secret ease my pain at the cost of shocking her? I felt her watching me while I hesitated, pulling my hand from hers and twisting the ring on my finger.

  “Elise?”

  I
took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “We’re not cousins,” I confessed. “We’re siblings. Trey is my half-brother.”

  She gasped in stunned denial. “That’s impossible! Who told you such a thing?”

  “Johnny told me. And Daddy confirmed it. Johnny is my biological father.”

  “I don’t believe it! Johnny would never dishonor Elise that way. He . . .”

  “He didn’t have sex with my mother, if that’s what you’re thinking. He was a sperm donor, so my mother could have a baby.” I told her about my parents being CF carriers, and how my mother desperately wanted a baby, and Johnny volunteered out of love for Elise, who wanted Lisa to be happy.

  My grandmother just sat there, shaking her head. “All these years, and I never suspected a thing. When did they tell you and Trey?”

  “Last year. That’s why Trey and I split up for nine months. Daddy was afraid the authorities in Idaho might find out and have us arrested. But we finally decided the chance of that was slim, so we got back together. Then CJ got sick, Quinn got in trouble, and things just fell apart. People know our secret, and we’re not safe together. Now we’ve separated again, and it’s final this time. I’m leaving Idaho, so Trey can have his career and a good life.”

  “Does Trey know you’re leaving?”

  “No. He asked me to go to Rhode Island with him, but I refused. I couldn’t stand the thought of him giving up his brilliant career for me. For us. I decided a permanent break was the best idea.”

  “Are you sure it’s permanent?”

  “Definitely. Trey wants nothing to do with me. He said I’m not to contact him again. Ever.”

  “If that’s true—if your separation is permanent—why are you leaving? Why not stay in Idaho?”

  I got up and walked to the edge of the patio. It’s too much, I thought. I came here to say goodbye, not to spill all of my secrets. I’ve said too much already.

  Grandma’s chair creaked as she stood up and came to me, putting her arm around my waist. “I’m an old woman,” she said. “I’ve learned many things in my life. But my greatest lesson came from your Aunt Elise, who showed me there’s only one thing that truly matters in this world. Love. So I will ask you this on her behalf. Do you love her son? Do you love Trey?”

  I closed my eyes. Could it really be that simple? Is love truly the only thing that matters? My mouth spoke the words before my mind could stop them. “Yes,” I answered. “I love Trey with all my heart. But it’s too late for us.”

  Removing her arm from my waist, my grandmother actually snorted. “Nonsense,” she said. “You’re giving up far too easily. Trey’s mother never gave up, even when Johnny was five minutes from execution. She was a fighter, risking her life by refusing an abortion so her baby—little Trey—could live. And now you’re quitting on him? Running away? Elise would not approve, and neither do I.”

  “What else can I do, Grandma?”

  Grasping my arm, she turned me to face her, looking into my eyes as though she could uncover my hidden secrets. “Why are you leaving, Elise? And don’t tell me it’s because of Trey’s career.”

  I tried to pull away, but she held firm, waiting for my answer. “I’m leaving because Trey is my half-brother,” I said. “And I’m carrying his baby.”

  Her hand moved from my arm to her mouth and she turned away, walking slowly across the lawn to her favorite bed of pale pink roses. I approached cautiously, not knowing what to say or do. Was she shocked? Angry? Appalled?

  “Grandma? Please say something.”

  “Who else knows about the baby?”

  “No one. Just the staff at a clinic in Twin Falls.”

  “Did you consider an abortion?”

  “Of course. But I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t kill our baby. Now you know why I have to leave. Incest is a serious crime in Idaho. I can’t risk . . .”

  “When are you leaving?”

  “Next week.”

  “I need to think, Elise. Give me two days. Come back on Saturday. Will you do that?”

  “Do you intend to tell Johnny?”

  “No. I shudder to think of his reaction. He and CJ are taking the boys to a Broncos game on Saturday afternoon, so he won’t be here. Will you come?”

  I nodded. “Yes. I’ll come.”

  “Good. You’ve thrown me for a loop, my dear, but I’ve faced far worse in my life. This will work out. Trust your old grandmother.”

  And with that—plus a kiss and a hug—she sent me on my way, wondering what she could possibly do in just two days.

  Chapter 37

  G randma had lunch all ready to serve when I arrived on Saturday: split-pea soup with bacon and mustard (Artsoppa med flask), warm limpa bread, and poached pears with cream for dessert. So good! This was true comfort food, no doubt chosen by her for just that reason.

  She kept the conversation light while we ate, smiling and chatting about nothing of importance, but I was aching to learn if she’d thought of any solution for my predicament. As I helped with the dishes, I finally had to ask.

  “Grandma?”

  “What, dear?”

  “About my problem . . . you said you needed two days.”

  “Yes. So I did.”

  “And?”

  “After thinking it over, I realized I can’t fix this, but I can be a facilitator. So I called Trey and told him I needed his help this afternoon. He’ll be here soon.”

  “Trey? He’s coming here?”

  “Yes.”

  “Does he know I’m here?”

  “No.”

  “He doesn’t want to see me, Grandma! He’s made that quite clear. He’ll just turn around and leave.”

  Firmly closing the dishwasher, she turned to me. “No, Elise. He won’t leave. I’ll make certain of that. In the meantime, I’ve got something to show you.”

  She took me upstairs to her bedroom, where a box sat on her bed. A white label on top simply said, “Trey.”

  “Johnny brought this down from the attic last night,” she said. “I didn’t tell him why I wanted it, and he didn’t ask.” Setting the lid aside, she lifted a light covering of tissue paper.

  “Elise saved a box of clothing and little mementoes from each of her babies,” she explained. “CJ has his. Quinn has no interest in such things, so we still have his box. This is Trey’s. Let’s take a look, shall we?”

  My grandmother talked as she carefully removed each item of clothing: little onesies, shirts, pants, sleepers, booties, caps and sweaters, all with cute designs in soft fabrics. And so tiny! “Trey was very small,” she recalled. “He arrived two months early and weighed just four pounds. Look. He came home from the hospital wearing this, when he was three weeks old.”

  She handed me a one-piece, pale blue sleeper decorated with the words, ‘Thank Heaven for Little Boys.’ “That was the smallest size we could find,” she said, “but his feet were inches above the bottom. He grew into it eventually, though.”

  Among the clothes were other items: a rattle, teether, spoon, small stuffed elephant, ‘touch and feel’ book about a little lamb, and a yellow baby blanket with frayed edges. “This was his favorite blanket,” Grandma said. “He carried it everywhere until he was three. Elise boxed the other items before she died, but I added the blanket later, along with this.”

  She showed me a small gold frame in the shape of a heart, enclosing a picture of Trey and his mother. “Johnny took that picture on Trey’s first birthday,” she said. “It was such a happy day. Elise died less than four months later.”

  I studied the picture of the aunt I was named for, with her green eyes and auburn hair, cuddling a chubby, dark-haired baby boy with sapphire blue eyes. It was a perfect picture of love. “She was so beautiful,” I murmured.

  “Yes,” Grandma agreed. “She was. In every way.” Clearing her throat, she replaced the picture in the box. “Anyway, I thought you might like a few of these things for your own little one. I know Elise would approve. This will be her grandbaby, after all.
What do you think?”

  “I . . .”

  The garage door slammed. “Grandma? What the hell?”

  Trey had arrived. He’d seen my car in the driveway, and he was not pleased.

  Grandma placed her hand on my arm. “Go to the family room,” she told me. “I’ll send him down in a minute.”

  Full of apprehension, I hurried downstairs to the old sofa we jumped on as kids, throwing pillows at each other and laughing. Feeling no laughter now, I perched on the sofa’s edge, gripping a pillow to my chest like a shield as Trey’s angry voice reached me from the kitchen.

  “Why is she here?” he demanded.

  “Elise is my granddaughter,” Grandma replied. “She has every right to be here. As do you.”

  “You said you needed my help, but that was just a ruse to get me here, right? Who planned this, anyway?”

  “I did. And I do need your help. I can’t fix the trouble between you and Elise, but you can. You must.”

  “I can’t. It’s unfixable, Grandma. How much has she told you?”

  “Enough. But there’s nothing short of death that can’t be fixed, Trey. You’re both adults now. Adults don’t solve their problems by hiding or running away. Problems are meant to be faced. So go downstairs and face them. Together. I’ll be outside if you need me, but I don’t think you will.”

  “Grandma . . .”

  Our grandmother’s voice rang with familiar authority. “Trey Matthew Larson, you will do as I say. You got yourself into this, and you will deal with it. Now!”

  I held my breath, hearing the kitchen door close behind her. Then silence. Will he come? I wondered. Or will he leave?

  He came. Hearing his footsteps on the stairs, I stood up to face him, still clutching the pillow. “Hello,” I said when he entered the room. It seemed so formal. So inadequate.

  He said nothing.

  “Would you like to sit down?” More formality.

  He shook his head. He stood about ten feet from me, the very image of his father in jeans and T-shirt, with booted feet slightly apart and hands clenched at his sides as though ready for a fight. All of his barriers were up, his wall firmly in place. I’d broken through that wall once before, on that day in his apartment when I’d dropped to my knees before him and opened my hand in silent appeal. Would that work again? I had no idea.