Whispers and Lies

by Diane Pershing

Lou was curious to see what Will had in mind. They got in the car and drove away from Lincoln’s neighborhood. After a few more minutes of driving, Will turned into a side street and parked, then took out his cell phone, punched in a number and lifted it to his ear.

  “Harry?… Yeah. It’s Will Jamison. Look, I have a little job for you.” He chuckled. “Well, sure, it could be a big job, we’ll see. Okay. Ready?”

  Lou, frustrated that their long drive had brought no results, listened while Will requested his contact to research any adoptions by either Rita Conlon or Janice McAndrews, then to check on all Caucasian children offered up for adoption in South Florida in a one-year span on either side of Lou’s birth date, and finally to check hospital records for white female babies born in that area in that same period of time, seeing if there was any notation of a strawberry birthmark on the left thigh. Will added that he also wanted the employment record for Rita Conlon from the time she was eighteen until her paper trail ended. Will read off the number of her passport, but informed Harry that he’d have to hunt down her Social Security Number.

  Will listened for a while, then chuckled again. “Yeah, I know it’s all kind of scattershot, but I don’t have anything more concrete at this point. Okay, do the best you can. Fine.”

  When he’d disconnected the call, Lou said, “Private investigator, I assume.”

  “Harry’s the best,” Will said, nodding. “He’ll get on it, but he reminded me that most of the records from back then aren’t on computer yet, and we’re heading into the weekend, when government buildings are closed. So nothing much can be done until Monday.”

  “Oh.” More disappointment flooded her. She’d been through the wringer emotionally today, but at least on the way to Orlando to check out Lincoln’s house, she’d felt some small hope that they could begin to unravel the mystery of her life. Not to be. Why couldn’t just one thing about this whole business be easy? “So what do we do now?”

  “We wait.”

  “Oh,” she said again. “I see.”

  And then there was this wall between her and Will, one that both of them had erected after their little blowup. She still didn’t feel exactly warm and toasty toward him.

  Even though he’d practically wrenched her arms out of their sockets telling her how if she left him, he’d come after her. Pretty intense stuff there. Lots of emotion behind the words. But he’d lied, kept the truth from her for a week. How could she ever trust a man who would do that to her?

  He’d said he wouldn’t do that again. And she believed him. Maybe she was a fool, but she did.

  “What are your plans?” Will asked as they drove away.

  She shrugged. “I guess I’ll go home.”

  He glanced at her. “Why?”

  “Because you have a private eye working on this, which is what my next step would have been. There’s not a lot more I can do. I mean, I have no more information to give you about Mom. We don’t know where she worked back then, where she lived, except ‘south’ of Tallahassee, where the rich folks were, whatever that means, so I can’t go sniffing around half the state to see if anyone remembers her. There’s nothing else for me here.”

  “Why not come back with me. To D.C.?”

  She was deeply, thoroughly pleased, but she tried not to let it show. “Really?”

  “Yes, really. Lincoln has a condo there. I’m going to try to talk to some of his neighbors, get a feel for the last time he was there. You might want to come with me.”

  “True.”

  “Besides, you shouldn’t be alone with all these unanswered questions and all this confusion.” Taking a hand off the steering wheel, he ran the back of his finger down her cheek. Then he grinned. “Let me distract you. Ever been to your nation’s capital?”

  “Only on a school trip twenty-odd years ago.”

  “Well, then, it’s time for another visit. And I can get us in the back door of all the places you saw from the front.” He winked. “I have connections.”

  Despite the turmoil roiling inside her, about her life and about Will, Lou found herself smiling back. “You make it hard to say no.”

  “Then don’t. Say no, I mean.” Pulling over to the curb, he put the car in Park, took her hands in his and rubbed his thumbs over her knuckles. “Come to Washington, Lou. Please.”

  She gazed into those rich, deep, emerald-colored eyes of his and felt her heart curling up in her chest. Once again, she experienced that raw sense of powerless attraction to this man, and once again, she wondered why she was allowing herself to get in so deep, practically assuring future heartbreak.

  And once again, she had neither the answers nor the strength to fight it.

  “Well, heck,” she said, with a sigh, “when you put it so pretty, how can I resist?”

  Chapter 11

  At the Orlando Airport, they turned in the rental car and flew straight to D.C. A cab took them to Will’s apartment on one of the tree-lined streets of DuPont Circle, an area that housed several embassies and museums, its denizens a mixture of straight and gay, young and old, artists and bureaucrats.

  Will’s apartment occupied the basement of a three-story brownstone that had been converted to condos, each unit taking up one whole floor. The moment he and Lou entered his place, he set down the bags, picked up the phone and ordered a large pizza, half anchovies and pepperoni, half mushrooms. He then headed for his office to check his e-mails.

  Lou used her cell phone to do some checking of her own—everything at the clinic was fine and she was told to enjoy herself and not worry about a thing. After that, she took a tour of Will’s lair, which consisted of a series of narrow, low-ceilinged rooms. The small but efficient kitchen was wood-paneled, the living room had a brick fireplace. It was obvious the furniture had been chosen more for comfort than elegance, in brown and rust earth tones. A large, worn, leather chair sat in one corner, with a reading lamp placed on the side table. Lou had no trouble picturing Will spending winter evenings in that chair, reading by the fireplace.

  She wasn’t sure she could live in a basement place with bars on the windows—not that anyone had asked her to—but she had to admit it felt far less claustrophobic than she had imagined. There were windows all around, which she imagined in daylight allowed enough light in, from the top half at least. In the rear of the unit, a door opened onto a tiny patio. She stepped outside, climbed three stone steps and found herself in a well-tended garden, obviously for the use of everyone in the building. Bordering the backyard on all sides were more buildings, not only one-hundred-fifty-year-old brown-stones, like this one, but also newer, sleeker high-rises. Lou gazed up at the night sky, so different from home; here it was difficult to make out stars or see much of anything, what with city lights and the inevitable smog.

  Will caught up to her as she was breathing in the scent of night-blooming jasmine. From behind, he put his arms around her waist, pulled her to him and nuzzled her neck. This had the effect of causing instant arousal with all the trappings—tingling nerve endings, quickening pulse and the beginnings of a sweet ache between her legs.

  “So,” she said, letting her head loll back so he could access more skin, “this is going to be one of those weekends.”

  “I said I’d distract you,” he murmured. Raising his hands, he covered her breasts with them. “How better to do just that, hmm?”

  She covered his hands with her own and closed her eyes, letting all the sensations and smells of Will flood her. For that moment, gone were thoughts of too-bright night skies and cramped gardens, questions about where she came from and the many lies she’d been told all her life. Now there was only Will and what he did to her, physically and emotionally. Filled her up and left room for nothing else.

  “When will the pizza be here?” she asked dreamily.

  “Too soon,” he said, kissing her ear and letting her go. “Come inside.” He took her hand, and together they walked back into his place. “What do you think of my place?” he asked when they were inside.
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  “I like it.”

  “Yeah, I’m comfortable here. It’s kind of my own private cave.”

  “Ooh, a caveman. Just what every girl dreams of.”

  Smiling, he beat both fists on his chest. “You woman, me man.”

  Oh, that crooked grin. Would she ever stop being knocked out by the lopsided way the man smiled? “You got the genders right, anyway,” Lou said dryly. “The routine needs a little work.”

  “I’ll have you know—” Will began, but was interrupted by a sharp knock on the front door “—that our dinner is here.”

  He paid the delivery boy, then set the large box on one end of a table in the dining area. Quickly, he gathered up papers, magazines and mail that had been strewn across most of it and set them in piles on the floor. The Jamison siblings were not into clutter-free living, Lou couldn’t help observing.

  “Can I help?” she offered.

  “Nope. Just clearing us a space to eat. I tend to spread out.” He gathered place mats and napkins. “Beer, wine or soda?”

  “Soda.”

  In no time, they were seated at the table and digging in. The pizza was delicious and she actually ate two large pieces of her half, the one with the mushrooms. Will finished up the rest, including hers, saying he was too hungry to be bothered that he was eating fungi.

  Oh, boy, was she tired, Lou realized as she watched Will demolish the pizza. Bone-weary from the emotional toll the last couple of days had taken on her. Also surprised and pleased to be sitting in Will’s apartment, sharing a meal with him. Never in her wildest dreams…

  The jarring ring of the telephone interrupted her musings. Will made no move to get up to answer it. When the answering machine picked up, a woman spoke.

  “Um, hi, Will. This is Karen Grazer. Um, when we went out last month you said you’d call me, and, well, my answering machine hasn’t been working very well.” A small, nervous laugh followed. “Actually, my cat sat on it and I think she erased some messages.” She laughed again. “So I wondered if you had tried to reach me?”

  A sudden, overwhelming spurt of jealousy speared Lou’s insides, which was quickly followed by reluctant compassion. Poor Karen, she thought, calling Will with the oldest one in the book: My answering machine isn’t working, did you call me? Poor woman. Poor, powerless woman.

  Again, Will held the cards. He would call back or he wouldn’t.

  Did Will still hold all the cards with the two of them? Lou asked herself.

  “…or maybe you’re out of the country on assignment,” Karen was saying. “Anyway, please give me a call. I had such a good time with you.” She recited her number twice, then hung up.

  Will looked at Lou, smiled sheepishly. “Sorry.”

  “It’s okay,” she said, even though it wasn’t. “You have a whole life I’m not part of. Same for me.”

  “Yeah, well. Every guy’s nightmare, being with one woman while another one calls. Trust me, I hardly know her.”

  “It’s okay, Will. I’m fine, really.” She yawned. “I’m also wiped out.”

  “Have you seen my bedroom yet?” He raised an eyebrow. “There’s an actual bed in it.”

  Did you sleep there with Karen? she wondered, then made herself let it go. She was tired, sad, vulnerable. This was an old tape, the one that went, “I’m not attractive enough to keep this incredible man.” Poor Karen, she must have the same old tapes as Lou did. Someone with an ounce of pride wouldn’t have left that message.

  Sleep. Her body craved sleep. She needed to wash her face, brush her teeth, crawl under the covers.

  “You look close to collapsing,” Will observed.

  “I guess it’s been kind of a tiring day,” she said ruefully.

  “A major understatement.”

  The woman was amazing, Will thought. She was holding up so well. How many others would find everything about their foundations not just shaken but blasted out from under them, and still make jokes and eat pizza? What other woman would discover her lover had kept important information from her, listen to his explanation and get past it without going into a major meltdown? There was that strength of hers again—that solid sense of who she was—that he admired so.

  He began to pack up the pizza leavings. “You know, whatever the circumstances of your birth, I mean, whoever your birth mother was, Janice McAndrews did a great job. You are one hell of a woman.”

  She looked taken aback, then shyly pleased. “Oh. Well, thank you.”

  He put the dishes in the sink. “How’s your head, Lou? I mean, how are you doing with all the stuff you learned today? If you don’t mind me asking one of my questions again.”

  “You, of all people, have the right to ask,” she said with a tired smile. “And the truth is, I go back and forth between being furious with Mom and then figuring she had her reasons, and they must have been powerful ones. Then I’m angry with myself for making excuses for her or angry for lacking compassion. Pretty much what you’d expect. I’m all over the place.”

  “Yeah. And, I repeat, at the end of the day, you’re one hell of a terrific woman. We’ll get this figured out. Eventually, you’ll be okay.”

  She seemed to ponder this for a moment, then nodded her head. “Yes, I will. After a while. When I have more answers. As the old song goes, I will survive.” With this pronouncement, she yawned again.

  He walked over to her, took her hand and pulled her out of her chair. “Let’s get you settled in. Feel like a shower?”

  “You know, all I can think about is sleeping.”

  “Damn. Cross off my plan to get you all slick with soap and seduce you under hot, running water.”

  “Didn’t we do that one already?”

  “Ah, but there are variations.”

  She groaned. “Rain check? Or shower check? Whatever,” she said, yawning yet one more time.

  “Come,” he said, scooping her up into his arms.

  He carried her into his bedroom, set her down on his king-size bed, then retrieved her suitcase from the living room. She opened it, took out her toiletry bag and nightgown. He lay back on the bed and watched as Lou entered the bathroom and closed the door behind her. In a matter of moments, it seemed, she reappeared, dressed in a nightgown and carrying her clothes, which she tossed onto a chair. Lou climbed into bed, pulled the covers up and was asleep.

  Will turned onto his side, propped himself on an elbow and gazed down on her. So small, he thought. Takes up almost no space at all. Tiny, with the heart of a lioness. He reached over to brush several strands of hair off her face, stroked a finger down her cheek, then stopped, so he wouldn’t disturb her much-needed sleep.

  A feeling of great tenderness flooded him. His heart filled with something warm and light and good, and yet quite profound, too. He had no words to describe it.

  Wait.

  Yes, he did.

  The word was…love.

  Will was in love. When he hadn’t been looking, he’d broken his cardinal rule of not letting any relationship get this far, and he’d gone and fallen in love. And although he wasn’t exactly leaping for joy, it wasn’t a bad feeling, either. Alien and yet familiar at the same time.

  Love.

  Huh.

  So what exactly did he do now? This was uncharted territory for him, and a pretty major part of him wasn’t sure he wanted to take the journey.

  Deep in thought, Will undressed, showered and climbed into bed with Lou. He pulled her to him and held her close as he drifted into sleep. She fit his body, she fit his mind.

  Hell, she fit just about everywhere.

  The next day, Saturday, Will was as good as his word about distracting her, from early morning lovemaking, followed by having warm, fresh bagels and coffee, and then going out on the D.C. streets to see the sights. The Phillips Collection, a small private museum, was nearby, and Lou was charmed by the entire three stories of exhibits. Here was the home of Renoir’s “Luncheon of the Boating Party,” oils by El Greco, Degas, Cézanne and Van Gogh, not to
mention the artwork of one of her favorites, Georgia O’Keefe. She could have spent all day there, but Will seemed to have too much energy to stand still for so long, so they left after a couple of hours.

  They stopped by Lincoln’s condo, but couldn’t get past the doorman, who, after calling up to DeWitt’s unit and getting no answer, refused to pass on any information about Lincoln’s recent arrivals and departures except to inform them, in bored tones, that he was often away for lengths of time. Momentarily thwarted, they returned to Will’s for some restorative lovemaking, followed by a long, late-afternoon walk, a concert that evening at the Kennedy Center and more lovemaking. Lots more lovemaking.

  Lou not only enjoyed every single minute, she felt nearly insatiable; it was as though she’d discovered an entirely new planet, one that consisted solely of ways to feed and nourish all the senses. Now that she’d discovered it, she couldn’t, wouldn’t, didn’t want to ever leave that planet again.

  On Sunday morning, she woke up to find herself alone in bed, the smell of brewing coffee drifting past her nostrils. Stretching luxuriously, she glanced at the clock. Nine o’clock. Late for her, but not really, considering all the physical activities she and Will had engaged in the day before.

  Smiling, she stretched some more, feeling all the muscles in her body protesting. Yes, sir, walking and strenuous lovemaking—both were gradually taking the place of grief as the new weight-loss plan. Far healthier and a lot more pleasant.

  Wait a minute. Her appetite was coming back? She frowned. Oh, no. Chubby Lou again? The frizzy-haired girl in the corner hoping someone would notice she existed?

  Do not go there, she told herself sharply. Will had told her he didn’t subscribe to that whole live-thin-or-die American fixation. Whatever shape her body, he’d assured her in the darkness of the night, it pleased him.

  She wasn’t really sure she believed him, but still, it was nice that he’d said it.

  God, she was nuts about him! Absolutely nuts about him. And she was pretty sure—no, she knew he felt the same. Just knew it. No words had been spoken between them, he’d shared no future talk with her, had made no declarations of undying love. She’d simply been the recipient of the acts of a man who felt deeply committed.