Family

by Karen Kingsbury

  He returned with the coffee before she could berate herself anymore. “Hey . . . sit up.” His tone was kind, his eyes filled with a warmth that relieved her guilt.

  She did as he asked, and she took one of the cups. “I shouldn’t have stayed.”

  “Nothing happened.” He sat beside her and leaned his forearms on his knees. “You’re right. I should’ve taken you home.” He cast her a look, and his eyes warmed. “But I’ve never felt more right in all my life, being there with you sleeping on my shoulder.” He blew at the steam coming off his coffee. “I never wanted morning to come.”

  “Me either.” She looked at the front door. “But what sort of trouble are we in now?”

  “The paparazzi?” Concern tightened his expression. “I know. I’ve been trying to figure a way out for both of us.”

  They talked about the issue for the next few minutes before Dayne came up with a plan. He would call Joe Morris and tell him what happened, that the photographers were so aggressive he didn’t feel safe leaving the house with Katy. Only now they would feel they had proof of an affair, because what other reason would there be for Katy to spend the night?

  Then he would ask Joe to make an announcement to the press. That Katy Hart was sick of being chased, and she was staying in her hotel room until the pressure let up. They could ask about the woman with Dayne at the beach, and Joe would plead ignorance. He could only speak for Katy, he would tell them. And she hadn’t left her hotel room since arriving there Tuesday evening.

  The story was a lie, but it was all the paparazzi deserved. Especially after they’d hunted Dayne and her like animals. The two of them had needed a day of privacy, no matter what they had to tell the press.

  Dayne made the call, and when he hung up he nodded at Katy. “Joe thinks it’ll work.”

  “But what if the cameramen in the helicopters got a close-up of my face?”

  “They didn’t.” Dayne walked toward the front door. “They may have gotten a picture of two people standing in the surf kissing, but it would be impossible to tell for sure that it was you in my arms.” He held his hand up. “I’ll be right back.” He stepped outside, and after a few seconds he returned. “It looks clear if we go now.”

  She picked up her bag and followed him toward the door. God couldn’t have been thrilled with either of them, falling asleep the way they had done and not making a better attempt to get her back to the hotel. But Dayne was right. Nothing had happened. Now they needed to pray that the press believed Joe’s story. Otherwise it wouldn’t matter what actually took place last night in the beach house.

  The world would never believe for a minute that all they’d done was sleep.

  Ashley hadn’t stopped hearing from her siblings since her father spread the news. She’d spent almost all of Wednesday talking to them, hearing their concerns and anxieties on the topic, listening to them walk through the details as they tried to convince themselves that having an older brother was even possible.

  Now it was Thursday morning, and she’d already fed and diapered baby Devin, already laid him back down for his early nap. Cole was off to school, and Landon had a day shift at the fire station. The house was quiet, and she wanted more than anything to take her baby and his bag and head for her father’s house.

  He would already be at work, but her painting was still standing in her old upstairs bedroom, and after a day of talking about her unknown brother, she could hardly wait to pick up her paintbrush and get back to work. A few more sessions and she’d be finished, the idea in her mind had transferred to canvas in a way that was beyond satisfying.

  She made herself a plate of eggs and sat at the kitchen table. Earlier Cole had picked up on her mood. Over his bowl of Cheerios he’d cocked his head and squinted. “You have a lot of thoughts in your head today, don’t you, Mommy?”

  “I do.” She’d sat across from him, her arms folded. “And what about you, Coley? What thoughts are in your head?”

  He made a face. “Spelling test. Remember? The words you practiced with me last Friday.”

  “Well, good. You know those.”

  “Still . . .” He slurped up a mouthful of cereal. “Spelling tests are never very good for my head.”

  “I suppose.”

  His eyes lit up. “Now, frogs . . . and fish! And having an adventure in the backyard with Daddy!” He gave a serious nod. “Those are good thoughts.”

  Cole made her smile. She missed him when he was gone all day to school, but it was almost summer, and then they’d take day trips to the lake and haul out the old ice chest so he and Landon could find their favorite fishing spot and make more wonderful memories. This time she’d bring Devin and sit nearby, letting summer work its lazy magic on her heart and soul.

  But for now there was the issue sending aftershocks through their family, the idea that sometime in the next few months they might meet a man who was their full-blooded brother. She’d had longer to get used to the idea, but she understood the concerns her siblings were having.

  Luke had called late last night from Los Angeles. They’d talked a couple times since their dad broke the news. “I guess I still can’t believe it, like maybe the whole thing is Dad having a nervous breakdown from missing Mom.”

  “No, Luke.” Ashley had kept calm through phone calls from Kari and Erin and Brooke. She made a point to remain calm for her younger brother too. “I already told you. I saw the letter, the one Mom wrote to him.”

  “Okay, but how do we go our whole lives and miss something like that? Shouldn’t there have been a sign, a clue along the way?”

  “You have to understand, back then they convinced people that giving a baby up for adoption was like never having that baby.”

  Luke hesitated, then exhaled hard. “Still, they should’ve told us.”

  Ashley was quiet for a moment, giving Luke time to think about his statement. “What would it have proved? He belonged to another family. Knowing about him only would’ve made us wonder and want to meet him.”

  “The way you and the girls feel now.” Resignation filled Luke’s voice. “I can’t really see him as a brother at this point. He’s a stranger who shares our blood, you know?”

  “He is.” Ashley pictured their father, the way he looked when he talked about his older son. “But Dad’s made a connection with him, and pretty soon we’ll need to think about whether we want one too.”

  “What if I want my family the way it was two days ago, before I knew about this?”

  “Not knowing wouldn’t have changed the truth, Luke.” Her tone was even gentler than before. “Mom and Dad had six kids. It’s up to us to help each other deal with that.”

  “You sound like Reagan.” His voice lightened some, and he took on his wife’s tone. “‘Adoption has many faces. Your parents had no choice in the matter, so thank God someone was willing to open their home to your older brother.’ Just like that. All matter-of-fact.”

  Ashley chuckled. “Sometimes wives know a thing or two.”

  “I guess.” Luke yawned. “I need some sleep. Closing arguments might come tomorrow.”

  “Okay, little brother. Love you.”

  “Love you too.”

  Of course the situation troubled Luke more than the others. Guys were funny that way. Even if their older brother wanted to meet them, Ashley guessed Luke would take a while to warm up to the idea. Today he’d be wrapped up in court proceedings and closing arguments, probably bringing Katy and Dayne back into the courtroom.

  Ashley opened the newspaper and searched for the most recent story. The Bloomington reporters were aware that their local sweetheart Katy Hart was at the center of the nation’s current big trial. Starting with Tuesday morning’s paper, they’d included a box adjacent to the trial coverage with a banner headline that read “Local Angle.”

  Talking to her siblings about their older brother had made Ashley almost forget her friend suffering through such scrutiny on the West Coast. She scanned the article and felt a rush of re
lief. So far there wasn’t much that would’ve upset Katy. They had identified her as the mystery woman with Dayne on the beach the night of the attack, and yesterday’s paper detailed Katy’s testimony.

  But the article was clear that Katy and Dayne had been together that night for business reasons and that they were colleagues, nothing more. Today’s story said only that Katy and Dayne had spent the day away from the courthouse while medical doctors and psychiatrists testified about the mental abilities of the defendant.

  Ashley tapped the open page. “All right, Katy,” she whispered, “where did you and Dayne disappear to?” She smiled. Katy wouldn’t have let herself get into trouble, not with Dayne and not with all of America watching. Still, she couldn’t wait for the chance to catch up with her friend and find out how they’d managed to escape the press for an entire day.

  She was cleaning the kitchen when Erin called.

  “Do you think Mom tried to give me a sign, and I was too busy with my own situation to see it?” The unrest in Erin’s voice was stronger than in all their other siblings combined.

  “Erin, no.” Ashley dried the frying pan and slipped it back into the cupboard. “Mom didn’t want to admit the truth to herself; she certainly wasn’t trying to give you a sign.”

  “I don’t mean an actual sign.” Erin sighed, and the heaviness of it stayed between them even over the phone line. “I mean, maybe she hinted at the possibility that she’d given a baby up for adoption. Maybe she wanted me to ask her about it, and I blew it.”

  “You didn’t blow it.” Ashley picked up a dirty plate and began to rinse it. “Mom and Dad promised each other to keep their firstborn son a secret. There was nothing any of us could’ve done to figure it out.”

  Erin sniffed. “I just keep thinking . . . poor Mom. Her oldest child out there and all those years never knowing where to find him.”

  Ashley set the rinsed dish aside, opened the dishwasher, and began unloading the top rack. “But at least she got to meet him before she died.”

  “I guess.” Erin’s voice held the beginning of hope. “I wish we could’ve talked with her about it.”

  “Me too. Dad says they had an hour together, and she told him everything she’d always wanted to say.”

  A relieved sigh came from Erin. “I have to hold on to that, I guess. I just wanted to make sure there wasn’t something I’d missed. I couldn’t . . . I couldn’t forgive myself if I’d let Mom down that way.”

  They talked another few minutes; then Erin had to get two of her young daughters down for morning naps. Ashley silently prayed for her sister as she hung up the phone. If anyone would see it from their mother’s viewpoint, it was Erin. Not only because she had four adopted daughters, but because she and their mom had been so close. She was wrestling not only with the truth her mother had hidden from them all but the fact that despite their closeness, Erin hadn’t known their mother as well as she had always thought.

  Ashley dried her hands on a towel and looked at the clock. The painting was calling to her, while she still had time before lunch. It took her ten minutes to pack up Devin’s things and get him buckled into his car seat.

  Fifteen minutes later she had him tucked into her parents’ old portable crib in a place where she could hear him if he woke up. She was about to head upstairs when she heard a cell phone ring. Funny, she thought. She checked the front pocket of Devin’s diaper bag, where she kept her phone. It wasn’t hers. She looked around, and there on the counter was her father’s cell. He always had it with him, but he must’ve forgotten it today.

  The phone was only a few feet away, and Ashley didn’t want Devin waking up. Besides, maybe it was her dad, calling his own phone to figure out where he’d left it. She darted over to the counter and looked at the small caller ID window. The number had a 310 area code, and the name below it read Dayne.

  Ashley stared at it, confused. By the time she jolted back into motion, the ringing had stopped. One missed call, the window now read. Ashley picked up her father’s phone carefully, as if it might bite her. Dayne who? The area code was Los Angeles. Ashley knew because she’d been in touch with a few art galleries there. So what Dayne from Los Angeles would be calling her father?

  Dayne Matthews?

  There was only one way to find out. She held her breath, flipped open the phone, and pushed the Send button. Instantly the same name and number appeared. Again Ashley hit Send, and in a handful of seconds the phone was ringing.

  “Hello?” There was noise in the background, but the voice sounded familiar.

  “Hi . . . this is Ashley Blake.” She wasn’t sure what to say. “I, uh . . . I just missed a call from your number on my father’s phone. John Baxter.”

  “Oh. Right.” The man on the other end chuckled. “Hi . . . I was calling for your brother, Luke.”

  Luke? But Luke was in LA at the trial with— “Is this Dayne? Dayne Matthews?”

  “Yes.” Another easy laugh. “Luke left his phone back at the hotel room. I was . . . He wanted to ask your dad something.”

  “Wow.” Ashley felt her cheeks grow hot. “You’re a full-service celebrity. Giving me a ride home from the theater that time and now helping my brother.” She was rambling, and she steadied herself against the counter.

  “It’s the last day of the hearing.” He didn’t seem fazed by her nervousness. “Luke’s been a big help. The prosecutor feels good about the way things are going.”

  Once she got over the shock of having Dayne Matthews on the phone, she felt her breathing return to normal. “How’s Katy doing? I’ve been praying for her.”

  “The tabloids will hit the shelves by Monday.” His voice was kind, compassionate. “I guess we’ll know better then.”

  “I guess.” She sucked in a quick breath. He was too busy to spend another minute chatting with Katy’s friend back in Bloomington. “Anyway, my dad forgot his phone at home. I’ll leave him a message to call Luke later.”

  “Good. I’ll let Luke know.”

  The call ended, and Ashley stared at the phone. Dayne Matthews calling her father? doing a favor for her brother? Who would’ve ever guessed? She was about to set the phone back on the counter when it occurred to her that someday—for some reason—she might need Dayne Matthews’ number. Everyone in her family teased her about the size of her phone list and the fact that she felt the need to save every number she ever came across. And how often would she have the chance to capture the number of one of the nation’s biggest celebrities?

  She snatched her phone from the diaper bag, punched a few buttons on her father’s cell, and saw Dayne’s number fill the screen once more. On her own phone she popped up her address book, and in a matter of seconds Dayne’s number was added to the others in her storage file.

  Ashley was still at her dad’s house painting—between feeding breaks and a nap with Devin—when he returned home that afternoon. She was downstairs in the rocking chair, Devin in her arms as he walked in. “Hi.” She gave him a sheepish grin. “You left your cell phone here.”

  Her dad hesitated and set his bag down. “Let me guess; you’ve been answering it all day?”

  “Just once actually.” She gave him a starstruck grin. “It was Dayne Matthews.” She gave a nonchalant shrug. “Calling to say hello.”

  She expected her father to be curious or at the least to laugh. Instead something very serious came over his expression. “You talked to Dayne?”

  “For a little while.” She giggled. “I mean, come on, Dad. The two of us go way back to that ride home he gave me from the theater that night. Remember?”

  For the first time in half a minute, her father inhaled. He leaned against the entry wall. “So why . . . why’d he call?”

  Luke must’ve used Dayne’s phone all the time. Otherwise why wasn’t her father acting more impressed? “Dad . . . Dayne Matthews calls on your cell phone and all you can ask is why’d he call?”

  Her dad looked away, pretending to busy himself with removing his sweater.
“Dayne’s working with Luke. I would assume that’s why he called.”

  “It is.” She clucked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. “You don’t even get excited, Dad. Come on, I’m talking about Dayne Matthews.”

  This time, when her dad faced her, there was teasing laughter in his eyes. “He puts his pants on same as anyone else.”

  “I know . . . just having a little fun. It isn’t every day that Dayne Matthews and I have a phone chat.” She leaned down and kissed Devin’s forehead. “And, yes, his message was to call Luke. I guess you both forgot your cell phones today.”

  “Fine.” He came closer and kissed first her cheek, then the baby’s. He looked more relaxed. “Was that the highlight of your day?”

  “No.” She felt a softness fill her voice. “I worked on the painting, the one of our older brother.”

  A fine layer of sweat beaded on her dad’s upper lip. “Good, honey.” He nodded toward the kitchen. “I’m making coffee if you want a cup.”

  “No, thanks.” She stood and moved Devin to his car seat. “Landon’ll be home in a couple hours. I should get going.”

  They talked a few more minutes about his day at work and the fact that Dayne thought the trial was going well. Then she was on her way. But even as she left, she had a funny feeling about the day’s events. First Dayne’s phone call and then her father’s reaction.

  Maybe Dayne had taken to calling this week with messages from Luke. But the idea seemed sort of strange. After all, Dayne was the celebrity, the person who was supposed to be too busy to make a phone call. Luke was there to run errands for Dayne, not the other way around.

  Ashley laughed and forgot about the strange call until later when she made a quick stop at the art gallery where she sold her work. She had Devin in his stroller, and it felt good to be out with him. She hadn’t been by the gallery since he was born, and it was time to take stock, see how many pieces had sold and how many new paintings the store owner had room for.