by K. M. Scott
"Why?" I wondered aloud. "He'd have to pay for the child whether he admitted it or not."
"Because he never cared for her like she cared for him. She was a toy he liked playing with. She adored him and hung on his every word. She'd tell me about meeting him and I never heard her say they talked about her. It was all him. He was a narcissist and she was his adoring fan. As long as she stayed in that role, everything was fine, but once she began to make demands on him, he wanted nothing more to do with her."
"I'm sorry, Jessica. I had no idea. I wasn't part of Taylor's world then. I was busy making my own bad choices. Nothing like he did, but..."
I let my sentence trail off. This wasn't about me and my stupid decisions.
"Something tells me you're not as alike as I would have thought. Do you have children, Tristan?"
Shaking my head, I forced a smile. "No. None yet."
"Your brother's child would have been going to kindergarten this year. I think about that sometimes. A little boy or girl ready to begin school. That never came to be, though."
"What happened?" I asked, my heart heavy at the thought of her sister dealing with having a child at such a young age herself.
"Amanda tried to get him to talk to her, but he wouldn't even answer her phone calls. She didn't know where to find him and when he changed his number, she became depressed. It broke my heart to see her like that. She cried all the time, wouldn't eat, and stopped going out. Finally, she gave up and took her life when she was three months pregnant."
Jessica could no longer hold back her tears, and as they streamed down her cheeks, all I could do was sit there feeling like I was in the middle of a horror story. Taylor's neglect had been the direct cause of Amanda's death, and nothing had ever been said about it by my father or mother. Had they known about it? My father had, if the dots Joseph Edwards had connected were true. My father had known what Taylor did and then made it worse.
I wanted to reach out to touch her hand, but how could I, the identical image of the man whose monstrous behavior had taken her sister away?
She wiped under her eyes and sat quietly for a moment. "She made me promise not to tell our parents who the father was, but when she died, I couldn't lie to my father and mother anymore. I told them about Taylor and who he was. They deserved to know who had done this."
"Do you remember talking to a man named Joseph Edwards after your father's death?"
Shaking her head, she suddenly got a look of recognition in her eyes. "I do, actually. He came to see me because of the bombing. He wanted to know about your father, though, not Taylor. I told him I didn't know anything about him, but then I explained everything that had happened with Amanda and your brother. He seemed to think that they were connected, I think."
"The bombing and what had happened to your sister."
"Yeah. The police never thought that, though. They still believe it was a gas explosion. I don't. I find it too coincidental that after my father tracked down your brother and told him what had happened to my sister and then your father's company is part of a case my father is judging that he suddenly is killed in a gas explosion."
"Do you remember anything about the case?"
"Not much. It was just a basic sexual harassment case, a civil suit. Your father's company was being sued by some woman and my father was the judge in the case."
I thought back to what Joseph Edwards had written in his notes about Stone Worldwide winning the case once Jessica's father wasn't the judge anymore. As much as I wanted to believe my father hadn't been responsible for Albert Cashen's death, there was too much to show me otherwise.
"That man, Joseph Edwards, told me he'd want to talk more with me, but he never returned. How did you find out about him?"
I swallowed hard before I began to tell the events that had brought me to Nina and ultimately, to Jessica and the truth of my family. "Joseph Edwards was murdered shortly after he spoke to you. His daughter is the person I believe may be helped by what you've told me."
Jessica covered her face with her hands. "Oh, my God! He was murdered? They killed him, didn't they? Your father and brother killed him like they killed my father."
Unable to hide from the overwhelming facts anymore, all I could do was nod in agreement. A young girl was dead because my brother had been a manipulative bastard and coward, and my father had had two men killed to protect Taylor and his own despicable actions.
"I don't know anything else, Tristan. That's all I have. I heard your family was killed in a plane crash a few months after my father and sister died."
"They were," I said quietly.
"I'm sorry. I guess you're the CEO of Stone Worldwide now. You know, I fantasized at least a thousand times about what I wanted to do to ruin your family like your brother and father ruined mine. I used to think about exposing everything they did and taking all that money your family has. I wanted to hurt you like they hurt me."
Jessica's voice caught in her throat and she looked away. When she turned back to face me, her expression wasn't one of hate or anger as it had been seconds earlier but sadness. "I think I feel sorry for you, Tristan. We've both lost everyone in our families, but I get to remember my sister and father as good people who never intentionally hurt anyone. You can't do that. Now that I've met you, I'm sorry you have to go through life knowing that."
I felt like I'd just been slammed in the chest with a cinder block. The truth of her statement was almost too much to handle. Here I was in a common suburban home I could buy twenty of with someone who had lost everything in her life, and I was the one being pitied. I, Tristan Stone, was worthy of pity for my family's guilty behavior.
"Please tell Joseph Edwards' daughter that my sympathies are with her. I know what she's going through."
I stood to leave, needing to get out of there as quickly as possible. She followed me to the door as we said our generic goodbyes, and as I left, she grabbed my arm to force me to turn around. I stopped dead and looked at her, not wanting to hear any more.
"I believe you're trying to do the right thing, Tristan. I can't imagine how hard this must be for you. I hope after what I've said you can find some kind peace with all this."
The car waited for me at the end of the sidewalk, and while I watched Jessica's house grow smaller as I drove away, I also hoped someday I'd be able to find some kind of peace after everything I'd learned.
Chapter Nineteen
Nina
I had basically fallen in love with the Peachtree Suite within an hour of being there. This was my first trip to one of Tristan's hotels since my accident, not counting his incredible penthouse, and I loved the idea that I could add my artistic touch to such beautiful places. The colors of the suite were muted neutrals, but the designer had included a splash of color with deep burgundy draperies. I wanted to highlight that accent and really make it pop.
That's not to say I was even sure I could do the job. I hadn't told anyone, not even Jordan, but just thinking about picking out art made my palms sweat. Hours and hours of studying artistic styles and techniques in my room each day since I'd been released from the hospital had given me a small sense of confidence, but the real litmus test would be when I had to choose pieces for my first assignment.
I had a feeling Tristan had picked this suite as a simple job so I could ease myself back into things. As I scanned the over one thousand square foot area surrounding me, I tried not to feel intimidated. How couldn't I, though? The rooms rivaled the country house in beauty. The walls were painted to look like aged cream colored plaster, heavy white crown moldings typical of southern architecture framed the rooms, and the showstopper of the living room was a white cararra marble fireplace flanked by two French doors draped in that stunning burgundy color.
What could I add to all that?
All the ideas I'd had when I was searching at home felt wrong now that I was standing in the middle of this stunning suite. I wondered if maybe I should focus on something that would resonate with the local area in
stead of choosing something based on a certain style or color palette. I'd always loved the art at the Philly museums in part because it showcased the flavor of the local art scene. If I could find a piece or grouping that was not only beautiful but meaningful to Atlanta area instead of focusing on improving what the decorator had chosen, the room might actually be better because of the art.
At least that's what I tried to convince myself of as I stood there in the center of all that beauty.
I set off to the first bedroom to do some searching. Sitting legs folded on the bed, I tapped away on my laptop for information on artists right there in Atlanta. As I looked through page after page of artwork, none of them seemed right. They were all beautiful, but I was looking for something else—something that spoke to me—even if I wasn't sure what it was.
And then I saw that something. A local artist, Everett Shean, painted scenes of Cumberland Island, a barrier island off the coast of Georgia, and as I studied his oil paintings, I saw a turtle he'd created a series of paintings around. A few clicks to get to the series' page on his website and I found out the turtle was a loggerhead sea turtle that was an endangered species on Cumberland Island.
Déjà vu struck as I stared at that turtle and all of a sudden I realized I was having a memory from the past four years! The turtle looked like the turtle character from Finding Nemo, the one that sounded like a surfer and called everyone "Dude." The memory of watching that movie with one of my nieces hit me and out of the blue I had remembered that entire evening I'd babysat for Kim and Jeff!
I needed to tell someone, and since Tristan wasn't back from his meeting yet, I grabbed my cell phone and called my sister. She'd be so happy to hear my memory was finally coming back.
She answered, and I blurted out, "Kim, I remember that night I babysat and we watched Finding Nemo! Do you remember? You and Jeff went to dinner, and I babysat. Isn't it great?"
"Whoa! Slow down. What are you talking about, Nina? Are you okay? Where are you?"
I jumped off the bed and began to pace, my free arm flailing as I spoke. "I'm great! I'm in Atlanta with Tristan and as I was researching the art I wanted to show him for the suite, I saw this turtle that's endangered on one of the barrier islands off of Georgia. The turtle is the focus of a series by a local artist. He paints in oil, which is always so rich. You should see these paintings, Kim. They're gorgeous!"
"Baby, what turtle are you talking about? You're talking so fast I can't understand what you're saying."
"The one who calls everyone Dude, like he's a surfer."
"What?"
"In the movie," I explained in frustration. "What's the Finding Nemo turtle's name?"
"Nina, I have no idea what you're talking about. Who's Nero?" she asked, sounding almost as frustrated as I was.
"Nemo! You know. The fish. He's lost and his father has to find him. Oh, forget it! The point is that I remembered something from the past four years. My memory is coming back! Isn't that great?"
"It is, but I'm still not comfortable with you staying out at that house with someone you barely know, Nina."
Her voice had that condescending tone it got when she was chastising me for something. I hated that tone of voice. "Kim, Tristan isn't a stranger or someone I barely know. I was engaged to him before the accident. He's a good man, and I love him. Don't ruin this for me. I was so happy when I called you."
"I don't want to ruin anything for you. I just think you're too naive and get yourself into things you don't understand."
My chest tightened as tears welled in my eyes. I couldn't help get emotional. All I'd wanted to do was share my wonderful news and now I had to defend myself once again to my sister, whose opinion of my life I didn't give a damn about.
"Why? Because I don't keep myself all closed off and guarded? Because I give people a chance? I know that people like you think that makes me stupid or idiotic, but it's who I am. I can't change that, and I don't want to. I like being open to new things, and that includes new people. If I was like you, I would have never gotten to know Tristan."
"How would you know, Nina? You can't even remember. For all you know, he manipulated you into this whole thing. You don't know everything about him."
"Thanks, Kim."
I jammed my fingertip onto the screen of my phone and hung up on her. Throwing the phone on the bed, I let the tears come as I stood there with my shoulders hunched from the weight of her negativity.
I should have known better. Why didn't I call Jordan?
A noise behind me made me turn around and I saw Tristan standing there looking as beaten down as I felt. His tie was loosened, his suit looking like it hung from a body exhausted from dealing with the world all day. I wiped the tears from my cheeks and forced a smile.
"Hey, you look as bad as I feel."
"What happened? Did someone come by the room?" he asked in a voice filled with worry.
Shaking my head, I tried not to think of Kim's words, but I couldn't help it. I'd been so happy just minutes earlier and now sadness that my only family member left couldn't find any joy in my news made my heart heavy. "No. I was just on the phone with my sister."
Just as he had in the hospital, Tristan grew stiff at the mere mention of Kim. "What did she say? I hope you aren't listening to her, Nina."
"I'm not. I just called her with good news and she was so negative. All I wanted was to share something that had made me really happy, and she didn't care."
Tristan walked toward me and stopped just inches away. Leaning down, he kissed me and stroked the pad of his thumb over my damp cheek. "I'm here now, so you can tell me."
I leaned into his hand, loving the strength of it beneath my head. Looking up at the concern etched into his features, I smiled, hoping to ease some of his worry. "I remembered something. It's not much, but it's something."
His expression changed to one of surprise, but I sensed his concern wasn't abated. Brown eyes that said so much about how he was feeling looked intently into mine as he spoke. "What did you remember?"
"Babysitting my nieces one night. It's nothing important."
Pulling me close, he held me tight as he kissed the top of my head, whispering low, "Don't say that. It's very important. You're beginning to remember things."
I loved the feel of his arms around me, protecting me from even the unkind words of my sister. I wished I could do the same for him. As strong as he was, I knew whatever he'd been dealing with had worn him down.
"Thank you. That's all I wanted to hear when I called her, but instead she just harped on how stupid she thinks I am. She thinks you're manipulating me into doing things I shouldn't be doing." I looked up at him and smiled. "As if falling in love is something I shouldn't do."
He cradled my face and shook his head. "Don't listen to her. Falling in love with me was exactly what you should do. I should know. I fell in love with you first."
I tapped his chin with my finger. "This time. I'm still convinced when I remember everything that I'm going to find out that I was crazy about you long before you loved me."
A shadow crossed his face and then it was gone and he was smirking at me like I was acting silly. From anyone else in the world, that kind of smirk would have irritated the hell out of me, but from Tristan, it was just too cute.
"So would you like to see the art I think would work here?"
"Sure."
"Righteous, dude," I joked as I headed over to the bed.
"Righteous, dude?" he asked as he raised his eyebrows in disbelief.
I motioned to him to come sit next to me as I browsed through Everett Shean's website. When I finally found the turtle pictures, I turned my laptop toward him. "These are loggerhead sea turtles and they're an endangered species on a barrier island off of Georgia's coast. I know they aren't fancy or the kind of art you would normally see in a hotel suite like this, but I think they'd work. He blends vivid colors on the turtle backs that I think might look nice here against the effect your designer created on the neutr
al color walls."
"And these are, what did you call them? Righteous?" he asked as he leaned in to examine the paintings.
I couldn't help but giggle. Sometimes he was so serious. "No. I was making a reference to the turtle in Finding Nemo. You know? The one who talks like a surfer?"
"Finding who?"
"Finding Tristan Stone's sense of humor. It was a huge hit," I teased. "I can't believe you never watched that movie."
Before I could explain any more about the cartoon or the turtle paintings, his phone vibrated inside his jacket and all traces of any happiness slid from his face as he rose from the bed. "I have to take this."
Like always, I wanted to ask who it was who could make him instantly miserable every time they called. I didn't, though, silently swearing that one of these days I would find out who the bastard on the phone was who ruined so many nice moments between us. He walked out of the room and I heard the door to the suite close behind him, but something inside told me to follow him this time. I wanted to know now who was haunting him.
I flung open the door to find him standing in the hallway with a man who looked to be about fifty or so. He was thick and reminded me of a police detective from a TV show. He stood too close to Tristan, like he was trying to intimidate him, and although I couldn't hear clearly what he was saying, it sounded ominous.
"Tristan, is everything okay?"
He spun around, his eyes flashing angrily, and for a second I recoiled back into the room, afraid of what I'd interrupted. Stepping toward me, he took my hand and squeezed it tightly. The other man followed him into our suite, and we stood awkwardly for a moment before Tristan finally spoke.
"Nina, this is the Vice President of Operations for Stone Worldwide, Karl Dreger. Karl, I'd like to introduce you to my fiancée, Nina Edwards."
Karl extended his meaty hand and shook mine. "How very nice to finally meet you, Nina. I've heard a lot about you."
