Trace - Part Two

by Deborah Bladon

His gaze narrows. "What's wrong? Why are you leaving?"

  I'm leaving because I'm a coward. I'm running away because I'm falling for this beautiful man who makes me feel things I've never felt before. I have secrets that I've waited too long to tell him.

  "There are things about me you don't know." I point my finger at his chest. "Things I can't tell you about me."

  I see the veil of compassion that blankets his eyes the moment the words leave my lips. "You can tell me anything, Vanessa. I want you to tell me everything."

  "I can't." I cover my bottom lip with my fingers. "You won't understand."

  "Try me," he challenges as he crosses his arms over his broad chest. "Just try me."

  "I'm adopted," I blurt out because it's been resting at the tip of my tongue since I showed him Rowena's will weeks ago. "My mother isn't my birth mother."

  "You're adopted?" He backs up slightly.

  "I've known for years," I offer. "My mother and I don't look alike."

  "My sister and I look nothing alike." He takes long strides across the room to scoop a framed picture into his hand.

  I look down at the photograph as he holds it out for me. He's younger. The picture must have been taken more than a decade ago. His hair is longer, his face thinner but the exuberance in his smile is there. It's unmistakable. His arm is draped around a woman, probably the same age as him. She's stunning and the graduation gown and cap she's wearing only adds to her beauty.

  "My parents adopted Lynn from China when I was a baby." He nods towards the picture. "She's beautiful, isn't she?"

  "Yes. She's so beautiful."

  "I understand about adoption. It's part of who I am too."

  I look up into his face. I need to tell him more. I have to tell him that I'm Charlotte. "There's more to it than the adoption."

  "It's your mother's condition, isn't it?" He bows his head so his chin is resting against my forehead. "Ben told me that she doesn't have a lot of time left."

  "I'll miss her when she's gone," I say as I stare at the picture of Garrett and his sister. "She gave me an amazing life."

  "You'll always have your memories of her." He brushes his lips over my forehead. "It takes a very special person to adopt a child. It takes a remarkable person to adopt a child and then raise them on their own. Your mother is a saint, Vanessa."

  I stop myself before I disagree. She may have given me a life that was filled with love and all of the necessities, but what she took from me is irreplaceable.

  Chapter 14

  "I have a copy of it here." She holds tightly to a stack of papers in her hands. "I've read through it myself, but if want to take a look at it, I can give you a few minutes alone."

  I should take her up on her offer, but since she called me at work this morning, I've been a bundle of nerves. Imogen was willing to help the moment I asked her if she could find out exactly what Francesca had left to her infant daughter who had been abducted. I had texted her about it last night, after I got home from Garrett's apartment. He had tried to get me back into bed with him, but I told him I was tired and he hadn't argued the point beyond that.

  "Do you just want the abbreviated version of what she left you, Vanessa?" I feel her hand rest on my shoulder. "I can share that with you and then you don't have to read through all the legal jargon."

  "Okay," I say quietly. "I guess that would be best."

  She sits across from me, resting the document in her lap. "Francesca updated her will late last year. The executor is a close family friend."

  I study her face for any clue about what she's about to say next, but there's nothing. I grip the armrest of the chair. I came here for this, yet I'm not prepared to hear it. It shouldn't matter what she left me but it does.

  "She left a large portion of her estate to charity." She glances down briefly at the papers. "She was a philanthropist. I'm not sure if you're aware of that. She generated a large amount of donations for many organizations, hospitals, children's charities, things like that."

  "I read about that online." I cross my legs at the ankles. "She was very generous."

  "There was a separate sizable donation to a charity that provides hospice care for cancer patients." She rubs her hand along the side of her face. "Your mother had a hand in establishing that two years ago."

  "I didn't know about that."

  "She kept her name out of it." She smiles softly. "It seems like a great organization. The people there do good work."

  "Will you write down the name of it for me?"

  "Of course." She reaches towards her desk to retrieve the notepad she was writing on the first time we met here. "I'll jot that down for you now."

  I wait in silence as she scribbles out a few lines on a sheet of the paper, before ripping it off and handing it to me.

  "The remainder of her estate is left to her two daughters," she begins before she stops to swallow. "Constance and Charlotte."

  "Connie and me," I say under my breath.

  "It's a generous amount." Her jaw tightens. "There are provisions for Charlotte's inheritance if she's never found."

  "What provisions?" I ask out of nothing but a deep sense of curiosity. I'm actually grateful that she hasn't offered a specific dollar amount. It's not that it would sway my decision to come out of the shadows and declare myself Charlotte. It's not about the money for me. I just want a piece of the woman that Francesca Tomlin was.

  "Charlotte's portion of the estate will be placed in a trust that is to be overseen by the executor of the estate." She flips through a few pages, her finger running along the lines of typed text. "If Charlotte isn't located by the date of her twenty-fifth birthday, her portion of the estate will go to her sister."

  "I'll be twenty-five in seven months," I offer without thinking.

  "You can't wait too long to make a decision then."

  "Was there anything else?" I lean forward to try and catch a glimpse of the papers. "Did she leave me anything other than money?"

  She studies me briefly before a small smile pulls at the corner of her lips. "I've never seen anyone less interested in millions of dollars."

  The number doesn’t surprise me. I knew that wealth was part of my birth family's life when I walked into the townhouse. "I'm just wondering if she left me anything personal. Is there anything that might have had sentimental value that she wanted Charlotte to have?"

  "There's a necklace that belonged to her grandmother," she pauses before she continues. "That would be your great-grandmother."

  "A necklace?" My hand leaps to my neck.

  "There is a silver collection." She studies the papers more carefully. "It doesn't indicate what the significance of that is."

  "Okay." I heave a heavy sigh. "Anything else?"

  "Vanessa." She inches forward on her chair. "I think you need to carefully consider what you want to do. I can set you up with a great probate attorney who can help guide you through the process. She's very good."

  "I'm not sure I want to pursue it." I glance at her. "I still need to think about it."

  "Francesca left a sealed envelope for Charlotte." She taps her finger on the edge of the notepad. "If you're not located by your twenty-fifth birthday, that envelope will be destroyed."

  "An envelope?" My breath leaves me in a hurried rush. "Does it say what's inside?"

  She flips the pages over in her lap. "It says, in no uncertain terms, that no one but Charlotte Tomlin is permitted to open the envelope."

  That envelope may hold all the things I need and want to hear from my birth mother. It may hold nothing, but that one envelope changes everything.

  Chapter 15

  "Beck donates a lot to different charities, doesn't he?" I stare down at the piece of paper that Imogen gave me when I was in her office yesterday.

  "He's very generous." Zoe's gaze is fastened past my head to the counter at the ice cream shop we just walked into.

  "Do you know much about them?"

  "I know the strawberry is really good." She poin
ts to the menu. "I might have something more daring today though."

  "Live a little." I pat the top of her stomach. "I was asking about whether you knew much about the charities that Beck donates to."

  "Oops." She pulls her hand up to her mouth to stifle a loud laugh. "My mind is on one track right now. Food."

  "I'll go order for us both and then we can talk about the charity thing, okay?" I motion towards an empty table in the corner. "Go rest your swollen feet."

  "You'll get me a double scoop?" Her eyes brighten. "Maybe some whipped cream on top?"

  I giggle at how excited she is over the prospect of ice cream. Her joy is infectious. I don't think I could have chosen a more perfect best friend. "A cherry too."

  "This was such a good idea," she mumbles as she walks away. "You're the best, Van."

  She is. Zoe Beck may be the most amazing woman I've ever met.

  ***

  "You're crazy, Zoe," I call out to her as she exits the taxi before me. "I don't think this is a good idea."

  "It's the best idea I've had in weeks," she says as she tucks her wallet back into her bag after paying the driver. "We should go inside and get some answers."

  We should get back in the cab and rethink this spur-of-the-moment decision. This is oddly similar to when we jumped into a car and headed over to Francesca's townhouse. That ended in the worst way possible and now we're standing on the street in front of Ravel Hospice Center. This is the place that Imogen gave me the address for. It's the organization that Francesca helped establish before her death.

  "Zoe," I try to catch my breath as I chase her through the crowded pedestrian traffic of this busy Tuesday afternoon. "Please stop for a minute."

  She does. She turns towards me. "What's wrong?"

  "We need to think about what we're doing." I pull on the arm of her sweater. "We can't just walk in there."

  She motions towards the glass door with her chin. "There's a sign on the door that says they're open, Van. Let's just go inside."

  I twist my hands together in a knotted fist. I can feel a pit in the bottom of my stomach. "We're intruding. This is a care center. The people in here don't need us barging in."

  "We're going to talk to the person at the front desk." She cocks both her brows. "I'm going to ask about making a donation."

  "You are?" I feel a sense of relief flood through me.

  "This place mattered to your mom, Van. You matter to me. Let's just go inside."

  I don't stop here as she turns, puts her hand on the door handle and pulls it open.

  Chapter 16

  "This is incredibly generous of you, Mrs. Beck." The young woman holds the check Zoe just wrote to the center in her hands. "I know your husband's work. He's very gifted."

  "I'll tell him you said that." She glances around the barren waiting room near the entrance. "I'm going to talk to Beck about donating a few small pieces to brighten up this space."

  I swear the woman holding the check in her hands is near tears now. "You would do that? You would ask Brighton Beck to donate paintings?"

  "I will tell him to do it," Zoe teases. "He loves helping. He knows how much a calm and beautiful place can help people who are ill."

  "I wish Mrs. Tomlin was here." She blinks innocently as she stares at the check. "She would be so thankful for all of this. She felt the same way about a calm place."

  "Mrs. Tomlin?" Zoe steps into the opening with effortless ease. "Is she a patient here?"

  "No." She leans closer to us. "Mrs. Tomlin isn't with us anymore."

  I open my mouth to speak but Zoe's hand on my forearm halts me.

  "She died?" Zoe asks softly. "Was she a patient who passed away?"

  "She wasn't a patient." The woman's eyes float over Zoe's face. "She funded all of this. She helped set everything up."

  "She must have been a special person." Zoe rests her hand on her stomach.

  "The best person I ever met. It's so sad that they couldn’t help her."

  "Who couldn't help her?" I can't veil my curiosity any longer.

  I feel Zoe's eyes lock on my face just as the woman's gaze falls to the floor. "There wasn't a doctor who could help her. She had terminal liver cancer. There was nothing anyone could do."

  ***

  "Is it painful to die from cancer?"

  "What?" Ben's head pops up. "Are you sick?"

  "No." I realize that it might not have been the best thing to say when I first approached his office door. "I'm just wondering what the final stages are like for someone who has terminal cancer."

  "Is this about a patient?"

  It's an easy lie that he's actually leading me into. This is my mother we're talking about though and I don't want to tarnish what she suffered with because I'm too fearful to share. "It's not about a patient. It's someone I'm related to."

  "Oh," he says the single word with absolutely no emotion. "I didn’t realize you had family beyond Rowena."

  "I was adopted," I point out. I don't elaborate because right now I just want to understand the depth of the discomfort that Francesca would have had to endure.

  "What type of cancer?"

  I'm grateful that he doesn’t probe me for more details about the person in question. "It's liver cancer."

  He closes the cover of his tablet and motions towards a chair opposite his desk. "You should sit down, Vanessa."

  I know Ben well enough to know that the suggestion isn't based on anything other than compassion. I lower myself into the chair.

  "Advanced liver cancer is brutal." He clasps his hands together on his desk. "The most we can offer the patient is some relief from the pain."

  "What exactly will the person experience?" I ask nervously. "I don't know much about it."

  "Each case is different," he points out. "Some patients are cognizant until their last breath. Others aren't lucid because of the degree of pain they're in."

  "They suffer though?"

  "Some patients experience difficulty breathing. Many lose their sight."

  "Is it a slow death?" I can't control the emotion in my voice.

  "It's a horrible way to die, Vanessa." He motions towards me with his hand. "I'm sorry that someone you care about is that ill."

  "Thank you, Ben." I slouch back in the chair, suddenly feeling very weak. "I need to get back to the ER."

  "There's one more thing." He looks up as I pull myself to my feet. "Liver cancer itself isn't hereditary. Some of the conditions that weaken the liver and make it susceptible to disease are. You might want to get tested for those if we're talking about a blood relative."

  "That's good to know." I look towards the open door of his office. "Can you keep this between us?"

  "Between us?" He flips open the cover of his tablet.

  "I'd prefer if you didn't tell Garrett that we talked about this."

  "I won't." He smiles gently. "You have my word."

  Chapter 17

  "You've been working a lot lately." He butters one of the warm pieces of bread the waiter dropped off for us just moments ago. "It feels like weeks since I've seen you."

  "It's been three days," I point out. "Lawyers like to exaggerate."

  "That's not true." He takes a hearty bite of the bread. "What's going on with you?"

  I tense for a moment as I consider his question. I trust Ben but I also know that he's a close friend of Garrett's and given the choice of who to uphold a promise to, I doubt I'd win out. I knew when Garrett asked me to dinner that there was a chance that I'd be bombarded with questions about my ill relative.

  "What's going on with you?" I counter.

  "You're learning." He rests the remaining bread in his hand onto a small plate in front of him. "I've got nothing going on."

  "You have nothing going on?" I ask with a grin. "You're the best probate attorney in the state. You must have some exciting stories to tell."

  "There's that pesky client, lawyer privilege thing I have to keep my eye on." He winks at me. "I can't spill the beans or my cl
ients will drag my ass into court."

  "They can actually do that?"

  "I don't think any of them would." He scans the interior of Axel NY. It's one of my favorite restaurants in the entire city. I haven't told Garrett that, so I can only assume, he's a fan of the food here too. "I'm working on a case right now that's really complicated. The woman…my client…she's a piece of work."

  I'm tempted to ask if he's referring to my sister, but I know he won't answer. Beyond that, I also realize that my showing any interest in the woman will only peak his curiosity.

  "It must be really hard to deal with loved ones right after someone dies." My grip on my water glass tightens as I think about Francesca's death.

  "You do the same thing, don't you?" He takes a heavy swallow of wine. "People must die in the ER every day."

  He says it so callously but that's to be expected. People who don't face death that directly on a daily basis have no idea about the toll it takes on the medical professionals who are witness to it. I've gone home in tears after watching one of the doctors explain to a newlywed that his wife died in a car accident. I've also been in the room with a family when their small child took his last breath because he fell down a flight of stairs. It's the very worst part of working at the hospital.

  "It's never easy." I exhale softly. "I still get upset when we lose a patient."

  "That's because you have a good heart." He looks at me. "I knew it when you helped me that day I had my accident."

  "You wouldn't let me help you," I correct him. "You wouldn’t cooperate at all."

  "At first," he concedes. "Ben told me how you stepped up to the plate when I fell and smashed my face in the ER."

  I wince physically at the reminder of that. "I don’t like thinking about that."

  "Me either," he pauses. "I'm just grateful that you were there to help."

  ***

  "How's your mom been?" He rests his fork against his now empty dessert plate.

  I glance down at the untouched chocolate cake on mine. I'd barely eaten any of my dinner and when he insisted I order dessert, I hadn't argued the point. I need and want to talk to him about what I'm dealing with, but now that I'm sitting across from him, I'm not sure I can.