Let There Be Life

by Melissa Storm

  Liz realized her friend was waiting for her to join in the conversation, so she said, “He lets you make mistakes he’s already made?”

  “’It’s the only way to truly learn,’” Lauren said as she approximated Shane’s grumpy voice.

  Liz laughed and it felt good, like something heavy had started to leave her body. She knew it would be back as soon as her feet returned to solid ground, but at least for now she could escape. She could fly.

  “Well, this speed is all well and good. I’ve got a lot of control with the steering back here, and there’s a lot more friction slowing the dogs down. Sleds are a different story. Almost no friction. No weight to them, either. And no steering. I shot off like I’d been fired from a cannon. We went about a mile and a half before the first turn, and the whole sled dumped into a large snowbank.”

  “Oh my gosh!” Liz cried as she wondered what it would feel like to fall at this speed. Could the physical pain take away the mental anguish of the past two weeks?

  “It gets better,” Lauren said, doing her best to keep Liz focused. “The snow hook got dislodged and my boot got caught in it. Those dogs dragged me for another half mile before I could finally get them to stop. I had some serious ice burn after all that.”

  “What did Shane say?” Liz asked, knowing she was expected to speak whenever Lauren fell silent. She was definitely doing her best to keep her distracted, and Liz loved her for it.

  Lauren laughed again, and that happy expression she took on whenever she thought of Shane flashed across her face. “He said I learned two lessons: be careful when you switch seasons, and always make sure the snow hook is properly secured.”

  These lessons were nice and fine for Lauren, but had no bearing on Liz. She didn’t really know what to say, but luckily, Lauren spoke again before she had to figure out a response.

  “It’s just the way he is when he’s teaching. He’s made every mistake out there, but he knows his mistakes only really teach lessons to him. He can’t pass that experience on through a lecture or a brochure. Some mistakes you just have to make for yourself. His job was making sure that I would still be around to learn from those mistakes.”

  Mistakes. Like going to see Warwick. That was probably a mistake, but it was one she needed to make for herself. Just like Lauren and her change of seasons. The seasons were changing for Liz, too, but she had no idea what the forecast looked like.

  “Seems like it all turned out okay,” Liz said amiably. “You’re one of the top racers out there now, and you did marry the guy.”

  Lauren laughed. She always laughed. Liz hadn’t known her when she’d struggled with her new life and the secrets from her own past. She wondered if she’d feel closer to Lauren now if she had. Right now, she envied her friend’s serenity, her easy belonging in life.

  “You got me there,” Lauren said before switching topics. She could talk about racing forever if she had to. “There are times that we only see people from one angle or only doing one thing, so we tend to think of them that way. Take Samson, for example. He’s a big, fluffy teddy bear of a dog that loves being your pet. Do you think he’d like doing something like this?”

  “What? No. He loves just lying on the couch and being lazy with me.” Liz was glad for it, too. Lately, she’d needed lots of extra cuddles from Samson, and he was always happy to oblige her.

  Lauren pulled the brake and slowed the dogs down to a stop. “Here, switch with me,” she said, hopping up and jumping on the back of the ATV.

  Liz scooted up on the seat and saw a large, black Akita face looking up at her, his purplish tongue lolling out in happiness. “Samson!”

  “He might not be the best at pulling, but he loves running with his friends. Now let off the handbrake, and let’s get back home. I’m sure this guy will need a rest.”

  Samson had never been harnessed to a sled before, but he knew just what to do. He knew just who he was, even though it had been kept from him for all these years. She tried to picture Samson as a true sled dog but couldn’t make the image stick. Sometimes you’re born to a certain life, but it’s not the one you were meant for. Not really.

  What if the same were true of Liz? Was she always destined for her Anchorage life, or would she have been happier in Charleston?

  And how could she ever know for sure?

  Liz and Lauren worked together to return the dogs to their kennels. Samson laid down and watched, completely exhausted but happy, too.

  “Thanks for that,” Liz told her friend when at last they headed back inside. “It was nice to have a break, if only for a little while.” She didn’t have the heart to tell Lauren how thoughts of the mystery had remained with her the entire time.

  “Of course. You are welcome here any time, Liz. I mean it.” Lauren put an arm behind Liz’s back as they walked toward the cabin.

  Liz looked over at her friend and saw her face light with an idea. Sure enough, a second later, Lauren asked, “Hey, are fried moose steaks okay for dinner?” She shrugged, but continued to wear a huge grin. “Yeah, it’s not the healthiest, but it is the tastiest.”

  Liz laughed and waited as Lauren opened the door into the kitchen. “Sounds perfect.”

  Lauren stepped into the doorway and froze. Liz watched as all the lightness evaporated from her body, leaving behind only the heaviest part—the part that Liz constantly found herself buried beneath these days.

  Shane’s voice rose from within the cabin. “Hey, honey. We’ve got some company.”

  Fast footsteps crossed the floor—not Shane’s because he still needed a cane to get around. His gait was slow and shuffling, while these steps were quick and light, cat-like.

  “Nice to meet you again,” a familiar voice said, bringing with it the scent of pine and ink. Dorian.

  “I...” Lauren faltered, still worn out from the run and unable to muster her usual fight.

  “Shane let me in,” Dorian said with a cough.

  “I can see that. Well, can we help you with something?” At last Lauren moved into the house, allowing Liz to enter behind her.

  “Not you,” Dorian answered and gave Liz a hesitant smile. “But she can.”

  Tired as she was, Liz now lived with anger, confusion, and betrayal day-in and day-out. If Dorian had come for any reason other than to give her the full story, she would lose it right here in this quaint little kitchen.

  “What do you want?” She growled. She didn’t care that she sounded like a raged beast. No, she needed him to know that she meant business. That she would fight to the end to defend herself, to find the truth.

  “Come to think of it,” she continued, “how did you know I was here? Did you bug my phone? Put a tracker on my car? I thought your stalker days were through.” Liz let out a bitter laugh. How had she not thought to check for all these things? Maybe it because she wasn’t used to living in an action thriller film. Where was Bruce Willis when she needed him?

  Dorian drew closer, a remorseful expression crossing his face. Gone was the pomp, the pride, all the things which had made her hate him in the first place. Now he was just a man broken by secrets he had no right to bear. “You told me,” he said gently. “Well, your GPS did. In the message, the one where you said you hated me.”

  Liz flinched. She would burn that infernal GPS the moment she got a chance. “So you thought instead of calling me back, you would just drive the two hours and pay me a visit? What if I don’t want to see you?”

  Shane cleared his throat from across the room. “Uh, Lauren, maybe we should give them a minute.”

  “Are you going to be okay?” her friend asked, concern evident on her face as she looked toward Liz.

  “Yeah, go.” Liz sighed. “But don’t go far. I still don’t trust this guy.”

  Dorian frowned, but didn’t say anything more until the Ramseys had left the room.

  “Well?” Liz asked, crossing her arms.

  “I’m sorry. I really thought Ben would talk to you.” He really did look apologetic, but so
rry didn’t change what had happened. It didn’t erase his part in any of this.

  Liz grew more livid by the second. She didn’t like this version of herself, the one that was always angry, that trusted no one. She sighed again, but it did nothing to lighten her load. “Turns out you don’t know my father very well. You don’t know Warwick, and you definitely don’t know me.”

  “I want to. I’m trying to.” He ducked and ran his hands through the curls on the top of his head before looking up at her again, his intense green gaze locking her in place. “I know you went to see him. Warwick, I mean.”

  Liz eyed him suspiciously.

  Dorian cleared his throat before continuing, almost as if he were choking on some invisible object. She kind of wished he was. “I went to his hotel earlier today to offer up a deal. They said he had left, that his daughter was looking for him, too. I knew it had to be you.”

  “What kind of deal?” Had Dorian possessed the power to stop this all along? If so, why hadn’t he exercised it? Why had he let this terrible game of secrets and lies continue?

  “No, you don’t get to ask the questions. Not yet. Not until I tell you what I came to say.” Dorian’s voice was suddenly angry. It caught Liz off guard. “But what I don’t get is why you would endanger yourself like that. Don’t you value your own life?”

  In truth, Liz didn’t know the answer to that question anymore. These past couple weeks had been a special kind of hell. If this is what life would be like from now on, she almost wished Warwick would release her to the next plane. “You said he wouldn’t hurt me.”

  “Maybe I was wrong. I don’t know.” He hung his head. His lips moved, but no more words came out.

  “What are you doing here, Dorian?” she asked again. “Tell me the truth, or get out.”

  “He’s your father!” Dorian shouted suddenly, visibly thrown off-kilter. “Warwick. He’s your real father.”

  He expected this to be a revelation, but she just stared at him slack-jawed. Now that she had figured out everything for herself, someone was finally willing to talk to her. Of course. “I know.”

  “So Ben told you?”

  “No, he wouldn’t even admit to knowing the man.”

  “Then how?”

  “The Internet is a wonderful and mysterious thing. Also, I’m not an idiot. I know how to put two and two together.”

  “I know you’re not dumb. You’re also not cruel, and you don’t deserve any of this.”

  Liz laughed bitterly. She didn’t back away when Dorian placed a hand on her shoulder.

  “What else do you know?” he asked.

  “Whatever you’re about to tell me.” She turned to him and tried to smile, to show she knew he was trying to help, that she appreciated it. But somehow she just didn’t have the strength to raise the corners of her mouth in what had been an easy, natural gesture.

  Dorian smiled instead. It was soft and slight, but it was there. “How do you know I’ll tell you anything?”

  “Because you drove two hours, because you’re here, because for whatever wild and crazy reason, you actually seem to care. Now get talking.”

  Liz sunk into a chair at the kitchen table, and Samson came over to lay at her feet. They both watched Dorian as he paced the small room.

  “Can you just stop moving so much?” she asked, pressing her fingers into her temples. “You’re making my head hurt worse than it already does.”

  Dorian stopped, but she could see the unspent energy zipping beneath his skin. “I’m sorry. This is hard. I feel awful.”

  “Imagine how I feel.” She let out an exasperated puff of air. He’s just trying to help. Finally, someone’s trying to help, she reminded herself, then immediately felt guilty for discounting her friends.

  He pulled out the chair beside her and sat down close, grabbing each of her hands as he spoke. “I can’t even begin to imagine how you feel, and for that I’m truly sorry. I’m sorry for all of this. I never…” He hung his head and laughed sadly. “I never wanted anyone to get hurt. It never even occurred to me that might be possible.”

  “I know,” Liz said, and she did. She could see the war within Dorian. He wasn’t a bad guy. He felt just as confused and helpless as she did. The biggest difference was he could have walked away, but he’d chosen to stick around—to help.

  She did her best to keep her voice soft, pliant. “Can we start from the beginning? Please. I’m desperate to know how this all started.”

  He nodded and sat back in the chair, letting go of her hands as he did. She missed their warmth, but didn’t have time to unpack that feeling. Not when the truth loomed so close. Finally. At last.

  “I’ll start with how I first met Warwick.” He took a deep breath before getting into it. “He contacted me through this freelance job board for detectives. It’s called the PInternet—like the PI Internet, right? And like I told you before, I sometimes take side gigs to supplement my income. I like being a reporter, but I hate writing fluff society pieces. I want to write hard-hitting journalism, the stuff that sweeps a nation, wins awards.”

  Liz crossed her arms and waited. She didn’t want to be rude or make him change his mind about confiding in her, but she needed to know about her own secret past with Warwick, not Dorian’s career ambitions. If they had met under different circumstances, maybe…

  He caught her eye and cleared his throat again. “But that’s not what’s important…” Another deep breath. “So, umm, Warwick contacted me and asked if I was up for a gig, but he wouldn’t tell me much over email. Insisted we do everything on the phone. So we arranged a call and he told me that he needed help finding his missing daughter who he suspected was living in Anchorage, which is why he had picked me even though he lived somewhere else.”

  “Janie,” Liz whispered.

  “Yeah, Janie. Which, by the way, is your real name. Janie Warwick.”

  She shook her head, rejecting the name that had never truly belonged to her. “It doesn’t feel right.”

  “None of this feels right, but I didn’t know until he showed up on my doorstep unannounced. He flew over two thousand miles to tell me I was taking too much time and that he’d double my pay if I could get him the answers that week. So I—”

  “Started stalking me.”

  His skin seemed to redden under the heat of her gaze. “Yeah, sorry about that. You have to understand, that much money, it made a huge difference for me. I knew the guy was annoying and demanding, but I didn’t know he was dangerous. Not yet.”

  “What happened next? What changed?”

  “I followed you home, and there was that party going on. I fed you that line about Vanessa and a political scandal because I knew you would believe it. While you searched her office, I took some hair from your brush. It was a lucky break that you’re a red head and your stepsisters are both blonde.” He smiled over at her apologetically. She hated that he’d violated her in this way. Hated that something as innocuous as a few hairs could throw her entire life off course.

  “Once I had the DNA sample,” Dorian continued. “I left, thinking I’d never see you again, that you’d be reunited with your true father and have this big happy reunion, but…”

  “But what?” She leaned forward, as if drawing closer would help the words to reach her faster.

  “It was already late that night, so I decided I would call Warwick in the morning to tell him about what I’d found. By then I’d already dropped the hair sample outside the lab. They have this Dropbox thing like at an old movie rental place. It’s kind of cool. Anyway…” Another apologetic glance. Dorian seemed to think if he threw in these light asides, it would make the hard truths easier to handle. In truth, they just ratcheted Liz’s anxiety to a higher and higher level.

  Dorian’s eyes widened as he continued. “Before I could call, Warwick showed up at my door again, just screaming, turning blue from how much he was screaming at me. He lost it, and I’m not even sure he knew all the things coming out of his mouth, but one thin
g stuck with me.”

  Liz leaned forward again. Ready. Waiting.

  He spoke the next words slowly, each one fully enunciated as if it alone held all the answers. “He said he’d never get justice at this rate.”

  Liz let that sink in.

  When Dorian realized she didn’t plan to say anything to this, he continued. “And I thought about that, thought if it was justice he was after, why did he hire a PI when he could have gone to the cops? The short answer: because it wasn’t justice he wanted. It was revenge.”

  She shook her head—believing, not believing. “On my dad.”

  “On the man who raised you, yes. On Ben Benjamin or whatever his name really is. Listen, I don’t know why Ben kidnapped you and hid you all these years, but whoever he is, he’s not a worse guy than Warwick. Knowing what I know now, seeing Warwick lose his mind on more than one occasion, and you telling me that you’ve led a good life, up until the last couple weeks anyway…”

  Dorian’s words came out fast now, dancing dizzying circles around Liz’s head. He said much that she missed, but the words that stayed with her most were:

  “All that makes me think that Ben took you to help you, maybe even to save you.”

  Liz couldn’t tear her eyes away from Dorian’s lips, the same lips that had echoed her own suspicions just moments before. Whatever her father had done, whatever he’d kept from her all these years, he’d done it to keep her safe.

  From Warwick. The man who was really her father.

  A flash of red in the doorway drew her gaze, and she found Lauren hovering between the living room and kitchen. Waiting.

  “Scarlett called,” she announced hesitantly. “She wants you to call her back immediately.” Lauren’s red sweater grew brighter, a beacon. To what, Liz didn’t know.