Aunt Helen? Her father had screwed Aunt Helen?
Annabel felt suddenly almost physically sick. She looked at the date on the entry and paled even more. Cautiously, she turned more pages.
Helen called me in tears. She’s pregnant. I didn’t want to ask how she was so sure it was mine, but I do know I didn’t use anything that night. I just assumed she was on the pill. Obviously not. And an abortion is out of the question. She doesn’t want to leave George, and I sure as hell don’t want to lose Emily. But I’m also not sure I like what she’s suggesting. She believes she can fool George into thinking the baby is his if I’ll just keep my mouth shut.
It would make life easier on everyone. I agree with her on that. But it will mean turning my back on my own child.
She stared at the confirmation in front of her unseeingly, her hands absently stroking the paper. Taylor Stokes wasn’t her cousin. He was her brother! She bit her lip to still the bubble of hysteria that threatened to burst out in laughter. She always said he was different. They joked time and time again about how they wished they were brother and sister, how people so often mistook them for that instead of pairing him and Sydney together. Now it seemed it was actually true.
A noise, the creak of the wood floor alerted her, but not in time. She looked up just in time to see Taylor snatch the notebook from her with a grin on his face. Oh Jesus!
“Why so serious?” he asked as he began to flip through it.
“No!” she cried urgently. “Give it back, Taylor. Right now!”
He looked at her, his brows drawing together in a frown that suddenly reminded her so much of her father that she couldn’t believe she’d never noticed before. She couldn’t believe that everyone hadn’t noticed and commented on it.
“No. I want to see what has you so bent out of shape that you’re almost on the point of tears, for God’s sake!”
“No, please don’t read it!” she pleaded, but she could see she was already too late.
His frown deepened as he read the entries. His face paled and his hands shook.
“My mother and Uncle Phil?” His voice vibrated with revulsion. When he read the entries that discussed Helen’s pregnancy, he slowly sat down in the chair on the opposite side of the desk. She could see the denial in his expression. How part of him wanted to pretend it wasn’t there in black and white.
“She said I was premature,” he stated hoarsely, “but it was all a lie.”
“Taylor…” Annabel began, but in truth she wasn’t sure what to say to him. He looked so crushed. But—oh my God—she had a brother. Not a cousin…a brother. She wanted to shout for joy, but she had to focus on what Taylor was going through.
“I always wondered why my father seemed so distant to me sometimes. Why he so obviously favored Sydney.” Taylor’s voice was choked. “And then there was the special interest that Uncle Phil took in me. Do you remember the day of your accident? Do you know Uncle Phil called me before he called anyone else?”
He looked so wounded. For once the smiles and the laughter had been washed from him as completely as a tidal wave sweeping away everything in its path, and she saw just how much this was messing with his head.
“Don’t Taylor,” she pleaded, unshed tears making her voice thick. She watched as his expression changed from the wounded, disbelief of shock into a tense, hard look.
“That bitch!” he snarled suddenly, slamming the journal down so hard on the surface of the desk that Annabel actually jumped in her chair. Taylor raised stormy blue eyes to her. “She knew! Your father knew. And I would bet George knew too! None of them said anything. Not a word, not in all these years. I have to go, Poppy. I have to go talk to them.”
He stormed out of the office. She heard him take the stairs two at a time, followed by the sound of doors and drawers slamming. She put her head in her arms on the desk and cried. Why couldn’t she just have trashed it all? If only she had just thrown it all out, Taylor could have gone on just as before. She hated to see him hurting. She would give up ever knowing he was her brother to save him that pain.
She had composed herself by the time he came back downstairs. He had a duffel bag thrown over his shoulder and was bouncing his car keys in one hand.
“Will you be all right on your own for a few days, Poppy?” He was as pale as she felt.
“Yes. Do what you need to do, Taylor.”
He entered the room and bent down to kiss her on the cheek. “Please try to understand. I have to do this. I have to talk to her.” He bent and put his hands on either side of the chair as he stared into her eyes. “As pissed as I am, I do realize something else about this. What I’ve always wished were true is…you are my sister. Not just the sister of my heart, but truly my sister. I love you, Annabel Lee.”
She touched his cheek. “No matter what happens, Taylor, you know you can come back here. You know how much it means to me that you really are my brother. I know you’re angry. I know this sucks in just about every way it could for you. And I would spare you all of this if I had only known. But Taylor, this is the best birthday gift ever. Knowing I have a big brother and knowing it’s you. It just doesn’t get any better than that.”
Taylor went down on his knees in front of her and wrapped his arms around her waist. She felt him swallow thickly as he laid his cheek next to hers. “Thanks, Poppy.”
Chapter 3
She should have known her aunt wouldn’t take the revelation of her secret lying down. And she should have known who her aunt would blame for it. Helen Stokes showed up early on the morning of Annabel’s birthday looking like a madwoman. Things just went downhill from there.
“You silly little bitch!” Helen ranted, staring at Annabel with hate. “Couldn’t you have just kept it to yourself? What would it have hurt? Do you know how many people’s lives you’ve destroyed because you showed that journal to Taylor?”
The vitriol was one thing, but Helen so totally lost it she actually reached out and slapped Annabel before she spun on her heel and stormed out. The slap wouldn’t have been such a big deal except Annabel was on her crutches in the doorway. Her balance was tenuous at best, and the force of the older woman’s blow made her stagger. Before she could get her damaged legs working, she fell heavily against her hip, slamming against the hall tree before crumpling to the floor. She cried out in pain, but Helen was already slamming the door to her car and gunning the engine.
Taylor found her in the afternoon. Annabel had managed to lever herself onto the couch in the den, but now the muscles in her thighs were spastic and she couldn’t get to her medication.
“Shit! Poppy!” Taylor exclaimed when he saw her.
“Please get my medicine!” she gasped.
He helped her take a couple of the valiums and then began to work her legs, moving them as gently as he could. She cried with the pain.
“What the fuck happened?” he asked grimly. “It was my mother wasn’t it? She said she was coming here, but I hoped it was just venting. Now you’re laid up cramping and you’ve got a red mark on your cheek. What happened?”
“Nothing!” she gritted out. “I was stupid, and I fell.”
As much as she hated her aunt, Annabel refused to drive an even larger wedge between Taylor and his mother. It was enough for her that she still had family. She looked at Taylor and tried to smile at him.
“Are you telling me the truth?” Taylor asked suspiciously.
“Yes. Leave it alone, Taylor.” She watched a muscle in his jaw twitch.
“Are the spasms going away?”
“Yes. I love you; you know that, don’t you?” Annabel hoped to distract him.
“I love you too, kiddo. Just relax. I’ll bring you something to eat and drink. I guess you haven’t had anything, right?” When she nodded in response, his lips tightened. “I’d like to stay here at the house with you, Poppy, if you don’t mind. I told Mom and Da—George that I was moving out, so if you’d let me stay here you’d be doing me a huge favor.”
&nbs
p; She smiled tiredly at him. She had a feeling that his conversation with Aunt Helen and Uncle George had been a lot harsher than what he revealed. “You’re my brother. Of course you can stay.”
The valium began to kick in, making her sleepy.
He walked to the doorway that led to the kitchen. “By the way, happy twenty-first birthday, Popper. I guess the drink will be out of the question tonight, but we’ll do it tomorrow—okay?”
“Sure.”
****
Cayden sat on a rock out on the point. It was her birthday, his too. He’d never told her that they shared the same birthday. Wouldn’t have made a difference. Twenty-four years old. Seven years since he had seen his parents. Seven years since he had talked to Bell. Damn! He was so tired of being alone.
Bell hadn’t called to him, not yet, but he hoped she would. Right now though, he had a different mission. He was keeping an eye out for his family’s yacht, the Skerry. He had missed his mother and father, and the need he felt to see them once again was nearly as strong as the need to see Bell, to talk to her, touch her, and take her in his arms. Just the contact.
There were so many nights he laid awake thinking about her, aching for her, and wondering what happened to her. He was never able to get any answers. Even the newspaper glossed over her injuries in its coverage of the rescue, simply stating that she would be going through rehabilitation at home. He even asked her cousin, but Taylor would tell him nothing, just that she was moving on with her life and he doubted she would be back.
Cayden’s attention snapped back to the present as he saw the familiar outline of the Skerry approach in the distance. He pushed off the rock where he’d been basking in the sun and shot, torpedo-like toward the ship. Home. He could go home at last! Joy shot through his entire body in such a surge that he felt like he flew through the water.
He zipped in and out of the waves alongside the boat, hoping for a glimpse of his mother and father, but seeing nothing. With his attention distracted, he didn’t notice his brother until Ciaran slammed into him from underneath.
You would never survive in the waters where I have been, weakling, his brother berated him. You must be constantly on your guard, and you have always allowed yourself to be distracted.
Leave off, Ciaran!
There were too many harsh words and actions between them for Cayden to forgive and forget. Even seven years couldn’t erase that. Still, he followed his brother as they raced beside the Skerry while she turned into the harbor and lowered her anchor. As soon as Cayden transformed and started to climb the ladder at the stern, strong hands pulled him on board.
“My son! Damn, how you’ve grown.”
Cayden looked into his father’s eyes. They were the same height now. He saw the sheen of tears there and felt his own slide down his cheeks. He threw his arms around his father’s neck and hugged him tightly. “Dad.”
“Let me look at you.” Carrick held him at arm’s length. “God, how you’ve grown up. You used to be as lean as a barracuda. But you are worthy now of your Silkie heritage.” His dad reached out and rubbed Cayden’s beard stubbled cheek. “And what’s this? That jaw could use a shave.”
Carrick clapped him on the back. “Happy birthday, son. It’s good to have you back. Go see your mother. She’s been worried about you. She stayed below because she didn’t want to embarrass you in front of the crew in case she got too emotional.”
After pausing just long enough to pull on a pair of shorts, Cayden slapped his palms on top of the stair railings and simply slid down until his feet landed silently on the plush carpeting below. Catriona Clifton stood in the room that was her private retreat. When she turned and saw him, her hand went to her mouth and a soft gasp erupted. Tears already ran down her cheeks and she simply held her arms open to him.
“Momma!” He knew he should be stoic, should let her see he was no longer a boy, but his deep voice suddenly thickened, and he choked with his own tears. “I’ve missed you so much!”
“Oh Cayden!” She couldn’t say anything else. She just held him closely, but this time he was tall enough that it was she who had her face buried against his chest and not the opposite as it always was before. She cried and held him. He did the same, inhaling her familiar scent and reveling in the comfort her embrace still brought, even when he’d thought he had outgrown all that.
She finally patted his chest and leaned away from him. “What have you done with my little boy? You’ve turned into a man, Cayden. And I’m so, so proud of how you’ve done on your own.”
“It wasn’t always easy, Momma,” he smiled slightly at her, but there was an edge of reserve he couldn’t keep from his voice. “There were a lot of lonely, uneasy nights when I first left.”
She stroked his cheek. “You were just a boy! I fought all I could, but they wouldn’t listen.”
Cayden smiled, trying his best to relieve the guilt he saw in her face. “It’s all right, Momma. I’m all right and it’s over now.”
“Is it, Cayden?” his mother asked gently. “Is it really over?”
His eyes fell away from his mother’s intense stare. He knew she meant Bell. “I don’t know, Momma. She’s back. It’s the first summer she’s been back since…since her accident.”
“Have you seen her and talked to her?” his mother asked, curious now in a way that he found vaguely unsettling.
Caution made him careful with his response. “I saw her swimming with her cousin, but she hasn’t seen me or called to me.”
“And she appeared fine?” his mother asked, continuing with the gentle probing that Cayden found nonetheless disturbing.
“Yes, Momma. She’s beautiful. I glimpsed her one evening at the Yacht Club as well. Annabel is even lovelier than she was seven years ago.”
Her mother’s expression was puzzled as if what she heard didn’t quite fit with what she understood. She shook her head and smiled. “Then you wish to go to her?”
“If she calls me. Nothing would make me happier.”
His mother hugged him again, and once more he caught just a glimpse of worry shadowing her dark green eyes. He wondered at it, but dismissed it in the joy of reuniting with his parents, and even Ciaran, after seven years of separation. His banishment was over, and he would allow nothing to cloud the happiness he felt. After seven years of loneliness, he was back with his family. The only thing that could make this moment better was to be able to hold Bell in his arms once again so he could reassure her of his love.
****
“I am not taking you to the Yacht Club to celebrate your belated birthday, Poppy.” Taylor stated adamantly. “I know a great little dive in town along the waterfront where we can get buckets of oysters and clams, corn on the cob, some of the best chowder to ever touch your tongue, and the coldest pitchers of beer to wash it all down. Come on! Put on one of those cute little miniskirts and let’s go.”
Poppy punched his arm, only half-jokingly as they sat on the dock. “In case you hadn’t noticed, Taylor, I quit wearing cute miniskirts about seven years ago when I quit having cute legs to show off under them. Never mind that they’re downright indecent when you can’t move your legs to keep people from getting an eyeful of everything under your skirt.”
“Aw shit! I’m sorry, Poppy. But you’ve still got great legs. Put on some shorts. Hell, I don’t care if you go naked!”
She laughed now. “That’s because you’re my brother.”
“Well, you’ve got a great body, Poppy. You should show it off.”
“Eww! I told you that seven years ago, and it still stands. It’s even worse now, Taylor; you’re my brother. You’re not supposed to think I have a great body.”
“I’m an attorney. I deal in facts. And that is a fact.”
“Like I said…eww.”
In the end, she dressed up and allowed him to take her into town. Figuring it would be easier to get in and out using her crutches, Annabel maneuvered through the tables until they sat near the back. She stuck the crutches on
the floor under the table, where they would be out of the way. Before they even ordered, the waitress arrived with a cold pitcher of beer and two glasses.
Taylor grinned at Annabel and poured, tilting hers so that it had just enough head before he filled his own glass. After setting the pitcher down, he raised his glass and she did likewise. He tapped his beer against hers.
“Here’s to being twenty-one and an absolute knock-out, even if you are my newly discovered kid sister.”
They both laughed and drank. The music was loud and the crowd even noisier and Annabel loved it. She had never been in any place like it. Her father’s idea of taking her out was usually to a restaurant with white-coated waiters and no prices on the menu. They would make small talk while they waited on precisely arranged plates of food. Here mounds of food appeared in just a few minutes. Annabel and Taylor cracked shells and swallowed shellfish, chasing it down with beer. They chowed down on chowder and crunched their way through corn on the cob, all the while swallowing more beer. While Taylor might have been used to it, Annabel had to quit.
“I can’t eat or drink another bite, Taylor,” she giggled.
“Poppy,” he said, tilting his head to the side. “Are you just ever so slightly shit-faced?”
“Plastered.”
He actually looked repentant. “Oh lord. I’m sorry, kiddo. You wanna leave?”
She grinned. “Not a chance! But I think maybe something besides beer might be a good idea.”
Taylor turned to the passing waitress to order Poppy a soft drink. When he didn’t immediately turn around, Annabel turned her head to follow his gaze. A dark-haired guy who sat at the bar was glaring at them. As if becoming aware of her regard, he averted his face. But it was enough. Annabel stared for another moment, swallowed and then looked down again.
The Silkie's Call Page 3
