The Seven Year Secret

by Roz Denny Fox

  “Are you still there? What happened? Connor, did you fall out of bed?”

  “No. I knocked some stuff off my nightstand. About the Bible. I forgot you rummaged around the ruins of our house and unearthed Mom’s Bible, and dried it out. Do you think someday Liddy Bea might, uh, like it?” He seemed at once hopeful and anxious. “If so, just hang on to it.”

  “Okay. One day it’ll mean a lot to her to have something of her paternal grandmother’s. Dad put a piece or two of Mom’s jewelry in a safety-deposit box with Lydia in mind. Can we forget the Bible for a minute and get back to those letters you allegedly wrote?”

  “No alleged about it. I wrote to you.” He enunciated each word.

  “When? Where did you send them? The apartment?” Mallory demanded.

  “I don’t have exact dates off the top of my head. I’d been on the island a couple of days when I wrote the first one, addressed to the apartment. I missed you, and I was homesick as hell. They only shipped supplies in twice a month. I think, when I didn’t hear back from you, I sent subsequent letters to your folks’ address.”

  “Liddy Bea was three months old when I moved to a place of my own.”

  “Yeah. Marta told me you had. I suppose the letters could have ended up in a dead-letter bin somewhere.”

  “The apartment rent was paid up through the end of the summer. But I moved home right away, because Mom felt so lousy. She died the day Liddy was born. Dad begged me to stay at home and take over Mom’s role as his political hostess. It was a really difficult time for all of us, Connor. Alec had already offered me a job at the clinic. He helped me locate a condo and a nanny. Alec went out of his way to be kind.”

  “I’ll just bet old Alec did.”

  “What does that mean? Did you start something with him after I left the Inn?”

  “Why would you automatically assume I picked the fight, and not the other way around?”

  “Because Alec is a born gentleman.”

  “As opposed to me sprouting from a trailer-trash housemaid, you mean?”

  “Stop putting words in my mouth. I meant no such thing. If you must know, Connor, you’re making my point for me. You’ve always had a temper. I’ve never heard Alec raise his voice in anger.”

  Connor laughed. “Then you should have been a mouse in the corner outside the restaurant tonight, sugar. Old Alec sounded downright hostile when he warned me to stay away from you. In case I didn’t get the message, he invoked your father’s name. Was the senator figuring he’d be getting a two-for-one deal when he hired Robinson at the hospital? If so, you’d better ask your old man if he got rid of my letters.”

  “Two-for-one? What are you talking about?”

  “Hospital administrator cum son-in-law. Or are you going to try and tell me Alec doesn’t see himself as more than your employer?”

  “Even if he does, Connor O’Rourke, that’s none of your business. You gave up the right to have any say in who I do or do not keep company with.” Mallory knew her voice was shaking, but she had one last thing to say to Connor. “Shouldn’t you tend to your own backyard? I wonder if Claire would appreciate your sounding like a jealous lover.”

  The noise of the receiver cracking into the cradle on Mallory’s end left Connor’s ear ringing. Still, it was quite a few minutes before he unclenched his hand from his own phone. It annoyed him to discover that Mallory’s assessment was dead-on. He was mad-dog jealous of Alec Robinson. And what was worse, he knew it was wrong.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  MALLORY HAD DIFFICULTY believing that Connor had written her after he left Tallahassee. Yet he’d sounded so adamant. So definite.

  Although it was closing in on midnight, she hadn’t heard her father come upstairs. Throwing on a robe, she rushed downstairs. Sure enough, light spilled from under his study door. Upset as she was, Mallory burst in on him without knocking.

  Glancing up from the papers spread across his desk, the senator first frowned, then smiled and removed his half glasses. “Mallory. Marta thought you’d gone to bed with a headache. Once again I arrived home too late for supper. Poor Marta, her meals have gone begging lately. But I guess you’re feeling better.”

  Mallory laced her fingers together tightly. “Dad, do you know if Connor tried to correspond with me here at Forrest House after he went to the island?”

  Bradford’s smile faltered, and he fell back in his chair. “That was so long ago, darlin’. What possible relevance could a simple note or two have now?”

  Zeroing in on his guilty expression and his specific mention of a note or two, Mallory stepped up to his desk and planted both palms on his papers. “If you destroyed mail addressed to me from Connor, then you knowingly interfered with Liddy Bea’s right to a relationship with her father.”

  “Me? I didn’t destroy anything.”

  “Then who? Our house staff? If so, you ordered it. They’d never take that responsibility on their own.”

  “Not staff.” He sighed loudly. “Sit, Mallory. I’ll tell you what happened. But, I swear to God, I learned all of this too late to make any difference.”

  Not liking the ravaged look that entered her father’s eyes, Mallory slid bonelessly into the leather chair across from him. She was glad for the width of the old oak desk.

  Bradford dropped the pen he’d been holding and stared past her at the floor-to-ceiling bookcases that lined the room. “Early the morning before your mother died, she put in an urgent call for me and Dr. Padgett, our Episcopal priest. It was time to unburden her soul, she said.”

  “Mother? She was responsible? I—I’d have thought she was too ill.”

  Shaking his head, the senator opened his humidor and took out a cigar. He didn’t light it, but worried it nervously between thumb and forefinger. “Let me tell this my way. The call terrified me. I couldn’t imagine anything as grave as Beatrice made it sound. At first, I tried to leave her alone with the priest. You see, she seemed frantic, and she wouldn’t look at me. I was afraid she was going to admit to having an affair with one of my colleagues or something.”

  “Oh, Dad,” Mallory whispered. “Mother loved you from the bottom of her heart. You should’ve known she’d never do anything to hurt you.”

  “Yes. Well, she loved you, too, Mallory. I have to believe that’s why she acted as she did. Out of overwhelming motherly love.”

  “Tell me, please. What mischief did she do?”

  “To start with, she underwrote Connor’s original grant. Funded it from her private trust with a stipulation that he be sent to the most remote hurricane center available.”

  Mallory bolted from her chair. “Why? She had to know how much I loved him,” she murmured.

  “Bea never believed the boy would amount to anything. Sit, Mallory. I’ve only begun—there’s much more. Your mother confessed that when the first note arrived from Connor, she opened it. He was begging you to move to Hawaii to be closer to him. Beatrice said she already suspected you were pregnant. By then, of course, she’d been diagnosed with an inoperable brain tumor. Beside herself, she said she couldn’t bear to think of you taking our only grandchild halfway across the world to live like who-knew-what kind of nomad.”

  Brad rocked forward and back, caught up in his story. Mallory knew he’d forgotten she was even there. He was reliving being in that hospital room with his wife.

  Finally, he roused. “Right then, I believe she crossed the line of no return. Beatrice had decided to intercept all of your incoming and outgoing mail, in case you got it in your head to contact him. She claimed you tried only once that she knew of. But she swore his letters stopped coming before her illness intensified to the point of requiring full-time hospitalization.” He paused to take a breath, and Mallory leaned toward him.

  “I can’t believe remorse wouldn’t have driven Mother to disclose this to me. I sat by her bedside every day, even on days when I had morning sickness so badly I could barely hold up my head. I can’t forgive her,” Mallory cried. “Mother knew how horri
bly I missed him.”

  “Darlin’, Beatrice said she might have told you, except that when her conscience finally nagged her to confess, Alec Robinson had taken to dropping by regularly to chat you up. He’d asked you to step into the fund-raiser position at the hospital after you had the baby. Bea said you seemed to want that, too. On lucid days, she figured it was a sign from God. After all, your degree is in public relations, Mallory.”

  So, had her mother played matchmaker in dealing with Alec, too? Was that how he might have mistakenly assumed their relationship could be more than a working one? Mallory felt the throbbing headache return.

  “But, Dad,” Mallory said brokenly, “when Mom confessed this to you, why didn’t you come to me and set the record straight?”

  Brad tossed the unlit cigar back in its box. “A number of reasons. That very day, while Beatrice clung to life, I made discreet inquiries about O’Rourke. I discovered that some of the biggest names in meteorology thought he was brilliant. His research had begun to be noticed by important scientists in the field. Could I in good conscience, I asked myself, take all that away from him? I shouldn’t have to tell you what his research could mean in terms of lives saved in our state and many others.”

  Mallory nodded. How could she fault her dad’s thinking when it so closely mirrored her own reasons for letting Connor go?

  “Honey, while I weighed whether or not to involve myself, and if so, to what extent…we lost Bea. I fell into a black pit of depression for weeks. Possibly months.”

  “I know you did,” Mallory acknowledged sadly. “So did I. If I hadn’t had the job Alec arranged, after Liddy Bea arrived the very day Mom died, Lord only knows how I would’ve survived that year. Oh, Dad, how can I blame Mother, considering the magnitude of her illness and suffering?”

  “I hope you don’t, Mallory. Like I said at the start of our conversation, what’s to be gained by raking over old coals?”

  “Connor’s aware that I didn’t ever receive his letters. I telephoned to tell him I accidentally took off with his bags tonight. I don’t know how the subject came up, but he said he’d written to me. I was first shocked, and then furious—and I all but called him a liar. Did call him a liar. Oh, Dad, I owe him a huge apology. But how can I say I’m sorry, without making Mother appear petty and manipulative?”

  “Forget it ever came up. By getting it out in the open, you probably cleared the air. If I know scientists, and I think I do, nothing short of being told the planet’s on the verge of extinction can distract them from their work for long. Let Connor’s research provide his balm. His work and Claire. You’re not forgetting he’s engaged to be married, are you, Mallory?”

  “No-o-o. It’s just…well, he sounded so angry before we signed off. And more…hurt, I guess. That part shook me, Dad. I’ve always blamed him.”

  “I suspect his reaction is partly latent guilt attached to having met Liddy Bea. Hmm. You’ve got to feel for the spot Connor’s in. Perhaps you should phone him again and tell him the truth. Stress two things. Make him understand how sick Beatrice was at the time. And reassure him that you aren’t out to screw up his life or make any monetary demands on him. Claire certainly has reservations along those lines, even if Connor doesn’t. Going back to the conversation at dinner the other night, it could well be what had that woman so bugged. She probably thinks you’ll hit Connor up for retroactive child support. You could do a lot by reassuring them both that Connor’s involvement with Lydia Beatrice begins and ends with his forking over a kidney.”

  “Dad! You make what I’m asking of Connor sound completely mercenary.”

  “Practical, not mercenary. I’m a practical man. I’d like our dealings with Connor to remain amicable. I want the Panhandle to have the fruits of his research. Since your mother funded his grant, dammit, why should Miami reap the rewards of his early-hurricane-detection system? I want his first trials to protect our coastline this fall.”

  “You do?”

  “Darn tootin’. I don’t want you to breathe a word, but I’m pulling strings left and right to transfer his project from Florida International University’s Hurricane Center to our own FSU Department of Meteorology.”

  “That doesn’t sound ethical. Is it?”

  “You think I’m trying to steal his invention? On the contrary, I’ll see he’s paid handsomely, plus secure him a full professorship at the U. I did some snooping. Miami’s only provided him with a token associate post. Believe me, Mallory, if Connor’s operation works the way he claims, he’ll be well compensated worldwide. If his system fails right off the starting block, my deal allows him to teach while he goes back to the drawing board. If he fails in Miami, it’s all over for him.”

  Mallory gazed blankly at her father for several moments, never uttering a word.

  “I can see you’re too beat to appreciate what I’m trying to do for him, darlin’. Run on up to bed. I’ve probably been insensitive, forgetting how tough it’s been on you having to deal with Connor. Let me explain your mother’s machinations to him. I’ll phone tomorrow or the next day and smooth his ruffled feathers. There’s no reason for you two to cross swords again. Just go on about your business. Devote your time and energy to taking care of our girl.”

  Did her father have no idea how much she wanted to set things right between her and Connor? Obviously not. Anyway, it was all so pointless. He had Claire now. “All right, Dad. I’ll leave it in your hands, and I’ll…carry on.” Mallory climbed shakily to her feet. “Which reminds me. Fredric phoned to say Liddy Bea can come home the day after tomorrow. Apparently the incision for her peritoneal catheter is healing nicely. Also the site where they removed my…my kidney.”

  “Why, that’s the best news I’ve heard in days, Mallory. By Jove, I’ll leave Marta a note on the kitchen bulletin board. She can fix Liddy Bea’s favorite meal. I guaran-damn-tee that meal won’t go begging. We’ll make it a celebration, why don’t we? I’ll phone Mark to see if he can drive up from Pensacola. You invite Fredric and Alec.”

  Mallory had reached the door when that bomb fell. She whirled to face him. “Alec? Why would I include him in a family dinner?”

  Bradford arched a silvery eyebrow. “Because Alec’s in the habit of expecting you to work after hours. Inviting him ensures he’ll let you leave the office on time. Why else? Mallory, I declare, you’re acting very odd tonight.”

  “I’m sorry. It’s been a stressful couple of days.”

  “I agree. Maybe you should start your leave before Liddy Bea comes home.”

  “No. I want to work ahead as much as possible. I’ll be fine. I haven’t been sleeping well. I wake up listening for her, and then I can’t seem to fall back asleep.”

  “It’ll be nice to have her home, won’t it? Save us so many extra trips to Forrest Memorial, too. Though, Lord knows, we ought to be used to it.”

  “Dad.” Mallory hesitated midway out the door. “I…don’t want you to take this wrong. But after Liddy Bea’s released, I’m going to look for a place of my own again.”

  “You are still mad because I promised Liddy Bea I’d arrange a circus for her end-of-the-year class party.”

  “Not that specifically. In general we rely on you too much. I’m thirty-two, Dad. I have a job. A daughter. Dammit, I shouldn’t still live at home. I need to get a life.”

  Bradford leaned forward on his elbows. “No reason you can’t do that and live here. This house has everything any kid could ever want or need. I talked to a man the other day about buying a pony. Liddy Bea would love that. Why struggle out on your own when life would be so much easier if you lived here? I know Beatrice talked with you about that very thing before she passed away.”

  “Oh, you bet. Did it never occur to you or Mother that I was born with a mind?” Mallory pounded her chest. “Successes or mistakes were mine to make—and solve!” She stomped out, slamming his door behind her. Upstairs, in her room, she realized she’d taken a long-overdue stand.

  It felt good, except tha
t she didn’t sleep a wink all night.

  CONNOR’S CELL PHONE RANG as he sat reading the morning headlines over a cup of coffee in a back booth of his favorite greasy spoon. “O’Rourke,” he said, after thumbing open the phone. “Senator?” Connor dropped his paper and swore under his breath when an errant corner landed in his cup. “Uh, is everything okay in Tallahassee? Liddy Bea’s all right? Mallory?” Tension gripped his stomach.

  A garbled explanation had Connor straining to hear above the noisy breakfast crowd. Finally making sense of Bradford’s words, Connor felt his temper begin to climb. “Hold on. Let me get this straight. You’re saying I didn’t win that first grant on merit, as I was led to believe? Dammit! Why tell me now?”

  Again the caller replied. This time Connor thought he’d blow his top as, little by little, he began to understand the full extent of Mallory’s mother’s interference. “You’re asking me to forgive your wife’s selfish actions for the sole reason that she had cancer? She played God with my life! I’m sorry, but that’s a lot to ask, Senator,” Connor said, wanting to throw the phone across the room. “Explain to me why you feel the need to spill your guts now?”

  The senator’s voice became clearer. “I never should have let this much time pass. Last night, Mallory mentioned that you two had words because of a few letters Beatrice trashed. It’s useless to rail at Mallory, nor does it make sense to blame the dead. I’m sure you’ll reach the same conclusion after you’ve calmed down.”

  “Why didn’t Mallory phone and do her own dirty work?”

  “I volunteered. You’ve both carved out separate lives, my boy. You’re standing on the precipice of an opportunity that can solidify your career. All Mallory wants is for Lydia Beatrice to live normally. Otherwise, I think you’ll have to admit she’s managed these past seven years rather well. So has the girl. Liddy Bea’s content as she is.”