by BETH KERY
“Alice?”
“It’s no biggie. The doctor thinks I have some hearing loss in my left ear.”
“What?” Dylan asked. She hated that look in his eyes. “What made the doctor think that?”
She sighed. “It’s not a major deal.”
“What made her think it?” Dylan demanded. “Was it something on the brain scans?”
“No.”
“Then why the hell—”
“She thought it because I told her,” Alice said, feeling cornered.
She watched his expression go blank.
“It’s not too bad, Dylan. There’s just a muffled quality on that side. My other ear is fine. And it might remit over time,” she reasoned.
Dylan nodded. Alice knew what he was thinking. It was yet another thing he’d feel guilty for. She struggled for something to say. The aide started to wheel her out of the room without waiting for Alice’s okay. Her inability to even move of her own volition only amplified her sense of helplessness.
“Stop,” Dylan barked from behind her.
The aide abruptly halted. Dylan stalked around her chair, giving the aide a pointed glare. He looked down at Alice.
“I love you,” he said gruffly. He leaned down and kissed her mouth.
“I love you, too,” she whispered.
AFTER her testing, both Maggie and Dylan were waiting for her in her room. She ate her lunch in their company, and then was drifting off to sleep to the sound of their muffled, murmured conversation, when the doctor came to talk about the hearing exam.
Alice had mild to moderate hearing loss in her left ear. She wasn’t shocked. That’s pretty much exactly how she would have described it. Dylan asked the doctor several questions. Dr. Sheldrake explained that they’d need to do more diagnostic testing on the ear on an outpatient basis to know whether or not the damage was permanent. She’d be referring Alice to a specialist.
“Now for the good news. The rest of your tests came back clear, so we’ll be discharging you tomorrow. You’re going home,” Dr. Sheldrake said with a smile.
“Hallelujah,” Dylan muttered.
“Amen,” Maggie seconded.
Alice could only manage a shaky smile. She didn’t know where “home” was.
TWENTY-THREE
That afternoon when she woke up from her nap, Dylan wasn’t in the room. A nurse poked her head in the door and said that the doctor wanted her to do a supervised walk. She’d been up from bed to use the bathroom, but this would be a much longer walk, back and forth down the hospital corridor.
“Got to get you back in shape for your marching orders tomorrow,” the nurse joked.
Alice was mortified by how stiff, weak, and painful her muscles were. She felt like every inch of her body had been beaten. Fortunately, her joints started to loosen with the movement.
When she reached the waiting room, Alice immediately noticed Dylan. He sat next to Sidney Gates. She paused. She nearly called out to them. Something stilled her tongue. Dylan sat with his back to her, his head lowered, his broad shoulders stiff. For some reason, his pose called to mind solitude, despite the fact that Sidney was right there. Sidney’s face was turned partially in profile. He was talking quickly and soberly. Alice thought he was trying to convince Dylan of something. Whether it was her damn hearing loss, or there was just too much bustle around the nurses’ station, Alice couldn’t quite make out what Sidney was saying so emphatically. She suspected one thing, though.
Dylan wasn’t buying it.
Suddenly, she made out one of Sidney’s words: Guilt.
A sharp pain went through her that had nothing to do with the physical.
“Are you all right?” the nurse asked.
Alice nodded. “I’m just a little tired,” she said, turning to head back to her room.
“I’VE contacted Durand’s VP of legal, Charlie Towsen,” Dylan told Alice later that evening after she’d finished her dinner. “He’s going to be calling up at the castle tomorrow to schedule a meeting with you in regard to the trust. I want you to have someone in your corner who can work with you and answer all your questions. Charlie knows that document backward and forward.”
“I thought we weren’t going to be worrying about that until I got the genetic testing results,” Alice said uneasily.
“That was before all of this stuff happened with Kehoe. Kehoe was a member of our board. His arrest and some of the circumstances behind it have gone public. Even though we’ve managed to keep your name out of the papers so far, it’s just a matter of time before that breaks, as well. I’ve had to communicate some of the basic details of what’s happened to the other members of the board. I’m not the only one who has been bothered by reporters. We had to make a unified front. There’s no saying what Kehoe is going to reveal or claim when he’s charged. Kehoe runs a large international department at Durand. We needed to inform some of the people directly under him of some basic facts as well, so they aren’t totally unprepared when this story explodes.”
“So . . . this man, Charlie Towsen, and several other people at Durand Enterprises . . . you told them you think I’m Addie Durand?” she asked with shaky incredulity.
“You think you’re Addie Durand. It’s not a horrible truth. It’s an amazing one. Don’t let what Kehoe’s done take that away from you.”
“I don’t know if I’m Alan Durand’s daughter, and it was his company, not Lynn’s,” she said sharply. The news that other people knew something she’d been hiding for weeks left her feeling vulnerable. She was irritated at Dylan for initiating her exposure without her permission. Panicked.
I’m not ready.
“What was Alan’s was Lynn’s, Alice. But that’s not the crucial point. You are Alan’s daughter,” Dylan said.
“You don’t know that I’m Alan’s daughter, no matter how much you want to believe that I am.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Dylan asked slowly, and she saw anger flicker in his lustrous eyes.
“It means that I know you want it, I know it would justify all you’ve done in finding me. But that doesn’t make it true, Dylan.”
“The trust is left to Adelaide Durand. You’re Adelaide Durand,” he bit out. “The document doesn’t say anything about requiring genetic testing. That’s just something I thought we should do for your peace of mind.”
“You told me that Durand executives would demand it when the time came!” Oh God, that time is now. Why hadn’t she realized Kehoe’s actions would pop the lid off everything so quickly?
“That was before I read Lynn’s journals. I didn’t think it could be a potential sticking point then. But if I tell them that you’re Addie Durand, then they’ll just have to damn well take my word for it. I’m the executor of your trust, not them.”
Alice stared at him, jarred by his outburst. “Is it that important to you? That I’m her? Is that why you’re willing to shove the fact that I’m supposedly Alan Durand’s daughter down the board’s throat? Do you want me to be his heiress that much?”
He looked bewildered. Then his anger returned, redoubled. “Are you implying I just want you for the purpose of claiming the trust? Do you think I’ve done all this because I was motivated by money?”
“No. I don’t think that for a second. But I think you might have done all this because you were motivated by honor,” she said, her voice a choked shout. “And duty. And guilt. And so to admit that I might not be Alan Durand’s real daughter is hard, because then you have to wonder why the hell you did it all.”
He turned his head, hitched his chin, and shut his eyelids briefly.
“It was bad enough having to hear this shit from Sidney all these years. Now I’ve got to hear it from you?”
“Well maybe Sidney and I are seeing something you’re not,” she cried. “I know he was here in the hospital today, talking to you about your guilt.”
“What?” He turned and looked at her, clearly caught off guard. “Sidney wasn’t talking to me about my old gui
lt—the regret I felt as a kid in regard to the kidnapping. He was talking to me about dealing with my guilt for letting Kehoe hurt you.”
“You weren’t responsible for that! You can’t control everything, Dylan.”
“I realize that,” he replied angrily. “But it’s also completely natural that I’d regret it. Even Sidney thinks so. Do you have any idea how helpless I felt, seeing you slumped in that pantry, covered in blood?”
“I’m tired of being the thing you have to feel guilty about all the time! It’s like Sidney has always told you, guilt isn’t a healthy emotion to base your life on. It’s certainly not the key emotion to build a relationship on,” she exclaimed heatedly.
His eyes narrowed. She gasped back a rush of emotion. She immediately wanted to take it back, and at the same time, experienced relief at finally voicing her worry.
“Is that what you think?” he asked after a billowing silence. “Sidney doesn’t understand the way I feel about you. I don’t really expect him to. I thought you did though. Maybe I was wrong about that.” He stood.
Alice wanted to scream so bad that he wasn’t wrong. But she was so scared Sidney was right. Doubt assailed her, choking off her voice. Maggie came up to the door just as Dylan stalked out. She crossed the threshold, her eyes wide.
“I heard shouting,” Maggie said in a muted tone.
“Sometimes I wish I’d never heard the name Adelaide Durand,” Alice blurted out hoarsely. “No, I wish Dylan never had.”
Her face crumpled.
“Oh no,” Maggie said, rushing to her side.
THE next morning, Dylan arrived at the hospital by eight. He’d calmed down a lot since last night.
Yeah, Alice’s doubt had hurt. He wished he were so confident about caring for another human being the way he cared about her that it hadn’t hurt as much as it had. But he also understood Alice was scared. Why wouldn’t she be? Her entire world had been shaken by learning she was born another person, she’d been forced to provide the FBI with details so they could more easily arrest the people she’d thought were her family, and she’d been brutally attacked and almost killed by a crazy man. All of that had happened within the last three weeks of her life.
Add to that, she’d told Dylan she wasn’t sure she trusted him, only to tell him she loved him the following week. He knew enough about Alice to realize that alone would have rattled her world, forget about all the other crap.
He’d known going into this whole thing that it would take a lot of patience and fortitude. Alice hadn’t realized that since Kehoe had gone over the edge, a lot of Dylan’s power to protect her privacy and anonymity had vanished. He’d taken her by surprise with that fact. Maybe he’d disappointed her. He’d try to make her understand today, without losing his temper this time.
He saw Maggie at the vending machines on his way to Alice’s room. He paused when she looked up and caught his eye.
“Any word when her discharge will go through?” he asked Maggie.
She walked toward him, a cup of coffee in her hand.
“They’re just finishing up the paperwork.”
Dylan frowned. Why was Maggie having trouble meeting his eyes?
“So she’s up?” he asked, referring to Alice.
Maggie nodded. “She’s waiting for you in her room.”
A foreboding went through him.
“What’s going on?” he asked slowly.
Maggie shook her head. For the first time, she met his gaze squarely. “She’s just really confused. It’s a lot for her to take in. It’d be a lot for anybody to—”
“Maggie?” he interrupted.
“Just go talk to her.”
Alice was sitting on the edge of her made bed. Kuvi had brought her some clothing and her computer from their cabin, plus Dylan had brought her some things from the castle. She wore a pair of jeans, running shoes, and a short-sleeved fitted T-shirt—none of the items ones he’d provided for her. Her hair was clean, and brushed back behind her ears. Her face looked tense and wan beneath the discoloration of bruises and healing cuts.
In her lap, she held what looked like a folded piece of lumpy paper with staples around the edges.
“What’s going on?” he asked, taking several steps toward her. He saw the misery in her dark blue eyes when she looked at him. Shit.
“I’m going back with Maggie,” she said hoarsely.
“No.”
She winced. “I can’t keep doing this, Dylan. Camp is over. The kids are gone.”
“I know you came here for the camp. But are you really going to sit there and tell me after all this, that it’s the only reason you’d stay?”
“No,” she said in a choked voice. He felt like a bully, seeing the silent entreaty for understanding in her shiny eyes.
“I need time to heal and to think about everything and what it means to me.” He opened his mouth. “I need time,” she repeated, sounding desperate.
“Away from me,” he clarified harshly. “Do you think I don’t know you, Alice? You’re a loner. You dive for cover when you’re feeling vulnerable. It’s as natural an instinct to you as breathing.”
“I can’t just change who I am in a few weeks.”
“I realize that. But I also know that once you’ve found cover, you’re going to want to stay there. You’re not going to be able to hide this time, though. This is too big for you to blend into the background. It’s already begun to change you. You can’t go back to your old world and fit yourself into it again.”
“I have to!” she said, standing. She swayed slightly, and he reached to steady her, his hand cupping her shoulder. Misery and helplessness went through him when he saw her pain.
“You’re not running away from Addie Durand’s world. You’re running away from me. I know I’ve disappointed you—”
“You have never disappointed me,” she exclaimed, shuddering. “I love you. You’re perfect.”
“But you’re still going to run,” he realized with a sickening sense of finality.
She sniffed and brought her trembling under control. “You can contact me on my cell phone if there’s an emergency. But I called that man—Charlie Towsen, the chief legal guy for Durand—this morning. You can correspond with me about anything you think is crucial in regard to Addie through him—”
He shut his eyes. Jesus. She was back to saying Addie’s name like she was another person.
“—and I’ve promised Towsen when I find out the results of the genetic testing . . .”
“Don’t do this, Alice. Do you really think I give a damn whose daughter you are?”
“Do I think it’d make a difference to you whether I was Alan Durand’s or Sebastian Kehoe’s daughter?” she flared. “Yeah, I do, given what I know about your past. You were like Alan Durand’s adopted son. You would have done anything to prove yourself to him.”
“You’re wrong. You’re mixing everything up in your head.”
“I don’t want to fight with you,” she insisted shakily. She paused, trying to gather herself. He sensed her slipping away, and he’d never felt so defenseless. “Being with you was like being in a dream . . . the best dream in the world,” she gasped. Looking undone, she thrust the piece of paper she was clutching against his abdomen. He grasped it without thinking. She started to walk past him.
“Alice.”
She paused a foot away from the door, her head lowered. She didn’t turn around.
“Do you think you’re the only one that this is hard for? I’m no more of an expert at trust, or relationships, or the long haul than you are. But I’ve figured out one thing. What’s between us is real. You feel it. I know you do. You and Sidney can call it some kind of residue from our past, or guilt, or fucking insanity if you want to, but it’s not going to change what’s there. I loved Addie Durand because she was the first person in the world who loved me without question or thought. That’s what came to her as natural as breathing. But I fell in love with you, even though you fought me and questioned
and distrusted every step of the way, because I loved your strength and your independence, and yeah . . . even your goddamn prickliness. The bond between us isn’t going to break,” he assured her grimly. “No matter how much craziness we might have to deal with from Durand Enterprises or the press or Sebastian Kehoe’s sentencing or trial. It’s sure as hell not going to break if you walk away right now.”
She stood there, her shoulders slumped and her head lowered. After a moment, she straightened her spine, lifted her head, and walked out of the room. He wasn’t surprised she did it, necessarily. He knew her well.
That didn’t stop it from hurting like fire.
He just stood there, feeling hollowed out in matter of minutes. Eventually, he noticed that he held something.
He separated the paper from two staples and tilted the makeshift envelope. Alan Durand’s silver chased lighter landed in his hand. He carefully opened the piece of paper. She’d only written two sentences.
It’s from both of us, Alan and me. You will always be my knight in shining armor.
TWENTY-FOUR
THREE WEEKS LATER
Doby frisked around her legs as she tried to help Maggie carry in the groceries.
“Cut it out, Doby,” Maggie scolded as she heaved multiple bags on the kitchen counter. “You’re going to put the girl back in the hospital, tripping her up that way. Silly dog, come here.”
Alice laughed as Maggie’s beckoning cleared the path for her. “I’m not that fragile anymore. Thank God. How did the test go?” she asked, referring to an exam Maggie gave her grad school class in statistics. Alice had helped her make up the test.
“I haven’t even looked at them yet. I’ll get to them tonight,” Maggie said, putting away a gallon of milk.
“I’ll grade them for you,” Alice said, lifting some bananas out of a bag. “My bruises are almost faded, so I’d be happy to teach a few classes for you early next week, too, if you like. Earn my keep.”
She looked around when the refrigerator door closed with a loud thump. Maggie regarded her solemnly. “What’s wrong?” Alice asked uneasily. “I was your grad assistant, I used to teach a couple of your classes every semester. Do you think I’d be out of practice?”
