The President's Daughter

by Mariah Stewart

  "Sure."

  Simon carried the flat for her, then placed it where she directed, on the ground in the shade.

  "Shouldn't they be in the sun?" he asked.

  "These are young plants. They have to get used to natural light and temperature," she told him. "A little each day. Otherwise, if they go right from the greenhouse to someone's garden, they'll die."

  He nodded as if he understood when, in truth, he was so dazzled by being this close to her again that he could barely comprehend a word she'd said.

  "Want to see the lake?" she asked, holding out her hand for his.

  "Sure."

  They walked through fields still muddy from last night's rain, Dina pointing out what she'd planted here and there, Simon barely listening. All of his senses seemed to jumble. All he really knew for certain was that he was here with her and there was no place else he wanted to be. Ever.

  "... and next week we're going to film a piece for the local TV station," she was saying, "about drying hydrangea. I thought I'd let Polly do that, though she doesn't know it yet. She's so good with the dried flowers."

  "Uh-huh," Simon responded because he thought a response was expected at that point in the conversation, though he couldn't have repeated what she'd said.

  "We're thinking about doing a little more with the fruit trees this year. We pruned better last fall, and we're thinking that we might just do a pick-your-own thing this summer if we actually get any fruit. You know, where you let people come in and pick what they want and just pay by the basket, or whatever."

  "Sounds like a good idea."

  Dina nodded. "1 hate to see all those apples and peaches go to waste. Unfortunately, neither Polly nor I have time to deal with them."

  "Is Mulch-boy still working for you?"

  Dina laughed. "You mean Will? Yes, but he'll be here only through the end of the summer. Then he'll be off to college. Some of the fruit matures in the fall, and he won't be around then to pick."

  "Maybe I could give you a hand. You know, be your new Mulch-boy."

  "That would be one hell of a commute." She led him down toward the pond. "From Arlington to Henderson just to sling a little mulch and pick a few apples? I don't know how long that old Mustang would hold up."

  "My lease is month-to-month, and I wasn't planning on renewing. There's nothing to keep me there," he said pointedly. Nothing to keep me anywhere but here ...

  "Where would you go?"

  "I was thinking a nice old fixer-upper in a nice, quiet small town might be nice."

  "Plenty of those around." She sat on a fallen log overlooking the pond and tugged on his hand to join her. "Nice place to live while you're writing that story."

  "Which story would that be?"

  "The one that brought you to Henderson in the first place." She no longer smiled, and her eyes focused on something across the pond.

  "Oh, that story." Simon sat down next to her, his hands dangling between his knees.

  "Ummm."

  "When I first told Philip what I was on to—Blythe, Graham, then you—he asked me to consider what would happen to the people involved if the story was printed. What would happen to your lives."

  "And ... ?"

  "Well, at the time, I couldn't understand what had gotten into him, that he'd ask me to put a story aside. It made no sense to me at all. I'm a journalist. I find the story, I write it. I was taught—by Philip, incidentally— that nothing was more important than the truth."

  "I sense a 'but' in here somewhere—"

  "But... I look at you—at all of you—and I see so much damage. I see Celeste Hayward, haunted by the truth of her husband's infidelity and broken by the death of her daughter. I see Gray wrestling with all that he's learned about his family, knowing that if he runs for office he will have to either lie and perpetuate the myth about his father or reveal some truths that some—you included—do not want revealed. I see Jude, whose biggest sin was to love you enough to want to keep you safe at any cost, enough to tell you the truth even when she knew it could turn you away from her. And at the center of it all, I see you. It all revolves around you-----"

  Simon seemed to struggle for words. Finally, he said, "I just don't think it's the right time for this story to be told. Maybe someday... but not right now."

  He turned her face toward his and for a long moment looked into her eyes.

  "How could you give it up?" she asked. "Why would you give it up?"

  "Because I don't want to be responsible for what will happen to you once the full story is told. I think you've had enough to deal with for a while. You've had your life turned upside down, found out you weren't who you thought you were. You've been hit over the head, locked in a burning building, shot at—"

  Dina smiled weakly. "Don't forget the mice."

  "What mice?"

  "The mice in the shed."

  Simon's thumb traced the side of her face. "There were mice in the shed?"

  "All night long." Dina shook her head. "Party, party, party."

  Simon raised a questioning eyebrow.

  "Sarah threw some dried corn into the shed before she left me there. Just to make sure I didn't have to spend the night alone."

  "That was thoughtful of her."

  "It was the longest night of my life." Dina shivered. "And you left out the fact that I was responsible for Sarah's death."

  "Dina, there's no one who doesn't know that that was an accident."

  "I just never saw her until the last second, and even then, she almost appeared like a shadow. I will never forget what those minutes were like, knowing she was dying, knowing I was responsible for taking a life. Even her life. You don't forget something like that easily, Simon. I doubt I ever will."

  "No one could forget, Dina, but you can't focus your life on that moment, either. Sarah's death was an accident, and frankly, if anyone was responsible, it was Sarah herself. Her intent in luring you there was to find out where Jude was, so that she could kill her, then kill you, too. Not to make light of the situation, but Sarah Decker wasn't an innocent party. She was a murderer. And while you can't change what's happened, you can try to put it behind you." Simon drew her to him. "You can start over and go on from here. After all, you have a new life, a new family to get to know."

  "Will you be part of my starting over, Simon?" She touched his face. "Will you be part of my new life?"

  "I hope so. 1 want to be."

  Simon lowered his mouth and kissed her, long and hard, all of the emotions of the past week swelling inside and taking him over. He kissed her again, ignored the pounding in his head and the sweet licks of heat that invaded his body. Her mouth was hot and sweet and all Simon knew for certain at that particular moment was that he was one hell of a lucky guy on this overcast morning.

  "Simon." She placed one finger over his lips, her face flushed, her mouth so ripe that he could barely hear her voice for staring at it. "I just want you to know that I do appreciate that you've postponed writing the story. Maybe someday you'll decide to write it, but for now, 1 appreciate that you've put it aside. 1 don't have words to thank you. It's a hell of a lot to give up."

  Simon shrugged. "Actually, I pretty much gave it up when 1 gave the story to the Henderson police after Sarah's death. 1 couldn't very well come back later with something else. Unless, of course, 1 have a desire to go to prison for giving false statements to the police. Obstructing justice. That sort of thing." He paused, then nibbled at her bottom lip. "1 have desires right now, but they have absolutely nothing to do with defending myself in court."

  "Well then, why don't you tell me about them?" Dina rose and pulled Simon with her. "You can do that while 1 show you my carriage house."

  "Sounds like one hell of a plan." Simon took the hand she offered and fell in step with her.

  "Oh, it is." She closed the gap between them and quickened her step. "I think you'll like it___"

  Dina turned over the sign on the greenhouse door to read CLOSED as they walked past. She
unlocked the carriage house door and held it open for Simon, then locked it behind them.

  "My home," she said simply.

  "Strong colors on the walls and the furniture, enough flowers to make it feminine, enough clutter to make it homey. I'd say it reflects you well."

  "Thank you." Dina started up the steps. "But I think you should see the rest of the place before you pass judgment."

  "Hmmm. You have a point." Simon nodded. "I sure wouldn't want to make any hasty conclusions...."

  From the top of the steps, Simon could see into Dina's bedroom—the old four-poster bed upon which an old quilt spread comfortably, the sheer curtains that blew aside in the gentle morning breeze. Dina stood at the side of the bed, her hands pulling back her hair as she watched him pause in the doorway. Every nerve in her body seemed to hum as he walked toward her, his arms opening, then closing her inside.

  She sought his mouth with her own, parting her lips for his tongue, easing back against the side of the bed and taking him with her. She backed onto the quilt, leading him with her hands and her kisses, bringing him along, easing his body onto hers.

  "How's the shoulder?" he asked.

  "A bit tender," she admitted.

  "I'll be gentle."

  "I'm counting on it."

  Her blood pounded in her ears and her breath quickened as Simon's lips sought the hollow of her throat. His hands found the softness of her breasts and her body arched slightly, offering more.

  This, Dina told herself, was chemistry at its best.

  A sigh escaped her lips and she smiled to herself. This was exactly what she'd waited for, all her life. Exactly the right feeling, exactly the right man. She tugged her shirt over her head, then helped Simon off with his. She felt herself melting slowly into his body even as he entered hers, and closed her eyes and let herself be washed away on the tide that rose between them, coming to rest only when it finally ebbed.

  "You were right," Simon said when his brain began to function again and his breathing returned to normal. "This was one hell of a plan."

  "I thought so." Dina lay back against the pillow and smiled.

  "Hey, maybe you could give me that job picking apples. You could close down the greenhouse every day around this time."

  "I have to admit it's tempting, but I think that Polly might start to get suspicious after a while."

  "Would it hurt so much to keep her guessing?"

  "Maybe not for a time." Dina shifted her legs slightly, then asked, "Were you serious about looking for a place to rent in the area?"

  "Yep."

  "What are you planning to do?"

  "Work-wise?" He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Well, I found I enjoyed writing the book on Hayward.

  I want to finish my own book, then maybe do another book or two. Actually, I have several other projects in mind that I'd like to work on."

  "Why here?" She suspected but wanted to hear him say it.

  "Well, because after all... all that happened, after I realized that I would not be writing the story that would take the country by storm, I started to think a lot about what I really wanted out of life." Simon stroked her arm slightly with his fingertips. "No matter what all I put on that list, I just kept coming back to you. I figure if I'm going to win your heart, it would be a lot easier if I'm in the neighborhood."

  "I'd love to have you in my neighborhood." Dina kissed the tip of his nose. "And you've already won my heart."

  "Even though I ruined your life?"

  "My life is far from ruined." She flashed that megawatt smile and added, "As a matter of fact, it's pretty damned great right now."

  "So you're not going to blame me for rocking your boat?"

  "Maybe it needed to be rocked. Jude's did, anyway. It wasn't right for her to keep that secret for so long. It wasn't right to keep Betsy away for all those years. She's my aunt. We have a right to know each other. Even Jude has come to accept that."

  "Oh. Speaking of your family ..." Simon leaned on one elbow. "I think you may be hearing from Gray in the near future."

  "Why?"

  "He wants to meet you." Simon watched a cloud pass over her face. "After all, you are his half sister."

  "Who happened to kill his sister." Dina bit her bottom lip. "What do you think he thinks of me?"

  "Curious, maybe. But I think he might be just as concerned about what you think of him."

  "I guess we should meet sooner or later." Dina nodded. "Maybe in a month or so. This whole thing has been so overwhelming, you know? And I still have so many questions."

  "Like what?" Simon raised himself up on one elbow.

  "Like how did Sarah know about Blythe?"

  "The best Philip and I can piece together from what. we knew, and from what you told us about your conversation with Sarah while you were in the shed, is that Miles told her thinking that Sarah would go to her father and cry and beg him to give up Blythe and that Graham would feel so bad that he'd end the affair."

  "Why would Miles do that?"

  "Because he was in love with Blythe himself."

  "So he thought that if Sarah talked her father into leaving Blythe and coming back to her mother, then he would have Blythe all to himself... ?"

  "That's the best we could come up with. But instead of going to her father—"

  "Sarah went to Blythe ..." Dina said softly.

  "Miles had made some comments to me to the effect that he'd never meant for Blythe to die. That it wasn't supposed to turn out the way it did, or something like that. And it all makes sense when you add it all together."

  "Hmmm." Dina lay back and pondered it for a few minutes. "She must have hated Blythe terribly," she said after a time.

  "I imagine she did," Simon agreed.

  "I like to think that my father had Dr. Norton in the wings watching over me somehow," she told him. Before he could respond, she added, "And that reminds me that I need to thank Dr. Norton for... well, you know, for what he did after. After ... Sarah—well, there was a lot that never appeared in any official report that I saw. The fire, for one thing—"

  "Philip's 'old friend' at the Bureau turned out to be the director. And it's amazing what a call from the director of the FBI can do, isn't it? Your local police didn't even seem upset when the Feds took over everything. Your chief seemed almost happy to have them involved."

  "Biggest moment of Tom's life, I do believe. All he had to hear was 'matter of national security' and his lips were sealed. I didn't even see a mention of the gun in the report." Dina paused, then asked, "What do you suppose happened to Sarah's gun?"

  "What gun?"

  "You know what gun. The gun Sarah shot at me with. Shot up Betsy's Jeep with. The gun she had in her hand when she died."

  "There was no gun in her hand when the ambulance arrived." Simon shrugged. "And there was nothing on the report about any damage to the Jeep."

  "Are people really that powerful, that they can hide things like that?" Dina half sat up.

  Simon raised an amused eyebrow. "You have to ask me that? Sweetheart, they managed to hide you for almost thirty years...."

  "Do I look all right?" Dina had the car door half-opened, her legs poised to settle on the ground, an anxious look on her face.

  "You look beautiful," Simon assured her. "You have nothing to worry about. Just be yourself."

  "What if this doesn't go well? Or if they don't like me?"

  "Hey, what if you don't like them?" Simon took Dina's arm and led her up to the front door of Jen and Gray Hayward's Rhode Island home. "Now's as good a time as any to find out. Come on."

  It was almost three months since Sarah Decker's death, six weeks since Simon Keller had found the perfect bungalow to rent on a road right outside of Henderson. One month since he'd moved in and one week from the day that he'd started working on his first novel, the story of a young reporter who was tracking a dream of a story.

  Jen Hayward was the first to greet Simon and Dina, and she did so warmly.

  "Come i
n, please. Gray's out back with Dr. Norton." She escorted them through the house and out onto the patio. "Gray has been pacing all day, waiting for you to arrive...."

  The congressman from Rhode Island stepped forward and shook Simon's hand, all the while looking beyond him to Dina.

  "You must be Dina," he said.

  "Yes." Dina wasn't sure if she should offer her hand and was happy when Gray offered his.

  "Did you have an enjoyable trip?" If anything, Gray appeared more nervous than Dina.

  "Yes. It was a nice drive. I haven't been in this part of the country before. It's beautiful." Dina nodded.

  "You'll have to see the view from the cliffs." Gray turned toward the sea. "It's spectacular."

  "I'll be sure to do that before we leave."

  "Let me get you something to drink." Gray gestured to the small bar where Philip Norton stood, watching the interaction. "What would you like?"

  "Whatever white wine you have on hand would be lovely."

  "I have just the thing." Gray patted her shoulder. "Simon? Your pleasure?"

  "A cold beer would be fine."

  "Philip." Simon nodded a greeting.

  "Simon." Norton nodded back. "Dina, it's a pleasure to see you again," Norton said as he took her hand in his own and held it.

  "Dr. Norton, I'd been hoping for an opportunity to thank you for all you did for me. For all of us."

  "It was merely a matter of keeping a trust, my dear." Norton leaned toward her, so that no one other than Dina could hear. "As I promised your father I would always do."

  Dina folded her arms over her chest and studied the older man who stood before her. Simon had been right on the money. Sean Connery without the accent. Definitely ...

  "Might we have a few minutes alone?" Gray handed Dina a glass of pale wine that sparkled just slightly.

  "Of course." Dina nodded, then looked up at Norton. "If you'll excuse me. I know there are other things I'd like to talk to you about."

  "Whenever you're ready, my dear."

  Dina squeezed Simon's hand for luck and said, "I'll be back."

  "I'll be here."