Was Sean missing or dead because he’d gotten mixed up in the bombing somehow? Fell in with environmentalists more radical than he thought and he couldn’t extract himself? Or did he overhear something he shouldn’t have, and someone got nervous and decided it was time for Sean to disappear?
Should Will have told Sean right away about the photo of him with the Polar Bear Bomber? Should he have pulled Sean aside before mounting the platform? Given him time to explain? To figure out what happened? To extricate himself, if need be? As much as Will couldn’t stand Carson, could that photo be real and not a setup as he hoped? Perhaps Will’s reticence to anger his brother had led him into deeper trouble.
Then his mind flipped to Thomas Rich. Should Will have told his mother not to say anything to Sean about his birth father until Will could be there? So he could be by Sean’s side . . . follow him to make sure he was okay? Yes, she’d done it spontaneously, but might Will have prevented that revelation or at least controlled the damage of it by forcing a meeting once he knew the truth? Then again, would it have helped or hurt Sean that Ava had told Will first? He was well aware of the rivalry Sean felt toward him.
Business decisions were easy—black-and-white. It was the emotional ones Will struggled with because they never seemed to be reasonable. So he did what he always did in these situations. He phoned Laura as he strolled the pathways of Central Park.
“Can’t settle, huh?” she said as soon as she picked up the call.
“You noticed.”
“Of course. You tossed and turned until 4:00 this morning, when you finally got out of bed and went to your office.”
He winced. “Sorry I kept you up.”
“You second-guessing yourself?”
Laura knew.
“Yeah.”
“Hmm.”
That “hmm” meant one thing. A lecture was coming. His wife was a softie when it came to those she loved, but she didn’t have a lot of patience with people who beat themselves up over what they couldn’t control or change.
“Will, you can’t go back,” she said. “But you can act now. Do what you can with Drew to figure out what happened to Sean. We may find out. We may never know. But either way, your father, mother, and sister need you. Your sister most of all, since she doesn’t know about the photo or Thomas Rich.”
“You’re right,” he murmured.
“I always am,” she fired back. Then, in a softer voice, she added, “Will, you know that photo will come to light sometime. The Jason Carsons of the world like to have and use such leverage. If Sean isn’t here to speak for himself, you’ll be that steadying force for your family as they try to make sense of it. But in the meanwhile . . .”
He knew the one-two punch was coming, and he braced himself for it.
“Life is much easier if you ride along for some of it, instead of trying to control every aspect of it.”
“No way could Michael have had any role in the bombing,” Jon reported to Sarah. “He’s the real deal. Came out of a tough background sunny-side up because of good people in his court. He’s actually become deeply religious. He’s driven to help other kids like him. I caught up with him right before he boarded a flight from Heathrow to Dublin. Said Mrs. Chesterton had told a friend of mine about him and what he did.” Jon chuckled. “That’s all I had to say, and he was off running, excited to talk about the theater program and how it had impacted the lives of students.”
“So how did you work your way around to asking about Justin Eliot?” she prompted.
“Oh, ye of little faith! Doubting my abilities,” he teased. “I simply asked what the inspiration for the program was. He told me about going to St. Mark’s school at a rough time in his life. Said acting helped him process what had happened. I asked if any friend was there for him, and he named Justin. Then he paused.”
“What kind of pause?” she asked. “A pause like, ‘Oh no, you caught me at something,’ or like, ‘We went separate ways,’ or like—”
“Whoa there, missy.” He laughed. “All he said with a sad tone was, ‘Change is much easier for some people than others.’ I asked what he meant. ‘Justin’s always been troubled,’ he told me. ‘Here I am, helping lots of people on a different continent, but I can’t figure out how to help my best friend. I’ve tried for years. After his mom died, he felt like God and everybody else was against him. The meds he was on didn’t help the paranoia either.’ After that, Michael’s flight was announced, and he had to go. He said he’d be happy to answer any follow-up questions, though.”
“So he said Justin was paranoid,” Sarah mused. “Did you ask when he got to see him last?”
“Yes. Said he hadn’t seen him in person for a couple of years, but they usually talk on the phone at least once a month. But now it’s been a long time since they talked. He admitted he’s worried.” Jon’s voice grew quieter. “I asked him when they’d talked the last time. The date he gave was two days before the bombing.”
“He remembered the exact date they talked last?” Sarah asked. “Isn’t that a little too—”
“It was Justin’s birthday. That’s why Michael remembered.” He chuckled. “And yes, I verified it against the paperwork we have even before I called you.”
“Oh.” Sarah deflated. Still, it irked her a bit that Jon could read her mind.
“Hey, it’s okay,” he said smoothly. “But that’s why he could be so specific. Justin had called, excited, saying he got a gig. ‘Maybe things will turn around for me,’ he told Michael.”
“And Michael hasn’t heard from him since?”
“No. He says he hopes things did turn around for Justin and that he’s been too busy to call. He just wants his friend to be happy.”
“Wow. So sad. He has no idea. You didn’t tell him, did you?”
“No. I called him for a story. And since the name hasn’t been released, I couldn’t tell him,” Jon said.
“Well, sounds like we just found the closest thing to a next of kin. You’ll let Darcy know?” Sarah asked.
“I will.”
49
CORVO
The path ahead for Sean Worthington was as clear as the view from the top of Morro dos Homens. Perching on a rock, he dug his cell phone out of his backpack. He hoped it was still charged and he would be able to get a signal from somewhere on the island. It had been two weeks since he’d used it. He shook his head. I really have been in a fog, haven’t I?
Holding the phone up, he turned in circles at the top of the mountain. One bar only. He hoped it would be enough. He dialed Elizabeth’s number.
She picked up immediately. “Listen,” she said in a heated voice, “this better be Sean Worthington. If it’s not, and you kidnapped him and have his cell phone, then you’d better—”
“Elizabeth, it’s me,” he said. “Sean.”
There was an intake of breath. “Sean?” she whispered.
“I can guarantee it’s me. Remember when you climbed aboard the USS Cantor in the Arctic? That’s—”
“Sean Worthington!” The explosion was full force in his ear, and he winced. “People think you’re dead,” she railed at him. “Your family thinks you’re dead. How could you let them think that?”
“What?” He tightened his grip on the phone.
He thought he heard a sob in response. “I thought you were dead.”
“Why would you think that? Why would they think that?” He frowned. He’d been away from New York City and his family longer than two weeks before on trips, and nobody had thought he was dead. At times Sarah teased, “Hey, I know you’ll contact me when you’re ready.” His family knew he was often out of pocket. So did Elizabeth.
“You disappeared. No texts, no phone messages, no emails, nothing. That’s not like you, Sean. Even when I’ve been too involved in research to check texts and email for a while, I found at least one or more from you when I was done. This time, nothing. I contacted Jon. He hadn’t heard either. We’ve been worried. Jon found out how upset your
family was when Sarah asked him if he’d heard from you. Then she started crying.”
His tough little sister, falling apart? He was stunned.
Elizabeth powered on. “Drew got a report that someone of your description jumped off the Peace Bridge. Your family thought it was you.”
“But why would . . .” Light dawned. He’d stormed away from his parents’ place and hadn’t spoken to anyone in his family since. Frankly, at that point, he hadn’t cared about anything but getting away before he fell apart. He’d been so focused on himself, angry at his mother, wrestling with the betrayal, that he hadn’t stopped to wonder how worried she must be.
“I have no idea. All I know is what Jon told me about Sarah. That he has never seen her upset like that.”
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t think. I just needed to get away.” His heart pinched at the pain he’d unwittingly caused.
“Don’t you think we all need to get away sometimes? But it’s not you to unplug, Sean. It’s never been you.” He heard her take a shaky breath. “So what happened?” she asked in a gentler tone.
It was so like Elizabeth. She could let him have it with both barrels blazing when he was stupid. Every time she had, he’d deserved it. But she didn’t hold grudges. She didn’t even mention that she’d hung up on him the last time they’d talked because he was being stupid then too.
She added, “Why did you feel you had to get away?”
He wanted to look into her expressive brown eyes. He wanted to see compassion, understanding. But he also wished to see a hint of . . . more. There, he’d admitted it to himself.
Yet, in that instant, another startling reality struck. He would never do to Jon what Thomas had done to Bill—move in on his territory. He couldn’t hurt Jon or Elizabeth that way. A pang of loneliness twinged, and he steeled himself.
“Sean,” Elizabeth murmured, “you know I care about you, right? Whether you tell me anything or not about what happened won’t change that.”
He needed her steady presence, her good listening skills, her ability to process information with clarity, her uncanny awareness of the state of his heart and thoughts. “I know,” he finally replied.
Elizabeth, like Jon, had never been impressed with social connections or wealth. There were no strings attached to her acceptance. Of that, he had no doubt. Any pretentions and sidetracks he would have tried with others were stripped away.
“I found out I wasn’t who I thought I was,” he announced.
“Okay, I’m listening.”
She did just that, with no interruption, as he poured out his story. At last he stopped, spent with the telling.
“You said you weren’t who you thought you were,” she said. “But what really has changed about you? Who you are at your core is the same—your values, your desire to impact the world for good. Sure, your birth father isn’t who you thought he was. The way you came to be on this earth is different from what you thought. But haven’t you ever done anything you regret?”
A flash of his loneliness and moral weakness that night in Geneva surfaced. “Yes, of course.”
“Well then,” she declared, “your mother? She has only proved that she’s human, capable of making decisions that can alter her own and others’ lives. We all are, in more ways than we may ever know. However, without her making that decision, you wouldn’t be here. You wouldn’t have grown up as a Worthington. You may or may not have had the opportunity or backing to fund others’ dreams. Think of the people you’ve helped—given their dreams the ability to fly. Improved the health and financial picture of some of the poorest communities. I guarantee that your gift to GlobalHealth is saving lives right now in Nepal.”
She was on a roll. He didn’t try to interrupt. He knew better. Elizabeth would finish what she’d set out to say.
“You’ve relentlessly pursued making your mark on the world. You’ve done it differently from the way Will does it and the way Sarah does it. That’s because you’re you, not them. Not because you don’t have official Worthington blood and they do. So get that out of your head right now. Bill, Ava, Will, and Sarah—they’re your family. Will and Sarah are still your siblings. They’ll love you, even when they know how you arrived on earth.”
“Do you know if Sarah—” he began.
“Don’t know, and you shouldn’t guess,” she chided. “Don’t go there with Will or your father either. When you look each of them in the eyes, you’ll know what they know.”
“But what if my father—”
“He may know, or he may not know. You’ve told me multiple times that he treats you differently. You may finally have the answer as to why, if he does know. If so, you can establish a new and better relationship based on the truth, with nothing hidden between you. If he doesn’t know, you and your mother will figure out the right time and the right way to tell him, and your sister, and your brother. That will be up to the two of you to decide.”
He was quiet, ruminating.
“You’ve been thrown a big curveball,” she added. “I know you need time to process. But you don’t have to decide or do everything at once. Just do one thing.”
“Oh yeah? What’s that?”
“Get yourself down that mountain and back to New York City. Pronto, buster.”
He chuckled. “Yes, ma’am.”
“And Sean? Don’t ever, ever do that to me again.” She ended the call.
He grinned. It was vintage Elizabeth. He’d missed her.
NEW YORK CITY
“I reached Michael Vara right after his flight arrived in Dublin,” Darcy told Sarah. “To say he was shocked is an understatement. He told me it couldn’t possibly be Justin.”
“Why did he think that?”
“He said Justin would never intentionally hurt anyone. His favorite gig was dressing up as an animal for kids’ birthday parties.”
“That’s interesting. So dressing up as a polar bear would make sense,” Sarah reasoned. “It wouldn’t have been out of Justin’s realm.”
“But Michael said that Justin couldn’t even squash a bug on the sidewalk. He’d step around them,” Darcy argued.
“Maybe he didn’t like people who hurt animals?” Sarah tried.
“We can talk to Michael in person after he does a positive ID of the body, or what’s left of it after the fall.”
“He’s coming?” Sarah asked. “All the way from Dublin?”
“Yup. Had just flown from Heathrow into Dublin when we talked and said he’d get on the next flight to New York City that he could find. Said it was the least he could do for a good friend—ID him and then make sure he was buried properly.”
Now that was a good friend. Sarah was impressed. If someone had to do that for her, who would it be? Her mind evaluated her large circle of friends and discounted most of them. Sure, they were fun to hang around with, but would they stick up for her in the same situation? She doubted it.
Only two were in that category—Darcy and now Jon.
Interesting how swiftly she zeroed in on the truth.
50
CORVO
Sean descended the mountain far more rapidly than he’d ascended it. His cell was now dead. It was a miracle that it had worked anyway to call Elizabeth in such a remote location. With no landlines he knew about on the island, he wouldn’t be able to call his pilot in Flores and tell him to come earlier than planned. Otherwise he’d be stuck on Corvo for another five or six days until the pilot arrived. The beautiful paradise now resembled prison bars since he couldn’t leave at his leisure.
It took him less than five minutes to pack his belongings. He closed the door on his temporary island home and strode toward the closest inlet and a grouping of several small fishing boats.
In his wide travels, he’d picked up smatterings of languages. Using hand gestures and the little Portuguese he knew, he managed to get his point across to one of the native fishermen. When Sean pantomimed leaving now, though, the fisherman shook his head. He pointed to the setting sun an
d poured out a volume of words. The ones Sean picked out were “rough seas,” “not night,” and “morning fish.”
He got the picture. His ride would be going nowhere tonight, but he could plan on it in the morning. To make sure he wouldn’t miss it, he’d be there waiting as soon as the first ray of sun hit. The people of the island didn’t go by schedules.
He smiled widely, bowed his head to thank his soon-to-be-host, and headed back for the small house.
NEW YORK CITY
Sarah had just walked in her front door that evening when her cell dinged with a text.
Darcy
MV on red-eye from Dublin. Meet my office 11 a.m.?
Sarah
Be there.
Tomorrow they’d hopefully have long-awaited answers about the Polar Bear Bomber.
CORVO
Sean lay restless in what the islanders considered a large bed. To him, it resembled a slightly wider twin, and his feet poked out the end. He chafed at the delay of the overnight, mentally kicking himself for being so thoughtless.
A line from the I Love Lucy reruns his sister loved to watch ran through his head: “You got some ’splainin’ to do!” Boy, did he. But what could he say? Especially if three of his family members didn’t know why he’d run? “Uh, I decided spontaneously to take a vacation away from everything, without letting anyone know”?
He shook his head. He knew that wouldn’t fly.
His mom would be guilt-ridden and try to spirit him away privately to apologize. She’d say it was her fault and she’d find a way to make it right. But there was no way to make it right. What was done was done. There was no undoing it. He was living proof of her affair. If Bill didn’t know about it, the truth about Sean’s birth might drive his parents apart.
He shook his head. My parents. How easily he still thought of them as that, even though he now knew Thomas Rich was his father.
Bill? He’d be livid. “Of all the stupid things you’ve done in your life, this one’s at the top. What were you thinking, worrying your mother and sister like that?” In every stressful situation, Bill only mentioned worrying the women in their family, never the men. Guys weren’t supposed to have feelings. They were scripted to be steady, even-keeled, passionate only about growing Worthington wealth—like Bill and Will.
A Powerful Secret Page 18
