by Brenda Novak
Which meant there had to be more—reasons, excuses, explanations. She was afraid to hear them, to know them. All the same, what her father had said at the tennis courts explained a lot. In at least one way, this was a relief. But she couldn’t bear the thought that the mother she’d always admired might not be quite the woman Liz had assumed she was. That was too much. That would rob her of the one person she’d loved beyond any other—as well as her more fallible father.
A chill ran down Liz’s spine. Hugging her knees even tighter, she attempted to combat the cold seeping through her by rocking back and forth. But her clothes were still damp from playing tennis. And the temperature was dropping outside as a storm moved in. Clouds gathered in the sky and blocked the sun; the chimes outside Mary’s shop tinkled wildly in the rising wind.
So much for Keith’s barbecue, Liz thought disconnectedly, and tried to rouse herself enough to head over to his place, in case Mica and Christopher wanted to come home. She had children. She had to take this on the chin, along with everything else she’d been through.
But she couldn’t do it. Not yet.
“Liz? Liz, are you in there?” It was Reenie, knocking on the front door. Judging from the worry in her voice, Isaac had filled her in.
Liz told herself she had to let her sister-in-law know she was okay. But if she answered, Reenie wouldn’t let her be alone any longer. She and Isaac would gather round with sympathy and well-meaning words, forcing her to insist, over and over again, that she was fine. Dealing with them would take emotional reserves Liz simply didn’t possess right now. So she kept silent and waited, hoping Reenie would give up.
“She’s not here,” Liz heard her say at last. “The doors are locked and the lights are off.”
Isaac responded that her car was in the parking lot, and then Reenie said, “She must’ve walked somewhere.”
They moved on as rain began to patter on the roof. Liz concentrated on the steady drumming so she wouldn’t have to think anymore—and she must have dozed off because, when she came to, it was raining harder than ever and someone was banging on the front door again.
“Liz? Hello? Open up!”
It was Carter. Immediately recognizing his voice, Liz bit her lip as she listened. She didn’t want him, of all people, to find her. How could she explain what she was doing, sitting alone in the dark?
She held her breath, waiting for him to go away, as Reenie and Isaac had done, and finally the calls and the knocking stopped. With a sigh of relief, she laid her head back on her knees. Even if her children weren’t planning to come home until later, she should probably head that way to see what had become of Gordon. Life had to go on, whether she was ready for it or not. She knew that. She’d been in a similar place before. She just needed to give Carter time to leave first so she could make her exit unobserved.
“Liz? Let me in.”
Great! Now he was at the back door. And he seemed so sure she was inside.
Covering her ears, she tried to block out the sound. He’d leave soon, she told herself. Reenie had given up. Why would Carter be any more persistent?
The pounding subsided and Liz relaxed again—but not for long. A moment later, there was a terrible scraping and popping, and the back door flew open.
Liz screamed and shielded her face as if an army was about to attack. But it was only Carter. He stood in the doorway holding a crowbar, his wet hair dripping down his neck and onto his shirt.
When his gaze settled on her, Liz waited for him to ask why she hadn’t opened the door. Or why she was sitting on the cold, hard floor. But he didn’t say a thing. He simply pivoted and walked away.
There was a distant jangle as he dropped the tire iron in his trunk, and then the thud of a car door. After which came silence.
Was he leaving? For a moment, Liz thought so. She almost got up to make sure. But he returned with a blanket, which he wrapped around her matter-of-factly.
She supposed she should stand and offer some excuse for her behavior. But she didn’t have the strength or the energy.
“Thanks,” she murmured.
Carter didn’t reply. Easily lifting her into his arms, he carried her out to his car as if she were a child. Then he left her bundled up in the passenger seat, while he hammered two boards across the door he’d broken.
When he finished, he climbed in and put the car in gear.
Liz glanced over at him. “What made you come looking for me?”
“I was over at the senator’s house when Reenie called.”
He didn’t volunteer how much he knew and she didn’t ask. “You broke my door.”
“You wouldn’t open it.”
She sank into her seat as they drove through town. “How’d you know I was inside?”
“Your car was parked in the lot, for starters.”
“And?”
“It’s your favorite place in the world.”
He was right, she realized. She’d never really identified it as that, even in her own mind. But it was the embodiment of her dreams, the only place that was entirely her own. Evidently, Carter was far more perceptive than he pretended to be.
“You’re probably wondering what I was doing in there,” she said at last, feeling as if she needed to make the inevitable explanation.
But she was talking to Carter Hudson, who didn’t approach life in quite the same way as everyone else. “No,” he replied. “I’m not.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
LIZ SAT ON CARTER’S SOFA, wearing a pair of his sweats. She had a warm quilt wrapped around her and there was a fire crackling across the room. A glass of wine sat on the coffee table. Carter was in the kitchen, making dinner. He hadn’t told her what they were going to eat, but she was guessing something Mexican. She could smell the steak and onions, even the lime.
She thought about fighting the sluggish state that had slipped over her so she could return to the real world. It was Sunday evening. The kids would be coming home soon. But she wasn’t ready to leave just yet. She felt safe in Carter’s isolated little cabin, surrounded by the tall, quiet forest. She was even comfortable with his tinkering around the place. She wasn’t quite alone, but he didn’t invade her space in the way that Reenie or Isaac would have. He didn’t require anything from her. He’d simply put on his music and gone about his business.
“Do you mind if I use your cell?” she called out to him.
“Go ahead.”
While they were in the car, he’d contacted someone, probably Senator Holbrook, to let her family know she was okay. She wasn’t sure Keith had been made aware that anyone was looking for her, but she needed to let him know she’d pick up the kids on her way home instead of having him drop them off.
Retrieving Carter’s silver camera phone from the lamp table, she opened it, and a picture of Carter with a woman appeared on the screen. They were at some kind of sporting event. The woman was the same person who’d been in the wedding photo. She held her cheek to Carter’s so they could both fit inside the frame and she was smiling—but rather distantly.
Who was this woman? And what had happened to her? Liz wondered. Had they split up? If so, it was rather strange that Carter kept her picture on his phone.
“Did you find it okay?” Carter called from the other room.
“Yeah, it’s right here,” she replied and dialed her ex-husband’s number before Carter had time to wander out and see why she wasn’t talking to anyone.
“Where are you calling me from?” Keith asked as soon he heard her voice.
Carter’s number had probably popped up on his caller ID. “I’m borrowing a friend’s cell.”
“A friend,” he repeated.
“Yes. How are the kids?”
“They’re fine. They’re always fine when they’re with me, aren’t they?”
“You’re a good father.” He knew that, but every once in a while he acted as if he needed to hear it again. She supposed it was because his relationship with the kids was the one thing he hadn’t sc
rewed up.
Still, he paused as if it shocked him that she’d agree with him so readily. “What’s going on?” he asked. “Reenie called here earlier, asking if I’d seen you. She seemed worried.”
Liz thought of what her father had revealed. Despite the problems she and Gordon had experienced after her mother had died, he’d been a tether of sorts, simply by virtue of living and breathing and being. Their relationship hadn’t been good, but at least Liz had belonged to someone. Now, with her mother dead, her father coming forward to say he wasn’t her father after all, and Isaac happily married and immersed in his own life, Liz felt as if she were drifting into space by herself. “My father and I had a disagreement.”
“About what?”
“Same old stuff,” she lied. She couldn’t tell Keith what she’d discovered, because it wouldn’t reflect well on her mother. Broadcasting the truth wouldn’t help, anyway. What would it bring? Curiosity? Maybe a little sympathy? Certainly nothing that would improve the situation. She’d already decided not to delve any deeper into the mystery. If her real father knew she existed, he didn’t want to be part of her life, or he would have contacted her long ago. Even if her real father didn’t know she existed, she couldn’t imagine he’d welcome the surprise at this late date. It was better to leave the past alone. Then she wouldn’t have to address the part her mother might have played in what had happened. She could protect her memories of Chloe Russell—could salvage that much.
“Are you okay?” Keith asked.
“I’m fine.” She just needed a few hours to come to terms with the shock and that was where Keith came in. “Can you keep the kids a little longer?”
“Where are you?”
Trying to sidestep the question would only increase his curiosity, so she told him the truth. “Carter’s.”
“What are you doing there?” he asked, his voice full of jealousy and suspicion.
“We’re about to have dinner.”
“Oh.” A sudden drop in pitch told her the news had hit him like a punch. But she was no longer in love with him. He had to let her move on sometime.
“I thought you didn’t like him,” he said.
She wasn’t sure how she felt toward Carter. He had a commanding presence, yet he wasn’t arrogant, as she’d first believed. He was confident—and he was generous, even if he didn’t seem that way. She was afraid to examine his nature any more than that.
Perhaps he was an unlikely friend, but he seemed to offer Liz exactly what she needed at the moment: a bit of space, some quiet and plenty of creature comforts. She knew from experience that he could also offer her a heady dose of pleasure. But letting herself slide further down that slope didn’t seem wise.
“Actually, I do like him,” she admitted, realizing that it was true.
“How much?” Keith asked.
“We’re friends.”
Liz could hear Jennifer in the background, talking to Mica or someone else. Keith lowered his voice. “You wouldn’t sleep with him, would you?” he asked quietly.
The memory of Carter’s mouth on her breast flashed through Liz’s mind, instantly burning away the numbness she’d felt since she’d left the tennis court.
She wouldn’t sleep with him again—but not because she didn’t want to.
“That’s not your concern,” she said. “I’ll see you later.”
Her ex didn’t say good bye, but Liz hit the end button anyway. Then she sat staring at the photograph on Carter’s cell phone.
“You ready to eat?” Carter asked, poking his head into the room. Liz didn’t set the phone down and pretend she hadn’t seen the photo, as she had with the wedding picture. She studied the woman’s face while he watched her.
“She’s beautiful,” she said.
He came farther into the room, took the phone and closed it. “I know.”
“WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO?” Carter asked. He was sitting on the other end of the sofa, sipping his wine while Liz finished her fajitas. He hadn’t touched her since they’d arrived, but the atmosphere was intimate, as if they were the only two people on earth.
“About what?” she asked.
“Gordon.”
“I don’t know what you mean. What can I do?”
“You could kick him out, if he’s still around.”
So Carter knew everything. Reenie had probably confided in her father, who’d confided in his trusted aide. Liz didn’t want anyone else in town to hear about all this, but somehow she didn’t mind that Carter was aware of the situation. He’d whisked her away when she’d needed it most, given her a reprieve before she had to deal with any questions. It was a bit strange she felt no inclination to tell Keith, who’d been such a big part of her life, however. How was it that she preferred to share her secrets with a man she’d met only a few days ago?
Liz set her plate aside. The food Carter had made smelled delicious, but she could scarcely taste it. “That’s what you think I should do?”
“There’s no should or shouldn’t,” he replied.
“There’s restraint and forethought, as opposed to a knee-jerk reaction,” she said.
He seemed to consider her response. “Do you always look at every situation from the opposite perspective?”
She pulled the quilt higher. “I try. How else can I be fair?”
“Judging from what Isaac has to say, Gordon hasn’t been too fair to you.”
“Who knows?” she said, toying with the edge of the blanket. “Maybe the situation has been difficult for him. Especially if he felt betrayed or was betrayed.” Which must’ve been the case, although she didn’t want to add that. “I would’ve been a daily reminder of his heartache. No wonder he let Luanna take charge. He probably didn’t want to see my face.” She stared at her wine. The wine she’d already drunk was turning sour in her stomach, so she set the glass next to her plate. “Maybe he’s something of a hero.”
“A hero?” Carter echoed. “Now, that’s generous.”
“He could’ve given me up, right? He kept a roof over my head, let me remain in the family.”
“Isaac never would have forgiven him.”
“That might be true. But that doesn’t change the fact that those years could’ve been even worse. Maybe I should be grateful.”
“I’d have to say that the amount of gratitude you owe Gordon Russell depends.”
She rubbed her cheek against the worn quilt. The sensation was comforting, but no more so than the smell of Carter on the fabric. She didn’t want to make love right now, but she wanted to be with him, just as they were. “On what?”
“Did he know you weren’t his from the beginning? Or did he find out later?”
Liz had wondered about that herself, and had already guessed at the answer. “I’m betting he learned about the time my mother died.”
“What makes you think so?”
“Prior to that, he doted on me. Afterward…” She let her words fall off.
“How old were you when that happened?”
“Fourteen.”
Carter stared at the carpet, shaking his head.
“What?” she prompted.
“How’d he expect you to interpret his sudden withdrawal?”
“Chances are he never considered that. He was busy filling his life with other people.”
“Like his new wife.”
“And her spoiled stepson.”
Carter drained his wineglass and set it aside. “Do you think your mother told him you weren’t his just before she died?”
Liz covered her toes, which had slipped out from beneath the quilt. “It’s possible. But I doubt it.”
“That wouldn’t have done you any favor,” he agreed. “Especially if she was depending on him to take care of you.”
“Maybe my real father turned up at my mother’s funeral. Or Gordon found some old love letters in her closet. Or…”
“What?”
She couldn’t prevent the slight hope that crept into her voice. As disappointed a
s she’d been in her father over the past eighteen years, she still loved him, still wanted to belong. “Through the years, a lot of people have told me we look alike. Do you suppose it’s possible that he could be mistaken?”
Carter studied her for a moment. “Do you want the truth?”
“Maybe,” she said cautiously, knowing if anyone would give it to her, he would.
“I can’t imagine he’d tell you all this unless he knew for sure.”
“Right.” She pinched the muscles in her right shoulder, hoping to thwart the headache that was building.
“Would it be easier to know how it happened?” he asked. “To explore all the details?”
“Where would I start?” she asked.
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I could help you.”
There was something significant about the way he presented this offer. “How?”
Sitting back, he put his feet on the coffee table. “By talking to the right people.”
“My father?”
“Friends of your parents, neighbors, coworkers.”
“Why do I get the impression you’d be more effective at piecing together the past than most other people would be?” she asked.
He shrugged. “Because it’s true.”
Liz’s heart began to pound. There were depths to Carter she wasn’t sure he’d ever let anyone fully explore. Somehow his darker side was connected to his mysterious past and to the woman in the pictures. But Liz couldn’t see how, and she doubted he’d tell her why he’d closed himself off.
“You’d help me, but you won’t let anyone help you. Is that it?” she said.
“Help me with what?” he asked.
“With whatever it is that’s haunting you.” She motioned toward the boxes. “The reason you won’t unpack. The reason you’re in Dundee, Idaho, instead of somewhere closer to home. The reason you make love like a starving man but refuse the kind of deep, lasting relationship you really need.”
Her reference to the way he made love suddenly charged the room with sexual energy. His eyes met hers, but she couldn’t read what was going on behind them. She only knew he was still hungry; they both were.
