Brenna coughed. Ace smiled at her attempt not to laugh.
“If you wanta know moah about Ethel, ask old Luthah down at the pier. Yesah. I bet he got his eyes and ears full ovah the years. Heard he panted aftah Ethel for a time himself.”
Ace decided to cut to the chase. “Ethel ever say who fathered Florrie’s baby?”
Myrtle’s eyes narrowed. “Just why ya so interested in that history?”
“Don’t go coy on me, Myrtle. I’m sure you’ve heard that I’m a drug enforcement agent.”
Myrtle patted her hair. He couldn’t comprehend why old women thought that color blue-gray was attractive.
“Ah-yuh, heard that. Now I’m wonderin’ if ya think old Ethel is pushing drugs.” She put her head back and laughed. Tears streamed from her faded eyes. “Wouldn’t that beat all?”
Brenna cleared her throat. “Look, Myrtle, you can’t go around town spreading stories that Ace suspects Ethel of being involved with drugs. That’s just not the case. He’s suspicious of everyone in town. You’re on the list, too.”
White eyebrows rose, widening her eyes. “Me? Now justa goddamn minute—”
“Settle down, Myrtle,” Ace said. “Brenna’s just making a point that no one person is being singled out.“
She shuffled some papers. “Half the young men in town sweated for days when news leaked that Florrie was pregnant. Does that answah your question?”
“What about Woodrow Gar? Did he sweat, too?”
She gave Ace a crafty look. “Ya do know your history. Ah-yuh, he sweat, too. Probably more ‘n the othahs. As I said befoah. The apple don’t fall fah from the tree.”
Ace knew when he’d hit a dead end. Perhaps Myrtle knew more than she was willing to spill, but his gut instinct said she didn’t. “Thanks for your time. Appreciate it.”
“And what about you, young lady? With all the recent tragedy in your life, it musta been like a breath of fresh air ta find out your daughtah’s alive.”
Chapter Eighteen
The bomb explosion on the Desperado had been quiet in comparison to the silence in the small town office. Ace held his breath.
Myrtle’s gaze was glued to his face. If those crafty eyes could speak, the words were crystal clear— “Gotcha!”
He forced himself to move. He curled his fingers around Brenna’s arm. “Let’s go. We’re finished here.”
She wrenched away with enough force to hit the wall. Her attention stayed focused on the elderly town clerk. “What did you say?”
Myrtle gave her hair another pat. A nervous gesture, Ace suspected. “Well, your mother told me just the othah day that—”
“That’s enough,” Ace commanded. He toyed with the idea of carrying Brenna outside. He faced it. His time had run out. Brenna knew the truth, and he had no one but himself to blame that she’d heard it from someone else. “Let’s go. I’ll explain everything once we’re on the road.” Giving her no choice, he grabbed her elbow and dragged her out the door.
Once outside, she yanked away and stared at him. The white look of horror on her face cut him deep.
“What the fuck is going on?”
“No need to swear.” He kept his voice calm. He opened her door. “Get in. We’ll go talk—somewhere private. Do you want the entire town to hear our conversation?” Not that Myrtle wasn’t already on the phone spreading the news to anyone willing to listen that Brenna McKenzie’s child was alive, and she hadn’t even known it.
Puppet like, Brenna climbed into the SUV. Ace hurried to the other side and slid behind the wheel. He started the engine and backed out of the lot, heading away from Spruce Harbor.
“Where are you going?” Brenna asked in a voice void of emotion. She fumbled with her seatbelt. She stared straight ahead, her hands clenched into fists at her sides.
“To the cemetery.”
She recoiled against the door as if he’d slapped her.
“The cemetery?” she gasped. “Why? Did Myrtle lie? My daughter isn’t alive?”
“No, she spoke the truth. Our daughter is alive.”
She sucked in air and started to shake. “Please stop. I’m going to be sick.”
Ace banged a right onto an old dirt track no wider than a snowmobile path. He braked and stayed behind the wheel, while Brenna retched outside. He rested his forehead on the steering wheel, fighting his need to go to her. Hell, he ached to go to her. Truth was, he didn’t dare.
He thought she might run, but realized she needed the knowledge he had, so she’d wait.
Brenna’s stomach turned inside out. She tried to think, to rationalize. The ferocious buzzing in her ears prevented coherent thought. Her daughter was alive? How could this be true? On trembling legs, she climbed back into her seat.
With a shaky hand, she grabbed the tissue Ace offered. She flinched as his fingers caressed her palm.
“Water?” He opened a bottle he’d pulled from the backseat. She took a long drink, grateful for the coolness that soothed her raw throat. She set the bottle in one of the cup holders on the console and took a ragged breath. “Okay. I’m ready. Tell me. I want the whole truth. How is it possible our daughter is alive? Where is she?”
“She’s alive. She’s been with me.”
A new stab of pain tore through her chest. She’d thought nothing could hurt her more than her recent losses. Reconciling with Ace had buffered those blows. Given her hope. Now even that was a lie. “How? I don’t understand. Where is she right now?”
“In Maryland. With my mother.”
A dark fog slowly filtered through her brain cells and paralyzed her vocal chords.
She hated the pleading in Ace’s voice. “I wanted to tell you. I waited for the right time. You’ve had so much pain in the past several days that I—”
She turned in her seat, leaned against the door and glared at the man who’d just broken her heart for the second time. The last time. “That you what? Were afraid of hurting me? You thought that finding my daughter has been alive all these years would be a bad thing? Give me a fucking break.”
“I was afraid of losing you.”
“So many lost years. How did this happen?” Was that weak voice hers?
“The night your father came to see me in jail he had the affidavit. Your affidavit, although I didn’t know it was yours at the time. He also had a legal paper signed by you, giving up all your rights to the baby. When he handed me the baby, he told to me get out of Maine and never come back.”
A sea of red flooded Brenna’s vision. “You liar! I never signed any such paper! As if I’d give up my flesh and blood.”
“I still have it. The signature is yours.”
“The only papers I ever signed were the affidavit and the death certifi…” She trailed off as another ugly truth slammed into her. “My father? He’s the one who did this? He had me pumped full of painkillers. I was heartbroken and depressed. And he took my baby away and buried an empty casket?” Her world hurtled into space.
Ace leaned over to comfort her. She slapped at his hands. “Don’t touch me! Don’t ever touch me again.”
“Brenna, I—”
“Shut up. No more lies. You should have told me the first time we met…the moment I opened the cabin door. I had a right to know.”
“Listen to yourself. Are you forgetting that I was your father’s victim, too? Does that make me a criminal? I didn’t know the truth until the night you told me the baby had died.”
“The same night we made love for the first time,” Brenna continued his story. “The night you took all the love I had to give and kept me in the dark about the most important thing in my life.”
“I didn’t tell you right away because I didn’t trust your father. I thought if he’d tricked you that perhaps he’d tricked me, too. I had to make sure Kayden was really our daughter. For all I knew, our baby might have died, and Daniel handed me someone else’s child.”
The childhood chant “can’t hear you, can’t hear you” played in her head. She did
n’t want to listen to Ace’s reasons for lying. She wouldn’t let him twist her around his finger and have her believing that his deception was for her own good. She fumbled to open the door.
Once it opened, she clambered out so fast she slipped and fell. She scrambled to her feet and tried to move, wanted to run, but her legs refused to cooperate with her brain’s command.
The man who’d so recently poured out his undying love now stood in front of the SUV, blocking her path to freedom. She looked into his eyes and wondered why she hadn’t known he’d been lying? She’d suspected all along he held something back, but never in her wildest fantasies did she think it was about their child.
Her daughter was alive. Joy rushed in pushing aside the pain in her chest. Hadn’t she always suspected? Is that why she’d never stopped grieving? Not one day in twelve long years. Even when her parents had told her the baby was stillborn, she’d remembered hearing the child cry before a prick from a hypodermic needle.
Ace opened his arms. “Brenna, let’s talk this out.”
A pressure built in her throat. She wanted to scream until her throat was raw. Instead she calmly said, “Out of my way.”
“Get back inside. I’ll take you home.”
She pushed his solid chest. “I said move!” Her legs at last got the message. She ran with no destination in mind. Running would drain every thought and feeling from her body. Give her the oblivion she craved. If she didn’t find that release soon, the pain just might kill her.
Forty minutes later Ace still loped behind Brenna at a safe distance. A stitch in his side reminded him he’d been lax with his running regime. Not to mention the throbbing in his left knee.
Brenna had been the fastest cross-country runner in eastern Maine during high school, and he didn’t see that she’d slowed down with age.
Once she’d exhausted herself, perhaps she’d listen to him with an open mind. Or had she already made the decision to write him out of her life? And what about Kayden? What a shock it would be to discover her mother hadn’t known she was alive.
Not exactly the best thing to drop on a twelve-year-old who’d soon be transitioning to a teenager. Damn Daniel McKenzie.
Brenna tore the silver chain from around her neck and heaved it into the bushes without breaking stride. She might as well have ripped out his heart.
Ace stopped long enough to look through the bush for the silver charm. The chain felt warm from her skin, or so he imagined. What she’d just done, more than any hurtful words she could sling his way, convinced him their love was over.
Engrossed in his dismal thoughts, he almost ran over her when she stopped. She bent forward with her hands on her knees, her breathing fast and harsh.
“Come on,” Ace prompted. “Don’t stop cold. You’ll stiffen and get cramps.”
Without a word she pivoted and started back at a fast walk.
He fell in beside her. They both struggled to control their breathing. The tension in the air crackled like a downed electrical wire.
After thirty minutes, Ace tired of the silence. “This doesn’t change anything. Until the person threatening your life is apprehended, someone has to stay with you. I’m guessing you don’t want that someone to be me.”
“Smart man.”
“I’ll call my friend, Chris Yellowtree, from the reservation. He can stay at the farm. He’s out of work, so it’ll be no hardship.”
She stopped and faced him. “I don’t want any of your lackeys anywhere near me. I’ll ask Trent to move in.”
“He has a job, Brenna. As much as the man cares, I doubt he’ll be able to take the time off.”
Her mouth tightened. “Fine, ask your friend, Chris. Warn him upfront that he’s entering enemy territory. I have no desire to chitchat or talk at all for that matter.”
“Your choice.”
“We’ve got to discuss our daughter.” Controlled anger simmered in her voice. “Other than that, you and I have nothing to say to each other.”
Ace kept his mouth shut. Trying to reason with Brenna when she was this emotionally charged was as futile as trying to open a coconut with his head.
By the time they reached the Cherokee, his legs felt like rubber. He tried not to groan as he slid behind the wheel. Every freaking muscle in his body hurtled abusive language his way. They must have run at least four miles and walked the same distance back. Normally, he ran more than four miles, but not at Brenna’s speed. She wasn’t even tired. At least now her cheeks glowed pink and healthy.
He found a decent area to turn around and drove onto the paved road toward Spruce Harbor.
“I tried to tell you about Kayden the other morning in the kitchen.” At her silence he continued, “The morning your mother started a fire in the wastebasket.”
“I guess that answers another one of my questions. My mother knew all along that her granddaughter lived with you?”
“It seems that way. I brought it up at the breakfast table, and she threatened to tell you, thinking you’d throw me off the farm.”
She smiled, a bleak tight-lipped smile. “Bet she had you running scared for a moment.”
“It wasn’t like that.” But wasn’t it? “I wanted to tell you the truth. I tried to. I was terrified the truth would tear us apart.”
“You think?”
“What about Julienne? Have you changed your about pursuing adoption?”
Her eyes widened with new horror. She’d obviously forgotten the child for a moment. Ace knew it was underhanded to use the little girl, but he intended to fight for Brenna, and wasn’t above using emotional blackmail.
His spirits plummeted when she answered his question. She spoke in a broken whisper. “No. I haven’t changed my mind, so there’s no reason to call except to warn the social worker that Julienne might be in danger.”
Ace drove with one hand and fished his wallet out of his pocket. He flipped it open and laid it on the console. “Here’s a recent picture of Kayden. She has your hair and eyes. Your nose, too, I think.”
Brenna started to reach for the wallet then pulled her hand back. After a few moments, she drew a deep breath and grabbed it. A flicker of happiness came and went on her face as she saw her daughter’s image for the first time. It was a school picture, taken a few months ago. Kayden was leaning against a tree trunk, a big grin on her face.
“You can have it. Slip it out of the plastic.”
“Thank you.”
Brenna removed the photo and ran her finger over the image of her daughter. Alive and not buried in the cemetery that she’d faithfully visited at least once a week. Kayden. She tested the name on her tongue and found she liked it. Ace had chosen well.
She steeled herself against the man sitting next to her. If he’d told her the truth when he got back to town, she’d have understood. She would have rejoiced with him. Now he was dead to her. No. They shared a child. For Kayden’s sake, she needed to get a grip and be civil.
She finally got the courage to ask the question that had been dancing around in the back of her mind for the past few hours. “What did you tell her about me?”
She held her breath waiting for his answer.
“That life’s circumstances prevented you from keeping her.”
Breath whooshed from her lungs. “That’s it? Nothing more? Didn’t she ask questions?”
“A few. I answered them as honestly as I could. I never once maligned you, if that’s what you’re wondering.”
It was, but she refused to admit it. “When can I get her?”
They’d just turned into the driveway. Ace looked at her and hit a huge pothole that he normally would have circumvented. “What?”
“Kayden. I want her to come live with me.”
He shut off the engine. The familiar tic started in his cheek. “Brenna, that’s not going to happen.”
Not going to happen? Did he just say that she couldn’t have her daughter? A trembling began in her upper body and worked its way down until her knees knocked toget
her. “I’ll get a lawyer. I intend to have Kayden. You’ve had her for twelve years.”
He heaved a sigh. “She’s not a thing to be tugged on. You’d cruelly yank her away from her home? From her friends? From her school?” He leaned closer. “We’ll work out a compromise. She can visit you on school vacations and in the summer. I’m sure—”
Brenna slammed her fist on the dash, startling herself as well as Ace. “No! It’s not fair,” she cried, holding onto to her smarting hand. “I’ve already lost twelve years of her life through no fault of my own. I won’t stand for it.”
Tears clogged her throat and her heart pumped hard, bringing a return visit from Mr. Nausea. She swallowed hard and braced herself for a knock down battle.
Instead of arguing, Ace gazed at her with something akin to pity clouding his dark eyes. “We’ll work out the details later. First things first. I’ll not have Kayden come here now, perhaps putting her life in danger. I’m sure you agree?”
“Of course,” Brenna muttered, suddenly ashamed of her outburst.
“Whose car is that?”
She’d been so preoccupied she hadn’t noticed the red sedan parked in the driveway. “Reverend Marston, I think.”
“Let’s see what he wants. I’ll give Chris a call. As soon as he arrives, I’m leaving. John Gar should be home, and I need to talk to him.”
Ace no sooner swung his legs out of the SUV when his cell rang. Brenna slid out just as Revered Marston came out of the barn. She walked to meet him.
Brenna forced a smile for the man. “Good afternoon, Reverend.”
“Brenna.” He nodded. “I came as soon as I heard. Even I have to wonder God’s purpose to burden one person with so much pain.”
You don’t know the half of it, Reverend.
Bed of Lies Page 17
