“Never. December third is burned into my brain. I counted the years as they passed. And time seemed to fly because I was suddenly thinking, the girl is a teenager and heaven help her parents if she’s more like me than Julia.”
She studied him now, his dark hair so like hers, the silver at his temples. “And now you know?”
Tom shrugged. “It’s probably just ego speaking, but I’m guessing you ran a little wild.”
“I take umbrage at the little part, but yeah.”
“Are you okay?” he said. “Now?”
“Define okay.” Destiny’s voice cracked. “Besides, wild isn’t necessarily synonymous with bad.”
He laughed. “I hope not. I suppose you know that this is where I should ask you if you want to talk about it?”
“And I suppose you know I don’t. What about you? Are you okay?”
“The jerk who walked out on the beautiful and sweet Julia McCord? Define okay.”
“I mean now.”
“But it’s all the logical extension from then until now because I busted away from Julia so fast, I must have created a vacuum. And she didn’t deserve that.”
“Since we’re going there—maybe it’s just ego talking—did I deserve that?”
“When you have your own kids, you’ll understand we did the right thing for you.”
“What if I don’t have kids?”
He grinned, flashing dimples. “Someone’s got to make me a grandpa.”
“What are your daughters’ names?”
“Natalie. She’s eight and Olivia is six.”
“So what if someone treated Natalie like you treated Julia?”
His hands gripped the steering wheel. “I deserve that. And you deserve the right to tell me how miserable your life has been. So have at it, Destiny.”
“That’s not why I’m here.”
“Really. It pretty much sounds like that.”
She laughed. “Okay, let’s make the groveling a given.”
“Done and thank you,” he said. “So we’re heading for west Cambridge.”
“Which means nothing to me.”
“And what does?”
“Seriously?” Destiny said.
“Seriously. I would like to know. What’s important to you?”
“My parents. Melanie is a pseudo-public person who’s afraid of her own shadow. And Will—my real dad—”
“Ouch,” Tom said.
“—Will Connors is always doing important business in Washington. My parents and I have been like tectonic plates. As much as we grind, they’re my rock. Though I don’t tell them that.”
“Of course not.” He smiled. “Parents know. What else? Clearly you’re not a homebody.”
“My craft means a lot to me. I started putting lip gloss on extras when I was eighteen, moved into conceptual art. Now I’m almost in demand. And it’s not always monsters. I can transform Anthony Hopkins into Alfred Hitchcock and you would believe it within seconds of the first scene.”
“Do you believe in transformation?”
“What I need,” Destiny said, “is for you to believe in transformation. And you—and millions of others—do. Which means I am very good at my job. And that means a lot to me.”
Tom tapped the steering wheel. “And the love life?”
“Ah, the love life.”
“I know you’ve got one, Destiny.”
“Luke. We’ve been together for two years. He gets me, even though I’m not easy to get. And now he’s taking this faith journey that I don’t get. He was just fine where we were. I kicked him out because it’s the only way he’ll see that he needs me.”
They stopped at a red light. Destiny glanced at the high, brick walls on the far side of the sidewalk, realized this must be Harvard Square.
“That’s a high-risk move,” Tom said. “Letting him walk and hoping he’ll come full circle back to you.”
“Isn’t that what Julia did with you? Let you walk and hoped you’d come back?”
Tom slammed the gas pedal, roared forward through the intersection. She resisted the urge to grab the dashboard. They rode a full minute in silence before he said, “Your birthday was last week.”
“Another year gone by.”
“Another year that I didn’t forget.”
“Thank you.”
“No.” He looked at her and smiled. “Thank you.”
Eight
Gloucester
Tuesday, 11:45 a.m.
Forty minutes from Boston to Gloucester.
Most of that time was spent trying to get out of Boston in the rush hour that never seemed to end. Chloe kept to the middle lane because that’s what Mother had taught her to do when she was sixteen.
Strange to think that she had already been in love with Jack then. There had never been anyone else, not even a crush. Just the fair-haired, clear-eyed Jack.
What would Father have taught her if he had still been alive? Though he was a gentle man, he was not a pushover, and not a middle-lane type of guy. That’s what Chloe sensed, though God only knew because God decided to take him before she could really know him.
A saint’s death, someone had whispered to Mother at the funeral. A cerebral aneurysm, no warning, just shut out the lights and—what a blessing—there was no suffering.
Except for those left behind.
No way to know you’ve got an aneurysm, a doctor friend had explained. Unless it leaks. Then we might get some gleaning and see if we can fix it. Could have been there for years, silent until the weakened blood vessel couldn’t hold anymore.
Was that what she was? An emotional or psychological or even sexual aneurysm, about to explode?
Mother called it nurture and Jack called it love. You’ve both wrapped the cashmere scarf too tightly around my neck. And now I’m choking.
She had already squirreled into the narrow and confusing roads of Gloucester and nailed down the pub where she’d meet Rob later this evening. The cover story for Julia and Destiny was ready—a chance to consult with someone at MIT and no, you guys would be bored out of your minds so stay at the hotel, don’t know when I’ll be back. These sessions can sometimes go all night.
With the meeting place nailed down, it was much too early to go back to Boston. An attendant at a gas station directed her to Good Harbor beach. Chloe parked her car, the only soul foolish enough to be here on this cold, gray day. All that warm-weather gear she had bought at Copley Plaza would come in handy for their trip to Colorado. Julia still hadn’t said exactly where they’d be going. She promised the whole story once they got through with Thomas Bryant. The woman had been jumpy at breakfast. Haunted, almost. And wouldn’t she be? Facing what could have been?
If Chloe chickened out on Rob Jones tonight, would she be haunted forever by what could have been?
Or was it safer to just keep this as it is—a cyberfantasy, effective for relieving stress and not hurting anyone.
Jack wore responsibility like a crown of thorns. How had he gotten like this? Chloe had never gone there, just took his achievement and forging of the future as a given. She knew how he brushed his teeth and took his notes and drank his coffee. She knew his plan.
She didn’t know his why. And without that, she really didn’t know him.
Chloe walked the boardwalk over a salty marsh. The wind was brisk and icy cold. The smell of the sea was invigorating. The water melded into the overcast sky, so it was hard to tell where one ended and the other began.
She wrapped the scarf around her face and trudged across the sand. The waves were quiet here, not like the Outer Banks. And the sea was far more brown than green. No blue in sight. Just right for sitting and thinking. Maybe prayer.
Maybe not. God was just another stressor, another Master of the grand plan. If she couldn’t bear up under her husband, how would she stand under the hand of the Almighty?
Chloe pulled up her hood and tightened it around her face. The wind off the water stung her eyes. She sat on the sand, nestling a
gainst the dune. Her phone rang. Ignore it, but with Mother’s age, she had to at least look. Julia. How was that for irony? Chloe thumbed the Talk button. “Hi.”
“I was going to take you to lunch.”
“I’m not there.”
Julia laughed. “I can see that.”
“I wanted to get out. See some of the city.”
“Tell me where you are. I’ll grab a cab, we can meet somewhere.”
The eagerness in Julia’s voice was almost too much to bear. “I rented a car. I’m north now.”
“New Hampshire?”
“Yeah.” Chloe tried to remember the geography she’d seen on MapQuest. “Portsmouth.”
“Oh. I could join you. I spent a lot of time up there years ago. Sketching, painting.”
“No, no.” Don’t dig the hole deeper. “You should stay in the city. In case Destiny needs you.”
“Shall we . . . plan for dinner?”
“I’ll get back to you,” Chloe said. “I know some people at MIT. I might see them.”
“Oh.”
That oh felt like a concrete block.
“Julia, I appreciate the offer. And I’ll be ready to leave tomorrow morning. I know the time is important to you.”
“Have you thought any . . .”
She left it hanging. Nice, thanks. Pile it on. “I’m still processing—”
“No, wait,” Julia said. “I didn’t mean to put that on you. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.” Her phone clunked. Chloe looked at her screen and saw Destiny’s name. “I have to go. Destiny’s on the other line.”
“Sure. Tell her . . . I hope it’s all going okay.”
“Sure. Bye.” Chloe clicked off, now obligated to take Destiny’s call. Even seven hundred miles from home she couldn’t find a place for quiet. WaveRunner—Rob—had the whole ocean to dream. She couldn’t even curl up inside her own head.
“Hey.” Destiny was whispering. “I’m at his house. In the bathroom now.”
“And . . . is it what you wanted? Or expected?”
“He’s what I expected. And different at the same time. The grown-up Tom is still very handsome. And I’m so much more him than Julia.”
And what does that make me? The daughter of a father whose story Julia has purposely left untold.
“What about the sisters?” Chloe said.
“Little kids. Cute. We’re about to play dress up.”
“Nice for you.”
“Yeah. You okay?”
No. Yes. That was what she needed to figure out. “Fine.”
“I just wanted you to know . . .” Destiny lowered her voice.
“What?” Chloe had to pull down her hood and jam the phone against her ear so she could hear.
“You, Chloe Middlebrooks Deschene, a.k.a. Hope McCord, will always be my number one half-sister.”
She laughed. “What an honor.”
“Gotta go. Thanks for . . . being there to share.”
“You got it.” Chloe hung up, wondering if she should have added a love you. She enjoyed what she knew of Destiny. She didn’t know her well enough to love her—and maybe these couple of days would be it for the sisterhood. Yet didn’t the genetic tie that they shared require love? Were that true, wouldn’t she owe the same consideration to Dillon Whittaker?
She was sick to death of asking questions. Sick to death of having to figure everything out. Couldn’t she just feel for once and leave the analysis out of it?
Just as she huddled back into the dune, her phone chimed again. Jack. If she didn’t answer this, he’d be back on a plane north.
“Hi,” she said. “Good flight?”
“Chloe, for Pete’s sake. You sound like a polite stranger.”
She winced. This hit closer than he knew. “Sorry.”
“So do you know where you’re going next and when?”
“I don’t know, Jack. Destiny is spending the afternoon with her father. We’ll reassess after that.”
“If you left tonight, you could still make that interview at UNC.”
“I already cancelled.”
“You mean postponed, right?”
“Yeah,” Chloe said. A lie but at this point, nothing as earthshaking as the betrayal that could be ahead. Would he even notice if she had been in another man’s arms?
“What is going on there? Is Julia pressuring you?”
“No, not one bit. I rented a car and drove north to see some of the coast.”
“Alone?”
“I know how to drive, Jack.”
“That’s not what I mean. We could have done that together.”
“No. We couldn’t.”
“I’m sorry if I was . . . overwhelming yesterday.”
“And today. You came a long distance to get your overwhelm on this morning.”
“I’m just so worried about this whole thing. I want to protect you.”
“Jack Deschene, white knight, protector of the realm.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means that sometimes, Jack, . . . sometimes I just need to handle things myself. Why can’t you hear me when I say that?”
“Darling, I know how capable you are. How bright, how giving. I just want to share in that with you. Tell me if I’m doing something wrong.”
“You’re not.” Chloe shivered under her jacket. “Sometimes, Jack, . . . just sometimes.”
“Okay. I’ll step back and let you have your sometime.”
“Thank you.” She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from saying any more. “I’ll call you first thing tomorrow.”
“Tonight. Please. I know I’m being a pest, but I just want to know you’re okay.”
“I’m fine. Nothing is going to change in the next twelve hours.” And that was mostly the truth. She’d be talking with Rob Jones across a table instead of typing back and forth with him over Wi-Fi. “I’m going now.”
“Wait. Just one last thing, Chloe.” He cleared his throat. “Watch the weather before you drive or fly anywhere. There’s a storm off the coast.”
Yes, there is. And it’s coming ashore tonight.
Boston
Tuesday, 12:37 p.m.
Short and pleasantly chubby, Jenny Bryant was the anti-Julia. Her hair was auburn with a hint of fiery red when the winter sunlight framed her. Her eyes were small and more green than brown and her freckles suited her.
Jenny was warm and comfortable, even with her husband’s out-of-wedlock child sitting at her kitchen island. Tom insisted on firing up the gas grill and making steaks for lunch. The equivalent of the fatted calf, though Destiny would have been fine with peanut butter and toast.
She had spent thirty minutes playing with her sisters, surprised when she did not grow bored.
Natalie was a dark-haired beauty and, though she was the older of the two, she was less assertive. Not shy but reserved and deliberate. After Destiny explained the ins and outs of Hollywood makeup, Natalie thought about it, made a choice—the right choice—and went with it. Analytical, as Destiny imagined their father must be. The colors in Destiny’s makeup kit fit Natalie’s skin tone perfectly, and the princess dress was a simple velvet, some sort of prom dress Jenny had kept.
“In case I had daughters,” she explained. Had Jenny ever imagined having a step-daughter who was fifteen years older than her own daughters?
Tom and she had joked all the way to his house, an easy banter that was smart, funny, and at arm’s length. Just the way Destiny liked people. She had asked him to stop at a department store, where she bought a lovely perfume for Tom’s wife as a peace offering and a full set of makeup because she knew the girls—her sisters—would love to play.
Olivia tried every color, declaring them all “amazing.” She was Tom’s kid in terms of personality, though she looked every bit like her mother. Redheaded, impetuous, outspoken—telling Destiny she was not her sister until Olivia decided she could be. Destiny laughed, fist-bumped her, and a sisterhood was sealed.
She had begun Sunday morning with one sister and found herself three days later with four sisters, only one of whom she had known longer than a day. And a brother. Couldn’t forget the brother—though she tried. He came with strings attached. Destiny couldn’t untangle those right now.
Jenny brought her a Diet Coke and a glass filled with ice. “Are you happy you came?”
“Yeah. Are you happy I came? This has to be weird for you.”
Jenny toweled off a carrot and began to peel it. “I came into this marriage knowing every bit of Tom’s history. So I—”
“Wait. Hold on, dude. How do you know it’s every bit? No one can know someone all the way.”
“Let me rephrase: I came into this relationship knowing how he had surrendered you for adoption. And how he had booked it out of his girlfriend’s life and basically hid from her until she left Boston. So baby Destiny was never a surprise. Grown-up Destiny—well, you’re a cool revelation.”
Destiny laughed. “So you buy this package?”
“Let me rephrase again.”
“I can tell you’re married to a lawyer.”
“Right on. Lots of rephrasing in this home. What I mean to say is it’s really cool to finally meet you. Tom has carried a lot of regret about what happened twenty-five years ago.”
“Really?” Destiny folded her arms across her chest. “Or have you just been witness-prepped to tell me this?”
Jenny grabbed a knife from a butcher block. “The truth, the whole truth, and nothing but. On December third of every year, he stops in at St. Paul’s parish and lights a candle for you.”
“A candle? Like that means anything.”
“He didn’t know how else to mark the day that was his great shame and what he said he hoped would be his baby girl’s great beginning. He’s not much for praying.” Jenny grinned, chopped the carrot with the speed of an executive chef. “Not yet.”
Tom came in, fork in hand. “I need more sauce. Everything okay?”
Destiny felt a strange weight lifting from her shoulders. “Yeah. Except I’m starved. I hope you know what you’re doing out there, Pops.”
He grinned. “Every once in a while, I get it right.”
Boston / Nahant
Tuesday Afternoon
When Julia’s fingers itched—when her soul itched—she knew what she needed to do. She walked three blocks to Newbury Street, to the art supply store that was too pricey when she and Jeanne were students, and bought some chalk.
To Know You (9781401688684) Page 15
