by BETH KERY
Liam chuckled as he returned the photograph to the table. Despite his show of amusement, Natalie sensed his tension. She shared in it.
“You two were close,” Liam mused. “I’m surprised my mother has never spoken of you.”
“No?” DuBois asked in a quavering voice.
“Well, not much,” Liam added quickly when he saw the impact his words had on the frail man. “I suppose that’s natural.”
“Yes,” DuBois said sadly. “She’s a married woman, with children of her own.”
“You never had children, Mr. DuBois?” Natalie asked.
“Please…call me Linc. No, I never did. One of the biggest regrets of my life,” DuBois said with a sad smile. “I’ve built an empire, but I was too stupid to ever pause and build a family—although Nick is practically a son to me. Still…don’t either of you hesitate to start a family if you haven’t already. What’s the use of all this—” he waved vaguely at the luxurious room “—if you have no one to share it with?”
A pause ensued in which Dubois stared into space blankly. Natalie glanced at Liam.
“Mr. DuBois?” Liam asked gently.
DuBois blinked and refocused on them. For a few seconds, Natalie was quite sure he didn’t have any memory of who they were. His illness had clearly affected his mind as well as his body.
“I’m here to ask you about a car crash that occurred sixteen years ago. My father caused that crash. Do you know anything about that?”
DuBois looked completely blank. “Car crash?” he asked slowly. “What car crash? On the lake road?”
Liam inhaled and leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. Natalie thought she understood his cautiousness. DuBois suddenly seemed fatigued and less sharp than he had been previously.
“My father—Derry Kavanaugh—caused the accident. The crash occurred in Michigan, not here in Tahoe. It happened sixteen years ago. Did you ever meet Derry Kavanaugh?”
DuBois just stared back at him, his pale blue eyes blank.
Liam cast a wary glance her way before he continued. “Mr. DuBois…when is the last time you saw my mother, Brigit Kavanaugh? Brigit Darien,” Liam added his mother’s maiden name quickly when DuBois’ expression remained uncomprehending. Although he’d recalled the name Kavanaugh earlier, and seemed to understand who Liam was, the name seemed to mean nothing to him at present.
The name Darien, however, had the effect of hitting a light switch.
Dubois beamed. “On the New Year—1976.”
For a few seconds, both Natalie and Brigit stared. The precise, quick response hadn’t been what they’d expected.
“You…you remember so well,” Liam commented.
“Of course I do,” DuBois said matter-of-factly. “How could I forget such a special night with my beautiful Brigit. She came back to me, on that night. I knew that husband of hers couldn’t be faithful to her. I knew it,”
Natalie’s mouth had gone bone-dry. She glanced anxiously at Liam, who appeared to have been frozen by DuBois’ words.
“Mr. DuBois,” she began. “I think we’ve taken enough of your time. You must be very tired—”
“1976?” Liam interrupted her. “Are you saying my mother—Brigit Darien—was with you in 1976? Are you certain?”
“Of course I am, do you think I’d forget a night like that?” DuBois asked. “Brigit was torn to pieces by what her husband had done. Maybe some would say she was just as unfaithful on that night with me, but they’d be wrong. They’d be dead wrong,” he said so firmly, so fiercely that Natalie had a glimpse of the decisive, charismatic man DuBois must once have been. She stared, anxiety, confusion and horror rising in her in equal measure.
She’d worried they might discover something that would further damage Liam’s opinion of his father. Now it seemed this investigation might make him question his mother, as well. Natalie had never felt so helpless in her life. There was nothing they could do to stop it. It was like standing beneath a gigantic avalanche, with nowhere to run.
The truth just kept spilling out of DuBois’ mouth.
“Brigit was mine before she was ever that fool’s from Chicago. Maybe we only had one night together, but who did she come to in her distress? Me.”
DuBois’ fierceness seemed to leak out of him as quickly as it had come. He sat slumped in his chair, staring at the table where the young, beautiful girl sat smiling on the horse, her image frozen in time.
“Brigit had a baby nine months after that. A mutual friend who lived in Chicago told me the news,” DuBois said feebly. Natalie cast a wild glance at Liam—the man was obviously failing—but Liam just stared at DuBois, a glazed, fixed expression on his face, as if he was watching a car wreck and couldn’t turn away from the spectacle.
“I asked her if the baby was mine,” DuBois continued weakly, “but she denied it…said the baby came following her reunion with her husband. She told me we couldn’t see each other after that, and we never did. It broke my heart when she told me that, just like it did when she told me that baby was her husband’s. I’d hoped so much she was mine…” he said, his voice trailing off as though he were musing to himself as he sat alone in the enormous room. “Both Brigit and that little girl. I’ll always remember what Brigit named her… Deidre Jean…”
It took Natalie a moment to realize that Nick Malone had entered the room and stood behind DuBois’ wheelchair.
“I think you two had better go.”
Liam’s eyes blazed as he looked at Malone. They cooled a few degrees when he glanced back at the man in the wheelchair. DuBois’ eyelids were drooping and his mouth was falling open slowly.
“Is he all right?” Liam asked, his expression masklike.
Malone nodded. “He usually falls asleep about this time in the afternoon. He tires easily. I’ll call his nurse. But first…” He waved toward the door significantly.
They had no choice but to stand and leave the man in the wheelchair to his dreams.
Liam wouldn’t let her drive. He was quiet when they got in the car, but calm.
“DuBois obviously has some sort of dementia,” Natalie said a few minutes later as they wound their way down the private, wooded drive.
“Yeah,” Liam said.
She studied his profile nervously. He’d sounded thoughtful just now, but he appeared nowhere near as shocked as she felt.
“Liam, I’m sure what he said upset you, but there’s no call for accepting it as truth. You saw how confused he got at times.”
“DuBois may have dementia, but his long-term memory is fine.”
“You mean…you actually believe what he said about your mother and New Year’s Eve and all that other stuff? But those were just some delusional beliefs coming from a man who could never have the woman he loved,” Natalie exclaimed.
“I’ve seen it before in police investigations,” Liam said levelly. “The memory for more recent events usually goes first. Sometimes DuBois remembered the name Kavanaugh, and sometimes he didn’t. Long-term memory often remains quite good, though. He’s never forgotten Brigit Darien.”
“But—”
“This was it,” he said, interrupting her.
“What was it?”
“The missing puzzle piece.” Liam glanced over at her, his expression impossible for her to read. “I’ve got a pretty good idea now about what was happening with my father before he caused that car crash. Do you want to hear about it?”
A shiver went down her spine at his hollow tone.
“No,” she whispered. The vague outline of the truth was becoming clearer and clearer now, despite the fact that she didn’t want to see it…didn’t want to even consider the fact that she’d been the one to force Liam to see it.
“Clearly it all started well before that day. Early on in their marriage, my dad must have been unfaithful to my mother. She must have found out, and fled to Tahoe in her distress…to her old friend Lincoln DuBois.”
Natalie hated the flat quality to his voice, as though he spoke of s
trangers, not his own family.
“DuBois and my mother obviously had a brief affair, but my mother went back to Chicago and reunited with my father. Maybe since she’d been unfaithful, as well, she decided they’d both erred, and she could forgive him for what he’d done. Who knows? But they decided to commit again to their marriage, and if my observations mean anything, they were successful. They’d certainly seemed happy and devoted during my entire childhood. They moved on. Everything must have been fine until Deidre was in a boating accident and had to go into the hospital, some eighteen years after my parents’ had both faltered in their marriage.”
Natalie’s eyes burned with unshed tears. Dread filled her chest, but her damned curiosity made her ask the question anyway.
“What has Deidre being in an accident got to do with anything?”
“The accident happened the week before my dad died. She got a cut on her leg and it severed a vein. She had to stay in the hospital for a night or two. They gave her a blood transfusion, patched her up and she was good to go. She was home before the crash ever occurred, getting up from bed against doctor’s orders when my mother wasn’t looking. Nobody could keep Deidre down for long,” he murmured. His hands tightened on the wheel.
“Liam, pull the car over,” she pleaded hoarsely, the alarm in her head starting to wail out a warning.
But he continued as if he hadn’t heard her, as if he felt compelled to tell a story that had remained untold for half their lifetimes. “Somehow, my father must have become aware of something in Deidre’s medical information while he was visiting her in the hospital. I don’t know what, exactly, something to do with her genetics—that’s why he needed to see his friend Dr. Mulonovic, the pediatric geneticist. Whatever Mulonovic told him must have confirmed his suspicions. I’m assuming my dad discovered Deidre’s blood type while there in the hospital, although I can’t be a hundred percent certain about that. Deidre had required a blood transfusion, so her blood type easily could have been mentioned to my dad. Blood type can’t confirm paternity, but it can rule it out.
“I don’t know if my father confronted my mother that weekend, or if he recovered our birth records and then presented them to Dr. Mulonovic. I’m thinking that’s what he did. He might not have been certain about the facts, and didn’t want to be wrong when he confronted my mother.”
Natalie opened her eyes. Tears spilled down her cheeks.
“It must have been hell for Dad, surviving that weekend without knowing for sure, but starting to guess the truth. He and Deidre were always so close. They had such a special relationship.”
His voice broke at the last.
“Liam, pull over. Please,” Natalie said in a strangled voice.
He glanced over at her. When he saw the tears on her cheeks, he did what she asked, pulling into a gas station parking lot about a half a mile down the road. When he turned off the engine, he just sat there, his hands remaining on the steering wheel, staring out the window.
“She knew,” he said quietly.
“Who knew?”
“My sister. Deidre. That’s why she left Harbor Town. That’s why she never came back. That’s why her and Mom’s relationship was severed after the crash. It wasn’t because she blamed Mom for hiding Dad’s drinking—or at least it wasn’t just that. Deidre found out she wasn’t Dad’s biological daughter.”
“Oh, Liam…” Natalie murmured miserably.
“Deidre was in the house with Mom when Dad came back to Harbor Town unexpectedly on that Tuesday,” Liam continued in a hoarse whisper, his eyes vacant. “I was at the beach. Marc was out with Mari. Colleen was at cheerleader camp. But Deidre was there. She was supposed to stay in bed, but my mom couldn’t keep her down. I’ll bet she got up with her crutches when she heard Dad’s voice. She must have overheard something…my dad confronting my mom…God…poor Deidre…how that must have hit her,” he said brokenly, as if the truth had finally penetrated and he’d seen the horror of it.
Natalie put her hand on his forearm. He looked at her. A spasm of emotion went through his face. A shaky moan escaped her throat and she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, wild to comfort him…desperate in the knowledge that she’d inflicted the wound.
Chapter Fourteen
When they returned to Harbor Town, everything seemed different to Natalie. The woman who had dared less than a month ago to hire Liam Kavanaugh to investigate the crash seemed like a stranger to her now. How could she have been so bold?
How could she have been so stupid?
Liam dropped her off at her town house. They’d talked a great deal on their return journey, and both of them had agreed that Liam would talk to his mother about what they’d learned. There were still some pieces missing to the puzzle that only Brigit Kavanaugh could provide.
Natalie didn’t envy Liam his decision to confront Brigit.
He did so on the same day they returned to Harbor Town. It was a gray September afternoon with a hint of autumn in the air. Her heart ached for Liam as she watched him drive away. He looked exhausted from their journey and the stress of what they’d learned in Tahoe.
She unpacked mechanically, telling herself not to think of the sad events of the past twenty-four hours. Every time she thought of Liam wincing in pain as they sat together in that gas station parking lot, something clenched tight in her chest. By the time she’d unpacked, coldness had settled into her bones. She went to her kitchen and filled the tea kettle. As she stared blankly out the window over her sink, it all seemed to crash into her like an emotional tidal wave.
She lowered her head and sobbed.
It hurt like hell, knowing full well what she’d done. Others had been able to quiet their curiosity about the crash. Mari had never seen fit to hire an investigator. Eric had never obsessed the way Natalie did.
Why couldn’t she have just let it rest? Now it was done, and she had to live with the knowledge that her obsession had wounded the man she care for—loved—more than anything in the world.
She hadn’t just hurt Liam with her actions, either. She’d started events that would lead to all the Kavanaugh children questioning their parents, their pasts, the very foundations of their lives. They would think her malicious in her interference.
She’d gained what she thought she’d wanted, and in doing so, she’d sacrificed the real treasure. Liam.
After she’d cried herself dry, she felt hollowed out…empty. The knowledge of what she had to do left her numb.
A knock sounded after ten o’clock that evening. Outwardly, she was composed as she answered the door. Inwardly, it was as if an icy hand clutched her heart.
“How did it go?” Natalie asked a minute later, once Liam had settled tiredly in an easy chair in her living room, and she’d brought him a cup of coffee, at his request.
He exhaled heavily and took a large sip of the hot drink. “Well…my mom didn’t deny any of it. We’ve been talking nonstop the entire time. Once she understood that I knew the truth about DuBois, she sort of just…broke.”
“Is she all right?” Natalie asked, concerned.
Liam nodded. “Yeah. I’m not saying it was easy on her, but I think she’s okay. I called Colleen, and she and the kids came to stay with her tonight. I had no idea…”
“What?” Natalie whispered.
“I had no idea how guilty she always felt. Mom feels it was all her fault—the crash, the deaths, Deidre’s fury at her.” He gave her an entreating look. “It was always there, eating away at her. That’s why she was so defensive, why she was so…hard. I didn’t mention this to her, but I think it could be why she wasn’t taking her medications last year, why she was letting her health go. I think part of her didn’t care anymore….”
“It’s so strange,” Natalie said quietly as she sat down on the couch. “To think mistakes we made years ago could come back and affect us so greatly.”
Liam rubbed his whiskered jaw tiredly. “To think they could affect family, but also complete strangers. It’s a hel
l of a thing.”
Natalie nodded. “So what now?”
“I have to go to Germany. I have to talk to Deidre. According to my mother, Deidre did overhear the confrontation between my father and mother. I was right about that. The awful thing about it is, she overheard my father accusing my mom of Deidre being another man’s child, and my mother admitting it could be true. My father told Mom about the blood types—he assured her it was true. Deidre couldn’t be his. But Deidre never heard the identity of her biological father. My mom said she got upset and hurried away when she heard that she—you know—wasn’t my dad’s. Deidre demanded to know who her biological father was later, but my mother refused to tell her. She begged Deidre just to accept that Derry was the only person who had ever been her father.”
Liam paused and dug his fingertips into his closed eyelids. He looked so exhausted—both physically and emotionally. Natalie longed to touch him, but she remained motionless. She felt as if she’d lost the right to comfort him.
“Deidre told Mom she was right. ‘Derry will always be my father—it’s you who aren’t my mother anymore.’ I told you how close my dad and Deidre were. Deidre must have felt like Mom robbed her of that. I suppose the feeling amplified a hundredfold after the crash.”
Natalie couldn’t think of how to respond to so much hurt and misery.
“My mom admitted that she told Dad on the day of the crash that she’d had a brief affair with Lincoln DuBois. That’s why my dad must have been so destroyed when he saw DuBois on the news. He was already upset, but seeing DuBois’ face must have twisted the knife. Apparently, Mom told Dad she hadn’t suspected Deidre was Linc’s child over the years, but she told me tonight she had her suspicions all along. Deidre not only had a different blood type from Marc, Colleen and I, she also had a very rare type. Mom had gotten hints from the medical staff when she gave birth that the blood typing for the baby didn’t match Mom’s and Dad’s blood types. Mom managed to keep that quiet over the years, until Deidre’s accident.”
