From This Day On

by Janice Kay Johnson

  “Better? Maybe not. More honest, though, that would have been good.” This awful burning in her chest was anger; what else could it be? “I never knew what was wrong, why you could hardly bring yourself to touch me, why my own father didn’t love me the way he should. Why I didn’t look like anyone else in the family. Tell me why, after the divorce or at least once I reached adulthood, didn’t you tell me you were already pregnant when you met Josef? That he wasn’t my biological father?”

  The skin seemed stretched tight over the prominent bones in her mother’s face. “I thought you never needed to know.”

  “You ever heard the saying, the truth will set you free?”

  “I don’t appreciate the sarcasm,” Michelle said stiffly.

  “It wasn’t sarcasm. It was truth. I’m kind of fond of it.” Amy shut her mouth before she said, Truth. You know, something you don’t seem to be well acquainted with? Nope, wouldn’t help. “You know he lives here in Portland, don’t you?”

  All color leached from her mother’s face. “He?”

  “Steven Hardy.” Amy paused deliberately. “My father.”

  “Oh, dear lord,” Michelle whispered. “I have been so careful...! What have you done?”

  Amy felt cruel. She had the right. She looked her mother in the eye. “I went to see him.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  “HOW IS IT going?” Amy’s voice broke as she repeated Jakob’s question. “I’ve been hateful, that’s how it’s going.”

  His hand tightened on the phone. He stood on his balcony looking down at city lights shimmering on the dark water of the river and wished Amy was here. Or he was there.

  “I think you might be entitled.”

  “Does that make it right?”

  At the pain he heard, Jakob stifled a groan. “Probably not.”

  “We had it out this morning. Then she went to take a nap. Over dinner we talked about...nothing. I keep thinking of apologizing, then decide that, damn it, I’m not going to. I might if she did, but she seems totally convinced she did the right thing. Why would I want to know? she asked.”

  He winced. Didn’t Michelle know her daughter at all?

  “Have you told her about Dad’s visit?”

  “No, we haven’t gone there yet. She’s not going to be happy.”

  “Have you mentioned me?”

  “Nope. The subject hasn’t yet arisen.”

  No reason to get his feelings hurt. He turned his back on the view and leaned on the iron railing. “What has come up?”

  “I killed all conversation dead in the water when I told her I’d been to see my biological father.”

  Amused despite himself, Jakob shook his head. “Good going. You didn’t mention that you hadn’t actually even said hello, never mind introduced yourself?”

  “I got to that, once I noticed she was about to faint. Like I said, I was hateful.”

  “Sweetheart—” his voice had softened “—I’ll say it again—you’re due. Dad and your mother both deserve to feel some sting.”

  There was a long, drawn-out silence. He reran what he’d just said and stumbled over the endearment. Oh, damn. He’d said that out loud?

  “Okay.” Her voice was hushed, too. “Thank you, Jakob. Um. Will you come for dinner tomorrow night?”

  “So long as you’re not planning to spring me as a surprise.”

  Amy laughed, a low gurgle. “Out of a cake? Oh, that would be mean.” She sounded a tiny bit regretful. “No, I promise. I’ll warn her you’re coming.”

  “Would you rather I pretend complete ignorance and don’t say anything about the time capsule, the rape, Dad’s visit...?”

  “No,” she said. “I’ll tell her all that, too.”

  “All right.” He smiled even though she couldn’t see it. “Six o’clock work? See you then.”

  After ending the call, he laid the phone down on a glass-and-wrought-iron table that was out here with two chairs. After a minute, he sat in one of the chairs, tilted it back on two legs and stacked his feet on the railing. He tipped his head back to see the sky. The few stars visible seemed tiny and far away. If he’d been lounging on his sleeping bag somewhere deep in the Cascade Mountains, the sky tonight would have blazed with an astonishing panoply of diamond-bright stars against a velvet-black night. He half wished he was there, but knew he wouldn’t have taken off for the wilderness even if he’d felt he could afford more time from the office. Not when Amy might need him.

  Her knight in shining armor, he mocked himself. I am playing with fire.

  He was getting somewhere near decision time. His issues—there was a euphemism, if he’d ever heard one—still existed, if in altered form. Did he want to stick around as Amy’s brother in name if not in fact? Jakob had a bad feeling he couldn’t manage it. But could he abandon her, as too many other people had done in her life?

  Hell, no!

  He groaned.

  Making a move on her could be cataclysmic. If she freaked, he’d lose her for good. If she told his father... God. That could be ugly. He had no doubt Dad would be disgusted with him.

  Baby steps, he told himself. Be subtle. Always have an exit plan. Wait until you see in her eyes that she feels the same. If that ever happened.

  He became aware he was getting cold. For October, the days had been unseasonably warm. Nights had the sharp bite of autumn. Jakob wondered whether Amy would enjoy backpacking or some easy scrambles up mountains. She’d seemed to revel in the short hike they took this weekend. He didn’t know when he’d last enjoyed himself so much. Most of the time, her face was completely honest. Delight, suspicion, impatience, misery or curiosity, she didn’t—or couldn’t—hide any of them. Jakob loved that transparency. He could trust Amy.

  He kept lounging there, in the dark, wondering whether there was any chance in hell she would ever think of him sexually. As a man. And he admitted to himself that he was desperate enough to take a chance, when the moment arrived.

  * * *

  THE NEWS THAT both Josef and Jakob knew all did not go over well with Amy’s mother.

  “Jakob offered to go to the opening with me. Neither of us had any reason to suspect it would be anything but a fun weekend,” Amy tried to explain.

  Michelle sat on the living room sofa, her back rigid, her face frozen in an expression of anger and unhappiness. “Even if you felt privileged to pry into my past, it didn’t occur to you that he was another matter entirely?”

  Amy didn’t like feeling on the defensive. “He’s family.”

  “He’s not family.”

  “He’s my...” She caught herself. “Stepbrother.”

  “I had no idea you were even in contact with him.”

  “I’ve seen him occasionally at Dad’s.” Very occasionally. “When he heard I had relocated to Portland, he called. We had dinner, I told him about the time capsule opening and he offered to go with me. And no, initially I didn’t show him what was in your envelope, except when I pulled everything out he saw the panties.”

  Her mother shuddered.

  “I didn’t tell him until a couple of days later. I was upset when he came over.”

  “And Josef. If I’d wanted him to know, I’d have told him.” Michelle’s tone was straight-out-of-the-freezer cold.

  “Do you know what he said?” Stung, Amy made sure Mom met her eyes. “He said if you’d told him in the first place he would have married you anyway and accepted me as his daughter. All he needed to know was that you loved him.”

  Michelle made a sound that reminded Amy of an animal in pain. She bent her head and looked down at her hands. “I don’t know if I did.” The ice had cracked. Her voice was brittle, as if she’d tapped into emotions that might shatter her. “I was so frightened, I never gave myself time to think,” she said with obvio
us difficulty. “Josef represented a way out. I thought nobody ever had to know. I could pretend it never happened.” She met her daughter’s eyes again. “I did try to be a good wife. It wasn’t easy. I was dead inside for a long time, and the idea of sex... The rape...it was my first time, you see.” She closed her eyes momentarily. “But I thought Josef was happy.”

  Amy was shocked that her mother was finally being open with her. They had never had an entirely honest, adult conversation. It occurred to her that she’d better learn as much as she could while she had the opportunity. It might never come again.

  “You must have known my blood type wasn’t the same as his,” she said carefully.

  “Yes, but I told myself the chances were good he’d never find out. I suspect most people can’t tell you their own blood type, never mind their children’s or their spouse’s.”

  Amy nodded acknowledgment. “I still don’t understand why, once he found out I wasn’t his, you didn’t tell him the truth. He would have understood better than when he thought you were just trying to pass some other guy’s baby off as his.”

  “I couldn’t talk about it.” Mom’s fingers squeezed each other bloodless in her lap. “I suppose I was the classic rape victim. Because I never told anyone, the shame burrowed deep until it was part of me. I am not like you, Amy. I did a lot wrong as a mother, but at least I didn’t cripple you the way my parents did me. I may have never said this, but I’ve always admired the courage that allows you to defy rules.” She smiled wryly. “However annoying it could be.”

  “You never did come down that hard on me when I got in trouble at school.” Memories cascaded with the power of a revelation. Amy had been so consumed as a child and teenager by her belief that she was unloved, she’d never noticed how often her mother had gone to a teacher or the principal and insisted that Amy’s side be heard. “You didn’t want to be like your parents.”

  “God forbid. I believe I hate them,” she said as if mildly surprised. “That’s probably a terrible thing to say, but I have no fond memories at all.”

  Amy nodded. “I knew as soon as I saw what you’d written why you couldn’t go to your parents.”

  “And so I deceived Josef.”

  They left the conversation there. Her mother insisted on starting the coals out on the patio while Amy chopped vegetables. When the doorbell rang, she let her mother answer it although she listened for their voices.

  When they reached the kitchen, Jakob was asking civilly about Sydney.

  “It’s a lovely city. So far, we’ve been happy there.” Mom sounded stiff. “Amy tells me you’ve been quite successful with your business. You must tell me more about it over dinner.”

  “Sure, but don’t let me bore you.” Smiling at Amy, he crossed the kitchen and bent his head to kiss her cheek. The fact that she jumped seemed to amuse him. “Thanks for inviting me.”

  “You’ve fed me plenty of meals lately.”

  Her mother lifted her perfect eyebrows.

  “I’ve dragged her out a time or two,” Jakob told her. “Plus, we drove out to the ocean Sunday and had lunch in Astoria.”

  Mom made no effort to hide her astonishment. “How...thoughtful of you.”

  He grinned. “Amy and I have discovered what we’ve been missing all these years when we didn’t see each other. We’ve hung out together a lot these past few weeks.”

  “So I hear.” Mom the ice queen had made a return.

  Jakob only leaned a hip against the counter edge. “What are you making?”

  “I marinated chicken breasts in citrus and ginger and plan to grill them. I’ll serve them over jasmine rice.” And yes, she knew perfectly well she’d gone to so much trouble only because he was coming over. She’d pored over recipes until she found the right one. To impress him? “Mom, do you think the coals are ready?”

  Her mother stepped outside to check.

  Amy poked him with an elbow. “‘What we’ve been missing all these years?’”

  He pretended to look wounded. “I thought we were going to quit hiding how close we’ve become.”

  “You’re making it sound...”

  “Like we’ve become friends?”

  That wasn’t what she’d been about to say, but there was no way she could say what she’d been thinking. Because, wow, it had crossed her mind that he was hinting at something else entirely.

  As if she were in free fall, Amy knew she wished it were possible. Which was unbelievably stupid, because even if Jakob didn’t think of her as a sort-of sister, she couldn’t possibly be his type. What had he called her? A pixie? That didn’t sound sexy, even if he’d also said she was exotic. Plus, she’d met Susan. Beautiful, athletic, blonde—of course—and passionate about her causes. That part had apparently been untrue, but the beautiful, athletic and blonde part, Amy could vouch for. Jakob Nilsson, outdoorsman, successful, wealthy and sophisticated, would not go for a woman who was short, scrawny and freckled. A woman who admitted to being afraid to even ride a bike anymore. He probably took his dates mountain biking down reckless plunges.

  Free fall hadn’t quite ended with her going splat on the pavement, but close enough.

  Amy turned on the burner under the water in which she planned to cook the rice.

  “You’re in a good mood,” she said.

  Before he could answer, her mother returned. “I think we can put the chicken on.”

  Serious conversation was suspended until they were at the table, set, at Michelle’s insistence, in the formal dining room.

  A few bites into the meal, she carefully set down her fork and looked at Jakob. “I understand from my daughter that she’s shared my history with you.”

  “Yes.” His tone was both grave and gentle. “I’m sorry if that makes you uncomfortable.”

  “It does.”

  “Amy needed support.”

  She wondered if that was his entire motivation for sticking close. Did he feel sorry for her?

  Probably, she thought, depressed even though she should still be grateful.

  “Have you spoken to your father about this?”

  “I was here with Amy when he flew up to see her. But yes, he and I have talked on the phone a couple of times.” The tightness of his jaw gave away something his carefully neutral voice didn’t. “I wasn’t real happy that he’d lied to me about her all these years.”

  “You know it was for her sake,” Amy’s mother said.

  His cool stare met hers. “Was it?”

  Amy was astonished to see a flush of anger—or could it be shame?—on Michelle’s sculpted cheekbones.

  But her mother wasn’t a woman to back down. “It’s clear that you don’t think highly of me.”

  Jakob seemed to give that some thought. “I wouldn’t say that. I don’t know you. I haven’t so much as set eyes on you since I was a child. I do believe Amy deserved the truth about her own heritage. For medical reasons alone, she should know who her biological father is.”

  Michelle’s chin lowered a notch. “If the need had arisen, I would have told her.”

  His expression held enough skepticism, Amy decided it was time to intervene, even though she couldn’t help relishing having such a staunch defender. Maybe he was only doing it out of pity, but he took the job seriously.

  “Mom, you never answered when I asked if you knew that Steven Hardy lives in Portland.”

  Her mother’s gaze jerked from Jakob to her daughter. “Of course I knew. How could I help it? I didn’t until I’d married Ken and moved here.” A shadow of remembrance crossed her face. “I was horrified when I saw an article about him in the Oregonian. I hardly left the house for weeks, until Ken began to notice. I told myself at last that he was unlikely to recognize me after all these years. And that if he did, he was the one who should be ashamed. If we met by accide
nt and he recognized me, he was hardly going to rush over and say, ‘Remember me?’”

  “No, I don’t suppose he would.” Amy thought about the way he’d stared at her. “He never suspected you were pregnant?”

  “How could he? He might conceivably have worried, but once I disappeared I doubt he gave me another thought.”

  Amy wasn’t so sure about that. This man was not your garden-variety rapist. If nothing else, he had to be smart, and a smart guy—even a smart twenty-one-year-old guy—had surely gotten up the next morning and thought, Shit, I didn’t use a condom.

  “He didn’t, did he?”

  “What?” her mother said. She and Jakob both stared at her.

  Amy blushed. “Um...did he use a condom?”

  “Well, of course he didn’t! How do you think I got pregnant?”

  “Condoms have been known to fail.” Amy was very careful not to look at Jakob. Had he ever had one fail, or been afraid he had gotten a woman pregnant when that wasn’t their intention? Even thinking about Jakob and condoms in the same scenario made her twitchy.

  “I suppose that’s true.” Michelle appeared equally uncomfortable. “But no. He didn’t. He was drunk.”

  “Oh.” God. Amy struggled to imagine the man she saw in that courtroom both drunk and violent. He hadn’t been all that tall, she remembered noticing, maybe five foot nine or ten at most. She’d gotten her stature from him, not her mother, who at five foot seven was above average in height for a woman. His build was lean. It was easy to imagine him as a long distance runner. Quick-moving—she remembered the way he’d spun around to meet her stare. With the color of his hair, the sharp jut of his chin, the lithe movements, there was something feral about him. She could see what Jakob meant. Hardy made her think more of a fox, though, than the fey.

  Hmm. Maybe being compared to a pixie was more flattering than being told she looked like some wild dog.

  “Did he hurt you?” Jakob asked.

  Her mother drew back as far as her chair allowed. “Hurt me? Of course he did.”

  He was already shaking his head. “I’m sorry, that was poorly phrased. I wondered how badly you were injured, that’s all. Black eye, broken bones...” He trailed off under her mother’s still shocked stare.