Identity of the Heart (A Hidden Hearts Novel Book 1)

by Mary Crawford

  Mr. Montclair peeks around Ivy to see me standing there. "Who is this cowering behind you?"

  As I step forward to shake his hand, the porch light spotlights my vibrant new work. "No hiding here, sir. I was just waiting for you and Ivy to say your hellos before I introduce myself. My name is Marcus Brolen. I am the new guy in your daughter's life. She is an amazing young woman."

  Her dad thoroughly examines me from head to toe before muttering to Ivy, "Are you sure you don't have boy problems? Because I could make you have some if you want me to—”

  "Daddy—Don't. You. Dare! See this smile on my face? It means I'm good and happy. Marcus takes really good care of me. Even my weird random asthma attacks don't even faze him. He had a grandma who had emphysema; breathing treatments and nebulizers are nothing new to him.”

  "But, you look tired, Love Bug," he insists.

  "I am tired, Daddy. But, that's not Marcus's fault. He tries to encourage me to sleep but you know how stress gets to me.”

  Mr. Montclair gives me the stink eye.

  "Ivy Love Montclair! I do not believe we gave you permission to live with anybody except for that lovely little Jessica girl. She was raised by good people."

  Ivy practically stamps her foot as she replies in a stronger tone than I've ever heard her use, "Oh for Pete's sake! Dad! Listen. At the moment, Marcus and I literally live hours apart. Our hot dates are over the computer. Not much sordid going on there, trust me. Even when we are together, Marcus is a complete gentleman."

  Mr. Montclair glances over at me skeptically. "He doesn't look like a gentleman.”

  “That’s what I’m trying to explain to you. He is more of a gentleman than anyone I’ve ever dated.”

  “Even that exchange student?” her dad asks with surprise in his voice.

  “Especially that exchange student.” Ivy insists.

  “Huh… he came with such good references too.”

  “Just do me a favor and give it a chance. I think you two will actually have a lot in common.”

  “So, if you’re not here because of boy problems, why are you here looking like you haven’t slept in a month?”

  “Do you mind if we come in?” I ask, wiping my feet on the mat. “This is going to take a bit.”

  “Oh certainly, I got involved in the conversation and forgot the basics. Of course you can come in. Lenore would never send you away without a meal—especially this time of year. I think there’s a turkey about ready to come out of the oven in about a half an hour. Make yourself comfortable.”

  Ivy scoots past her dad and kisses him on the cheek as she passes by. “Thank you Daddy. I’ve missed you. Where’s Mom?”

  “Well, you know her. She’s probably setting up some table scape with leaves and bark and acorns and stuff. She goes all out this time a year. You know, it’s not like I don’t appreciate it, but sometimes a good paper plate is all you need.”

  “Daddy, you know she misses doing all the arts and crafts with the kiddos. She has to get her craft fix somehow. So she binges on Pinterest on all the holidays. I’ll go get her because I need to talk to you guys.”

  Mr. Montclair appears alarmed as he asks, “Is everything all right at that university you picked? I told you that you should’ve gone to school a little closer to home. Tampa is just too far away.”

  Ivy just sighs as she instructs, “Dad, just wait a minute and let me get Mom so I can explain.”

  Ivy leaves the room and suddenly the silence is deafening. I begin looking around the living room to see if I can figure out a safe topic of discussion. Fortunately, it appears that we both root for the same sports teams so perhaps we can avoid being mortal sports enemies.

  “It’s so odd to face the season without Lebron James being part of the Heat,” I comment haltingly, hoping that I’ve ventured onto safe ground.

  Mr. Montclair shrugs philosophically and says, “Basketball survived before him, it’ll survive now. But, he was fun to watch. Do you like any other sports besides hoops?”

  “I used to watch a lot of baseball with my grandfather. He got me into collecting cards when I was really little and turned me into a huge baseball fan.”

  He regards me with a little more interest now as he scoots forward in his seat. “Got any favorites?”

  “Well, I have to root for my hometown favorite Jeff Keppinger from the Tampa Rays. It’s just a waste that he broke his foot in the dugout. He was having an amazing season.”

  Mr. Montclair scoffs as he replies, “Players these days…they don’t even know the meaning of a true athlete. They break their toe and the whole world ends. Look at people like Lou Gehrig who played with a debilitating disease for years before anybody even noticed. Now, there’s an athlete for you.”

  “I don’t disagree with you. Lou Gehrig was a hell of a player. What he went through makes today’s athletes seem like lightweights.”

  I notice movement in the corner of my eye and I remember the impromptu lesson on manners that I received from Rogue and Super-Secret-Spy-Guy, I stand up. The small grin of appreciation on Ivy’s face is enough to make me want to ask them to leave the room so I can do it all again in even more grand fashion.

  Mrs. Montclair walks up to me and shakes my hand. “Hello, I’m Lenore. Nice to meet you. I’m the mom. This is Roger. He’s the dad. He’s also a sports fanatic who will talk your ear off if you’re not careful.” She notices my tattoo and comments to Ivy, “Oh my! Did you see this dear? Have you told him about your dragonfly collection?”

  Ivy flushes slightly as she admits, “No, it hasn’t really come up yet. We’ve been busy dealing with some pretty complicated issues back at home.”

  Lenore blanches slightly as she asks, “Are those big city college professors giving you a hard time? I worried about that. I wondered if you were ready for life in a big town. Your dad could make some phone calls. He knows some pretty important people.”

  “Mom stop, please. This doesn’t have anything to do with my college life or my love life— or at least not in the way you think. It’s more personal than that. What I came to talk to you about is going to impact our whole family.”

  I glance over at Roger Montclair he looks like he’s about to blow a gasket. He turns to me and roars, “How dare you hurt my daughter and then come in here pretending to be her boyfriend! If you only knew a fraction of what she’s gone through in her life you wouldn’t even think this was remotely funny.”

  “Daddy!” Ivy yells back, “For once and for all, listen to me!” Ivy paces back and forth between her parents. “Look at me,” she commands, twirling slowly in a circle. “I am fine. In fact, thanks to Marcus, I am better than fine. He has kept me happy and relatively calm during what’s been a totally crazy, completely topsy-turvy time in my life. I have known him since August. Obviously, he has not hurt me in any way. So, can we put away all the stereotypes and pre-judgments and talk about what we really need to talk about?”

  From the stunned look on her mom’s face, this is not usual behavior from Ivy. Lenore reaches out and pats Ivy on the hand and says, “Whatever you need, dear.”

  I flash her a surreptitious thumbs-up. When she sees it, she takes a deep breath and starts over, “I’m sorry for sounding harsh, but there’s no easy way to bring this up other than to just start. So, I apologize in advance if this is difficult. I want you both to know that I love you very much and I will never change.”

  I watch as Ivy takes a deep drink of her bottled water. I walk over to her purse and fish out her inhaler in case she needs it. She swallows hard and gives me a grateful smile. “I think I’m good Marcus, thanks though.”

  A frown creases Roger’s brow. “Is this bad news?”

  Ivy expels the breath that she’s been holding. “I hope not Daddy, I really do.”

  “Well, Love Bug, I think it’s time that you quit stalling and just spit it out.”

  “Do you guys remember anyone named Rosa Marie Betancourt or Isaac Roguen?” Ivy asks quietly, with a hint of trepida
tion in her voice.

  Lenore’s eyes go wide with shock when she hears the names. Roger rushes to his wife’s side. She looks up at him as she asks in a harsh whisper, “Do you think she knows the whole story?”

  I’M STARTING TO HAVE A NEW sense of appreciation for Ivy. It really is different when you’re on this end of things. My hands are sweaty and my heart is pounding so hard that I’m pretty sure my blouse is about to come unfastened.

  I must’ve tried on four outfits this morning before I decided this one was appropriately toned down enough to meet Mr. and Mrs. Montclair. I don’t dress particularly sexy, but my clothes tend to be pretty avant-garde with lots of rips, tears, pins and unusual stitching. It’s not the type of thing you’d find at Saks Fifth Avenue.

  Tristan is still on the computer and he’s currently Skype-ing with members of his team back at the office trying to track down leads on my dad. I know that I should be more appreciative of his efforts. Right now I’d like to kick that computer a few inches up his colon to get him to put it away so he can just hold me. I’ve graduated from just sweaty palms to actually trembling.

  Marcus and Ivy have been in there a really long time. I don’t know what’s going on in there but whatever is happening is making Ivy hellaciously angry. I can feel sparks flying off her psychic energy like a welding machine.

  I hate that I can’t go in there and help her right now. I can feel her reacting physically to whatever they are saying to her. Something big must’ve just happened because I just felt the energy crescendo and then wane.

  Suddenly, I hear Ivy’s voice in my head, Get ready… it’s tense in here but we need to do this. It's just as I predicted. They are being very odd. I have to say it, as cool as it is, it still weirds me out that she could talk to me in my brain.

  Yeah? It’s no picnic for me either.

  Private thoughts would be nice.

  So would winning the lottery, but it’s not ever likely to happen.

  You’re so funny, I forgot to laugh.

  Time to get serious here. I don’t know what’s going to happen once you guys come inside. I’ve never seen my mom become quite so distraught.

  Remember, we’ve had a few months to get used to this, your parents haven’t. This came out of the blue for them.

  You’re right. You’re still going to love me at the end of all of this, right? I have a feeling that it might not be pretty.

  Manita, I specialize in gritty and tough, remember? I've got your back.

  Tristan touches my shoulder and I startle, almost spilling my Dr. Pepper all over.

  “Are you done having a conversation with your sister?”

  “How did you know that’s what I was doing?” I ask, a little embarrassed to be caught.

  “Don’t worry, it’s probably not obvious to anyone but me. You just get this intense expression of concentration on your face and you stare off into space for a minute.”

  “Gah! That’s embarrassing,” I admit, blushing.

  “So, what’s the verdict? Do they want us in there?”

  I’m still half a beat behind the conversation because I’m concentrating on what he just said about my appearance when I talk to Ivy during our episodes of ‘twin talking’.

  “Well, in or out?” he prompts.

  “Oh…um…I guess we’re supposed to go in,” I respond, sounding scattered.

  “Rogue, are you okay with this? You know you don’t have to go in if you don’t want to,” Tristan assures me as he tries to warm up my hands.

  “No, it’s not that. Ivy really needs our help. It’s just that everything got overwhelming there for a second. But, I’ll be fine.”

  As Tristan helps me from his vehicle, he gives me a long, comforting embrace. “I’m here if you need me; just say the word.”

  I smile through my tears as I brush a light kiss across his lips, “I know, that’s one of the reasons I know I’ll be just fine.

  Ivy meets us out on the front porch. She’s slipped off her shoes and I notice that Marcus has given her his favorite sweatshirt. What concerns me is that her eyes are rimmed in red and she’s obviously been crying.

  “I’m sorry Rogue, I don’t know any other way to do this. We’re just going to have to show them and let the chips fall where they will. I guess we’ll deal with the aftermath later. There’s just no gentle way to say, ‘Hey, did you know your daughter has a mysterious twin sister?’ I’ve tried to prepare them the best I can, but I still think it’s going to be a huge shock to them.”

  “It’s okay Manita. We didn’t cause this mess, remember? We were just innocent bystanders who got caught up in the drama.”

  Marcus steps up and cuddles Ivy from behind. “Besides, you two are too cute for them to stay mad at for too long. I’m sure once they get over the shock, it’ll be just fine.”

  Tristan holds the screen door open for us as Ivy and I hold hands. Those few feet into the sunken den seem like some of the longest I’ve ever walked; When you consider my history, that’s saying quite a lot. I’ve been known to use my thumb to get around if I was short on bus fare. Movies and television shows make it seem like it’s a glamorous way to travel, but what it really translates to is a lot of walking on hot asphalt with the sun beating down on you. Still, in some ways, walking into this lushly appointed house is more frightening. Yet, I can feel the presence of the men in our lives, just a few inches behind us, ready to be called on if needed. The feeling of rock solid support is more powerful than my fear.

  Ivy carefully maneuvers us to a love seat and much to my astonishment, we are able to smoothly sit down without falling on our faces. I can feel every pair of eyes in the room scrutinizing me.

  After what seems like a decade of silence, Roger finally speaks, his voice choked with emotion, “So the rumors were true.”

  “Are you sure this is wise, Roger? She could be out to get us,” Lenore cautions, twisting a Kleenex in her hands.

  Roger runs his fingers through his hair making his curls even more haphazard. “Lenore, look at them. They’re obviously bonded; they are sisters in every sense of the word. The story is going to come out eventually. They are adults and we can’t shelter Ivy Love any longer.”

  My stomach clinches at the warning tone implicit in his words. I frantically try to remember all the different scenarios that we put together with Tristan and mentally try to put the puzzle pieces together with Lenore’s words and determine if anything fits. But, every scene I come up with in my head is more frightening than the last.

  Do not pass out on me! Ivy directs me sternly via our private line of communication. I need you here with me.

  I’ll try—but, to be honest my vision is getting a little gray at the edges. I don’t know how much longer I can hold on.

  Suddenly, Ivy yells, “Marcus, she’s going down. Do your breathing trick.”

  Tristan grabs the gift bag in which we brought wine and pulls the wine out and hands it to a very startled Roger. He tosses the bag to Marcus.

  Marcus kneels in front of me. “Ro, come on, focus!” He puts the bag in front of my face. “Now, just follow me. In through your nose and out through your mouth. No. Slow it down. Just like me. Breathe when I breathe. Nice deep breaths. Good girl. In and out. In and out. In and out. Very nice. Feeling any better?” Marcus asks.

  I’m so intent on following Marcus’s breathing pattern that I’m a little surprised by his question. I do a brief self assessment and decide that my head is feeling much clearer and my vision isn’t fuzzy anymore. I nod as I say, “Yes, I’m feeling much better thank you.”

  “Good, I’m going to let your guy here help you. He’s looking territorial enough to tear me apart limb by limb.”

  “Don’t be silly. Tristan would never hurt you,” I insist.

  “Oh yeah? Are you sure? He’s looking a little possessive to me,” Marcus teases.

  Tristan raises an eyebrow. “If you’re done harassing my woman, I’d like to check and see what happened to make her almost pass out
to begin with.”

  “I appreciate the concern, but I’m fine now. Really. I just got a little emotionally overwhelmed by the situation and I was too nervous to eat much today. I think it all just piled up on me,” I explain. I turn to Roger and say, “Please continue with your story.”

  He looks very concerned as he asks, “Are you sure? I don’t want to make things worse.”

  “I’m fine,” I declare. “Getting it all out in the open will help. I’ve been letting my imagination get the better of me.”

  Lenore pins Ivy with a knowing glance as she says, “That sounds just like someone else we know.”

  Roger turns to Lenore. “What do you think?”

  Lenore blows her nose delicately and shrugs. “I suppose there’s no harm. We were just following the advice of the adoption lawyer. If we don’t tell the girls, it’s obvious we’ll just be causing them pain.”

  “Okay. But, Lenore— if I’m going to tell the story, I’m going to tell the whole story. Even the parts that don’t make us sounds so glamorous.”

  “If you think you must, Roger. But, please remember that we were much younger then and very naïve. We fell in love in high school and wanted nothing more than to be parents. As Ivy knows, Roger faced terrible pressure from his family to carry on the family tradition of being police officers and firefighters. Yet he simply had no interest in that type of physical job. He much prefers the mental challenge of dealing with numbers and concrete evidence. We wanted kids right away so we started trying soon as we got married. But, year after year nothing happened.”

  Roger tenderly pats his wife’s shoulder, but it’s clear that this trip down memory lane is hard on him as well.

  Lenore dabs her eyes with a tissue and continues, “I had just finished grad school and gotten my teaching certificate, so we didn’t have any money for any infertility testing or treatments. Then, one of my aunts died leaving me a small inheritance. We were able to use that money to consult an adoption attorney. He said that he’d never seen a couple with as much childcare experience as the two of us and that we should have no trouble finding a couple that would choose us. It was excruciatingly painful for me to work around a bunch of kindergarten teachers with all of those adorably cute kids in my classroom knowing that I might not ever get to be a mom.”