Читать книгу The Unknown Daughter - Anna DeStefano - Страница 9

“WHAT ARE YOU talking about?” No longer fussing with the sheet, Oliver grew unnaturally still.

“Primary sclerosing cholangitis.” A chill raced down Carrinne’s spine as she said the full diagnosis out loud. “It’s chronic, and it’s degenerative. And if I don’t find a liver donor in the next year or two, it’ll most likely be fatal. They’ve put me on the national transplant registry, but my rare blood factors make the chance of finding a match outside of the immediate family minuscule. I’m hoping my father will agree to be a living donor.”

“Is that what this is all about?”

Carrinne stared at her shoes. This was about so many things, things she had no intention of discussing.

“Carrinne Louise, look at me.”

When she did, her heart lurched with the same appalling spasm of emotion that had struck when she’d first walked into the room. Medical equipment surrounded his bed, beeping and whirring, creating a symphony of life support.

She’d thought hatred was all she’d feel when she saw Oliver Wilmington again. Yet what consumed her now was sadness and regret. He’d lost his wife to cancer when he was far too young. They’d both lost her mother. They’d been all the family either of them had left, yet the only way he’d been able to deal with her had been to control every aspect of her life. And she’d needed so much more.

“It’s not just your illness that’s brought you home after all these years, is it?” he asked. His eyes narrowed. “If you wanted to find your father, why not hire a detective?”

“Hiring a detective is my next step,” she explained. “But someone wandering around Oakwood asking a lot of questions might have made you suspicious. I came for the diary myself, hoping I could get in and out without you ever knowing I was here. I hadn’t planned on being even a blip on this insufferable town’s radar.”

“Oakwood is your home, Carrinne. This town and the people you’ve cut out of your life, they’re a part of you.”

“This place was never a home for me.” She gripped the bedrail. “You made sure of that. I’m back because I have no other choice. The question is, can you put someone else’s needs before your own for just once in your life? Tell me what you know about my mother’s last diary. Tell me who you think my father might be.”

With a look of grudging respect, Oliver pushed himself higher on the pillows. “It seems we’re at an impasse. We both want something very badly, something we can’t get without the other one’s help. I want to meet my great-grandchild, and you want to meet your father.”

“Do you know who my father is?”

“No.” He looked away. “I never could get your mother to tell me, and once she was gone… It just didn’t seem to matter.”

“It mattered to me. It always mattered to me. And you wouldn’t lift a finger to help me look for him. You forbade me from even trying, and now it may be too late. Mother’s diary is probably the only shot I’ve got.”

“Yes, Angelica’s diary.” He cleared his throat. “Brimsley mentioned that’s what you were looking for at the house. I told you when you were a child—I don’t know anything about her diary. She was sixteen years old when you were born. That seems a little old to be keeping a diary, I don’t care what your nanny said. What makes you so sure you can find it now, or that your father is even mentioned in it?”

“I’m not sure. But if there’s even the slightest chance it exists, I have to look.”

“I’d like to help.” A shocking warmth laced his statement. Compassion wasn’t the right word for the expression on his face, but there was something close to yearning there. Something she’d never seen before. Then his gaze hardened. “Provided…”

“Provided what?”

“I want to see my great-grandchild.”

She dropped her hands from the rail and stepped away to make sure she wasn’t close enough to wring his neck. “You don’t know how to do anything but control people, do you? You make them bend until they break, and you don’t even bat an eye. Not as long as you get what you want.”

“One man’s manipulation is another man’s just cause,” Oliver said in a pained whisper. Then he cleared his throat again. “I’m not asking you for anything that dire. Your child is a Wilmington. As your grandfather, I have a right to know him.”

Of course he’d assume his grandchild was a boy. The male heir to the great Wilmington legacy, no doubt. What did it say that a man of his power and influence hadn’t cared enough to bother finding out the gender of his only great-grandchild?

“This is the child you wanted destroyed,” she reminded him.

“That was a mistake.” A grimace of shame flashed across his face. “I’ve always regretted how I overreacted. After losing your mother the way I did, I was afraid something might happen to you, too…”

“If that’s your way of reminding me that it’s my fault my mother’s dead, don’t bother. You made it perfectly clear when I was a child how much you blamed me.”

“That’s not true. I never blamed—”

“Save it.” She held up her hand. “It doesn’t matter now.”

After a moment, he nodded. “You’re right. That’s all in the past. I made my share of mistakes, but haven’t I paid enough of a price? The child’s almost grown, and I’ve never seen him. Would it be so terrible, granting me this one request?”

It would be a disaster.

Maggie couldn’t come to Oakwood, not as long as Eric was here. Maggie thought her father was dead. Carrinne had charmed her with stories about how much he’d cared for them both, how he would have loved watching his daughter grow up. Maggie kept Carrinne’s only picture of Eric with her everywhere she went. She was the perfect female reflection of her father.

Carrinne had never dreamed they might one day meet.

“So, what will it be?” Oliver smiled. He was clearly enjoying his status as the only person Carrinne could turn to in town. “I’ll make sure you have unlimited use of the house, that you have anything you need as you search for your father. Whatever I can do. All I ask is this one small thing in return.”

“I’ll consider bringing her back—”

“Her? It’s a girl?”

“I’ll consider bringing her back.” She studied the parking deck below his window, making him wait. “But only after I find my father. Totally contingent on your cooperation while I’m here, as well as your silence.”

“My silence?” Her grandfather’s confusion lasted less than a second. “Ah. You mean about why you ran away.”

“Tell me you haven’t told anyone.”

“Why would I? It was a family matter.”

“You mean I was an embarrassment, and you were thankful no one had to know.”

“I mean I won’t have more of our family problems become fodder for small-town gossip. No one knows you were pregnant.”

“Good.” She took her first deep breath since seeing Eric last night. “I want to keep it that way.”

“I assume you’re worried about our illustrious Sheriff Rivers. It would prove inconvenient for him to find out about his child after all these years, wouldn’t it?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“You made it my business. Everyone in Oakwood knew you were going with that young man. Skipping class together, sneaking out all hours of the night. To this day, I’ll never understand why you felt it necessary to pick the one person in town I thought was least suitable for you.”

“Not everything is about you.” She reached for her purse and slung the strap over her shoulder. “Do I have your word or not?”

“I get to see my great-granddaughter?”

“Help me with what I need, and I’ll find a way to make it happen.” Just how she’d make it happen while keeping Eric and Maggie apart, she had no idea. But that was a worry that could wait. There were so many others in line before it.

“Then you have my full support. Whatever I can do to help. Although, I don’t know anything more about your mother’s diaries than you do.” There was that look of almost longing again, the hint that there was something more he wanted to say. Then he gave a wry chuckle. “I’d offer you my liver, but I don’t suppose a wasted old body like mine would be much use to you.”

“No.” She swallowed the but thank you that almost slipped out. “The donor needs to be healthy, and preferably under the age of sixty.”

“What about your daughter? Could she be a donor?”

“Not an alternative.” She made herself walk slowly toward the door, when what she really wanted was to bolt from her grandfather’s penetrating gaze.

“Carrinne?”

“What?” She didn’t turn back.

“I’ll alert Robert that you’ll be moving back home.”

Robert had been the Wilmington butler since before she was born. The man must be almost as old as Oliver.

“My home is in New York. And I’m staying at a motel while I’m here. Tell Robert I’ll be by first thing in the morning. I need to get back into the attic.”

“When will I see you again?” he asked, his voice gravelly. She looked over her shoulder, and the reality of the lonely, fragile old man in the hospital bed slid past her defenses once more.

“I’ll be in touch,” she finally managed to say.

“It’s good to see you.” His mouth curved upward, but smiling still didn’t sit well on his face. “You’re so beautiful, just like your mother.”

“I’ll be in touch,” she repeated. She jerked the door open and stepped into the silent hallway, horrified by the emotion stinging her eyes.

Striding away, grateful that Brimsley was nowhere in sight, she ignored the buzzing that filled her ears. It shouldn’t matter that her grandfather thought she was beautiful now. Why should she care? But damn it, unbelievably, something inside her did.

As a child, she’d done anything and everything to earn Oliver’s approval, to grab just one crumb of praise to go along with his never-ending stream of rules and regulations. But whatever capacity the man had had to love had died along with first his wife and then Carrinne’s mother. All that had remained for Carrinne was a rigid shell of a man and the hollow pretense of a happy family.

She hadn’t been allowed to wear makeup, because he wasn’t raising one of those girls. No pants, either, because she was a young lady. No skirts shorter than a certain length. No dating, no dances. And the list went on. But regardless of how hard she tried, no matter how many hoops she jumped through, he hadn’t doled out the first smidgen of love. Instead, she became a disappointment, a constant reminder of all he’d lost with her mother. Until finally, she’d stopped trying and had gone to look for someone else to love her. The worst possible person, in her grandfather’s opinion.

She wiped at her eyes, furious at the unwanted emotion controlling her. First Eric, now Oliver. People didn’t push her buttons like this. Not anymore.

She rode the elevator to the second level of the hospital’s parking garage, forcing her mind to clear. By the time she’d reached her rental car, deep breathing and determination had returned some measure of control. Starting the engine and cranking the barely adequate air conditioner, she secured her seat belt and headed for the nearest exit. She should be planning her next move, but forming a coherent thought was light years beyond her at the moment.

She left the parking garage, driving down the steep hill to Crabapple Street. The light at the bottom turned yellow, and the urge to run it nagged her. She applied the brakes with a growl, the thought of bottoming out on the uneven pavement below and damaging the car—the thought of spending one more minute at the hospital while she waited for a tow—overruling her impulse.

As she slowed, a large shadow in the rearview mirror drew her attention away from the road. The vehicle behind her seemed to be accelerating. She checked the light, now red, and rolled to a stop. Then she glanced over her shoulder to make sure the driver behind her had followed suit.

The other vehicle’s front bumper slammed into her car a split second before her scream rent the air. The car and her body pitched forward. Her seat belt caught, but not soon enough. The side of her head snapped against the steering wheel. Through the fuzziness that followed and the painful echo of bells ringing, some disengaged part of her brain had the capacity to curse her small-town rental. It was clearly so old it predated the standard issue of airbags.

Feeling as though she was moving in slow motion, she roused herself and stomped on the brake pedal for all she was worth. Tires squealed against asphalt. The smell of burnt rubber would have choked her if she’d been able to breathe. The engine of the vehicle behind her revved even louder, and with another jolt, she was hurtled into oncoming traffic. What was this nut’s problem?

Anger seared through Carrinne’s panic. Maggie’s face flashed before her eyes. No way was it going to end like this, with some hick turning her into roadkill when she finally had a legitimate shot at getting her second chance.

Remembering the emergency brake at the last minute, she pulled the lever at her elbow, wincing as the car spun sideways. She watched in horror at the sight of a red pickup barreling down Crabapple, headed straight toward the intersection and her passenger door. She braced for impact, lifting her arms to protect her face.

The roar of metal shredding metal drowned out her cry. Then everything blessedly faded to black.

ERIC CHECKED the wall clock again. Ten minutes after three.

He pushed back from his desk and the stack of paperwork he’d been mulling over since noon. Reaching for his coffee mug, he found it empty and growled. He’d already filled the thing twice. When was the jarring brew going to clear his head?

Normally he’d be anywhere but the office on a Saturday afternoon. Since winning his bid for sheriff a little over a year ago, he’d fought tooth and nail to keep his weekends free. His appearance this morning had been so rare, you’d have thought from the looks on the faces of the officers he’d passed that they’d seen a ghost.

Maybe they had. This was exactly where his father had spent every single Saturday. And Eric had sworn he’d do it differently. That he’d have a life outside this place.

He shouldn’t have come in.

Where he should be was home in bed, since focusing on anything for longer than five minutes was impossible. But his attempts to sleep after finally leaving Carrinne in Tony’s capable hands last night had met with one dead end after another. First by his neighbor’s dog, which had barked all night. Then a telemarketer had called just after nine, offering him the opportunity of a lifetime to buy into a fabulous Gulf Shore timeshare. And each time he’d drifted off, his thoughts had returned to Carrinne and all the reasons he should leave her alone as she’d asked—regardless of his need to help. So he’d thrown on jeans and a T-shirt and headed in.

Staring with disgust at the overdue reports his chief deputy, Angie Carter, had been after him for days to complete, he shoved himself out of his chair and headed for the coffee machine in the break room.

A few more years of this, he reminded himself. Just a few more years. He’d make sure Tony was settled, that he could handle himself on the force, then Eric was out of this town. Just like he’d always wanted to be. He’d stuck it out, had been there for his little brother every day of the last seventeen years. He’d used his dad’s contacts in the department to secure training and a spot on the force, and he’d done his best to become a good cop. And maybe, just maybe, he’d done right by Tony along the way.

He’d even run for the position of sheriff so he could keep a closer eye on his kid brother. Plus the salary increase was putting a sizable dent in what was left of their mortgage. But nothing could erase his need to feel a motorcycle between his legs again. The need to put a few hundred miles between himself and everything this town could never be for him. He just wasn’t cut out for small-town community and friendships. He was better off alone.

“Worked it all out of your system?” Tony asked, catching up to Eric at the break room. He was dressed in wrinkled jeans and a T-shirt—one of Eric’s favorite T-shirts, as a matter of fact.

“You’re not on ’til five.” Eric poured his brother a cup of coffee after refilling his own.

“You’re not on at all.” Tony looked into the mug Eric held out and pulled a face. He shook his head to pass.

“Didn’t you know living in this place was one of the perks of being the top dog?” Eric sipped a burning mouthful of, hands-down, the worst coffee ever brewed in the town of Oakwood.

“Angie caught me on my way to the batting cages. Said you were holed up in your office, pretending to get your paperwork done. It’s so out of character, you’ve got her worried you’re going postal or something.”

Eric trudged out of the break room. “This town is so small, it’s a wonder I can take a piss without someone phoning you about it.”

“I told her you were just cranky ’cause you have the hots for an old girlfriend who’s giving you the cold shoulder.”

Eric turned back, swallowing his curse. Anyone in the station could pass them in the hall, so he nixed the instinct to vent his sleepless night right then and there. He headed for his office, motioning for Tony to follow. Once inside, Eric slammed the door and rounded on his brother. “Why the hell would you say something like that?”

Tony held up his hands in mock surrender. “Hey, I just call them like I see them. You were in rare form last night. One minute you were a jealous hound dog because a woman you haven’t seen since high school was smiling at me, the next you were hunting me down to drive the very lovely but elusive Ms. Wilmington back to her car.”

“If you said one word about Carrinne and me to Angie, the ass-whipping I gave you when you kept skipping school in sixth grade will seem like a tickle. Carrinne’s got enough trouble without having to deal with rumors flying all over town about—”

“Relax.” Tony sat in a guest chair, his grin now ear-to-ear. “I didn’t say a thing. I wouldn’t do that to Carrinne. Now you, on the other hand…”

“You can still be a brat, you know that?” Resisting the urge to paddle his kid brother, just to see if he still could, Eric settled in his own chair. Coffee spilled over the edge of his mug and burned his hand. “Damn.”

“You should get some sleep.”

“I tried that.” He sipped coffee from his thumb. “Cuddles had different ideas.”

Tony chuckled. “I’m glad that rat lives next to your bedroom window and not mine. Who knew a miniature poodle could make so much noise?”

“Clearly, Mrs. Davis chose the pick of the litter.”

They sat silently while Eric contemplated throwing his weight around at the pound and having Cuddles picked up for disturbing the peace.

“So.” Tony slouched deeper into the chair Eric was pretty sure predated their father’s term as sheriff. “Are you having her tailed?”

“Mrs. Davis?”

A stare was Tony’s only response.

“No, I’m not having Carrinne Wilmington tailed. Why would I?” Eric pushed the coffee aside and tried to focus on the report in front of him. “Brimsley’s agreed not to press charges, so there’s no reason for the department to be involved.”

“Unless, of course, you didn’t buy her story and wanted to help out an old friend before she got herself into even more trouble.”

“Carrinne and I haven’t been friends for a long time.” And that hurt more than it should. “Not since I told her to get out of my life and she obliged.”

“If memory serves, she’s the only female you ever stuck with for longer than two months at a clip. That’s got to count for something.”

Eric dropped the report to the desk. “I offered to help last night. She declined. She’s determined to handle whatever she’s come back to do on her own.”

“And that’s okay with you?”

No, it definitely wasn’t okay.

When had his brother grown up and become so good at reading people? It used to be that the only things Tony paid any attention to were motorcycles and pretty girls. Time was, that was all Eric had cared about, too.

“Hey, Eric?” Angie said over the intercom. “Didn’t you take the call out to the Wilmington place last night?”

“Yeah,” was his monotone reply. He glowered at his brother. Didn’t anyone have anything better to talk about?

“Thought you might like to know. Dispatch got a call. Your break-in suspect just did a three-sixty into oncoming traffic in front of the hospital.”