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E
LLEN LIKED VISITING
the garden. She now understood why the heroines of Shelter Valley were so passionate about their spa days. Why the folks at Big Spirits praised Jay as if he were an angel sent from heaven.

She'd seen Shawna on Thursday and told her about the sessions with Jay. Her counselor had smiled, said she wasn't surprised and encouraged Ellen to continue.

But on Friday morning, lying on the table in the semidarkness, Ellen could hardly wait for the session to be finished.

“Relax.” Jay spoke for the first time during the session.

“I'm trying.” The padded metal dug into her chin.

“What's bothering you?”

“Nothing.”

“Is my touch upsetting this morning?”

“No, not at all.” It was the same as the day before. Flower strokes along her shoulders, neck and back.

But this morning the music didn't take her away.

He moved silently for another few minutes then she heard him walk toward the door. “I'll meet you outside.”

Ellen waited about two seconds, long enough for the latch to click shut behind him, jumped down, grabbed her purse and followed him out.

“Can you come in tomorrow?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“It's clearly time to ratchet things up a notch.”

“Fine.” She was committed and proving she could handle it.

“Fine?” He started down the hall and Ellen walked beside him.

“Yeah. But…do you have a couple of hours this afternoon?”

Frowning, he glanced over at her. “Sure. Why?”

“I—I'm not sure. I don't want to get your hopes up…but I think I found your father. Well, I didn't find him myself. Not really. I'm not sure quite how the chain went but someone who knew Sam Montford's wife, Cassie, knew of someone whose son played tennis for Montford in the day and… Anyway, Cassie says this couple knows who the guy in the photo is. They can meet with us this afternoon.”

Jay stopped, turned, and the vulnerability in his gaze melted her from the inside out. “Did they say if he still lives around here?”

“I don't know. If they did, I didn't hear about it. And no one is likely to tell me if they do find your dad. Most of the folks around here are encouraging me to stay away from you. But Cassie…” Ellen tried to find the right words to describe Cassie. “She's different. She gets locked up inside, sometimes, too. Her house is full of TVs. I think she uses them to avoid having to think too much about the past. She's why I'm careful not to turn mine on unless I'm watching a specific show for a specific reason.”

Ellen was talking too much. But she felt better than she had in years. And she really wanted this to be right
for him. Jay had given her so much and she wanted to be able to help him, too. To give as much as she took.

“Anyway, Cassie called me to set up a meeting with you. She didn't say if the man in the picture would be there. We both thought it would be easier if you had someone to make the introductions. If you're okay with it, I'd love to go with you.”

“I'm okay with that.”

“Good. How about if I pick you up at three?”

“You think it would be better to arrive in your SUV rather than on my bike.”

“I didn't say that.”

He grinned. “You didn't have to.” Then he sobered.

“What?” Ellen moved aside so the person who had exited a room across from them could get by.

“You do understand that, as much as I need to find my father, I have no feelings of affection for him, right?”

“You pretty much hate the guy,” she translated. She'd been the last holdout with her own father. The last of her siblings to cling to faith in the man who had replaced them with new babies as if they were worn-out clothes rather than people.

“Close. Get rid of the
pretty much
and you're spot-on.”

“I called my father after the…attack.” Ellen heard herself say the words, as if from afar. She avoided talking about that time in her life with anyone but Shawna. She'd moved on. Didn't want anyone, including herself, to dwell on it.

She leaned against the wall and Jay stood in front of her, as though protecting her from anyone who might approach. She should have felt closed in, claustrophobic,
trapped by his proximity. All she felt was…gratitude toward him.

“I begged him to come home. Only for a few days. I needed him so desperately. He was my daddy. I'd always felt so safe with him and I was so damned scared. Scared to sleep. Scared to wake up. Scared to leave my room. To go to church where other men would be close to me.”

She had never told her counselors about that—never described the depths of her fears.

“He said he'd like to, but his wife was having morning sickness and he was sure I'd understand that it wasn't a good time for him to leave her.”

Jay's lips pursed, the muscles in his chin and jaw bunching as though he was gritting his teeth.

“I called him a couple of days before I had to testify, too. His excuse then was that the baby had colic.”

That was when Ellen finally saw her siblings had been right—and she'd finally given up on him, too.

“Anyway, the point is, I get how you feel about your dad. I also appreciate how important it is for you to find him. For your sake. And for Cole's.”

“Just so you aren't picturing some grand reunion—”

“I gave up on grand dreams years ago.” Ellen straightened. “These days I'm happy with peaceful gardens.”

He couldn't possibly understand the reference, but that was okay. He didn't need to.

 

J
AY WASN'T A GREAT PASSENGER
. It was something he hadn't mentioned to Ellen. Sitting in a vehicle subject to the driving skills—or lack thereof—of someone else, having nothing to do, was a mild form of torture. Add in
thinking about possibly seeing his old man for the first time, and this trip was damned near excruciating. This situation was not for a guy who craved the freedom of his bike, the wind whipping around him and no family ties whatsoever.

The couple they were going to see, Daniel and Elise Black, had a place in the desert, about ten miles outside of Shelter Valley heading toward Tucson.

Jay noticed his leg bobbing. And concentrated on relaxing his muscles one by one. His leg stopped, but his thumb tapped the doorjamb. That came to his attention only after Ellen glanced over several times.

She looked cute in her blue shorts, sleeveless white top and matching blue-and-white flip-flops. She wasn't wearing any makeup or jewelry. Nothing flashy to attract a man's attention.

She had Jay's anyway.

She didn't say a word, didn't chatter or engage him in a conversation he couldn't keep up. She simply was…with him. A new experience. One he didn't hate.

Jay handled life—and it's challenges—on his own. He always had. Because he liked it that way.

But today was different. And no small part of the reason was Ellen.

“The house should be up ahead,” she said, slowing after having made a couple of turns. “I've been on this road. A girl I used to know in high school lived out here. But I'm not exactly sure which place is the Blacks'.”

The houses were spaced about five acres apart. In the middle of the desert. Jay couldn't figure out why anyone would want to do that to themselves. Live in the middle of cactus needles and drought. Not to mention the poisonous reptiles and insects.

He couldn't figure out a lot of things at the moment and didn't like feeling this way. His jeans stuck to his ass against the leather of the seat. The back of his T-shirt was soaked, too, in spite of the cold air blowing from the vent pointed directly at him.

“If my old man's there, I want you to step outside.”

“Okay.” Checking the address, she drove on. “Can I ask why? I mean, you know all my stuff, it hardly seems fair that—”

“I'm you're therapist.”

“Massage therapist.”

“Nationally licensed medical massage therapist.” He was being a prick. And wasn't proud of himself.

“I'm a certified family counselor.”

“Not mine.”

“So you get to know my stuff and I don't get to know yours.”

“Right.”

“Then you're no longer my therapist.”

What kind of crap was that? “Ellen.”

“No, really. If I'm not good enough to give back to you, then—”

“Fine. You can stay. But don't blame me if you don't like what you hear.”

“I won't.”

“And no canceling tomorrow's session because of it.”

“Fair enough.”

“Good.” Life wasn't fair—but he chose not share that tidbit.

She turned into a driveway before Jay had realized she'd found the house. The woman did things to him.

After they parked and had gained entrance, Jay
assessed Elise and Daniel as introductions were made. He would guess the couple was in their mid-fifties. Their welcome, while reserved, was polite and they motioned Ellen and Jay toward the living room.

Another man sat in an armchair in the corner of the room. He could be in his fifties, too, although his sun-weathered skin and sunken eyes made it hard to tell. His mouth hung open, his lips pulling inward over what appeared to be toothless gums.

Jay almost puked when he saw him. This gray-haired, wrinkled man was his father?

Could reality be worse than the nightmare he'd lived with for most of his life? He'd pictured a weak man. A selfish one. But one who had lived with a measure of success. A man who had made something of himself, after leaving Jay and his mother in his dust.

“Have a seat,” Elise said as Daniel pulled a couple of wooden rocking chairs closer to the couch.

“That's Harry,” Daniel said, pointing to the guy in the corner. “He used to work for us, helping us with the horses. Harry took a hard fall about ten years ago, and when it was clear he was never going to be himself again, his wife left him. Elise and I felt it was our duty to take him in.”

Jay looked again at the man, noticed the straps holding him upright, and accepted the shame that swamped him. He'd prejudged. He knew better.

Approaching Harry, Jay took in the lost look in the man's eyes, the lethargic set of his shoulders. “How you doing?” he asked softly.

Harry blinked. Smiled. But said nothing.

“We're not sure how much he understands.” Elise brought in a tray of cookies. “But he's easy to care for.
Easy to please. Doctors say he's not long for this world. We want to make certain that, for as long as he's here, he's comfortable.”

She placed a cookie in Harry's hand. It took the man several seconds to get it to his mouth.

Jay sat in the rocker next to Ellen and surveyed the room. Though rustic, the place was clean, the wooden floors covered with large woven rugs.

“A buddy of mine used to play tennis for the university,” Daniel said. “I was at every match. I was there the day that picture was taken—Montford was about to make Arizona tennis history with number of consecutive wins. Bleachers that were normally half-empty were filled to capacity. Students came from as far as Flagstaff to watch.”

Jay nodded. He'd read the statistics. Montford lost that day to the University of Arizona. That was the school his father had apparently attended, although Jay could find no record of a J. Billingsley on the student roster that year. Or the years directly preceding or following it, either.

“The guy in the picture is Bob Scott—he's on his way. Our friend tells us the woman is your mother.”

“That's right.”

“I didn't know her,” Daniel said. “But Bob and I go way back.”

“He's still lives around here?”

“If you consider Phoenix around these parts. He's a lawyer.”

An attorney. Anger built in Jay. His father was an attorney? Picturing a well-dressed professional man with his own thick hair and long legs, Jay's blood started to churn. How dare the man desert his mother—a young
woman not even out of her teens—make something of his life, but never look back? Did Bob Scott know that Tammy was dead? Did he know the circumstances?

Did he care that Tammy had left an infant son behind?

Not sure that he would be able to hold his tongue when the man walked in the door, Jay took a long swig of water, praying that it would turn into beer between his lips and his throat. And when that failed to materialize, he prepared to meet the man he'd spent his entire life hating.

E
LLEN'S SENSES WERE ON
full alert. She heard the sound of tires on the gravel drive and straightened, ready to…what? Dart in front of Jay and save him from himself when the Phoenix lawyer walked in?

“That'll be Bob,” Daniel said, standing. Elise rose, too, getting a glass and bottle out of a sideboard. Pouring a healthy portion of amber liquid into the glass, she added a splash of water and stood behind her husband.

Ellen's focus was on Jay. Her academic training told her the myriad of emotions he could be experiencing as his moment of reckoning approached. She noted his sudden stillness. The clenching of his jaw.

Jay might look tough—he might be capable of tough—but he was also a very gentle man. A man who would rather go to prison than see a girl, a complete stranger, be hurt.

His hands could control that monster machine of his, but they could also bring sweet solace to a body taut with fear, braced for attack.

“Daniel, Elise, good to see you. Ah, thank you, dear.” Ellen could not yet see the man, but she saw his hand take the glass. “Now what's this about a picture?”

When the attorney came into view, Jay twitched, as though a fuse had been lit. The man was tall, like Jay, with thick salt-and-pepper hair and a receding hairline.
He was trim and obviously fit. The glass Elise had poured was already half-empty.

A man who played hard? He reminded Ellen more of a high rolling poker player than a member of the professional elite.

He assessed Jay and Ellen, a smile on his face.

“Bob, this is Ellen Moore, a friend of a friend from Shelter Valley. And this is Jay.”

“Jay, Ellen.” Bob nodded, but didn't approach or attempt to shake hands. “Nice to meet you.”

Ellen nodded. Jay didn't say a word.

“Some folks in Shelter Valley have been showing around this photo,” Daniel said, handing a copy to Bob. “Turns out that woman is Jay's mother. He wanted to ask you some questions.”

“I'll be damned.” Bob grinned. “I haven't seen this photo in years. Montford was about to set a state record for most consecutive singles wins.” He peered closer at the image. “Yes, I remember this girl. Tammy something. She was one of those you don't forget. Had these big blue eyes. I was so busy staring at her as I climbed up to take my seat that I knocked over her drink. She got really upset so I bought her another one. Thought I'd stumbled on a new, if slightly hazardous, pickup line. Missed most of the match because of her smile.”

Ellen hung on every word, hating the man on Jay's behalf, yet watching for the possibility of redemption. He wasn't all bad. He'd driven from Phoenix simply to meet with them.

Bob looked at Jay. “So what can I do for you?”

Jay's lips twitched. He set his bottle on the table. “How well did you know her?”

The attorney's eyes narrowed. His court look, Ellen supposed, imagining he could crack a witness's testimony with it. Despite the distance in his expression, he seemed genuinely confused, as though trying to put pieces together that didn't quite fit. “Not well, though not for want of trying. She was sweet. Funny. In the space of an hour I was hooked.”

Jay's shoulders heaved. He locked his hands behind his back. “And then?” The words were barely civil.

“And then, when I asked her out, she started to cry.”

“Cry?” Ellen spoke up, though she hadn't intended to. “She cried over being asked on a date?”

“Yeah. She said it wasn't my fault. Told me that she wasn't…free…to date anyone. Then she left.”

“And that was it?” The words were still staccato, but Jay's tone had less bite to it.

“That was it. I never saw her again.”

“Did she tell you anything else about herself? Anything at all?”

“Just that she was eighteen. And from Tucson.”

“Was she in college?”

Tilting his head to the side, the lawyer pursed his lips. “I'm sorry, man, I don't recall. She seemed to know a lot about the game. As I remember it, I spent the match trying to make her laugh. What's this about? Did you just find out she's your mother?”

“No, I've known that. She died when I was a baby. I'm looking for my father.”

“Your— You thought…” Bob looked at the photo once more then put it on the table. “No, sorry. I didn't even get as close as holding hands.”

“You have your arm around her.”

“I helped her after she stumbled.”

“Was she at the match alone?”

“Seemed to be. She didn't talk to anyone else. And as far as I could see she left alone.”

“Did you see where she went? The parking lot? Toward campus?”

Bob bore Jay's questions with equanimity, giving each one thoughtful consideration.

“Now that you mention it… Yeah, it was odd. She went toward the tunnel where the visiting tennis team congregated. I figured she knew someone on the team. I'd forgotten that.”

“She didn't say that, though? During the match?”

“I don't remember. It was thirty years ago, you know? I remember the girl. That's about it.”

“Did she seem to cheer for anyone in particular?”

“No. She actually wasn't cheering at all. Just watching. Studying. Like she was a coach, or a student of the game. She was pretty focused.”

“Did you find it odd that she was at the tennis match alone?”

“Not really. If she was a student, she could have been there to support the school. It was an exciting time—possibly putting Montford on national news.”

“Where were you in January of the following year?”

“Boot camp. I was a poor kid at Montford on scholarship. The money ran out and I joined the army reserves so I could finish my education.”

“You never attended the University of Arizona?”

“No.”

“You ever heard of a guy named Jay Billingsley?”

“No.”

“And you never saw Tammy Walton again? Never met up with her in Tucson?”

“No.”

Ellen swallowed tears as she watched Jay grill a guy who was obviously not his man. His thoroughness didn't surprise her. Neither did his lack of ability to let go.

What did surprise her was her own personal attachment to Bob's answers. As though what affected Jay affected her. What mattered to him mattered to her. She had to stop that. Now.

“You ever hear of Dolby Dodge?”

“No. But if it would help, I'm willing to submit to a DNA test to prove I'm not your father.”

He wasn't the man they were looking for.

 

“I'
M SORRY
.”

Sitting in the passenger seat again, his long legs stretched out in front of him, Jay watched the desert passing by. Ellen's voice reached inside him, settled there.

He had to dislodge it.

“Yeah, I guess I am, too. I don't look forward to facing the man, but I'd just as soon get it over with. Still, I'm a bit relieved,” he admitted. He was tired.

“That's understandable,” Ellen said. “You're only looking for your father because you feel like you have to, not because you want to. And you've been given a reprieve.”

“What I've been given is another dead end. The photo's out.”

Nothing added up. Jay existed, ergo, there was a father. But there was no evidence of a man in his mother's life. No evidence of her having friends. Going to college. Or high school even. No evidence of a job. Or any life at all other than her time with his aunt.

“Maybe not so dead,” Ellen said slowly. With both hands on the wheel, she was focused on the highway.

“What do you mean?”

“I've been thinking about what Bob told us. Trying to visualize it all. Putting myself in Tammy's position. Why was she there alone? Based on the things we know about her—her lack of friends, absence of any high school records—it's odd that she was at that match let alone by herself. So it makes sense that she was there to watch someone. She probably knew someone on one of the teams.”

He'd come to the same conclusion. Had planned to find out what he could about every member of both teams in attendance that day. He had an entire folder of articles and pictures of that day gleaned from the public Montford University archives.

“But something else is sticking with me. She cried when Bob asked her out. Not really cause for tears. The only reason I can come up with for a woman to cry at the drop of the hat is because she's hormonal.”

“PMS?”

“I was thinking pregnant.”

Jay did the math back from his birth date. “If she was, it was just barely. Four weeks at the most. There weren't tests that could have told her that conclusively—”

“Of course there were, just not available over the counter. She could have had a free blood test at any Planned Parenthood clinic. She also could have been further along. You might have come late.”

Had his mother been pregnant that day? Had his presence made her cry?

He had always assumed that his mother wanted him.
But what if she hadn't? What if he'd been as much a surprise, a hardship, to her as he'd been to his father?

“Was Planned Parenthood even around then?”

“Yeah. The first clinic in Arizona opened in Tucson in 1934. Strange, the things you retain from college.”

And strange, the things that didn't add up. Such as why his possibly pregnant mother, a resident of Tucson, had been in Shelter Valley at a tennis match alone.

But the strangest of all was the way the woman sitting next to him made the dead end, his lack of answers, seem…manageable. Ellen Moore made life okay.

 

A
N HOUR LATER
, J
AY STUDIED
his copy of the photo he'd left with Bob. He'd asked to keep the picture and Jay could think of no reason to refuse.

As he sat at his dining-room table, he concentrated on his mother. The photo was grainy—not as clear as others he had, compliments of his aunt.

Grabbing his photo viewer, he examined the photo inch by inch, as though he could see the shape of the embryo—him—she carried. As if he could somehow discern his genetic makeup there, find the Y chromosome that contributed to his existence and discover the identity of the donor.

He was good at ferreting out the most obscure information. He saw what others did not.

Usually.

He picked up the phone, vaguely surprised that he was reaching out to someone. Very unlike him.

Ellen answered on the first ring as though she'd been holding her cell. Awaiting his call.

He was being ridiculous. If she had been, it was past
time for him to hightail it out of town. The last thing Jay ever wanted was a woman waiting for his call.

“Scott said my mother had big blue eyes.”

“That's right.”

“None of the pictures I have of her make that clear.”

“Doesn't it say so on her birth certificate?”

“No. Eye color isn't checked.”

“Well, apparently they were blue.”

“Mine are brown.”

“So you think your father had brown eyes.”

“An educated guess.”

He was staring at the photo while they spoke, his eye to the photo magnifier.

“I'll be damned.”

“What?”

“The photo. She's wearing a ring on a chain around her neck. I can make out the indentation under her shirt.”

“What kind of ring?”

“I can't tell, but it looks plain. A wedding ring maybe?”

“Like the one you have from your aunt? Your mother's wedding ring?”

“If she was married, why would she be wearing the ring around her neck?”

“I have no idea. If she was further along in her pregnancy, I'd say maybe her fingers had swollen, but she's thin.”

He didn't know the whys, but… “The important thing is, she was wearing it. She told Bob Scott she wasn't free to date. Because she was already married? But if so, where was her husband?”

“Maybe he'd already left her.”

“My aunt said he left just after I was born.”

“I'm beginning to think what your aunt said and what really happened might be two different things. From what you've shown me, it seems like none of her facts can be substantiated.”

 

L
ATER THAT NIGHT
, J
AY
was thinking about what Ellen had said. She was right, of course. He would have reached the same conclusion much sooner if he'd been on the outside looking in—investigating a life other than his own. But this was his aunt. The only family he'd ever known. And while she maybe hadn't been the ideal parent, to the best of her ability she had been both mother and father to him.

The murder of her adored baby sister had taken its toll. She hadn't trusted anything or anyone—including Jay, some of the time. But he'd understood. The tragedy—and the police's inability to find the perpetrator—had imprisoned her in bitterness and distrust. She'd lost touch with friends. Quit going to church. She'd lost all sense of joy. Their home, while clean, had been stark. They'd had only the bare necessities to sustain life. No cable television. No computers.

His aunt's life had been work and Jay.

She had monitored his every move. There had been no spoken affection between them, but she
had
listened to him. Considered his thoughts. She encouraged him to discover his interests and talents. To study hard and to believe that he could be anything he wanted to be.

And when he'd taken steps that she hadn't approved of—such as trying to buy that Mustang from Dolby Dodge—she stopped him cold.

Now he had to contemplate how untrustworthy she was. How much of his life had been a lie?

He'd intended to find his father so he could lay the past to rest and decide how to proceed into the future with Cole. Instead, Jay was finding out that he had no idea who he really was.

This revised view of his aunt took Jay back several steps in his investigation. Sure, it opened innumerable new doors, as well, but he had to retrace his work.