Laura Abbot (15 page)

Katherine had found her opening. She studied Laurel closely. “You look rather lost tonight. Is everything all right?”

Laurel didn’t answer right away. Instead, she set down her cup and stared out the window. “It’s odd,” she said, “how such a lovely, calm, peaceful scene can, in the blink of an eye, turn violent. You just never know.”

Somehow Katherine didn’t think she was referring solely to the panorama before them. “Are we talking only about Lake Michigan, Laurel?”

“No.”

The simple, forlorn syllable filled Katherine with concern. “Ben?” she asked, guessing the cause of Laurel’s distress.

The young woman wove her fingers together and bowed her head. “Am I that transparent?”

A flash of lightning and the boom of a thunderclap echoing and reechoing over the water underscored Katherine’s quiet “Yes.” The electricity flickered again. “Could you use a sympathetic ear?”

Laurel turned slowly toward her, her cheeks pale, her eyes full of hurt. “Do you have any idea why Ben would have hired an investigator to check on me?”

Katherine’s right hand went to her heart.
Oh, no. How had the girl found out?
What could she say? Just then came another ear-splitting crack of thunder. Once more the lights flickered, then went out. Katherine fumbled in the drawer of the little table by the chair and pulled out a box of matches. Trying to control her shaking fingers, she struck a match and lit the candle in the brass holder. The flame cast a shadow beyond Laurel and her.

“Let me help,” Laurel said, taking the matches and lighting two more candles.

From the hallway a flickering light approached. Greta stood in the doorway, holding her own candle. “Are you all right, Mrs. Sullivan?”

How could she possibly be all right now that the truth—or what she believed was the truth—threatened to destroy Laurel’s world but restore hers?
“Yes, Greta. Thank you.”

Greta retreated down the hall. Katherine licked her lips. “An investigation?”

Laurel gripped the arms of her chair. “I don’t understand. Why would Ben be investigating me?”

“How did you find this out?”

“I saw a phone message on his secretary’s desk last night. He was to call a Roger Crandall about—” she snorted pathetically “—the ‘Laurel Eden investigation.’ Look at me. Do I look like a…a…con artist or something?”

“No, dear, you don’t.”

“Then why?” Laurel’s voice rose. “It makes no sense.”

“You have a right to be angry.” Katherine had to give her that. It had been a sneaky thing to do, going behind Laurel’s back. Maybe it would have been better just to ask her outright. Katherine’s chest tightened. Maybe that’s exactly what she needed to do tonight. Now. Before her nerve failed.

The wind abated and the torrential rain fell in straight sheets. Except for the candles, they were shrouded in darkness. They sat in silence for a long time. Finally Katherine spoke. “Laurel,” she said, her heart pounding, “I’d like to tell you a story.”

“O
NCE UPON A TIME
…” Katherine began in a singsong, soothing tone.

Laurel frowned. Whatever did once-upon-a-time have to do with Ben’s betrayal? As Katherine’s soft voice continued, though, the familiar cadence sent Laurel’s mind on a tangent, reminding her of the childhood stories her mother had woven for her, which had always begun with the ritual opening of every fairy tale. Laurel forced herself to concentrate. Something…a fragment of one of those stories… A memory too fleeting to catch passed through her mind. She strained to remember, but it flitted beyond her reach.

“…I was a well-intentioned but ignorant woman, believing I was fulfilled simply by going through the motions of making my family happy. Never standing up for myself. Always deferring, especially to my husband.”

Laurel observed the older woman, hands folded quietly in her lap, her eyes fixed on some point out there in the impenetrable night. She was still not sure how Katherine’s autobiographical tale was supposed to help her.

“I’ve made mistakes in my life, but none greater than this one. The one we never talked about in our family until now.” When Katherine turned and looked at her, Laurel knew instinctively that she didn’t want to hear what was coming.

“Please, Katherine, you don’t have to—”

“Oh, but I do, my dear. Bear with me.” The older woman took a deep cleansing breath and continued. “Frank and I had not one daughter, but two. Jo was two years younger than Nan, gentle and charming unless she took on a cause. Then she was nothing short of formidable. She could be every bit as hardheaded and stubborn as her father.”

As Katherine outlined Jo’s considerable academic and artistic achievements, Laurel found herself caught up in the story. An honors student at the University of Wisconsin, Jo, to her father’s disappointment, had allied herself with a group of student protesters. “These were volatile times,” Katherine said, “when parents often didn’t understand their children. When young people labeled their parents ‘the establishment’ and rejected their values and politics. That’s what happened with Jo.”

Remembering Katherine’s use of the past tense earlier, Laurel laid a hand on the woman’s arm. “Is she dead?” she asked softly.

“I—I don’t know.” The yellow finch of this afternoon looked decidedly more muted. “I guess you could say to her family she has been.” Laurel waited for her to continue. “It’s the only way you can carry on. But never a day passes that I don’t wonder.”

“What happened?”

“Incredible as this sounds, I don’t exactly know. Jo came here from graduate school in Madison for Nan and John’s wedding. She was to be the maid of honor. Frank…” Katherine’s voice cracked. “Frank nearly went berserk when he saw her. Nowadays it sounds like a cliché, but she was wearing sandals, love beads, a shapeless granny gown, and her hair—it was like a rat’s nest. She and her father hadn’t seen eye to eye on politics ever. But Jo seemed even more dogmatic and confrontational. It was almost as if she went out of her way to antagonize her father. She was as passionately anti-war as he was pro-war. It was a topic Nan and I desperately tried to avoid when those two were in the same room.” Katherine shrugged her shoulders helplessly. “And, of course, Frank made his fortune in Defense Department contracts.” For a moment, Katherine seemed lost.

“The wedding?” Laurel prompted.

“I can still see the whole affair, frame by frame, like some endlessly repeating film. The afternoon of the rehearsal, Nan and I were here—” she gestured around the house “—finishing the place cards for the rehearsal dinner, when Jo disappeared into the library with Frank. She said she had something to tell him.”

Laurel watched Katherine dig her nails into the upholstery of the chair. “We could hear raised voices, then quiet, followed by the slam of a door. Jo went running toward her car, got in and roared off down the road, spraying gravel everywhere.” Katherine looked at Laurel, her face etched with pain. “That was the last time I ever saw my daughter.”

Laurel’s heart raced unnaturally. It was a horrible story, yet she sensed the worst was still to come. “But…?”

“Didn’t we look for her?” Katherine’s laugh was bitter. “Frank forbade it. He said Jo had cut her ties with us. Irrevocably. She had shamed him, shamed us. Clearly, he said, she’d put her own selfish needs ahead of everyone else’s, including Nan’s. The only way he’d take her back was if she crawled on her knees.” She swallowed. “And at Frank’s order, the wedding went on with all of us playing our parts.”

Laurel swallowed back the bile gathering in her throat. “That’s…that’s barbaric.”

Katherine eyed her. “You didn’t know my husband. He was not to be crossed. And I never did cross him. Nan, either. Except once. Years later, Nan and I went behind his back and hired an investigator, but the trail was cold. It was as if Jo had vanished. Then when we didn’t hear from her… Anyway, Frank never knew what we’d done.” Slowly she rose to her feet. “Only in these past few months have I realized I could be my own person. I’ve acknowledged that what I did in giving in to Frank back then was wrong. Sinfully wrong.”

She made her way across the room until she stood motionless in front of a glass-fronted bookcase. “I don’t have a lot of time left on this earth,” she said in a soft voice, “but if I can make things right, I want to try.” She opened the case and extracted a leather-bound volume, then returned to her seat. “Frank wouldn’t let us display photos of Jo or anything else that would remind him of her. But I always kept this picture here, where I could look at it whenever I wanted to.”

Mesmerized, Laurel watched as Katherine withdrew a five-by-seven photo, then studied it for endless seconds. Finally, she laid a hand on Laurel’s knee. “Laurel, dear, forgive me, but I have to ask you this.” She held out the glossy photograph. “Do you know this woman?”

In the candlelight Laurel studied the photo. Her jaw fell, her throat clogged. She didn’t think she could bear to look up and acknowledge to Katherine the hideousness of the truth she held before her.

“Laurel?” Katherine shook her knee.

Clutching the photo to her breast, Laurel rose from her chair and went to the window, where she stared sightlessly at the raindrops coursing down the panes of glass, wishing she could fling herself into the torrent. Anything to wash away the photographic image etched on her brain.

For a long time the only sounds were those of rain on the roof and the occasional distant rumble of thunder. Then at last Laurel turned. Katherine had risen to her feet and stood in the shadows, looking diminished, old.

Laurel found her voice, though it sounded alien. “Yes, I know her.” She held out the photograph. “This is my mother.”

L
AUREL STARED
at Katherine, nausea welling within her. The hand holding the photograph trembled. “This…
this
is your daughter?” Her mouth turned to cotton. “No.” She shook her head emphatically. “This can’t be. My mother’s parents are dead.”

Katherine took a tentative step forward. “Laurel…”

As if the photo were tainted, Laurel laid it on the table, then turned to face the storm again, finding far more comfort in the deluge outside than in the drama unfolding around her.

Katherine’s tone was placating. “That may have been what you were told. But this
is
a picture of Jo.”

Neither of them flinched when, with startling suddenness, the lights came back on.

Laurel wrapped her arms around her waist in a futile attempt to salve the ache in her heart. No. There was no way her parents could have deceived her in this manner. They were gentle and honest… and…good. Pat Eden would never have turned her back on a mother like Katherine. She would never have lied to her own daughter. Slowly, she turned around, denial her only escape. “I’m sorry, Katherine, but there’s been an awful mistake. It’s merely a coincidental resemblance.”

“No,” Katherine said, leading Laurel back to the sofa, where she eased her down, then sat beside her, clutching her hands. Katherine hesitated, apparently hoping her next words would remedy the situation. “Have you wondered why I am so drawn to you? Your mannerisms, your passion for life, the way you gesture, your coloring…it’s all there. You are my granddaughter.”

Laurel withdrew her hands. She didn’t want to be rude to this woman she cared about, yet her mind couldn’t take in the ramifications. “I can’t believe it. My parents wouldn’t… If you’re my grandmother, they’d have told me. You’d have been in my life.”

Katherine hung her head. “I have done an unspeakable thing. I let Frank influence me when my heart was screaming to run after my daughter.” She looked up. “That’s no excuse. But since Frank’s death, I’ve become determined to try to set things right. If I can. If it’s not too late.”

“Wait.” Laurel suddenly saw it all clearly. “The investigation—”

“Yes, I needed proof of my suspicions. It was a delicate mission. I asked Jay to solicit Ben’s help.”

Rising to her feet, Laurel slowly backed away from Katherine, her voice quavering. “Let me get this straight. The two people I most trusted in Belleporte—you’ve both been going behind my back, snooping into my past—”

Katherine stood and held Laurel lightly by the arms. “I can see how you might view it that way. Maybe I was wrong, but I didn’t want to upset you needlessly. What if we hadn’t found any proof?”

Laurel shook her head, desperately trying to make sense of what had transpired. “I love Ben. You are my friend. This hurts so much because it’s as if you’ve both betrayed me.”

“My dear, I know you need time…” Katherine faltered. “And I need my daughter,” she said in a voice that under any other circumstances would have broken Laurel’s heart. “And you.”

Katherine’s plea penetrated the haze of Laurel’s confusion. “I…I don’t want to hurt you. And if I could ever have imagined a grandmother, she would have been like you.” Her throat thickened. “But this is a shock. I need time to think about everything. To hear my mother’s explanation.”

“I understand.”

“Please, let me talk with my parents before you do anything.”

“Certainly.”

Laurel edged toward the door, barely controlling her emotions. “Right now, I need to be alone.”

“Before you go, Laurel, there is one more thing. Please don’t blame Ben. Blame me. He was only trying to help.”

“Good old Ben,” Laurel whispered under her breath as she stepped outside, oblivious to the rain cascading down her face and mingling with her tears.

H
ER HEART POUNDING
with the swiftness of a panic attack, Katherine stared at the front door, then down at the youthful face gazing up at her from the photo on the table. Blood rushed to her head and she felt weak-kneed.

Her daughter was alive.

Relief, swift and steadying, rushed over her as she sank into her chair. But now what?

Laurel had every right to be hurt and angry. To feel betrayed. Maybe it would have been better to let the investigation play out instead of confronting her tonight. Katherine shook her head. Too late now for second thoughts. Surely in time, Laurel would come around. Meanwhile, what was the next step? Contact the Edens… Jo?

Her mind racing, Katherine sat for several minutes before she reached for the phone. Each punch of a number had the finality of a rifle shot.

“Hello?”

“Did I wake you, Ben?”

“No, I, uh, I couldn’t sleep. What can I do for you, Katherine?”

“You can call off the investigation. It’s no longer necessary.”

“But we’ve had a breakthrough. It seems your instincts may be right on target.”

Katherine passed a hand over her eyes. “They are. Ben, Laurel knows. She identified a photo of Jo. Jo is her mother.”

There was silence on the other end, followed by an anguished, “Is Laurel all right?”

“She’s in shock, naturally. And denial. Go to her, Ben.”

“I—I don’t think I’ll be welcome. Yesterday, by accident, she found out about the investigation.”

“I know.”

“She thinks I betrayed her.”

“We both did.” Katherine felt as if she’d aged twenty years in the last two hours. “You love her, don’t you?”

“Yes, but—”

“Just go. She needs you, whether she knows it or not.”

Katherine hung up, then went to her bedroom. Hidden for years beneath a stack of boxes in the back of her closet was a photo album. She took it out, settled on her chaise longue and began thumbing through the pages. Jo and Nan, little girls with skinny, tanned bodies, frolicking on the beach. Jo in Frank’s lap, looking up at him with adoration. Jo and Nan raising the flag on the Fourth of July… Memories kept so long at bay inundated Katherine.

She closed the album, caressing the cover. Her eyes filled with tears. “I must find a way to heal this broken family.”

L
AUREL STRIPPED OFF
her rain-soaked shirt and removed her soggy shoes. Leaving the wet heap on the floor of her apartment, she headed to the shower like a sleepwalker. She lathered her hair, scrubbed her body and stood beneath the pounding spray, letting warmth replace the chill in her body. But there was no balm for her soul. Either her mother and father had kept a secret from her all her life, or Katherine was lying, or…something unthinkable had happened all those years ago. None of it made any sense.

Yet Laurel knew there was an explanation. One that had already spun her “perfect” world out of control.

She stepped from the shower, drying her body ferociously with the towel. The action seemed to set a spark to the anger building in her. She threw the towel across the bathroom in frustration—she didn’t even know who she was anymore.

Crossing to her dresser, she began frantically pulling clothes from the drawers. She’d go to West Virginia. She needed the comfort of home, of parents who would make this pain go away, who would tell her everything was all right.

Even as she began packing, reality set in. She couldn’t go rushing off into the night. She still had The Gift Horse to run. She slumped onto the bed. The business was the one stable thing left in her suddenly chaotic existence. If she wanted to go to West Virginia, arrangements had to be made in the morning.

As she mechanically set the suitcase on the floor, her attention was arrested by the blinking light on her answering machine. She pushed Play.

“Laurel, please pick up if you’re there. It’s Ben. We need to talk…. Laurel, I’m coming over and—”

Pushing Erase, Laurel glared at the machine. What was there to talk about? Ben had made his priorities clear.

She turned off the lights and slid beneath the sheets, knowing she was kidding herself. How could she possibly sleep? Jo…Pat…Mother. Katherine… Grandmother.

She balled a corner of the sheet in her fist and pulled it up to her chin, letting out a ragged sob.

Several minutes later she heard a car stop at the curb. Then a loud knock on the door of The Gift Horse. She drew the quilt over her head. She didn’t want to listen to the voice shouting in the night.

“Laurel, let me in.
Please.
”

She clenched her teeth, stifling the wounded howl gathering in the pit of her stomach.

Again Ben’s voice pierced the night. Then another loud knock.

Finally, silence. A car engine. The whine of tires on wet pavement.

Burying her face in her pillow, Laurel let the tears flow.

S
UN DAPPLED
the garden. Flowers rioted in the planters. Lush lawns were greener. The air smelled rain-fresh. It should have been a beautiful new day, but all Laurel could see was the relentless gray of uncertainty. As if on autopilot, she went through her habitual motions of getting the store ready to open. She laid out the merchandise, cleared the register, restacked a display table.

Ellen was the first to arrive. “Laurel, what is the matter with you? You look as if you haven’t slept in a week.”

“That’ll happen when a girl misses her beauty rest.”

Ellen edged closer and took hold of her chin, searching her face. “No smart remarks, please. I’d say you’re heartbroken. Ben?”

Laurel slid away and busied herself folding and refolding napkins. “That’s not the half of it.”

“What is it, sweetie?”

“I, uh, there are some family problems I need to deal with. Back home.”

“Is somebody sick?”

Laurel could hardly bear her friend’s concern. “It’s nothing like that, but I have to leave. This afternoon.”

“What about the shop?”

“I’m thinking of closing for a couple of days.”

“Closing? Right now at the peak of the season? That doesn’t sound like a very good idea.”

“I don’t have a choice, Ellen.”

Brightening, Ellen said, “Oh, yes you do. Megan, Mrs. Arlo and I will help.”

“But your real estate business—”

“My father’s visiting this week from Florida. He’d love to get back in the harness. After all, he started the firm. He knows this place like the back of his hand and can show property better than I can. If there’s some big sale pending, I’ll leave long enough to handle it. We’ll be fine.”

“Who’ll be fine?” Mrs. Arlo bustled through the door, trailed by Megan.

“You, Megan and I,” Ellen said. “Laurel has to make a quick trip home to West Virginia.”

Mrs. Arlo patted Laurel’s shoulder. “Ellen’s right. We’ll handle everything.” Megan nodded her agreement before she and Mrs. Arlo headed for the front to open the store.

Ellen turned to Laurel. “See? That was easily settled. You can be on your way.”

“Not yet. I need to pay bills and place some orders before I head out. It’ll be midafternoon before I get on the road.”

“You’re not thinking of driving all that way tonight?”

“I could get there around midnight.”

Ellen marched Laurel to a small display mirror. “Look at yourself. Do you see what I see? One exhausted lady.” She spun her around. “Don’t be foolish. You need to stop for the night. Besides, you don’t want to arrive exhausted and then have to face whatever it is that’s waiting for you there.”

“I’m sorry. I…I can’t talk about it yet.”

“No big deal. But I don’t want to have to worry about you. Promise me you’ll stop.”

Laurel knew she was defeated. And Ellen did make a certain kind of sense. Panicky as she was to get home, being totally strung out when she arrived wouldn’t help anything. “I promise. There’s a Hampton Inn in Norwalk, Ohio, where I’ve stayed before. I can reach it before dark. Okay?”

Ellen gathered Laurel in her arms. “Okay. And when you’re ready to talk? I’ll be right here.”

Laurel breathed in Ellen’s comforting presence. “Thank you for being my friend.”

“It’s easy,” Ellen whispered.

Sitting at the computer later that morning, Laurel could barely concentrate on the numbers swimming in front of her eyes. She
was
tired. Concentrating was tough when all she could think about was the destruction of her world. Emotionally she ran the gamut from despair to anger to sadness to regret. More than anything, though, she felt rudderless.

Just before noon the phone rang. It was Katherine. Her grandmother? Laurel slumped back in her chair, shielding her bloodshot eyes with her hand.

Katherine sounded anxious. “Are you all right, Laurel?”

“I haven’t done anything drastic, if that’s what you mean.”

“I’m sorry about last night. I should have found a gentler way.”

“I’m not sure that would’ve been possible. You called into question the basis of my whole identity.”

The older woman sighed audibly. “I know. I pray it will be worth it. I love you, Laurel. And I love your mother.”

Laurel still couldn’t fathom how Katherine could have let her daughter go…or how her own mother could have alienated herself from her family. “I don’t know what to say,” she said lamely.

“What are you going to do?”

“I’m going home. I need to get to the bottom of all this.”

“Today?”

“Later this afternoon.”

“I see.” Katherine was quiet. “Could you…would you…tell your mother I never stopped loving her?”

Laurel wanted nothing more than to pretend all of this had never happened. Wanted to say, “
If
she is in fact your daughter.” Instead, she said, “I’ll try.”

“I wish you luck, dear girl.”

“Thank you.” Laurel threw her head back and stared at the ceiling. She was all cried out. Now remained only the bitter business of unravelling the past.

B
EN SPENT THE MORNING
tracking down Roger Crandall and asking him to send the newspaper clippings to the office. He needed to see for himself the proof of the connection between Laurel’s father and Jo Sullivan. He paced the floor of his office, impatiently waiting for the whir of the fax machine. Twice he’d called The Gift Horse and gotten Megan, who’d told him Laurel was holed up with the books and had left orders that if he called, she was not to be disturbed.