The Color of Destiny (The Color of Heaven Series Book 2) (21 page)

Kate cupped her forehead in a hand. None of us spoke for a long moment.

“I shouldn’t have asked you this,” she said, looking up. “You’re right, it is crazy.” She stood. “Maybe I
am
losing my mind.”

She went to pick up her purse from the chair by the computer.

“Where are you going?” Ryan asked.

“Home,” she said. “I need to be alone for a bit. And I need to call my father and ask him about this.”

“Wait a second...” Ryan followed her to the door. “There’s a simple way to find out whether or not Marissa is your daughter. We can do a paternity test—or in this case, a maternity test. It’s very simple and you’ll have an answer in about a week. We can order the test online, as long as Marissa is willing.”

“Of course I’m willing,” I said, joining them in the front hall. “I won’t go back to school today. We’ll clear this up first. And I’m really sorry, Kate. I don’t mean to crush your hopes. It must have been a terrible thing to lose your baby, but I really don’t think I’m her.”

“I’m sure you’re right,” she said. “I should go.”

She left without kissing Ryan good-bye, and as I stood in the chill of the open doorway, watching her get into her car and back out of the driveway, I worried about her.

“Let’s order that test,” Ryan said, heading for the computer.

I shut the door and followed him. “You don’t really think it’s true, do you?”

“I have no idea,” he said, “but no matter what the answer is,
she
needs to know.”

Chapter Sixty-five

Ryan and I went to the hospital that morning. While he checked out Gram’s file to see how she was doing, I sat next to her bed and held her hand.

“I have something for you, Gram. Remember this?”

I laid Bubba next to her cheek and watched for some sign of a response—a twitch in her hand perhaps, a flick of her eyelids—but I saw nothing. The heart monitor continued to beep in a dreary, monotonous rhythm, and the ventilator contracted and expanded, pushing air into her fragile lungs.

Holding her thin, blue-veined hand, I rested my elbows on the cold, shiny bedrail. “I need to ask you something, and I really wish you could answer me.”

Beep... beep... beep
....

“Kate confessed something to us,” I said. “It turns out that she got pregnant when she was sixteen... Yeah, I know. Rough, eh? But she lost the baby in an accident. It happened a few weeks before her due date, and it was very devastating for her. I felt really bad when she told me.

“But here’s the strange part,” I continued. “She had Bubba with her on the night of the accident, because Bubba used to be
her
teddy bear. Isn’t that weird, Gram?”

Beep... beep... beep...

“Kate’s mother made Bubba for her, and Kate sewed a tiny heart to put inside him. She said it was to hold lots of love. All these years, I never knew it was there, but I certainly felt the love.”

I swallowed hard and took a deep breath.

“I care for Kate very much, Gram, and I don’t want to lose her. Ryan cares for her, too, but I think she’s very lost. At least, that’s how it seems. But I need to ask you something, and I know you can’t answer me, but I’m going to ask anyway.” I swallowed hard and squeezed her hand. “Am I Abigail’s true biological child? Or did she adopt me?”

Again, I waited for a sign—a twitch of Gram’s finger, or maybe her eyes would flutter open.

Still, nothing.

A painful lump formed in my throat, and I found it difficult to breathe.

“I wish you were here, Gram,” I said. “I really need to talk to you. I miss you.”

I stroked her hair away from her face, and wept quietly until I felt Ryan’s hand on my shoulder.

Back to the Beginning

Chapter Sixty-six

Kate Worthington

Yes. It’s true.

For the past two years, I have been living a lie.

I came to Nova Scotia to escape a drug pusher who wanted money from me—money that my husband owed to him. I changed my name, took on a new identity, and found work in a nursing home.

The rest you already know. I was hired to work for a wonderful family in Chester, perhaps brought to them by fate, destiny, or God. Whatever you want to call it.

I certainly didn’t know what to call it.

How many times had I looked up at the stars and prayed that my child would have all the things I never had? That she would have a perfect, magical life, like the privileged set in Bar Harbor who sailed their yachts up the coast each summer to attend Chester Race Week?

It’s what drew me here to Nova Scotia two years ago—that dream of freedom and fulfilment, when I felt I had to escape from my life, before I lost it. I wanted to be like
them
.

Was it actually possible that I somehow knew where my daughter was? That my prayers had been answered, and Marissa Smith was the unborn child I had lost in that accident, twenty years earlier?

Sounds crazy, I know.

Keep reading.

o0o

If Marissa had survived the C-section while I fought for my own life after the accident, and had been given to another woman to raise as her own, there was only one person who could orchestrate such a plot... My father, Lester Worthington.

My hands shook with fear and rage as I dialed his home number in Connecticut. I doubt I need to explain why I was filled with rage, but the fear... That was more complicated.

What was I afraid of, exactly? That he would scold me for lifting the lid on a box he preferred to keep shut? Or was I afraid of the answer he would give? What if he told me it was true? That, yes, he had seized the opportunity and arranged an adoption of my baby while I was in a coma...

Or worse... what if he told me he would never do such a thing, and the baby was dead. The baby had
always
been dead.

I felt like I was pulling a trigger and firing myself like a bullet back in time to that horrific day twenty years ago, when I woke up in a hospital bed to discover that my sister and aunt had been killed, and my belly was flat; there would be no tiny infant to hold in my arms.

I wasn’t sure I could bear to hear that news again. I wanted to feel joy and magic from learning that Marissa was my birth daughter.

All the while, I knew it was madness. Marissa couldn’t possibly be my long-lost daughter. My life was not an afternoon soap on television. This was the real world, and I was not an emotional, irrational woman who believed in fantasies and fairy tales. To the contrary, I had never believed in miracles—not even when I watched a drowned woman from a frozen lake come back from the dead.

Carefully, I pushed the buttons to dial my father’s number, and sat down at the table as soon as I heard ringing on the other end.

Click
. “Hello?”

My stomach dropped. I hadn’t spoken to him in over a year.

“Hi, Dad. It’s Kate.”

Silence.

“Are you there?” I asked.

“Yes, I’m here.” His voice was low and gruff—the same as always. There was a time that voice intimidated me into obedience, but those days were long gone. The anger and disconnect I felt toward him smothered any childish trepidation.

“I’m surprised to hear from you,” he said. “It’s been awhile.”

“Yes, it has,” I replied, “but I’m doing okay.” Not that he had asked. “How are you?”

Despite everything, I would at least remember how to be gracious. For the moment.

“I’m doing just fine,” he said. “Where are you, Kate? Still up in Canada?”

“Yes. I think the last time we spoke I was working at the nursing home, but I left there to work with a family dealing with Alzheimer’s.”

“I see... Well that sounds like a noble pursuit.”

Noble
... Did he even know the meaning of that word? How about empathy or compassion? Loyalty? Trust?

“I think I know why you’re calling,” he said, and my stomach turned over.

“You do?”

“Yes. You want to know about Jack Wilbur. You must have heard the news.”

Jack Wilbur was the drug dealer who had come after me a few days after I found my husband dead on my sofa.

“No, I didn’t hear anything,” I said. “Did something happen?”

There was a pause. “You didn’t hear? He was arrested ten months ago... along with most of the people who were running his shady outfit. He was sentenced to thirty years for all kinds of crimes besides dealing drugs. But who knows when he’ll get out on parole.”

I blinked a few times, and absorbed this news. “Why didn’t you call me?” I asked.

“I did. I left a message on your answering machine.”

“I never got it. Why didn’t you try my cell?”

“Look. I made the call. Don’t blame me if you lost the message.”

He hadn’t bothered to make sure I knew about Jack Wilbur’s arrest, and that it was finally safe to come home. Swallowing hard over the urge to shout at him through the phone, I struggled to focus on the reason I had called him.

“I need to ask you something,” I said, “and I want you to tell me the truth.”

“Sure,” he replied.

I could picture him leaning back in his leather recliner, frowning with curiosity.

I wasn’t certain how to begin. “Do you remember my blue teddy bear? We called him Bubba?”

“Yes.”

“He was with me in the ambulance when Mia was killed. Whatever happened to him?”

Dad paused. “I don’t know, Kate. I suppose he was lost in the wreckage.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“No,” he replied, “because I have no idea what happened to your things. Why are you asking me this?”

My heart was racing. I took a deep breath. “What happened to my baby, Dad?”

“I beg your pardon?”

I stood up and paced around the kitchen. “You said she didn’t survive the accident, but I never saw her remains, and I’ve always felt she wasn’t really gone. I need to know... Did you take her from me?”

There was a long pause on the other end. “
Take
her from you? What are you insinuating?”

“That she didn’t die,” I said. “I can’t help but wonder if, while I was in a coma, you gave her up for adoption. We both know you wanted to get rid of her from the beginning.”

“Kate!” he scolded, but I didn’t let him finish.

“Black market adoptions happen all the time,” I said. “There are plenty of couples willing to pay anything for a child. Is that how you were able to pay off the mortgage after the accident? Why you were able to pay for my courses when I wanted to become a paramedic? Was that guilt money?”

“Good God!” he shouted into the phone. “Are you doing drugs too?”

I covered my eyes with a hand. “No, Dad. And that was a low blow. You know I don’t even drink.”

“Then explain to me where this nonsense is coming from. You actually believe that I would steal your baby, tell you she died, and sell her on the black market? I think you need help, Kate. That’s all I can say to you.”

“Wait a second,” I said desperately. “Do you know a woman named Gladys Smith? Or Abigail Smith?”

“No. Good-bye.”
Click
.

Just like that, he hung up on me.

I slammed the phone down onto the charger, then buried my face in my hands. “This is insane!” I cried. “What am I doing?”

o0o

The phone in my apartment rang at about 9:00 that evening. “Hello?”

“Hi, Kate. It’s Ryan.”

I sat down. “Hi. It’s good to hear your voice. How’s Gladys doing?”

“She’s the same,” he replied. “Marissa and I spent the day with her, but I have to be honest, I’m not hopeful. I think Marissa is beginning to realize that this is the beginning of the end, and it’s only a matter of time.”

“I’m so sorry. How’s Marissa holding up?”

“As well as can be expected. She’s a trooper, that one.”

“Yes. She’s strong. You and Abigail did a great job with her.”

He was quiet for a moment. “How are
you
holding up, Kate? I’m sure you have a lot on your mind.”

All the tension and anger I felt earlier when I spoke to my father evaporated like mist in the sun. I crawled onto my bed and lay my head on the soft pillow.

“I’m sorry for springing this on you and Marissa now, when we should all be thinking of Gladys. I wish I could reverse that conversation we had this morning, and put it off until later.”

“Sometimes things are meant to happen a certain way,” he said. “And you have nothing to apologize for. Frankly, I’m still reeling from that little red heart inside of Bubba. I can’t believe Marissa has had that bear most of her life, and the whole time, your heart was inside him. It’s incredible.”

Tears filled my eyes. I fought to keep my voice steady as I spoke. “It is kind of freaky, isn’t it?”

I rolled to my side and pressed the phone up against my cheek.

“You know,” he said, “even with everything that’s been going on, I still feel blessed for the life we’ve had. Marissa does too. We were talking about that on the way home from the hospital tonight. How we wanted to remember and celebrate the wonderful life Gladys lived, and how lucky we were to have her for as long as we did.”