THE GREAT BETRAYAL (10 page)

Including me
, thought Leslie.
Including me.

Opening the envelope, she removed the note inside. It was brief and it was handwritten. There was no greeting.

There was no closing. Just,
I don’t want her to hate me forever.

The pages blurred in her hands. The years in exile were finally culminating. All the years she’d spent staving off reality.

Now reality prickled her very skin.

The emotional floodgates opened, and Leslie slumped into her chair, the smiling face of Grace searing her brain.

She collapsed. And in that instant, she didn’t have the presence of mind to care who might hear the breakdown going on in her office.

There were moments, as she bowed to reality, where it felt as though she could cry out all the guilt. That if she sobbed hard enough, wailed loud enough, the corrosive shame wouldn’t suffocate her. So she tried it.

But she found out that she was wrong. Very wrong indeed.

It was a full twenty minutes before the dry hacking stopped.

From Monica Gross’s chair, Dawn watched through the glass as Leslie pushed the straightened chestnut hair from her face, and secured it atop her head with a large clip from her purse.

Rising, Dawn knocked on the door.

Leslie’s body jerked as if she’d been stung.

“
Leslie?” Dawn called out, knocking again. “Open up; it’s me.”

Leslie looked up and saw Dawn. At once her face crumpled again in sobs. She couldn’t get up. She couldn’t open the door. She couldn’t even acknowledge her friend’s presence…even after ten minutes had passed and Leslie looked up to find Dawn still standing there, waiting patiently. Waiting with an anxious, frightened look on her face.

Leslie couldn’t move.

Chapter 20

When Dawn made it home that evening, her thoughts were all of Leslie.

She threw a couple chicken breasts in the oven, a load of white laundry in the washing machine, tuned into
The Golden Girls
on Lifetime, and decided not to worry about Leslie. As was her custom, when she was ready to, she’d talk. That is, after she’d run up a sufficient balance on her credit card to deflect the stress of whatever was bugging her, buying everything from napkin holders to Chanel No. 5, all in one Master Card swoop.

But later, as she sat half watching
Inside Edition
and cutting into the chicken breast, Dawn had to admit that she was worried.

Leslie could be quite emotional, tearing up while watching a Hallmark commercial, but Dawn could count on one hand the number of times she’d actually seen Leslie seriously cry.

The most bizarre and notable episode occurred about four years before, when Kathryn was about four years old…

They had taken an impromptu road trip with the toddler to visit Disney World. Luke hadn’t been able to join them, claiming short notice and blueprint overload.

On the drive back they’d stopped at a rest area near Hobe Sound to use the restroom. Before getting back on the road, Dawn suggested they get frozen yogurt from the TCBY.

After buying the cones, they went over to Popeye’s and found a booth. At that time of evening there was a light crowd, great food smells, and nice tunes playing from the speakers overhead.

No more than five minutes later, Dawn was stunned to see Leslie’s eyes suddenly fill with tears and her head go down on the table. Little Kathryn had stroked her mother’s hair as Leslie began to sob. For a time she seemed unable to compose herself. It was a strange and distressing happening. Try as she might, Dawn hadn’t been able to get Leslie to tell what prompted it, what had gone wrong.

Once back in the car, Leslie had apologized profusely, saying it was more than likely just PMS.

But, of course, Dawn had known better.

And after they’d gotten home and she’d called to tell him, so had Luke.

Deborah Norville was wrapping up the last segment of
IE
when the phone rang. It was Leslie. She was calling from home.

“I don’t think I’ll be in the office tomorrow,” she said.

“Are you okay? I saw you hadn’t left, because your car was still in the lot. Then I saw you crying, Les, and I’m very worried. My house in half an hour?”

“Oh, Dawn—”

“Come over; we’ll talk. I’m very worried about you. Scared, even. How can you be hurting so much and not let me in, not tell me what’s wrong? Have you at least talked to Luke about it?” Dawn was aware that Luke was largely in the dark about Leslie’s past. She was also aware of the silent expectation that she not reveal anything to him about Jeffrey Phillips.

Leslie gave a sharp laugh that was anything but amused. “Luke? Oh, God, poor Luke. No, not yet…but that’s inevitable now.” She sighed. “You know, I always knew the day would come, but…”

“Les, whatever it is, you know we’re both here for you. Whatever it is. I’ve told you before: Monsters live in the dark. Turn on the light. I’ll bet it’s not
nearly
as bad as you’ve imagined. People can be much more understanding than you’d ever think to give them credit for. Especially Luke. He loves you
so
much…”

There was a heavy silence. Dawn wondered whether or not Leslie would crack. What exactly was going on in that head of hers? What had happened today?

Finally Leslie spoke. “Meet me at the greenhouse. Half an hour.”

Then the line went dead.

Bennigan’s—or “the greenhouse,” as they had begun referring to it—had become their favorite spot for heavy discussions. The cozy booths afforded them a sufficient sense of privacy, and June, their regular waitress, always kept the cheese sticks and garlic rolls coming.

“
Holy shit, Leslie,” said Dawn, gawking at her. “I can’t believe this is what you’ve been sitting on all these years!”

Leslie lowered her gaze. They sat in a busy silence. Anxiety filled the air. Dawn was practically speechless, digesting the information, and Leslie’s brain ran on a malfunctioning autopilot.

“
Well…” Dawn began finally. “You definitely have to go see her.” Clasping her hands, she looked Leslie in the eye. “She’s your child—your
daughter
. My God, she’s fifteen years old now…and you haven’t seen her since she was
born
? My God…” She moved the straw around in her soda.

Leslie, eyes moist with embarrassment, absentmindedly toyed with the lemon in her water. Life was taking yet another a turn. A turn she had known was coming.

Then why had she spent so many years pretending it wasn’t?

Dawn pressed on. “You
are
going to see her…aren’t you? You know, I have to admit that this is more than I ever expected.” She paused. “This is why you pale every time I mention Michael, or would try to talk about Jeffrey. To this day I’ve never felt comfortable bringing Michael up, or talking about how much losing him has changed me; how much I still miss him. I’ve always felt I had to censor things with you.” She lowered her voice. “Now I know why.”

Leslie looked up, held her friend’s hurt gaze. “I’m sorry. I never meant to make you feel that way…” She broke eye contact, staring down at her lemon. She lifted it from the glass, and peered at it, seeing nothing. “Never meant to at all.”

“
You never meant to, huh? So did you not mean to abandon Grace either? Just saddled up and rode out of Memphis. Oops! Forgot my newborn.”

Leslie dropped the lemon. Water splashed onto the table.

Dawn cringed. “I’m sorry,” she said, regretting her bluntness. “Listen, I know you need me right now, but I just can’t say only nice things about this. You must’ve known this couldn’t stay hidden for the rest of your life, Leslie. Just what have you been thinking all these years? That you could marry Luke, have Kate—” She broke off, shrugging her shoulders. “And never think of that first child again? Didn’t you ever wonder about her? About what was happening to her? What had become of her? What was going on in her life all these years? Whether or not she was still even alive, year after year? My God. How on earth did you do it? Why did you
leave
her?”

The women stared at each other, both wanting to look away. But the weight of their friendship secured the stare.

Finally, without saying a word, Leslie reached for her purse and quietly left the table. Dawn watched her slip through the double doors and dash out into the night.

Another child
.

Leslie had another daughter. Grace.

Dawn couldn’t believe it. All these years, that was what she’d been fighting to stifle. The loss of a husband…and a child.

Chapter 21

Leslie Cavanaugh turned her Lexus SUV onto the street where she lived, Primrose Terrace.

Theirs was a distinguished neighborhood. Very few of the large Victorian homes didn’t have gardeners—some even had tree surgeons on retainer. In addition, the Cavanaughs had become fortunate enough to have weekly housekeeping and a personal chef on speed dial. There’s was indeed a privileged home life—ideal for anyone looking to establish his or her own reality.

Ideal for Luke and Leslie Cavanaugh.

As she cruised by, passing the two sprawling homes that preceded hers, Leslie wondered about reality. What was it exactly? Was reality nothing more than perception? Did you create your own reality, or were you just a victim of it?

What in the hell was she going to tell Luke? And what in God’s name was she going to say to her daughter?

Turning into the driveway, she silenced the engine.

“
My daughter?” she whispered. Her voice didn’t sound like her own. “My daughter.”

She relaxed into the leather seat and took a deep breath.

Suddenly it was 1984 and she was in Jeffrey’s arms.

They were lying in bed, chatting about the future. She told him she was pregnant, and she had never seen him beam the way he had that night, giddy with the thrill of it. She’d never seen him smile brighter. And she never would again.

They’d both been so excited. So proud to be starting their own little family. Oh, joy!

That was what life was all about, wasn’t it? Loving and being loved? And God, had she loved Jeffrey. Her heart trembled, even now, at the memory. The contrast between her life before, and after.

Leslie was no longer sitting in her Lexus in the driveway of the home she shared with Luke and Kate. She was in that hospital waiting room, clinging to Beth and Ingrid, waiting to hear that Jeff was only mildly injured. That his sight had returned. That he was actually going to be okay after all…

Damn
.

From the window of his office, where he was ostensibly hard at work, Luke Cavanaugh had seen his wife drive up.

Once he’d sent Kate off to bed, he’d retreated there to deal with e-mail, draft a proposal, and maybe even work on some renderings.

At least, working had been his intention.

But he’d ended up swiveling around in his chair, thinking about her. About how she’d left over an hour ago without saying where she was going.

A habit she’d developed only in recent months.

When he’d seen her finally turning into the driveway—there was no need to pretend he hadn’t been waiting up for her—he’d gotten up immediately and gone out into the garage, raising the electronic door.