THE GREAT BETRAYAL (35 page)

’
Till death do us part
.

Chapter 56

The following morning, when Luke came awake at the beach house, he had a peculiar, uneasy feeling.

Something’s wrong
.

He hadn’t slept very well—despite the wave of optimism he’d felt while driving out there the night before. Instead, his sleep had been troubled. Haunted. Plagued by strange dreams, of which he could scarcely remember the details. And his body was tense with anxiety.

Why? He did not know.

Taking a deep breath, he slowly opened his eyes, staving off the start of another complicated day—the most difficult of them all: the day after Leslie found out he’d been sleeping with Grace.

Sunlight filtered through the slits of the Venetian blinds, casting vertical lines of light across his bed. The broken window reminded him of what happened there the night before. He’d have to have that fixed today.

Pushing back the covers, Luke sat up, feeling dreadful, as if something inside of him were broken. Just like that window.

That was when his cell phone rang.

Looking at the display, he saw it was their home number.

Leslie
.
It’s Leslie
!

Dare he believe she was ready to talk? The bubble of hope from the night before grew once again in his chest.

She’d come to realize the truth, she understood. Was it possible she actually forgave him for Grace so soon?

Maybe. Just maybe.

The bubble swelled. He answered the phone.

“
Daddy?!” It was Kathryn, sobbing hysterically.

“
Katie? What’s the matter, honey?”

“
Oh, Daddy!” she exclaimed, gasping for air. “She’s gone! Oh, my God, Mom’s
gone
! She packed up all her stuff, everything—clothes, shoes, you name it—her closet’s wiped out; it’s completely empty! Daddy, she’s gone!”

In that moment, the bubble exploded.

Chapter 57

One Year Later

Holly Samson was never found.

Authorities had been able to trace her only as far as Miami International Airport the day after her kidnapping, but from there the trail went cold. There had been three flights to St. Croix scheduled for that day, but there hadn’t been a Holly Samson on any of the passenger lists. They had never been able to establish whether or not she’d actually been taken out of the country at all. It was now considered a cold case.

Her sister, Lauren Samson, had been arrested and thrown in jail. Business at Lauren Samson’s Chalet of Beauty had taken a nosedive after her arrest. All six locations had gone under. Lauren’s Web sites, including
www.farfromlegal.com
, disappeared from the World Wide Web, leaving thousands of faithful members wondering how they would ever recoup their prepaid membership fees.

Lauren’s family of overachievers had practically disowned her. Few even visited her in prison.

Kathryn Cavanaugh had been called to testify in court against Lauren Samson, and her father had accompanied her.

Since the time her mom had disappeared, Kathryn seemed to have aged ten years. Though she was only fifteen, everyone noticed that she carried the soul of someone twice that age.

To express the regret and longing she carried inside for her mother, she poured her focus into being the best she could possibly be—at everything she wanted to do. Everything her mother had wanted
for her
. She pulled her grades up in school, became one of the best soccer players on her team, and even set her sights on going into human resources management…just like her mom.

Kate so regretted how difficult she had made things for her mother. It was only now, with the emptiness of the void that was left, that Kate realized just how bad things had gotten. She no longer blamed her mom for leaving. She just wanted her to come back.

Kathryn, like her father, was trapped in an indefinite state of expectancy. She was waiting for Leslie to return home. And Kate believed that one day she would.
She had to
. It was impossible for Kathryn to think that she would never see her mother again.

Kate didn’t know what happened between her parents—her father never told her about what took place—but she knew
something
had gone terribly wrong. Wrong enough for her mother to run away.

But was it enough to make her
stay
away
?

No. Kathryn would never believe that. And every night when she went to bed she prayed, “God, wherever my mom is, please let her know that I forgive her, and I’m very sorry. I understand now; I do. Just please…bring her back to us.”

To the delight of her mother and sister, Dawn Chadwick would once again become Mrs. “Somebody.” It was even more than they had dared to hope for. They could hardly wait for the day she would marry Lyle Burns. Both women had hoped it would’ve happened
before
she hit forty, but to that her mother now said: “Better late than an old maid.”

The union was bittersweet for Dawn, however.
The Lord giveth, and he taketh away
.
Damn him
.

Nothing had been the same since her best friend had vanished.

At first Dawn had been angry. How could Leslie do it? Again! Abandon
another
daughter when she needed her most.

Dawn wished she could get her hands on Leslie, shake her and scream,
Why did you have to run
?
Things would’ve worked out
!
We could’ve worked them out together
!
I’d never have left your side
!
Why did you have to run away again
?
Why
?

But over time the anger had turned into a dull and painful nostalgia. At times it was so strong it stopped Dawn in her tracks. She missed her friend. She missed their lunches. Missed their talks. Missed their late-night meetings at “the greenhouse.” Simply put, she missed Leslie. Very much. And she couldn’t fathom Leslie’s failure to return.

To this day coworkers approached Dawn, their meddlesome questions disguised as concern: Had she heard from Leslie Cavanaugh? Was it true that she hadn’t so much as called to say she was quitting? Was her daughter
really
involved with a suburban prostitution ring?
But Dawn always gave the same response: “Your guess is as good as mine.”

It was too difficult to discuss Leslie with anyone—anyone but Michael.

Yes, he was still with her, keeping close watch, and always would be.

It often occurred to Dawn: In this way, she and Leslie were kindred spirits. The deaths of their husbands had changed both women forever. The women they were supposed to become had died with Michael and with Jeffrey. They had always been one in young widowhood.

Fortunately for her, Dawn had finally been able to find a balance. Lyle knew how she felt, and generously he indulged her.

But Leslie.
Poor Leslie
. She had never found that balance. Her past had
always
overshadowed her present, tragically. And she’d never been able to cope with it—ever.

Occasionally, Dawn allowed her mind to wander: Would she ever see Leslie again? Would they ever speak again? She never liked to dwell on the possibility that they wouldn’t. It was too haunting, too painful. She would just have to wait and see…and hope. Just a little.

Luke Cavanaugh’s hope was what kept him sane.

A few weeks after Leslie ran off and it was clear she wouldn’t likely return, he had hired a private investigator to find her. But now a full year had passed, with little success. Initially, her credit card usage had led them to Clearwater. What a blow
that
had been. Luke’s heart had seemed to brake all over again.

He knew what she had there. He’d resented and feared it all along. Sometimes he found it comical that he had spent so many years being jealous of a dead man. Someone he’d never even known. A man who didn’t even exist.

Kateslie-Evans Architects, Inc., continued to thrive and kept Luke busy. He and Evan had expanded their business model and begun working for both domestic and international clients. They were now designing and erecting their signature architectural masterpieces all over the globe.

Kathryn was thriving, which made Luke happy and filled him with pride. He only wished Leslie were there to see how well she had bounced back from that god-awful Web site fiasco.

And then, of course, there was Grace. Though she had made several attempts to communicate with him, their time was dead, and Luke had made that abundantly clear. He could never bring himself to return a single message.

Which was as it should’ve been all along.

He still saw Dawn occasionally. He was glad to see her happy with Lyle Burns, and wished them the very best. Once in a while they came over to the house from church on Sunday afternoons and had dinner with him and Kate.

“Do you think she’ll ever come back?” Dawn had asked one Sunday evening as they sat out back eating barbecue. It was about four months after Leslie had gone. A melancholy mood had engulfed them, the finality of her absence shocking them all over again. It was true—she really
had
just up and run away. Simply vanished.

Luke’s expression was pained. There was so much regret. So much to forgive, and so much to forget. “Time will tell, I guess,” he replied quietly. “Only time will tell.”

Luke never told anyone about his affair with Grace. Not Dawn. Not Evan. And especially not Kathryn. How could he? There were some mistakes that, once made, robbed a man of his dignity. Although
he
knew the truth about himself, that he’d fallen from grace, he could
pretend
that his dignity was intact—so long as no one ever discovered the truth…

Grace Cunningham had returned to Memphis, heartbroken.

Luke’s rejection had come as a shock, and had hurt her more than she ever thought possible.

But what
had
she been expecting? That he would profess his undying love and beg her to move to Florida to be with him? That he would divorce Leslie…and marry her?

Yes
! In her fantasy that was exactly what he did.

She’d never discussed what happened in Florida with her parents or with any of her friends. Not that she was ashamed of what she’d done—at least, that’s what she had spent the past year telling herself.

Nearly six months after she had returned to Memphis, on impulse, she’d sent an e-mail to Leslie Cavanaugh. At the time, she had convinced herself that it wasn’t due to any regret. She told herself that what she’d done was more than justifiable, that her
real
mother’s name was—and always had been—Beth Phillips Cunningham.

But as the months passed, Grace found herself checking her in-box expectantly each and every day, waiting to get a response. Wanting to get a response.
Needing
to get a response.

Why? She wasn’t sure. She had since lost countless nights of sleep, and dug countless lines of relief in her arms, haunted by that simple question.
Why
?

The body of the e-mail had been left blank, but in the subject field Grace had typed two words:
I’m sorry
.

Though one year had passed, Grace knew nothing of Leslie’s disappearance. There was no one to tell her about it.

Aside from the fact that her e-mail had not bounced, instinctively, Grace felt that her mother had read it. But would she accept the apology? Would there be a response? Would she
ever
see Leslie Cavanaugh again?

Time would tell if she still had a future with her mother.

Grace knew that only time
could
tell.

Epilogue

A light rain has fallen in the overnight hours, and the grass still glistens with its sheen; a mixture of rain and slick early-morning dew. Sunrise still lurks on the horizon.

I, overcome by a lifetime of regret, am paying a visit to Serenity Gardens Cemetery in Clearwater, Florida.

I have been here only twice before in the flesh. But in truth I have been here nearly all of my life.