The Near & Far Series

by Serena Clarke

  Shelby was struggling to process the bombshell. “I don’t believe you.”

  “Fine. Don’t believe me.” It was too late for regret now.

  “Did Mum tell you?”

  Cady nodded. “But you have to know the whole story. There’s more to it than you think.” She told Shelby what their mother had revealed. Even in the retelling it was bare bones, and she realized how little detail they had.

  “I can’t even…who is he? And how could you not have told me?” Shelby glared at her.

  “Because she asked me not to.” She remembered her mother’s pale, determined face. She hadn’t believed it could possibly be her dying wish—she was nowhere near dying, surely. But the shock of her death had made breaking the promise seem impossible, until now. She wished she could turn back just five minutes, and undo the revelation. “She made me promise.”

  “I don’t give a shit. You should have told me!”

  Cady pressed her hand to her forehead. “I wanted to. But she said it was her dying wish. I promised her.”

  Shelby shook her head. “This is bigger than that. Oh my God, I can’t believe it. And he’s American? We have to find him.”

  “I don’t know if that’s a good idea…”

  Shelby snorted. “You obviously have no freaking clue what a good idea is. I want some answers.”

  “But Dad doesn’t know about any of it.”

  Shelby paused. “Well, he should know. Mum lied to him our whole lives.”

  “No, Shelby. Think about what it would do to him. And Mum isn’t here to explain, to talk it through.”

  “So we should continue the lie for her? I don’t think so. Jesus, I’m so sick of you always being the admirable, reasonable one. You can do what you like. I’m finding my father.”

  “No, you’re not. You’re not doing this to Dad. It’s not your decision to make.”

  “Watch me.” She stepped out of Cady’s way and went into a cubicle, slamming the door behind her.

  At that moment, Jennifer came in. “You’re taking forever.” She hesitated when she saw Cady’s flushed cheeks and brimming eyes. “We’ve ordered food…are you going to eat?”

  “I’ll eat,” Shelby called from the cubicle, her voice full of a challenge even now.

  Cady had been starving, but now her hunger was gone. “No. I can’t…thanks.” She slipped past Jennifer and went back to the table, pressing her hands to her cheeks in the hope of settling the rage-induced redness, and grabbed up her cardigan. “I have to…sorry…” She avoided everyone’s eyes, especially Reid’s, and turned to Kyle. “Thanks for tonight. I have to go.”

  Before he could say anything, she headed back through the main bar and out onto 16th Street. She allowed herself the luxury of one tear before she scrubbed the rest violently away. That little cow…yet again, she couldn’t believe they shared the same DNA. She started down the sidewalk, then stopped, hesitating. The streets were full of people, but she had no idea whether it was safe to walk back to the guesthouse alone, especially with those two cocktails under her belt, blurring her usual sharpness. And she didn’t want to go back without Shelby and face Marian, who’d seen them off with such enthusiasm, admiring their outfits and encouraging them to have a wonderful night.

  It was all very well to pretend to be someone else, someone more confident and certain. Whoever you decide to be, your problems still drag around behind you. Served her right for dragging her sister along too. She shook her head. You might flatter yourself that you’re different now, but some things remain the same. She pulled her cardigan tighter around herself in the evening coolness and set off, not quite sure where she was going apart from away.

  Seven

  She’d only gone half a block when she heard a voice call her name, and turned. Reid was coming after her. For a moment her heart leapt as she saw the concern in his eyes, his handsome face serious. But the thought of having to tell the story—especially the part about how she’d kept a huge secret and then whammed her sister with it—made her plunk back down to earth.

  “Hey, are you okay?” he asked as he caught up with her. “Jennifer said—”

  “I’m fine, thank you.” She knew it was a glaringly obvious lie. “I’m fine.”

  He looked skeptical. “Okay…so, where are you going then?”

  “Actually, I have no idea.” She looked around at the lively street. The night was getting later and rowdier, and she stumbled as she was sideswiped by a guy dashing to catch up with his clearly smashed friends. “Somewhere quieter?”

  He put an arm around her shoulders, gathering her into shelter. “Come on then, Lady Cady. The bus is around the corner.”

  She had no clue, really, whether she was any safer being escorted ‘around the corner’ than running the gauntlet of Mission revelers back to the guesthouse. But she decided to trust her cocktail-compromised gut on this one. It felt good being tucked under his arm, and she’d been standing strong for so long, through so much, that it was a relief to lean in just this once.

  At the bus, he pulled an electronic remote from his pocket and hit the button. “After you.”

  She went up into the lounge area and plopped down on the leather sofa, relieved to be off her gin-and-mescal feet. Reid sat in an armchair, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, and regarded her steadily. “So…what’s up?”

  “Family drama.” She waved a hand, dismissing the fuss. Maybe she’d get away with stopping there. “Seriously, you don’t want to know all the tedious details.”

  “Yeah, but I do. And, you’re in California now. Most people pay someone to listen to their problems. You’re getting it for free.” He pointed at himself with both hands, making her laugh.

  “Cheap at half the price.”

  “Exactly.” Then his face became more serious. “You were upset.”

  She snorted. “Mad, more like.” She could feel the anger and frustration of their fight rising in her chest again. No one else made her as infuriated as that damn woman. Damn child, she should say.

  “Spill, then. It’ll do you good.”

  She sighed. “Okay.” Maybe he was right. It couldn’t hurt to let off some steam, and he looked genuinely sympathetic. Probably as instructed by Jennifer, but, oh well.

  Starting from the beginning, she gave him the edited version. Her mother’s illness, that crept up on them until investigations finally gave a name to the mysterious symptoms. The doctors had given her only a short time to live, saying the disease usually progressed rapidly as organ function deteriorated. True to character, Anne had refused to be dictated to, and fought back with enough determination to rival Muhammad Ali. But it wasn’t long before Cady had to move back home and help her dad look after her. He was ten years older than Anne—he’d been fifty-one when the girls were born—and although his mind remained as sharp as ever, he struggled with the arthritis that was slowly, relentlessly twisting his joints. As a crisp thinker and precise operator, who liked to do things just so, the frustration must have been intense. But he never let Anne see him show any resentment about his own condition.

  Then, after a moment’s hesitation, she told Reid about her mother’s last wish—the deathbed revelation and request that knocked Cady sideways even while she didn’t believe for a moment that her mother was dying. Not yet. And then, the money, and the keeping of the secret, and how she finally slapped Shelby with it in the middle of their fight.

  She skipped over Jeremy, and the breakup he blamed on her not having enough time for him. The real deal-breaker, that she knew but he’d never admit to, was that illness. Even in only their year-and-a-bit together, he’d seen her mother decline and fail. Of course he must have looked at Cady, and feared the same fate. In truth, she could hardly blame him for not wanting to sign up for that.

  “And her illness—Wodarski-Ebner?” Reid carefully pronounced the name she wished she’d never heard. “It’s a genetic thing?”

  “Yes. I kind of try not to think about it.” She pressed her
fingers to her temple as though squashing the thought itself. “We both try not to think about it.”

  “Is there a test you can do?”

  “There is, but we haven’t done it…”

  How could she explain why neither of them had taken the test? In this case, ignorance wasn’t exactly bliss—but for them, so far, the lurking not-knowing was better than confirmation of their worst fears. And if one of them had the test, and it came back positive, that would surely increase the chance that the other would have it too. Even though they weren’t identical, their genetic inheritance was the same. Years before, they’d made a pact, for better or worse—neither of them would be tested, and in the future, what would be, would be.

  He let her answer hang in the air, unfinished. “I’m sorry.”

  “That’s okay,” she said. “We were lucky to have her as long as we did. The specialist said it usually starts much younger.”

  “And your dad?”

  “He seems really happy in his ‘retirement community’.” She made air quotes. “We’re not allowed to call it a home. He says that sounds like somewhere for old people, and he doesn’t accept that seventy-six is old.”

  He laughed. “More power to him. But I meant your real dad.”

  “He is my real dad.” She sighed. “He’s always been our dad. I can’t break his heart.”

  He looked sympathetic. “Life gets complicated.”

  “That’s for sure.” She made herself smile. “What about you? Is your life complicated?”

  He shrugged. “Only as complicated as the next guy’s.”

  She waited, but he just leaned back in the armchair, swinging it a little from side to side as he gave her a lazy smile.

  “Well…how did you end up here, with this crowd?”

  “I met Gavin at a Crusty Demons show. My friends had missed their flight to come see it with me, but I decided to go anyway. The ticket was expensive, couldn’t waste it. And Gavin was there with a couple of his friends. I don’t know, we got talking, and went drinking afterwards…and here I am.”

  “I have no idea what Crusty Demons is, but it sounds very Gavin.”

  “Freestyle motocross. Lunatic stunt biking kind of stuff.”

  “Boy stuff.”

  He grinned. “You got it.”

  “And you live in San Francisco?”

  “I do.” Nothing else was forthcoming.

  “Um, and, are you working, or…?” Her voice faded out. This was starting to feel like she was putting him through an interrogation, but he was so vague. It wasn’t like she was just making conversation—she really wanted to know more about him. Maybe he wasn’t the type to share personal details. Not that her questions were all that personal. But luckily, this question brought him to life.

  “I do sand sculpture.”

  A laugh burst out before she could stop it. “Sorry. But…really? Sand sculpture?”

  “Sure.” He wasn’t offended. “Like for special events, or photography, or promotions. I can even bring the sand to your house and create a sculpture for you there. People love it for theme parties. I’ll show you.”

  He came and sat next to her, and took out his phone. “Here, have a look.”

  As she watched, he scrolled through photos of incredibly finely carved sculptures. Along with various company logos outside office buildings, there was a fierce dragon on the beach guarding a treasure chest of coins and jewels, an old-time sailing ship on swirly sand waves, and a magical castle in the grounds of a real Hollywood-style mansion.

  “Wow. That’s so California.”

  “Yeah.” He put the phone away. “You know, it’s a living.”

  She shook her head, impressed. “I wasn’t expecting that at all. You’re really clever.”

  “Thanks. What about you? What do you do?”

  “Oh…” After that display of his amazing creativity, she felt like such a nana. “I worked in a bank. So boring.”

  Her embarrassment must have shown, because he said, “Well, looking after people’s money is important. Lots of the really important stuff is kind of boring, from the outside, anyway.”

  “I suppose so. But it actually was really boring. I was only in a branch. But it served a purpose.” Doing regular office hours suited her. If she’d taken any of the promotions, it would have meant longer hours, moving to a different branch in another part of London, or even a different city. She’d just needed something close by that she could balance with her commitments at home.

  He was about to reply when they heard voices outside. Shelby and Kyle.

  She looked at him, shaking her head. “I really can’t face it,” she whispered.

  He put a finger to his lips and stood up, holding out his hand. She took it, and they did a cartoonish super-fast tiptoe down to the sleeping area, where he pulled back the curtain to one of the beds. As the bus door opened she dived in, and he followed, settling the curtain into place just as Kyle and Shelby came up the stairs.

  The childish mischief of hiding, combined with getting the better of her sister, was a delightfully wicked feeling. In the gloom, every part of her was exquisitely aware of his nearness. She was so, so tempted to turn closer, pressing her body against the length of him, but she lay perfectly still on her back. Although she was hardly breathing in her effort to keep quiet, the warm smell of him filled her senses. He was so close, she could feel each breath he exhaled, gentle on her cheek.

  “Hey, Reid, are you here man?” There was a pause as Kyle waited for any reply. Cady worked to squash the giggle that was threatening to come out. They heard him go up the inner stairs and call out again, then come back down. “Nah, not here. I thought they might be. We must’ve left the lights on.”

  “Well, I hope she’ll be okay. She can be kind of dramatic.”

  In the darkened nook, Cady resisted the temptation to leap out and slap her sister. Hello, pot calling. And she seriously doubted Shelby would have come if Kyle hadn’t suggested it. She gritted her teeth.

  “If Reid’s with her, he’ll look after her. Come on, let’s go.”

  “Okay.”

  She could picture Shelby shrugging: whatever. Then the lights went out and they heard the door sigh shut, leaving them in almost complete darkness. She breathed out into the silence, a huge release of tension and irritation and desire all in one. With no more need to hide, she expected him to get up…but he didn’t move. In their little bed nest, a possibility seemed to hang in the air.

  She laughed, a nervous reflex. “My God, we’re so immature.”

  “Totally.” In the dark, the teasing tone was oh-so-tempting. He shifted a little, and a chink of light came through a gap in the curtain, illuminating his face. His expression was the one that had hooked her the night before, in the café. Like he was a step back from it all, watching with easy-going amusement. Taking it all in, but not taking any of it seriously. Combined with the intelligence in those honey-brown eyes, the overall effect was enough to leave her weak. Lucky she was already lying down. She certainly forgave him the ponytail, the beard and the occasional dude-speak that seemed such a mismatch. All at once, she couldn’t bear for him to be just a breath away. New start, starting now… She reached out a hand and lay it on the curve of his neck, just below his ear. The heat of his skin in that tender spot instantly warmed her fingers. Before she had time to doubt herself she rolled toward him, pressing her lips against his. This was no faking, but her real self, doing the only thing that came naturally in this moment.

  But his whole body tensed—not in a good way. She pulled away and whipped her hand back, embarrassment slamming into her, and he rolled back and sat up, banging his head on the bed above as he swung his legs around to the floor. For a moment she thought he was going to say something, but when he pulled back the curtain, letting the light from the street wash over them, his face said it all.

  “Oh, God.” She put a hand over her eyes. “Let’s pretend I didn’t do that.”

  He gently took her hand awa
y from her face. “Cady. It’s just not a good idea.”

  She shook her head, mortified at how she’d misread the situation. It wasn’t possibility that had been hanging in the air, but her own delusion. She wished she could blame the cocktails, but their effect had worn off.

  “It’s okay, you don’t have to say anything.” She struggled to get out past him, one boot getting caught between the mattress and the wooden edge of the bed. “Damn it!”

  He held out a hand to help her, but she grabbed hold of the opposite bunk and unwedged her foot. “I’m okay.” She stood up straight and smoothed her crinkled San Francisco dress. “I’d better go and find Shelby.”

  “I guess so.”

  She waited to see if he had anything else to say. He didn’t. She cleared her throat. “Thanks for listening.”

  He nodded. “Any time.”

  “Next time I’ll bring my check book,” she joked awkwardly, as they got off the bus. But it was perfectly obvious that this first time would be the last time.

  Reid helped her flag down a cab, and they said an uncomfortable goodbye.

  “It was a pleasure to meet you, Lady Cady,” he said.

  “You too.”

  She didn’t want to dwell on exactly how much she’d liked meeting him, and how the feeling was clearly not quite mutual. Maybe Shelby was right after all—she had some learning to do. Well, she was working on it. Lesson learned here: a bit of fun and banter is not the signal to throw yourself at someone. She got in and gave him a last wave. As the cab drove away, she couldn’t resist a last peek. He was still standing, watching her go. She decided to claim it as a small consolation.

  * * *