Captured Lies

by Maggie Thom

Bailey got in her car and drove. Right, off of Macleod, onto Shaughnessy Blvd. Then look for Shaughnessy Way. Several blocks later, a right, a left and one block down, there it was on the left hand side. Bailey looked again at the address on the page she'd ripped out of her mom's phone book when she noticed the sign high up in the air. She whipped into the parking lot and pulled into the first stall she could find.

  With a quick glance at her watch she noted she was right on time, not her usual ten minutes to half an hour early. But then she usually had her computer to Google a map for directions.

  She jumped out of the car. Her next rental would have GPS. With the new job she was starting, she'd be able to afford it. As she approached the front of the restaurant, she stopped. To her right was the entrance to the patio, which looked to be open with only a few people there. Or at least what she could see through the eight-foot palms and vines they had circling the place. To her left was the front entrance - large enough for Paul Bunyan to enter. The beautiful, fourteen foot long mahogany door made a very bold statement against the grey stone wall.

  The patio seemed less intimidating so she walked through the black wrought iron gates and up the two steps. Slowly she wound her way through the high tables. Four people occupied a table off to her right. Two sat in the middle and two were at the bar. None were her guy.

  She shivered, pulling her spring jacket tighter around her as a cool breeze seemed to have followed her into the place. Ahead was an outdoor area enclosed with a three-foot high lattice fence and ceiling with vines interwoven through each of the holes.

  She climbed the two stairs. The back of her neck started to tingle. She peeked over her shoulder. Lounging back in a cushioned chair, he tilted his beer to her. Something she would have dearly loved to have but since she wasn't sticking around, she'd pass. Her gaze met his. She'd never worked in a grocery store but she felt scanned, weighed and priced. He got to his feet as she approached the table. She put up her hand before he decided to do any more gentlemanly deeds, like pull out her chair.

  "I'm not Cassidy. I'm really sorry you've gone to so much trouble only to find the wrong person." She dropped her arm to her side. "I just want you to know I'm done playing your game. Too many nuts are coming out of the woodwork."

  "What do you mean?"

  "I mean you," she stared pointedly at him, "and the nut case who called me. And I don't know how many others. What I do know is that I'm done. I'm going home. So leave me alone. Best of luck."

  His eyes never wavered from her face but he stayed silent.

  Her whole life she'd been told what to do - do this, don't do that. He wasn't telling her anything. He was leaving the decision up to her. But he was also letting her know he wouldn't leave her alone. Not until they'd talked.

  She had no idea how long they stood there but at some point she gave in and sat down. He ordered her a drink.

  "Do you always get what you want?"

  He shrugged and then downed half his beer. "I need you to just listen. I want to show you some things." He put up his hand like a traffic cop.

  Bailey snapped her mouth closed.

  "Would you like to order now?" The young waitress set down Bailey's drink.

  "No thanks." Bailey tried to smile but wasn't sure it came across as anything more than a grimace.

  "Not now." Guy, however, was able to give the server his full wattage grin.

  "All right. Just wave when you're ready." The waitress turned away.

  "Have you eaten?"

  "No." Bailey gulped down a healthy swig of her beer. She was tempted to swipe her arm across her mouth just to see his reaction.

  "I'm paying for the meal."

  "Well in that case?" She waved at the waitress who was only a few tables away. When the server came, Bailey said, "I'll have anything that has lobster in it." She knew she was being a bitch but she didn't seem to be able to stop herself. Everyone seemed to want something from her.

  The waitress rattled off three dishes and Bailey chose the most expensive one. Guy ordered a steak sandwich.

  She settled back and sipped her beer. For some reason she couldn't seem to take her eyes off the cleft in his chin. It was really kind of cute and added to the macho, rugged guy thing.

  "Here's what I know-"

  "What?"

  "That picture I gave you is your real great grandma, on your mom's side. Her name was Catherine Caspian. Here's a better picture of her."

  Bailey stared. Her eyes opened wide. Except for the wavy hair, it was her face. The flat forehead, high defined cheekbones, rounded chin, bumpy nose. Bailey traced her finger over the features. This was her. How come she'd never seen this before? What the hell had her mother been hiding from her? And why? She really wanted to know who all these people were that were showing up in her life wanting to know things that just couldn't be true.

  Her hands shook. "What color were her eyes?" It was impossible to know from the black and white picture.

  "Glacial green. The same as the glacially fed lakes in the mountains. They have a distinct green-blue hue to them."

  Bailey's head snapped up.

  "Like yours."

  He held her gaze. She stared at him for a long time.

  "I don't understand."

  "I know."

  She looked at the picture again. The eyes were full of mischief. She'd been a young girl defying the rules. I would have liked to have met you. Her head snapped up. "Okay. I want some answers. No more tap dancing. This is me. So I'm related to her. Where are the rest of my relatives? Why now? They wanted nothing to do with my mother for thirty years, so why now?"

  "How much do you know about your mother's family? Or your father's?"

  "None of your business. I want to know what you know. You're the one who came looking for me. Now talk."

  He guzzled the rest of his beer and then set it down with a plunk. He signaled the waitress for two more. Bailey downed her drink. She toyed with the label, carefully peeling it off the bottle. The new drinks were set down in front of them. They reached for them at the same time.

  "Your great-grandmother is dead."

  She tilted her head and lifted her eyes skyward, blowing out an exasperated breath.

  "All right. Rather obvious." He rested his elbows on the table. "Your grandmother is still alive, though."

  "Really?" She leaned forward her stomach pressed into the table.

  "Yeah." He studied the label of his beer. Sighing, he stared past her for a few minutes, like he was searching for answers and then finally met her gaze. "There's just your mom on her side but you have two uncles and two aunts on your dad's side. Then there are the in-law Aunts and Uncles."

  Stunned, she flopped back into her chair. I have family. Lots of them. "Cousins? Are there cousins?"

  "Ten first and some second and third."

  Oh my God. This was too much like her dreams as a child. She dreamt her family would find her, make up with her mom. They'd bring tons of gifts and everyone would hug and kiss her. They'd stop moving. She'd get to have sleep overs at her grandma's. Her aunts and uncles. And she'd have enough cousins to make two softball teams. And she'd have friends to play with. Real ones. She'd get to have birthday parties. Every year. Not just when her mom remembered - which had never been on the same date. If she hadn't had a birth certificate she'd have wondered. Another of her mom's rules - never get hung up on dates.

  She shook her head. "Where do they live? What do they do? Do they know about me?" She wondered why she'd never heard of them or how come they wanted to find her now. How come, Mom?

  "Hi. I've got the lobster." The waitress set the plate down in front of Bailey. Startled, she jerked back but the waitress was already smiling at Guy. "The steak sandwich must be yours." She set down the plate in front of him, carefully arranging it.

  He smiled at her, flashing almost perfect white teeth. Bailey rolled her eyes. When the girl finally moved off, she asked, "Like robbing the cradle, do you?"

  He gave her an ind
ulgent look before digging into his food.

  She felt a twinge of guilt at her catty remark but shrugged it off. The luxurious smell of her food soon drew her attention. The lobster was piled carefully into a coiffed mound, with steamed carrots and whipped potatoes. Any other time she would have dug in and enjoyed the expensive meal she never would have bought for herself. Only she wasn't hungry anymore. There was no way she was going to be able to get anything down into her knotted stomach.

  She looked up and met a pair of sky blue eyes. They studied her. She tried not to squirm or to open her mouth and be flippant and for some reason she didn't this time.

  "Something wrong with the food?" He raised his right eyebrow.

  "No." Sighing, she pushed away her plate. "Enough BS, I want some information now. How did you find me? How long have you been looking? Who hired you?" She looked out over the rapidly filling patio. "Where is my family?" She turned back and stared at the man who had the answers to her future.

  And her past.

  He carefully cut another piece of his steak sandwich and put it in his mouth. If there had been any other way for her to get what she wanted, she'd have stormed out. Since he had the answers, she picked up her beer and leaned back in her seat, to wait him out. If there was one thing she'd learned from her ex-boss, Dahlia Cornblum, it was how to play the role of a polished poker player to get what you want. Bailey had learned to play poker at eight but never how to really play 'the game'.

  "How much do you know about your family?"

  "Wrong question. You already asked that. I want to know what you know." She tipped her bottle to him. "So spill."

  He held her gaze for the longest time. The overhead lantern provided a gentle, romantic glow that was faint enough that it hid his face in the shadows. She continued to wait for him to share what he knew.

  "Just bear with me. I need to know what you know, so I know where to start."

  "Been practicing that line for a while?" She glanced down, her gaze caught by the knight's helmet and initials on the right side of his navy blue, silky shirt, K A. She wondered what that stood for.

  "All right. Fair enough. Okay. This is going to be hard for you to hear. So?" He shoved his hand through his neatly combed hair.

  "Your real name is Cassidy Lefevre. You're twenty-nine. You were born on February 12th, 1983, in Quebec."

  The sounds of the other customers, the traffic passing by and the noise seemed amplified all at once. She jumped up. "Frick, I knew you had the wrong person." She mumbled some things, as she sat back down just as fast. All her life had been about running, she was working hard to change that. He had some answers. She hoped.

  "I know it's hard to believe but I do have the right person. You saw the picture for yourself. I'm not a left wing quack that doesn't know what my right wing is doing. I'm not really sure what that is but?"

  Heat crawled up her face. She was glad that the place was gloomy and he wouldn't be able to see her fire engine red face. "It can't be possible." Shaking to the core of her being, she placed her hands over her mouth. "My mother?" She turned away not sure what it was she had been about to say. A few people were openly staring at them and obviously eavesdropping.

  "I have lots I need to tell you. Is there some place we can go where it's quieter and I can share with you what I know?"

  "Umm? Maybe?"

  "I think I passed a lounge a couple of blocks from here. It looked pretty empty. Want to take a chance?" After she nodded, he tossed down some bills.

  He motioned for her to go first. His warm hand against her lower back was the impetus she needed to shake out of her confusion. She strode along, fast but he matched her pace, his fingers a steady presence. It was very tempting to lean back into that warm, comforting hold, something she'd never had in her life.

  "Follow me. Okay?"

  "Sure." She said, as she slid behind the steering wheel. She watched as he climbed into a new SUV rental.

  He's from out of town too. Something she always felt. From out of town. No matter where she and her mom had lived. She was never from there. Never from anywhere. Is that why no one could find us, Mom?

  A horn honked. She looked around. He was waiting for her, so she started her car and pulled out behind him. She did as he asked, all the way to the quiet lounge. She saw him park and get out of the vehicle and walk towards where she was sitting in her car at the entrance to the parking lot. The Guess Who's song, Laughing came on the radio. It had been her mom's favorite song.

  What the hell?

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN