Virtuous Deception 2

by Leiann B. Wrytes

  He parked, got out of his car, and knocked on Brianna’s door. The papers shook in his hand, but he forced his nerves to be still once she opened the door.

  “Dr. Baxter?”

  He knew Brianna had not been expecting him. In his haste to get to her, he had neglected to call before arriving. “I know . . . I didn’t call, and I hope my visit isn’t intrusive, but I would like to talk to you if I may have a minute.”

  Brianna stepped away from the door, waving him in. “Of course. This is your place.”

  “Brianna, please, this is your space, and I intend to respect and honor your privacy. Don’t allow my relationship with the property to excuse my violating your rights here.” Dr. Baxter headed to the couch while he talked. “How have you been? Feeling okay with the baby and everything?”

  Brianna plopped down on the couch near him, folding her legs Indian-style on the couch. In a pair of cotton warm-up pants and a slightly oversized T-shirt, Brianna looked comfortable. He noticed a slight change in her after their visit with Javan.

  “I feel good. Better than I have felt in a long while. I’m actually glad you came by.”

  “Oh?”

  “I was thinking about Dr. Shepherd. Did they find her niece, Rachel? Have you heard anything?”

  “We chatted briefly the other day, and they still don’t have any leads. It’s like she just up and disappeared into thin air. She was using a prepaid phone, so they can’t even say where she was last. Dr. Shepherd is hoping no news is good news.”

  “I keep thinking about her. She’s been gone a long time. Seeing Javan triggered a few memories I need to purge from my mind. I almost didn’t get away from him and could have easily been her. You know? Missing without a trace.”

  “I understand. That sentiment is natural. I worried what seeing him would do, but you seem to have handled it well.”

  “I did. Thanks to you. I mean seriously, thank you for all of your help. I mean for this,” she chimed, sweeping her arms across the invisible space holding the room. “And for Javan—I mean Micah.”

  “Micah.”

  “Micah, Micah, Micah. I have got to get used to that I guess.”

  “I guess so. We have discussed it numerous times. I won’t question your decision, but if you change your mind about this . . . him, it’s okay. It’s noble what you want, but no one could blame you for pulling back.”

  “I appreciate that, Dr. Baxter. I cannot explain it, but I feel very strongly about it. It’s what’s right for us, for my family.”

  Peter saw that as the perfect segue into what he needed to speak with her about. “Speaking of family: have you spoken with your mother lately?”

  “No, why?”

  “Just curious. I have been thinking a lot about what you said regarding the importance of a child knowing their father. I had an excellent example of a man in my father, and I completely agree with you. That bond is vital and more important than I think people realize. Not just for the child, but for the dad, too. It changes you.”

  “Frank was a great dad, and I was devastated when I learned the truth. It was like the best part of me was stolen. I could not understand how he could do something so foul. I still can’t really. I haven’t talked to him since . . .”

  “Believe me when I say that I know exactly how you feel.”

  “Then, seconds later, I found out that my biological father had died. I never even met him. I felt robbed, twice. I cannot describe it.”

  Peter felt his heart racing. His palms were sweaty. He was not sure how Brianna was going to take his news, but Sophie had left him no choice. “No need to. You have been through quite a lot, and your present mindset is a testament to your strength. You are doing great. Especially over the last few weeks. I am very proud of you.”

  “Thank you for saying that. I, for once, am pretty proud of me too.”

  “Well, there is something . . . something that I . . . uh . . . wanted to talk you a–about.” He watched as her smile faded as the rattling of the papers he held drew her attention. Placing them on the table, he grinned to comfort her, and checked his nerves. “Uh, do you remember the night we found out about your little bundle of joy?”

  “Of course. I doubt I will ever forget that night.”

  “Me either. Special night. I was honored to be a part it. Something else . . . stuck out to me that night.”

  “Bigger than my being pregnant?” Brianna asked, laughing.

  “I mean, that was big, but . . . I was thinking about your birthmark. The blurry butterfly.”

  Brianna drew her legs close, causing Peter to put his hands up in a defensive posture. “No, no, no. It’s nothing like that.” She laughed uncomfortably as he continued to explain himself. “It’s just that . . . it was familiar to me. See, my mother had one, as did her mother, my grandmother, and my great-grandmother, too.”

  Peter stared intently into Brianna’s eyes to see if any of his words were registering. She just looked confused. “That’s cool, I guess, but what does that have to do with me?”

  Peter slid the papers toward Brianna. Tapping them for effect, he attempted to elaborate. “Brianna, as you stated, family is important, and that is the primary reason I feel it necessary to tell you.”

  “Tell me what, exactly?”

  Peter braced himself for the worst, the papers sitting there, nearly tormenting him. He took a deep breath and rolled the dice. “Brianna, I am your father.”

  Brianna was incredulous. “Are you serious?”

  Peter picked up the papers and handed them to Brianna. “I hope you don’t mind, but I used a DNA sample from your visit to test against mine, and . . . well, as you can see for yourself, ninety-nine percent.”

  Brianna stared wide-eyed at the papers. “How is this possible? I mean . . . you’re white.”

  “Actually, my mother was—I’m biracial.” Peter still couldn’t tell how Brianna felt about the news, but he was relieved. He had gotten the results from his lab and rushed over to her place as fast as he could. He could not keep it to himself. “I hope . . . I mean, are you okay?”

  Brianna looked up at him, her eyes round like her mother’s. “So, my father isn’t dead?”

  Peter’s eyes filled with tears. He didn’t bother wiping them away. He loved her with an encompassing love. He knew that he would do anything, anything in the world for her. He knew without a shadow of doubt that he was looking into the eyes of the most important person in his world. He could not believe Sophie would keep this from him. Would keep Brianna from him.

  “No, he isn’t. I am right here. If you’ll have me.”

  “This is . . . Did you know?”

  “I came here as soon as I confirmed it. I don’t know if your mother knows, but I am glad that I do. I hope you are, too.”

  “Wow. You’re my father. My real . . . father.” Tears flowed freely down her face. “I dreamt about you. I had accepted that I’d never meet you, but . . .”

  “I promise I’ll never leave you. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me.”

  “Do you mind if I give you hug?” she asked innocently.

  “Are you kidding me? Come here.” He took another deep breath as Brianna crashed into his body; felt his heart growing inside his chest as he wrapped his arms around his daughter for the first time.

  “I cannot believe this.” Brianna pulled away from him. “Oh my goodness, you helped me so much and you hardly knew me. I didn’t know what to think of that at first. I was suspicious of you, your intentions, but at some point, I realized that you were just a good person. That touched me. No one in my family had done that. Honestly, this is . . . I’m not sure how it is. I feel something, not sure what to call it.”

  “You are my daughter, my family. We will get through this together. I had planned to be here anyway, but now there is no way I could let you leave my life.” Peter took a hold of her hands. “Take your time. I know this is a lot and we still have a lot to unpack, but I’m not worried. You don’t have
to worry either. I’m here.”

  “I knew it.... Everything is going to be fine. Just fine.”

  “I’m going to be a grandfather!”

  “Yes, you are!” Brianna exclaimed. “I have so much to tell you! Where should I start?”

  “The beginning sounds good. I want to hear everything.” Peter sat mesmerized by the pure delight that lit her face. He knew there were questions that still needed answers, but for now, this was exactly where he needed to be. Sophie wasn’t going anywhere. He could deal with her later.

  Chapter 48

  “Grayson, I cannot do this right now.” Michelle eyes burned red. She didn’t know if she could handle anymore knives in her back. The proverbial edge was far behind her. She had fallen off it many decisions ago, but it had never been clearer to her than in this moment.

  Swerving her Audi onto the road connecting her to what she once thought would be home, Michelle felt her sanity evaporating, and it was just as real as the screeching of her tires gripping the tarred path.

  “Michelle, where are you? Let me come get you.”

  An ominous feeling bloomed in the pit of her stomach. She feared what she might do once she reached her destination. This fear dialed Grayson’s number, hoping his mellifluous tenor could dampen the potency of the fire that warmed her from within, sending liters of sweat spilling out of her pores. “I’m fine, Grayson. I am sorry I called and pulled you into my drama again. This never-ending fuckin’ cycle.”

  “You are not fine. Your voice is elevated. You’re talking on the phone while you’re driving. You never do that. Something is going on. Talk to me.”

  “I can’t. I need to face this, face him.”

  “You made a promise, Michelle. One promise. To me.”

  “I tried, but I can’t avoid it. I have to deal with it, Grayson.”

  “You are too upset to do this right now.”

  “I cannot put it off anymore.”

  “Just come here. We can talk, scream, cry, or whatever you want. Whatever you need to do. But you need to come here.”

  “The phone is going to disconnect.”

  “Michelle!”

  Michelle slammed on the brakes and threw her car into the park.

  “Michelle, wait before—”

  Michelle killed the engine and swung open the driver-side door, disconnecting the Bluetooth. She did not have the capacity to welcome a reasonable calm into her space. She was too raw, too tired of being betrayed by those who were supposed to love her. Her life was in shambles, and she had yet to find anything to ease the pain of having lost everything. Her family, her fiancé, the promise of a life worth living had all been snatched by the same evils that currently held some intimate part of her hostage. She, too, found herself shackled by bad decisions, one in particular, and hated the skewed timeline that sprouted from it. She did not want to be her.

  Each person she professed to love had been washed from her presence by hurricane deception, leaving her no one but Grayson, a confusing blend of Prince Charming and El-Hajj Malik El-Shabazz, sprinkled with the familiarity of the bank teller whose line you seem to routinely find yourself standing in, to help her repair the damage. Calling him was a kneejerk reaction after the fight she’d had with her mother. She hoped that he could reach into her soul and soothe her anger as he had done with her hurt.

  Ordinarily, his words were like her own personal bonsai tree, shifting her energy into something as calm and peaceful as a wave-less ocean. That was not the case today. She hopped out of her car, slamming the door hard enough to make her Audi seize with fright.

  Adrenaline pumped through her system as she sprinted to the front door.

  BAM! BAM! BAM!

  “Open the door, LaCroix! Open this muthafuckin’ door!” She heard a lot of commotion inside, only serving to exacerbate her anger. “LaCroix!”

  BAM! BAM! BAM!

  Grayson had her house key. She had given it to him to put him at ease about her leaving. It was something like an assurance that she would not come to this house, but things had changed. Again. Her life had survived so many alterations that change itself had become her only constant.

  “Open the door, LaCroix! Now!” Her body shook with anger. She could not believe Armand had run his mouth to her mother. She could hear him fumbling around inside, making his way to the door. Anxiety kept her moving, bouncing from side to side like a boxer waiting for the bell. She stood there, swaying with the wind whirring through her ears, waiting for the rest of her world to collapse, too heavy a burden for her to carry alone. This was too much. Her mother, Armand, Brianna, and her departed father had dragged her into a world her degree from Rice promised she could avoid. No amount of money could have saved her. The people failed her. Her relationships, once a source of strength and connectedness, had all failed her. She was not sure how much of herself she still possessed.

  “I’m coming. I’m coming.”

  Michelle’s temple throbbed, her body warm all over. She thought about the grandparents she never knew, wondered which of her mother’s sins had soured the relationship, pondering how awful it must have been if it led to them disowning her. She shuddered, thinking of the ghosts lurking in her parents’ histories that had inevitably made their way into the present. Mostly, she just wished she didn’t belong to such a fucked-up family.

  “LaCroix! LaCro—”

  Armand swung the door open.

  Smack! Michelle felt the sting of her hand connecting with his face before she could process it fully. “How dare you!” She charged, pushing past his body slumping in the doorway. “What did you tell her?”

  Stepping into the trash dump that used to be her living room, Michelle shook her head in disbelief. He had destroyed everything. Couches were flipped over. Her treasured paintings now lay in pieces, ripped and scattered about the room.

  Holding his cheek with his left hand, Armand pushed the door closed with his right. “Michelle, what are you talking about?”

  “You destroyed my paintings? Really?” Michelle fumed. She glared at Armand, tracking his movement from the door to the couch, wishing she had Elle’s powers to electrocute his steps. He flipped it upright and plopped down on the exposed springs to sit. Her breathing increased, awaiting an answer. “What the fuck, LaCroix? You know what they meant to me!”

  Armand did not respond. He just looked at her with sunken eyes. She sprinted past him, hurdling random objects off the floor, and threw open the door to the room at the end of the hall, opposite their bedroom. Her book collection was still intact. Nothing in the room had been touched. She sighed with relief.

  “I didn’t touch it.”

  Michelle jumped at the sound of his voice, peeking over her shoulder into the room.

  “I couldn’t get past the door. It smells like you in here. I didn’t want to lose this too.”

  Michelle ignored her urge to lean back into his chest, to fill her lungs with his cologne and drift into the future wrapped in his arms. She hated that she desired his love, something she could never accept from him again. Turning abruptly, she exited the room and walked back into the disaster area formerly known as the living room.

  “So, what did you tell her?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Don’t give me that bullshit, LaCroix. You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

  Armand sauntered, undetected again, behind her and returned to his seat on the couch. “Brianna?”

  “My mother, Lacroix. What did you tell her?”

  “I didn’t tell her anything . . . nothing.”

  “Don’t lie to me. I just left her house! Don’t lie!”

  “Shit! Listen!” He screamed in frustration. “You wouldn’t talk to me! You wouldn’t . . . you wouldn’t talk to me, MK! So . . . so, maybe I said some things.”

  He sounded broken and helpless, but Michelle did not care. She saw him like a child, acting out, begging for attention. She was not his mother. “So! Whose fault is that? You couldn’t
get what you want, so what? You just lied? To my mother?”

  Armand sobbed lightly and dropped his head between his legs, covering the back of his head with his hands. “I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry. I just . . . didn’t know what else to do. I miss you so much.”

  Michelle rolled her eyes, ruffled a handful of her hair. “What is there to discuss, LaCroix?” Michelle spoke, pacing back and forth in front of him. “I walked in on you fucking my sister!” Pointing to the foyer, she continued. “Right over there! You had her bent over my got-damn table!”

  “If you’ll just let me explain, Michelle. I know this is bad, but—”

  “Explain! Explain what? I’m not confused. Things are very clear to me.”

  “That is not what I meant.”

  “I’d advise you not to waste your words, LaCroix. I have a character limit on bullshit. Tread carefully.”

  “Michelle, I have apologized. What else do you want from me?”

  “Nothing.”

  “I’ve been praying for us. Asking God to help me fix things.”

  “There is no us. That is not happening ever again. Whatever that was . . . whatever we were . . . was not real. We were born on a big fat lie, and I tried to move past it, I did, but this . . . Brianna. I cannot and will not move beyond it. You are a liar.”

  “Please don’t say that. You taught me everything I know about love.”

  “I hope you learn something from this. From losing me.”

  “You are the only woman I have loved besides my mother, Michelle. I just made a terrible mistake.”

  “A terrible mistake? No. Stringing me along for two years before revealing that you were hired to date me was a terrible mistake. Hiding an illegal gun with an unknown body count on it in our home was a terrible mistake. That thing you did with Brianna erased us. Do you understand? You erased us!”