She nodded again, and he had the sense that she was pleased. “There is more.”
“More?” He was confused. “But that’s all I know.” He hesitated. “We know you were buried here.”
She turned and looked back over her shoulder. “He planted a tree for me.”
“Who planted a tree for you?”
She looked back at him and her eyes were deep wells of sorrow. “My father.”
“Your…?” He didn’t understand. “Who was your father?” Had she been the child of one of Hiram’s servants? He’d had several, although to their knowledge, he’d never owned slaves but had paid for the labor he needed. “Were you from a local family?”
“My father,” she said, “was Hiram Danforth.”
“Hiram Danforth? But he was my grandfather. He was married.”
She very nearly smiled and he sensed her amusement. “Yes,” she said, “he was. But not to my mother.”
“Ah. I see.”
“I was coming here to live at his request,” she continued. “My mother was a maid in his family home in Boston when he was a young man. A match between them was out of the question. She was an Irish indentured servant; he was the only son of a wealthy industrialist.”
“Did they care for each other?” Adam dared to ask.
“I don’t know,” she said. “I like to think so. My mother died in an influenza epidemic, but Hiram made sure I was kept with the household. He even saw to it that I received an education. Of course, he eventually married and came south. When his children were of school age, he asked me to come and live with him as a governess. It was a good opportunity,” she said, “for an orphan with no protection and no prospects. And it was a chance to be near my father.”
Adam considered her story. Very practical, he imagined. In the 1890s there was little tolerance for marriage outside one’s social class. Then something occurred to him. “Hiram never told anyone you were his daughter, did he?”
She shook her head and he felt another wave of sadness permeate the air around him. “He couldn’t,” she said simply.
He was astonished at the wave of emotion he felt. “So all these years,” he said, “more than a century, you’ve just wanted…”
“To be part of the family.” She nodded.
“You’ve tried to speak to so many people. Why me?”
“You’re the first one who wanted to speak to me,” she said, a slight smile lightening her features. “I have waited for you for a very long time.”
Somehow, he knew what to do. He stood, made a formal bow that amazingly didn’t feel silly at all. “Priscilla Carlisle,” he said, “welcome to the Danforth family. Our home is your home.”
The diaphanous figure in front of him literally brightened before his eyes, and he had to squint at the radiance that shone from her. “Thank you, Adam,” she said. And as he watched, the ghostly form began to fade from sight, until the small clearing in which he sat looked no more remarkable than any other forested glade on any other afternoon.
The pervasive sadness was gone, and a peaceful quality had taken its place. With a sense of certainty he didn’t even question, he knew the ghost of Crofthaven had been seen for the last time.
Ten
That night after dark, Adam returned to his own home. Most of the media frenzy surrounding Marc’s arrest and his own splash as a subject of gossip had died down and the few reporters still on the story were easy to ignore.
Harder to ignore were the questions rolling around inside his head. How could she have done that to him? Had she ever really loved him or had it all been an act?
After his unbelievable encounter that afternoon, he’d rushed back along the path the way he’d come. His mind had been racing, eager to get back to the house and write it down. He’d had a moment’s wild thought: Imagine what Selene will say when—
And then it had come back to him again. He wouldn’t be telling Selene.
The extraordinary encounter had erased his troubles from his mind for a few brief moments. But as the memory of the photo from the paper came rushing back, he tasted bitter disillusionment again.
Something was bothering him, though. Something even more than missing her as if she were a limb he’d had amputated. More than the betrayal that still stung every time he cautiously nudged around the edges of the memory.
I love you, too, she’d told him. She was either one of the best actresses on the planet or she’d meant the words. He couldn’t have been mistaken about that. God, she’d been a virgin! Why had she ever let things go so far between them if all he’d been to her was a means to an end?
The only answer was that it meant more than that to her, too. But if that were true, then why in hell had she gone along with her father’s scheming?
The only way he would ever know, he decided, was to ask her. He glanced at his watch, noting that it was nearly ten, but it didn’t matter now that he’d determined he needed to find out what was going on in her head.
Steeling himself for the encounter, he picked up the phone and called the Van Gelder home. He called the house rather than her cell phone, which he’d often seen her turn off when she wasn’t expecting any calls. This was going to be difficult enough without the problematic reception cell phones sometimes encountered, anyway.
“Van Gelder residence.” The voice was rough and aggressive and Adam felt his hackles rise. He’d bet his life he was speaking to John Van Gelder himself.
“This is Adam Danforth,” he said. “May I please—?”
“Danforth!” The word was explosive. “Where’s my daughter?”
Adam was completely dumbfounded. “Isn’t she at home? I called to speak with her.”
There was a heavy silence on the other end of the telephone. “She’s not with you?” the man asked suspiciously.
“I haven’t seen her since before my brother was arrested. Since before I read the news,” Adam said evenly. “Are you telling me you don’t know where she is?”
“That’s correct.” The words sounded as if they were being pulled from Van Gelder’s throat. “We had an argument after she saw the paper this morning and she spent the day in her room. Wouldn’t talk to me,” he admitted. “I tried again at dinnertime but she was gone. The maid said she took a bag with her and got in a cab but Selene didn’t tell anyone here where she was going.”
“And you haven’t called in your private investigator to track her down?” The moment the words were out he regretted them, but the anger was too close to the surface to be completely controlled.
Surprisingly, Selene’s father didn’t slam down the phone or take offense as he expected. Instead, the man sighed. “I deserve that. And I can assure you the last thing I would do is call a private investigator to report on my daughter’s movements again.”
Again. A chill rippled down Adam’s spine as the words registered. “What?”
“I said I would never—”
“I heard you. Selene didn’t know you’d gotten someone to take pictures of her?”
“I didn’t,” John said testily. “In fact, I specifically told him no pictures. I just wanted to know where she was going. I guess the S.O.B. thought he’d make a quick buck on the side when he realized who she was with.”
“Selene didn’t know about the P.I.?”
“No. Wha—oh, hell.” Her father sounded truly distressed. “Did you think—?”
“Yeah.” Adam leaned his forehead against the wall and closed his eyes. God. She’d tried to tell him, but he wouldn’t listen. A sick feeling blossomed in his stomach and spread through his system as he realized what he’d done.
“Look,” he said to her father. “Can you think of any friends, anyone she might have called? The only friend she’s ever spoken of to me is Guillemette, her school roommate who lives in Paris.”
“Yes, Willi. She’s the only one I know, as well,” John said. “Do you think…?”
“I’ll check the flights to Paris. If she didn’t leave the house until late af
ternoon, she probably didn’t catch a flight out today. She may be spending the night in a hotel, planning to leave in the morning.” Adam paused. “Can you call Guillemette?”
“All right, but what do you have in mind?”
Adam took a deep breath. He decided he might as well ask for the moon. The worst the man could do was refuse to help. “Mr. Van Gelder, I love your daughter. I want to marry her. I don’t know exactly what your relationship has been in the past but I know Selene wants—needs—you in her life.”
“And I want her in mine!” Van Gelder sounded desperate. “Selene means a lot to me. More than I’ve let myself realize until recently. I lost her mother when she was a baby and it…kept me from letting Selene become too important, I guess. I’ve spent most of her life shuffling her off to one side, and it was wrong of me. I barely know my own child.” He cleared his throat. “I want another chance, if she’ll give me one.”
“As do I,” Adam said quietly.
There was a short silence. Then Van Gelder said, “Maybe a Danforth wouldn’t have been my first choice for my daughter, but she says she loves you. If she’ll marry you, you have my blessing.”
“Good.” Adam wished he felt more confident. He was afraid he’d hurt her too badly to deserve forgiveness. He thought again of Priscilla Carlisle—his ancestor, he realized suddenly. She had spent many lonely decades seeking the one thing she’d desired above all else. He would be a complete idiot if he spent the rest of his life—or more—alone and unhappy because he’d been afraid to try to fix the damage he’d done, to try to reclaim the happy life he so wanted with Selene. “What would you do to get her to come back?” he asked.
To his credit, John didn’t hesitate. “Anything. I’ll even drop out of the senate race if that’s what it takes.”
“I don’t think it will come to that.” Adam smiled despite himself. “Here’s what I think we should do,” he said to the father of the woman he loved.
“Ms. Van Gelder?”
Selene looked up from the magazine that she’d been staring at for the past half an hour. She sat in a lounge at the Savannah airport, waiting for a flight which would take her first to La Guardia in New York, and then across the Atlantic to Paris. She’d come to the airport hours earlier than she needed to, simply because she’d had no other plans and her mind was too numb to make decisions. She’d barely had enough energy to pack her things and check out of the local hotel into which she’d moved late yesterday when she’d been unable to stand being beneath the same roof as John Van Gelder for one more minute.
Now, right in front of her, an airport employee stood. “Ms. Van Gelder?” the woman said again.
“Yes, I’m Selene Van Gelder.” She set aside the magazine and looked up, sighing mentally. Security these days, extremely tight for very good reasons, could still be an amazing pain. What was wrong now?
“Ms. Van Gelder, would you come with me to the VIP lounge, please?”
Selene gathered her purse and carry-on bag. “What’s this about?”
“We’ve been asked to show you something,” the woman replied. She turned and began to move away, clearly expecting Selene to follow.
As she walked after the woman, her brow wrinkled at the odd statement. What could they possibly want to show her? Wasn’t it usually the other way around?
She followed the airport employee around a corner and down a long corridor into an empty lounge. The woman indicated the comfortable seats scattered around and the coffeemaker along one wall. “Please sit down and make yourself comfortable.” Then she pointed to the television on the wall. “This will be coming on in just a moment.” And she left Selene alone.
Thoroughly puzzled now, Selene dutifully sat, fidgeting with the strap of her handbag. Then she sat up straighter as the television crackled to life.
The channel flipped to a local morning talk show that she’d often watched. The smiling coanchor was speaking to the television audience as the sound came up.
“…don’t know who said the path of true love never runs smoothly, but today we have living proof of that old adage. With me this morning are two gentlemen whom the Savannah audience has probably never expected to see in the same room, much less on the same side of an issue. But this morning, they are united in a common cause. Help me welcome senatorial candidate John Van Gelder and Adam Danforth, the son of Abe Danforth, Van Gelder’s chief rival in this race.”
The audience dutifully applauded as two men very familiar to her eyes entered the studio and took the guests’ seats. They were smiling at the host and looked amazingly comfortable together.
Selene didn’t move. She couldn’t. Her gaze was riveted to the television. What was going on?
“So,” the woman conducting the interview began. “Why don’t you tell us, John, what brings you here today.”
Her father smiled. He was older and heavier than he’d been when she was small, but he still had some of that same charisma, and he used it to good effect. “Well, Adam did, literally,” he said wryly. After an appreciative laugh from the audience, he went on. “Adam and my daughter Selene have been dating. I only learned about it recently.” He sighed. “I’m sure Selene thought I wouldn’t be rational about her getting close to any of the Danforth clan and—” his eyebrows rose in self-mockery “—I’m sad to say her instincts probably were right.”
“So you didn’t want her seeing Adam?” the host inquired.
“I didn’t even know she was,” John repeated. “But I was concerned because she suddenly began spending a lot of time away from home.”
“So what did you do?” The interviewer was relentless.
For the first time, her father looked uncomfortable. “I hired a private investigator to let me know where she was going.”
“You hired a private investigator?” The woman professed shock. “Isn’t that a bit strange? Most fathers would have just asked their daughters, wouldn’t they?”
“I’m not most fathers.” It was a confession. He almost squirmed in his seat. “Selene’s mother passed away when Selene was an infant and I—I had a hard time getting past my grief enough to deal with a child. Selene spent most of her youth at European boarding schools.” He shook his head but it didn’t look like a rehearsed move. “That was a poor choice, and I’ve come to regret it.”
“Mr. Van Gelder,” the interviewer said. “What do you hope to gain by coming here today with Adam Danforth?”
John spread his hands helplessly. “I want another chance. I’d like Selene to know how sorry I am for the mistakes I’ve made, and to assure her that I’d like to get to know her.”
“How do you know Selene is even listening to this?” the woman asked.
“We don’t,” said Adam. “We think we may have alerted her to watch, but we’re not sure.” His broad shoulders seemed to sag a little.
“Short of hiring another investigator,” added John, “we have no way of knowing where she is unless she chooses to contact us. And neither one of us is willing to do that, right?” He looked at Adam, and she was stunned anew to see the unspoken moment of understanding that passed between them.
“It has to be her choice,” added Adam.
“Is there anything you can say that might induce her to get in touch with you?” The studio host was working every dramatic moment, but Adam and her father didn’t seem to notice.
Her father looked down at his hands. Adam nodded.
“Selene, I love you. We both do.” He took a deep breath. “Your father and I have made unforgivable mistakes but we’re asking you to forgive us, anyway.”
Beside him, John fumbled in his pocket. Finally he withdrew something small and handed it to Adam.
It was a small box, she saw as Adam held it up. “This,” he said, flipping open the lid, “was Selene’s mother’s wedding ring. John graciously offered it to me when I asked him for Selene’s hand. Selene, will you marry me?”
In the lounge, she gasped as the tears streamed down her face. Her mother’s weddi
ng ring! How difficult, she wondered, had it been for her father to make that gesture?
In the television studio, Adam smiled straight into the camera. “Meet me in our garden, Selene, and let me put this ring on your finger.” His smile wavered just a fraction and his anxiety showed in his eyes. She figured with that tiny lapse, he’d just won the heart of every woman watching. He’d certainly taken hers by storm. “Please?”
The camera narrowed in to focus tightly on his face, then pulled back to reveal John’s worried expression. “Well,” said the coanchor, “that was certainly one of the more unique proposals I’ve ever seen. Thank you, gentlemen, for sharing this moment with us and be sure to let us know the lady’s response.”
As a commercial replaced the faces of the men she loved, Selene leaped to her feet and headed for the door.
Adam paced in the lovely garden behind Twin Oaks. He thought of the night they’d met. It had been dark and mysterious, Selene’s eyes sparkling in the shadows. She’d been so beautiful and ethereal in her white gown that even after he’d been assured she was real he still was afraid she was going to vanish.
Had she indeed vanished from his life now, through his own mistrust and stupidity? He wasn’t sure what he was going to do if she left for Paris—
And then she was there. Coming down the flagstone steps from the terrace in a flowing floral-print dress that made her look as exotic as the gardens around them. She stopped in front of him, a few feet away, enormous emerald eyes fixed on his face.
She wasn’t smiling. His heart sank, and he steeled himself for the blow of rejection.
There were reporters up on the terrace with cameras. He’d negotiated for space to speak privately in exchange for a full view of the meeting, if it occurred. Either way, they’d have a great story.
For a moment, he was tongue-tied, not knowing what to say. And then the simple truth emerged. “I’m sorry. I wronged you when I failed to trust you.”
She nodded. “That hurt.”
To his horror, he felt his eyes filling with tears as the pain he’d caused fully registered. “I think, deep down, I believed that I wasn’t really interesting enough to hold you, that maybe there did have to be some other reason why you were with me.”
The Enemy's Daughter (Dynasties: The Danforths Book 9) Page 14