The Happiest Day

by Sandy Huth

  “Norris’ journal?” Rachel asked, the blood draining from her face. “She had it all along? I wondered what happened to it.” Then she laughed, almost incredulously. “Norris’ journal didn’t say that I killed them, though. I’m sure of that. Blanche played a bluff and you fell for it.”

  “How do you know that he didn’t lie in his journal?”

  “Because Geoff found it the day he died. He confronted Norris with the truth and told him that he was going public with it. Norris shot and killed him.”

  Tears filled Peter’s eyes. “Damn,” he whispered. “Damn it. Poor Geoff…just trying to do what was right.”

  “I know. So how did Blanche even know there was a journal?”

  “She slept with Leonard. She said that Leonard told her that you had killed Helen and Stern. Then she overheard talk at Geoff’s wake about a journal and went looking for it. She said that it confirmed what Leonard had told her.”

  “Well, I don’t doubt that Leonard believed I had killed them, but I know that the journal held Norris’ confession. No doubt, he wrote about how he had told Leonard and you that I was the true murderer. Blanche knew exactly what to say to you, didn’t she?”

  Peter nodded. “She would have known that I already believed that you did it. All she had to do was confirm it and I fell for it. Rachel, I’m sorry. I should have come to you. I just thought…I though if that journal became public, you would be destroyed.”

  Rachel wondered if Norris’ revealed any other secrets in the journal. “Did she tell you anything else about what she read?” Her stomach clenched at what Peter would think of her if he knew that there was a chance that Norris was her father.

  Peter looked away, not sure what to say. “Well…” He looked back to her and their eyes met. Able to read each other’s thoughts, they realized that the other one knew the truth. He exhaled, relieved to finally have it out in the open. “When did you find out?” he asked softly.

  “Right before he committed suicide. We fought…and he was so emotionally overwrought that the truth slipped. Oh Peter, if I had known, I would have never-”

  He held up his hand. “Of course you wouldn’t have. I know it. I have a confession to make, Rachel.” He heaved a sigh. “This is hard but I don’t want there to be any secrets between us any longer. I found out the day you lost Ruby.”

  Her mouth fell open. “And you let me…oh, Peter…”

  “No, listen to me.” He stood but didn’t approach her. “I was furious and demanded that he divorce you but he refused. I did make him promise that he wouldn’t touch you anymore.”

  “Oh my God,” she breathed. “That’s why he refused to be with me after that.”

  “That’s why I started coming out every day. I wanted to make sure that he kept his word. Rachel, I swear to you, I would have told you the truth if I had thought that he was breaking his promise.”

  “He never touched me after that. He offered once but I could tell that he didn’t really want me.” She sat on the ottoman, feeling completely deflated. “There’s one more thing. One more lie he was living.”

  “Tell me,” he ordered gently. “It’s best to get it all out now.”

  She looked up at him, thinking of her words carefully. “He admitted to hiring somebody to kill my father. The man panicked and killed my mother, too. The man he hired was Frederick Stern.”

  Peter made a hissing sound as he sucked air in. “That God-damned son of a bitch,” he bit out.

  “I found my mother’s locket in his desk and when I showed it to him, he spilled his guts. He had loved my mother and wanted her to leave my father so we could all be a family. My mother refused, telling him that the affair had been a mistake. So Norris hired Stern to kill my father so my mother would have no choice but to turn to him. My mother interfered and Stern killed her, too. You know the rest of the story.”

  “If I had known any of the truth, how different our lives would be right now.”

  She drew in a tremulous breath. All of the hurt from sixteen years ago seemed to be dissipating like dry leaves in the wind. “We’ve been caught in a massive web of lies for so many years…my whole life, I guess.”

  “It’s over now. There are no more secrets.”

  It was an incredible feeling. She felt so free. She turned her head to look at him. “So what happens now?”

  “What do you want to happen?” he countered. “I don’t think I’ve made any secret of my feelings.”

  “Even after all of this?”

  “Nothing is going to change my feelings for you, Spider. I have been in love with you for at least seventeen years. It seems like you’re stuck with me.” His face darkened suddenly. “Speaking of, damn it, what were you doing with Brighton tonight?”

  She laughed, surprised at his question. Then a blush worked its way up her cheeks. “Trying to make you jealous.”

  “Well, that certainly backfired on you, didn’t it?”

  “Yes! I expected you to sweep me into your arms and tell me that I belonged to you, and only you. Instead, you turn into a caveman, yanking my arm and spouting off with your filthy mouth. It made me angry.”

  “Next time, give me the script before the show starts, all right?”

  She lifted one shoulder shyly. “I hope there won’t be a next time.”

  His face softened. “Let’s start over, all right?” He walked over to her and pulled her up to stand in front of him. He held out his hand. “Hello, my name is Peter MacGregor. I saw you from across the room. Do you believe in love at first sight?”

  She placed her hand in his. “Hi, I’m Rachel…Warner,” she said definitively. “This seems crazy, but I think I do.”

  He smiled and surprisingly dropped to one knee. “Rachel Warner,” he said, keeping her hand tightly in his, “will you marry me?”

  She damned the tears that temporarily prevented her from answering him. She had married once out of obligation and once out of the fear of being alone. She finally was marrying for the right reason. “I would be overjoyed to become your wife,” she whispered through her tears.

  “Within a week?” he pushed. “I’m too old to do anymore waiting.”

  She saw the silver threaded liberally through his dark hair and realized with a tiny shock that he was forty-four years old. He had waited long enough to be happy.

  “The happiest day,” she reminded him, her voice shaking with emotion.

  His eyes lit in remembrance. “We said that day on the beach that it was the happiest day ever. We’re going to change that. Next Saturday, our children and Bert and his family are going to join us at the estate and Laurie is going to marry us. Then,” he stood and drew her into his arms, “you and I are going to spend the next fifty years just enjoying each other and our children.” He kissed her gently. “Grandchildren, great-grandchildren…”

  She stroked his cheeks, rough with stubble, and said, “I left the children alone to come see you. We should go back.”

  “I’ll pack a bag,” he said. “I don’t intend on spending another night away from you ever again.”

  She helped him pack and they locked his home, driving in his car back to the estate. They slept together in each other’s arms and rose the next morning to four surprised, then very happy children. The next Saturday, Laurie married them in the small chapel with all four children gathered around them.

  Chapter 28

  In early May, 1940, Rachel received a letter with a French postmark. It was delivered to her at the newspaper and the handwriting was feminine. It was addressed to Mrs. Theodore Bressler. Without opening it, she knew that it was from Martine DuPont. She held it between her fingers and debated whether or not to open it. The hurt she had suffered two years earlier could still be called to the surface with little effort and Rachel had no desire to fall into that emotional abyss again.

  It sat on her desk for the afternoon and her eyes continued to be drawn to it. She was finding it hard to concentrate on anything else. As the rest of the country, she
followed the news in Europe closely and had thought of Martine and her children as the news of the invasion of France had made headlines. She had prayed that the family Theo had created was safe.

  At five p.m., Peter strolled into her office, his shirt sleeves rolled up, his tie loosened. “Let’s hit the road,” he ordered with a smile. “I’m starving.”

  “All right,” Rachel said quietly, standing and smoothing her skirt.

  Peter’s eyes narrowed. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing,” she said automatically.

  “Bullshit,” he retorted bluntly. “What’s happened?”

  She picked up the still unopened letter and handed it to him. “It’s from Martine DuPont.”

  He turned it over. “No return address. How do you know it’s from her?”

  “I just know.” She sat back down in her chair. “Go ahead, open it.”

  He picked up the letter opener on her desk and slit open the envelope. He unfolded the single sheet of stationary and scanned the lines. When he looked up, he had a serious look in his eyes. “She wants to send the children to you.”

  Rachel fell back in her chair, her hand covering her mouth in shock. “How can she ask such a thing?”

  “She fears for their lives. Especially the girl. She said she wouldn’t trust anyone else to take care of them. Only you.”

  A pain squeezed Rachel’s heart. She had done nothing to earn this woman’s trust. “Why just the children?” she asked in a quiet voice, looking down at her hands which were now crossed in her lap. “Why won’t she come?”

  “She’s ill, dying from the sound of it.”

  Rachel was silent for long moments. Peter waited patiently, knowing that his wife would make the right choice. “Does she need help getting them out?”

  “No. She just needs word that it’s all right to send them here. We can meet them in New York.”

  Rachel stood, pulling her pocketbook out of her desk and squaring her shoulders. Finally she looked up at Peter. “We can stop on the way home and send a telegram.” She came around the desk and he stopped her by placing hands on her shoulders.

  “It’s the right thing to do,” he said gently.

  “I know. Almost thirty years ago, your family took in two orphaned children. It would be unbearably cruel of me to not return the favor.”

  He nodded and placed a soft kiss on her lips. “I love you.” He placed his arm around her shoulder. “What will we tell the children?”

  “We’ll just tell them that they are the children of friend of Theo’s from his travels. They don’t need to know the truth.” She looked up at him. “Do you agree?”

  He shook his head. “No. For decades, this family was ruled by secrets. I swore we wouldn’t allow any more lies.”

  “I don’t want the children to hate their father.”

  “When they find out, and they will, they will hate you for the lie.” He hugged her tightly to his side. “We’ll tell them together.”

  They sent a telegram to Martine giving her the go-ahead to send the children then drove home in silence. Before they entered the house, Peter asked, “Are you all right?”

  “I’m scared,” she admitted ruefully. “As scared as I was the night I had to tell David about you.”

  “Look how that turned out,” he teased.

  She laughed a little and they entered their home. They greeted the children and ate dinner with them before telling them that they needed to speak with them on a serious subject. Sixteen year old David looked immediately apprehensive. Lily shrieked, “Are you going to have a baby?” At nine, Lily was obsessed with babies.

  “No,” Peter answered, reaching out to ruffle his step-daughter’s hair. “Well, I mean, I’m not sure. Are you?” he asked Rachel, his eyes hopeful.

  “Gross,” Steven muttered. Matthew laughed at his brother.

  “Could we stay focused?” Rachel asked firmly. “We’re going to have guests come to live with us.”

  “Live with us?” David asked, his eyebrows coming together. “What do you mean?”

  Rachel took a deep breath and plunged ahead. “I have something to tell all of you. Fourteen years ago, your father…Theo,” she amended so David wouldn’t misunderstand, “was travelling in France and met a woman.” Anxiety welled up in her and she couldn’t speak for a moment. She looked to Peter for help.

  “This is not easy to tell you but Theo had a relationship with this woman. You mustn’t think less of him, and certainly not of her.”

  “I don’t believe you,” Steven said, a flush staining his cheeks. At twelve, he was uncomfortable with his new-found knowledge of sexual relations.

  “Shut up, Steve,” Matthew said. Older than his brother by just two years, he displayed a maturity Steven had not yet developed. “Who was she?”

  “Her name is Martine DuPont.”

  “Why did he do it?” Matthew asked.

  “I’ll never know,” Rachel finally found her voice again. “I didn’t know until he died and Peter and I went to France to claim his body.”

  Lily’s lower lip trembled. “Was he in love with her?”

  “I think so,” Rachel said. “It didn’t stop his love for all of us, but for whatever reason he felt the need to have a family there as well.”

  “A family?” David asked. “He had kids with her?”

  “Yes. They had two sons and a daughter.”

  It was as if she had dropped a bomb in the middle of the table. Finally Matthew said, “Dad died two years ago. Why didn’t you tell us?”

  “I didn’t want to hurt you and frankly, I didn’t think you ever needed to know. They lived in France.”

  “So, why now? Why are they coming here?” Steven asked. He looked angry.

  “Because of the war and because Martine is ill.”

  “She’s going to die,” Peter said bluntly. “She’s afraid for the children’s safety, their lives even. She’s asked if she can send them to us to live.”

  “I don’t want them to,” Steven said.

  “Steven, when I was just eight years old, my parents died. If Norris Thornton had not taken Uncle Laurie and me in, who knows what would have happened to us? We can’t turn these children away. They are your brothers and sister.”

  Lily sat up straighter. “They are?”

  “Your half-brothers and sister,” Peter explained. “You all share a father.”

  “I have a sister?” she asked, a smile lighting her face. “How old is she?”

  “About thirteen, I think,” Rachel answered. “The boys are a little younger. Maybe around ten or eleven.”

  “So I’m still the baby?” she asked and even Steven had to laugh.

  They decided to meet the children as a family. They travelled to New York together and spent a few days taking in shows and experiencing the city life. The night before they were to meet Martine’s children, she checked on the boys who were sharing the hotel room next to the one she, Peter, and Lily shared.

  Matthew and Steven were already sleeping in one bed, but David was sitting against the headboard in his bed, reading a book. He looked up as she entered quietly and smiled. As always, she marveled at how much he looked like his father. She wondered if things had been different, if Peter had never seen David that day and everyone had continued to believe that Theo was his real father, how would she have felt looking at her son growing every day into a replica of his real father?

  “Big day tomorrow,” she commented, sitting on the bed next to him. “Are you feeling all right about this?”

  “I guess. We’re not exactly a traditional family, are we?” He closed the book and leaned against the pillow. “I worry about it, though. What if they look like Matt and Steve? They both look like Dad, especially Steve. What will people say?”

  Rachel scooted back and leaned against the pillow with him and sighed. “Can I tell you a story?”

  “Sure.”

  “You know that Norris Thornton took Uncle Laurie and me in when our parents were
murdered.”

  “Yes.”

  “I was young, just eight, and Laurie was four. I was too young to notice that my brother looked just like Norris’ son, Geoff. It wasn’t until I was grown that I saw it and realized that it meant something that I had never thought could be true.”

  David’s jaw dropped. “Uncle Laurie is Norris’ son?”

  “Yes. It broke my heart to think that my mother had been unfaithful. She was gone, though, and I’ll never know how she could have done what she did.”

  “Does Uncle Laurie know?”

  “Yes. He figured it out, as well. He was very accepting of it, like he is about everything, but it was harder for me because I remembered my parents so well. I don’t understand what happened any more than I understand what Theo did. As strange as we may be, though, we are a family.” She picked up his hand. “It’s like history is repeating itself. Promise me you won’t fall in love with the girl.”

  David laughed. “Well, first of all, she’s just a kid. Secondly, she’s my siblings’ sister. It’s all just a little too strange for me.”

  Rachel laughed with him but didn’t remind him that she had just been a kid when she met his father and their own connection had been “a little too strange.”

  The next day, the met a bedraggled and sad looking trio of children who had been watched over by an older widowed woman who had taken pity on them, but were essentially already orphaned. Peter stepped forward immediately extending his hands to them. “Hello, children,” he said in French. “Do you remember me? My wife and I visited with your mother a few years ago. My name is Peter MacGregor. Do you speak any English?”

  “Yes,” the girl answered softly. “We all speak English quite well. Our mother taught us.” Tears came unbidden to her large brown eyes. “My name is Lorraine, this is Adrian, and this is Edmond, but we call him Teddy.”

  The boys had the chestnut hair and hazel eyes of their father, but Lorraine reminded Rachel of her mother, with her light brown hair and brown eyes. More than that, though, the young teenager had a strength of character that was evident. She felt an immediate surge of protectiveness for this young girl whose entire life had been turned upside down. That had been her at one time.