Oh, God! She suddenly felt terrified that she was about to go down a path from which there would be no turning back.
"Who's that?" Liz asked, following her gaze.
Julia looked at her sister. "What?"
"Is that man the reason you want to postpone your wedding?"
"Maybe."
"Julia! How could you?"
"It's not what you think, but I do have to talk to him." She jumped to her feet and crossed the room, intercepting Alex before one of her aunts could shower him in cheek kisses, plates of ravioli, and cake. "What are you doing here?" she asked.
"I wanted to see your face again."
Julia fidgeted under his sharp, piercing gaze. "And?"
"I talked to someone about the photograph."
Julia pulled him out the front door of the cafe and onto the deserted pier, where darkness and shadows surrounded them. "What did you find out?"
"I was told to tell you that the girl died a few weeks after the photograph was taken. I was also told to butt out and mind my own business. That's not my style."
She wasn't sure how to read the gleam in his eyes. "What is your style?"
"To find the truth. Are you up for it?" he challenged.
Goose bumps raced down her arms. She should be focusing on her relationship with Michael and her wedding—she had a million things to worry about, things that were far more important than that old photograph. But something inside of her wouldn't let it go. All the questions about herself that she'd never had answered suddenly demanded attention. Maybe once she knew those answers, she'd feel more confident about moving on with the rest of her life.
"Yes," she said. "I want to find out who that girl is."
"Whatever it takes? Because there's no turning back once we get started."
She bristled at his controlling tone. "Look, I'll turn back whenever I want. So—"
"Then I won't help you."
He started to leave. He was actually going to walk away from her? In fact, he was six feet away before she said, "Wait. Why are you acting like this?"
He hesitated for so long she wasn't sure he would answer. Then he said, "The only reason I'm here is because you bear a striking resemblance to that girl. The necklace and the fact that you have no concrete evidence of where you lived before the age of four are also intriguing. But I promised not to talk to anyone about that photo. I won't break that promise with you unless I know you're committed to finding out the truth about that child."
"Who would have asked you to promise such a thing?"
"Are you in or are you out? Because I tell you nothing unless we have a deal."
She could see the resolve in his eyes. If she said she was out, she'd never see him again, and she'd never know if that picture had anything to do with her. She could research it on her own, but she wouldn't know where to start. Alex would have more contacts, more information. Oh, what the hell. It wasn't like she was selling her soul. She drew in a breath, praying she wouldn't regret her decision. "I'm in. Tell me what you know."
He met her gaze head-on. "My father didn't take that picture. I did."
Chapter Three
"What do you mean, you took that photograph?" Julia asked, shocked by his statement.
"Just what I said. I was with my father on that trip to Moscow."
"But you're young. You must have been a little boy then."
"I was nine."
"I don't understand." Julia sat down on one of the wooden benches outside the cafe. She could hear the laughter and the music from inside the restaurant, but they sounded like a million miles away.
Alex sat down next to her. "I went to Moscow with my father," he explained. "It was the first and only time he took me with him on one of his assignments. My father was photographing a cultural exchange—an American theater group performing in Moscow. It was 1980. The Cold War was beginning to thaw, and both sides were eager to show that East and West could come together. My father got me a small part in the play so that I could go with him. It's a long story, but bottom line—my parents had separated that year, and this was the only opportunity my dad and I had to spend together. A few days after we arrived, he had a meeting one afternoon in Red Square. I got bored, and I picked up his camera. I wandered away, pretended I was shooting pictures the way I'd seen my father do. That's when I saw the girl at the gates." He paused, his eyes distant, as if he were recalling that moment. "She looked like she was in prison. I moved closer and said something to her, but she answered too softly for me to hear. She was... terrified. So I took her picture."
"I can't believe it. You were actually there? You saw her? You talked to her?" Julia searched his face, wondering if there was any possible way she'd ever seen him before. But she had no memories of her early childhood. She never had. Other people said they could remember events when they were two or three. Why couldn't she?
"After I took her picture," Alex continued, "I heard my father call my name and I ran back to him. I never told him I took the shot. My dad sent his film back to the magazine to be published. It wasn't until the magazine came out a few weeks later with that photo in print that he realized what I'd done. I'd never seen him so furious."
"Why? What did it matter? It turned out to be a famous shot."
Alex's lips tightened and a hard light came into his eyes. "I don't know why he was so upset about it. He wouldn't say, but he made me promise never to tell anyone I took the photo or that I saw the girl. He told me to forget she ever existed. There was fear in his eyes. I don't know if I realized that at the time, but in retrospect I believe he knew something I didn't."
"Like what?" she asked with a bewildered shake of her head. "How could a photo make someone afraid? I don't understand."
"All I can think is that the girl or the background of the picture revealed something that no one was supposed to see."
Julia thought about that for a moment. "Didn't you say there was a public reaction after the publication, that people were searching for that girl, but no one could find her?"
Alex nodded. "Yes. I have to admit I wasn't paying much attention at the time. My father died the day after that picture was published. That conversation we had about it was the last one we ever had, which is why it stuck in my mind."
"What?" Julia stared at him in shock. His voice was matter-of-fact, but his words were horrifying. "Your father died the day after the photo was published in the magazine? What happened to him?"
"Car accident," Alex said shortly, as if he couldn't bear to go into more detail. "My dad managed to travel all over the world without a scratch, but he lost his life a few miles from here on the Pacific Coast Highway." He looked off into the darkness, his profile hard and unforgiving.
Julia wanted to ask more questions, but there was so much pain in his voice, she couldn't bring herself to break the silence.
Finally, Alex turned back to her. "At any rate," he said, "I want to take another look at the photo. I think there's a good possibility the negative might still be in my mother's possession. The magazine gave her all of my father's work after he died. In the meantime, you should try to find some concrete evidence of your life before the age of four, especially when you lived in Berkeley. Your mother must have had friends, neighbors, someone who would remember seeing you as a baby. If you find them, your questions will be answered."
"But yours won't be." She realized his interest had more to do with the promise he'd made to his father than with her. She had just been the catalyst. Her quest had suddenly become his quest. He was taking over, and she didn't like it. What if he found out something about the photo that reflected poorly on his father? Would he share it with her? What if she was that girl and his father had covered something up about her? "I want to look at the photo with you," she said. "Especially if you have the original negative."
"I'll let you know what I find," he said as he stood up.
"That's not good enough. I told you I was in for the long haul. Commitment works both ways. Together
means together, Alex."
"You don't sound like you trust me, Julia," he said with a little smile that made her trust him even less.
"I don't. I'm sorry if that hurts your feelings."
He laughed at that. "Don't worry about it. I don't have feelings to hurt. By the way, there's some guy staring out the window at us, and he looks pissed off. Do you know him?"
Julia turned her head to see Michael standing by the cafe window. "Yes, I know him," she said with a sigh. "He's my fiancé."
"You're engaged?"
She nodded, wondering how she would explain Alex to Michael.
"He's going to be a problem, isn't he?" Alex asked.
"I think he might be."
* * *
"Why don't you just go out there?" Liz asked, wishing Julia would return to the cafe sooner rather than later. Michael had been staring out the window for a good five minutes, and while Liz would have liked to take a look herself, she'd managed to refrain. She thought if she sat at a nearby table, sipping her red wine and acting unconcerned, Michael would feel the same way, too. So far it wasn't working.
"Who is he?" Michael bit out. "I've never seen him before."
"I'm sure he's no one important."
"Then why is she talking to him out there?" Michael asked, turning to face her. "Why not invite him inside? Why all the secrecy?"
Liz shrugged. "It's quieter outside. Why don't you sit down and have a drink with me?"
"Julia has been acting funny all day—at the museum and here tonight. I don't know what's going on with her. I thought we were finally moving on. I thought I'd given her enough time. I know I can make her happy if she'll give me a chance. Don't you think so?"
"Of course, Michael."
He let out a heavy breath and turned back toward the window. Julia was acting oddly, Liz thought, booking a wedding date today, and then telling Michael tonight that she wanted to postpone the ceremony. It didn't make sense. Michael was such a great guy. He had his own business. He was successful, good-looking, kind, and a family man. He'd been supportive during their mom's illness and the funeral. She didn't think they could have made it through their mother's death without him. She couldn't understand why Julia was hesitating for even a second.
If she had been the one Michael wanted, she'd have married him the day after he asked. Not that he'd ever noticed her in that way. She was just the kid sister, the short brunette, the flaky one, who served up shrimp cocktails and clam chowder in bread bowls all day long. Julia was prettier and far more interesting with her passion for music and her job at the radio station. There was no way Liz could compete with her. Although she did have bigger breasts. It was a small distinction, but one she was happy to make.
A loud clatter made her turn her head just in time to see her father, a tall, normally nimble man, stumble into a table and chairs. Her aunt Rita pushed him down into the chair and told him she'd bring him some coffee. Liz frowned. He was drinking so much lately. He'd always loved his red wine, but now it was vodka and scotch and lots of it.
Gino rested his head in his hands. He'd developed prominent streaks of gray in his black hair in the past year. His cheeks were pale and he was far too thin. Liz got up and walked over to him. "Daddy, are you okay?'
"I'm fine," he said, lifting his head. He offered her a dazed, drunken smile. "You're a good girl, Lizzie."
"You should eat something. Have you had any food?"
"I'm not hungry. I think we need another toast. To my daughter and her fiancé." He looked around. "Where's Julia?"
"She's outside talking to a friend. You can toast her later."
"Lucia, we must have champagne," Gino yelled across the room. "We must drink to Michael and Julia."
"Dad, please. Just have some coffee." Liz sent Aunt Rita a grateful look when she brought over a mug of hot coffee. "Here you go."
He waved a hand in disgust. "I don't want coffee. I want champagne. This is a party."
"You're embarrassing your daughter," Rita said sharply. "Drink the coffee, Gino."
He pushed it away, got to his feet, and staggered across the room to the bar. Liz knew she should probably go after him, but dammit, she was tired of chasing him. It was Julia's turn. She glanced across the room and saw that Michael was still staring out the window.
Maybe she couldn't set her father straight, but she could do something about Michael and Julia. She walked over to him and said, "If you're not going to get her, I will."
Michael grabbed her arm as she moved toward the door. "Stay out of it, Lizzie."
"Excuse me?"
"I want her to come in on her own."
"I don't care how she comes in. My dad is drinking himself to death over at the bar, and she needs to help me get him out of here."
"Your uncle is taking care of Gino," Michael said, tipping his head toward the far side of the room. Gino was now sitting down in a booth with her uncle and a pot of coffee.
She felt marginally better seeing them together. "He's really got me worried," she confessed. "He's like a lost soul right now, completely adrift. My mom took care of him. She did everything— the cooking, the cleaning, the housework. She paid the bills. She even did the books here at the restaurant. I don't know how he gets through the days without her. Actually, he's barely getting through the days." She shook her head, feeling helpless.
"You worry too much about your family," Michael said, putting a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "But I understand. I'm the same way."
Liz nodded. It was nice to have someone who understood. "Let's sit down. Yesterday you said you had something to tell me, and I still haven't heard what that something is."
"That's right," Michael muttered, as he pulled out a chair, joining her at the table. "Now I think I may have jumped the gun."
"About what?" she asked.
He hesitated for a long moment, then offered her a sheepish smile. "I bought a house."
"You did what?" She couldn't have heard him right. He hadn't just said he'd bought a house, had he?
"I bought a house. It's down the street from Carol's home," he added, referring to his younger sister. "She knew the seller. I was able to make an offer before the owner put it on the market. It's small and needs a lot of work, but it's perfect. It's near the Marina, on Waterside. It has a small garden in the yard, and it's close to the rec center where I play basketball."
"Has Julia seen it?"
"No, I want to surprise her. What do you think?"
What did she think? She thought he was crazy. But it was certainly a romantic gesture. She had to give him that.
"Say something, Lizzie. You're making me nervous."
"It's just that a house is such a big thing to do on your own, Michael." Liz had a feeling Julia would not be happy to have been left out of the decision making. "Why didn't you show it to Julia before you bought it?"
"Because she would have put me off, told me to wait until we got married, and this was too good a deal to pass up. I want us to have our own home, Liz. No more apartment living. I want to own something, put down roots, start a family. I want to give Julia back some of what she lost when your mother died." He gave her an earnest smile. "It's a two-bedroom, so we'll have plenty of room for a baby. With my sister down the street, we'll have family nearby. I was so afraid we wouldn't be able to afford a place in the city that I knew I had to grab this one."
"That makes sense," she said slowly. "When are you going to tell Julia?"
"I want to fix it up first. It needs a lot of paint, some landscaping. I'm going to start work on it tomorrow. The escrow doesn't close for another two weeks, but the owner has already moved out and said I could do whatever I wanted."
"Wow." She didn't know what else to say.
"You can't tell Julia about it until I'm ready. Promise me, Lizzie."
"I promise. This is your secret to tell."
"I will make her happy," he said with determination. "I just want her to give me a chance to do it. I thought I'd pinned her down
today; then tonight she got the jitters again." He paused. "Did she tell you about a photograph she saw at the museum that she thinks is her?"
"No. What are you talking about?"
"She saw some picture of a little girl standing in front of an orphanage in Russia twenty-something years ago, and for some bizarre reason, she thinks it could be her."
"What?" Liz's jaw dropped in amazement. "That's crazy. She's not Russian, and she was never an orphan."
"Yeah, well, she suddenly doesn't know who she is."
"She's a DeMarco. She's my big sister, that's who she is," Liz said, with a burst of anger. It was one thing for Julia to question getting married, but why on earth would she start thinking she was someone she wasn't?
"You should remind her of that."
As Michael finished speaking, the door opened, and Julia entered the restaurant alone. She sat down next to Liz, her cheeks flushed, a guilty look in her eyes. Liz felt a shiver of uncertainty race down her spine. What was Julia feeling guilty about? That man? Or was it something else? Something that would throw their lives into chaos again? The past year had been horrible. They were finally getting back to an almost normal state where she didn't feel like crying every day. She didn't want to deal with any more problems. Which meant she didn't want to ask Julia what she'd been up to outside the restaurant.
Apparently Michael didn't feel the same way. "Who was that?" he asked, an edge to his voice.
Julia hesitated for a moment, then said, "A photographer."
Liz felt a wave of relief. "Of course, a wedding photographer. I told you it was nothing," she said to Michael.
The tension on his face eased as well. "You were talking to a wedding photographer? I thought you weren't sure about planning the wedding yet?"
"I'm not, but—"
Before Julia could finish, they were interrupted by Lucia, who held a digital camera in her hand. "Come, come," Lucia said. "We're going to take a family picture for my birthday present. Now, before your father falls down."
"Dad is drinking again?" Julia asked Liz.
"I don't think he's stopped in the past six months," Liz replied, wondering why Julia hadn't noticed. "We're going to have to do something."
Summer Reads Box Set: Volume 1 Page 70