by Rita Herron
And find out what connection Gerald Jones had to Barrett. Come to think of it, he’d seen Gerald talking to Louise at the party at Eli’s that night.
“Thanks for dinner,” Veronica said, breaking into his thoughts.
“It was great,” Nathan said as he pulled into her complex. He stopped and faced her. “You really want to go through those boxes?”
“Yes.” She smiled, and he remembered the picture of her standing at her parents’ graveside. She was a courageous woman. He couldn’t begin to imagine what her life had been like.
“Do you want me to leave?”
She shook her head. “I know you’ve heard a lot of things about me, so if there is something in there about my father’s work, I want you to see it.”
Nathan’s throat closed. He wanted to believe her so badly he ached. “Then let’s go.”
Veronica opened the door and they walked silently to her apartment. “You know, when I first moved here I couldn’t get used to the cool weather. Most of the leaves had already fallen to the ground.”
Nathan laughed. “I guess it is a switch from Florida.”
“But now I like the idea of a change in seasons.” She stopped and stared at the bare trees. “It looks so desolate without the leaves. But when spring comes and the flowers bloom, it must be beautiful.”
A soft breeze picked up the strands of her hair and tossed them around her face. Nathan slowly reached out and moved them back, tucking them behind her ear, certain he’d never seen a more beautiful sight. “Spring is beautiful,” he said quietly, realizing this year would be the first time she would experience the magnificent season and remember it. He imagined her standing underneath a blossoming dogwood tree with its dainty white buds showering around her.
Looking through her father’s things would be hard for her. He only hoped he could be around when spring finally came for her.
WHILE VERONICA unlocked her apartment door, they heard the phone ringing. By the time they entered, the answering machine had clicked on and he heard a man’s agitated voice.
“Veronica, this is Ron. I really wish you were home.”
She bit her lip and he stood behind her, watching her reaction.
The man continued in a rush, his voice growing more and more irritated. “I don’t know why you haven’t returned any of my calls, but I want to talk to you. It’s been eight weeks now. For all I know, you could have fallen off the face of the—”
Veronica clicked off the machine, grabbed the phone and turned away from him. “I’m here, Ron.” She sighed and ran a hand through her hair. “I’m sorry I haven’t called, but my schedule’s been crazy and I had to get settled and…”
She rattled on with excuses, and Nathan folded his arms, wondering what Ron was saying on the other end of the line.
“No, don’t come here,” she said. “Listen, Ron, I really can’t talk now.”
A long pause followed. Veronica lowered her voice.
“Yes.” She glanced at him nervously. “It’s business, Ron. Can I call you back?”
Business, huh? He had a feeling they both knew there was more than business going on between the two of them.
“Okay, tell Mr. Raddison I’ll give him a call.” She hung up and brushed her hands down her skirt.
“Who’s Raddison?”
“He’s one of the men I represent in the retirement community. He thinks someone’s trying to scam them.”
“Sounds like a job for the police.”
“I’ll talk to them tomorrow. I can’t let those older people suffer.”
Nathan thought of her grandmother and how much Veronica must miss her. “If I can do anything to help, let me know.”
“Thanks.”
He frowned. “So, is Cox coming here?”
Veronica shook her head. “I don’t think so.” She turned, obviously avoiding the issue. “I’ll find those boxes.”
Nathan nodded. He halfway hoped Cox would show up. He’d like to talk to the man himself. And if he had anything to do with the threats on Veronica, he would do a whole lot more than talk.
Chapter Nine
Veronica dragged three boxes into the living room and knelt beside them. The plain brown boxes were sealed with shipping tape, nondescript in every way. But they held precious fragments of a life she remembered nothing about.
“I understand why I blocked out that night,” she said, as she cut open the tape. “But I still don’t know why I can’t recall the earlier years. There must be some happy memories there, too.”
“Who knows?” Nathan lowered himself beside her, then squeezed her hand. Veronica gazed into his eyes and accepted the strength he offered. “Maybe you’ll find out when you look inside.”
She wondered if it were possible. She’d hoped seeing the old house would trigger her memory, but it had only given her the creeps, just as the music box had. What if the same thing happened when she opened the box of keepsakes? What if she found something to confirm the fact that she was responsible for her parents’ deaths?
She released Nathan’s hand, but hers shook so badly he took the scissors from her and opened the boxes himself. When he finished he placed his hands on his knees and waited. “Take your time, Veronica. It’s okay,” he said quietly.
Veronica lifted the sheets of tissue paper covering the contents and looked inside. The first box had a family picture on top. She pulled it out and examined the faces. Her mother had been a beautiful woman. She had Veronica’s same dark hair and slender build with porcelain skin, a dainty nose and brown eyes. Her father was handsome, with light brown hair, a mustache and hazel eyes that held a commanding look. His nose was prominent and his jaw wide. He’d been a tall man, almost overshadowing her mother’s small frame. She favored her mother more than her father.
She was wearing a frilly blue dress and was sitting in her father’s lap. Her mother stood behind them with her hand on her dad’s shoulder. It amazed her that she could see the three of them together, but she had no recollection of posing for the picture.
“They were handsome people,” Nathan said, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “You’re beautiful, just like your mother.”
Veronica nodded solemnly. She’d almost forgotten he was there.
Next she pulled out a small, worn teddy bear and a raggedy green blanket. “These must have been mine when I was little.”
Nathan laughed softly. “Your security blanket. Looks like you wore it out.”
Smiling, she stroked the bear and blanket, then laid them down and drew out a long white christening gown. She admired the intricate lace and embroidery design across the front. “It’s beautiful. I wonder if my mom embroidered it. Grandma said she liked to sew.”
Nathan gave her an encouraging look and she pulled out a rattle, a scrapbook and a journal that had belonged to her grandmother. She opened the scrapbook and saw dozens of pictures of her and her parents. Some were of her as a baby, then a toddler at a birthday party they’d planned for her. A few pages had blank, faded spots as if photos had been removed. Veronica wondered who had taken the pictures out and why.
“You were chubby when you were little,” Nathan said in a teasing voice.
“Well, it’s no wonder. Look at that cake,” she said with a smile. “It’s huge.”
Nathan took out a small bronzed baby shoe and traced his fingers over it. “You had tiny feet though.”
Veronica laughed, her heart squeezing at the sight of the baby shoe. She’d never really thought about having children of her own, but seeing the precious baby mementos brought a vision of a little boy to mind; a little boy with sandy blond hair and eyes a deep amber.
She stared at Nathan, surprised at her thoughts, and their gazes locked. A slow smile spread on his face and she wondered if he had ever thought about having children. He was kind and strong and protective, but gentle; he would make a wonderful father.
But Nathan would leave the minute they solved the case. He was interested in her story, but tha
t didn’t mean he would ever fall in love with her.
She flipped through the box and noticed a photograph of her parents on their wedding day.
“She made a beautiful bride,” Nathan said, his voice husky.
Veronica pictured herself standing in a long white gown with a lacy veil and a handsome man on her arm. Nathan. His breath feathered against her cheek and she realized he’d dropped a kiss into her hair. She leaned against him and closed her eyes, allowing herself to fantasize about belonging to him. His lips pressed gently along the column of her neck and she shivered. He moved his hands to her waist and paused, leaning with his face buried against her hair. For a brief moment she forgot the horrors of her childhood, the trouble that had happened since she’d moved to Oakland. Then he pulled away, and the sweet moment was broken.
“They had a small wedding,” Nathan commented.
She studied the other photographs. “That’s odd.”
“What?”
“My parents were so close to Eli. I wonder why there aren’t any pictures of him in here.”
“Hmm. He was senator back then, wasn’t he?”
“Yes.”
“He probably traveled a lot.”
Veronica closed the book. “You’re right.”
“What’s the other book?”
“It’s a journal of my grandmother’s.” Veronica turned several pages, feeling as if she were violating her grandmother’s privacy by reading her personal writings.
“How did it get in the box with your parent’s things?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. It was dated years ago. It must have gotten mixed in when we moved to Florida. I’ll read it later.”
“What’s in the second box?” Nathan asked.
“Looks like a few of my mom’s things.” She opened a decorative flower box containing a corsage. “She wore this on her wedding day.” Next she dragged out an exquisite wedding gown, trimmed in tiny pearl buttons and lace. Veronica’s eyes teared at the sight. Every girl dreamed of marriage and having their mother there. She would never know that as a reality. She touched the slippery satin to her cheek, then quickly wrapped the gown back in its covering before she could become too emotional. When she glanced up, Nathan was watching her with a strange expression in his eyes, a combination of heat and desire and something else: yearning. Veronica smiled and he smiled back, reaching out to wipe a tear from her cheek. Embarrassed, she lowered her head.
The wedding guest book was next. She skimmed over the names, again surprised Eli wasn’t there. Perhaps their friendship developed after they were married. Oddly enough though, she noticed Eli’s mother’s name, Alma Jones. And Arlene Baits, the doctor who had treated Veronica at the hospital.
She thought back to how nervous the woman had seemed when she’d discovered Veronica’s identity. Maybe she would go back and talk with her.
“Hey, this looks like a date book,” Nathan said, sounding suddenly businesslike as he searched the other box. She glanced over his shoulder.
“It was my father’s.”
Nathan flipped through the pages. “Do you mind if I take it and look it over?”
Veronica shook her head and he continued to study the small book. She extracted a gold sealed envelope and opened it. It held her parents’ marriage certificate and her birth certificate. She’d been born on May 7 at Oakland Community Hospital, weighed seven pounds and eight ounces, and had been nineteen inches long. She traced her finger along her parents’ marriage certificate, pausing when she noticed the date of their marriage. Her parents hadn’t been married until December 1. That meant her mother was already pregnant when they got married.
Swallowing her surprise, she quickly stuffed the certificate back in the envelope before Nathan could see it. She had enough of her past to be ashamed about. She didn’t want him to know that on top of everything else, she’d been conceived out of wedlock.
When he noticed her quickly stuff the papers away, he motioned to the envelope. “What’s in there?”
“It’s just my birth certificate,” she said softly.
He put the date book in his pocket and stood. Other than a pair of bookends and an empty tape recorder, the third box was almost empty.
“Well, I guess that’s it,” Veronica said, pushing up from the floor. “It doesn’t look like we found anything to help.”
“I want to get a closer look at the appointments your father had before he died. It might give us a clue.” He patted his pocket where he stuck the book and Veronica followed him to the door. “I suppose I should be going,” he said, pausing.
She started to speak, but clutched the doorknob, her gaze straying to her bedroom.
“I’ll clean the lipstick off your mirror before I go,” he said, as if he’d just remembered it.
Veronica shook her head firmly. “No, I need to do that.”
His hand covered hers. “Will you be all right?”
“I may sleep on the couch, but I’ll be fine.”
He lifted his hand and rubbed her chin with the pad of his thumb. “I’ve got a car watching your apartment again. I’ll make sure he’s in place before I go.” She smiled shyly and nodded, her heart thudding painfully at the concern shadowing his husky voice. “You need to get the locks changed again. And this time, you stay here while they change them.”
“I will.”
“And don’t let anyone have an extra key.”
“I won’t.”
He gazed into her eyes, then back at the couch, and she desperately wanted to ask him to stay. Instead she clamped her hand over his and squeezed it tenderly. He lowered his mouth and gently brushed his lips across hers. When he raised his face, she saw again the raw yearning in his eyes as they darkened.
Then remorse or some emotion that looked like uncertainty filled his eyes, and he left, closing the door behind him.
Veronica leaned against the door, wondering if Nathan realized how close she’d come to begging him to stay. Only he would have been playing bodyguard, and she didn’t want him to sleep on the couch to protect her. She’d never wanted anything as much as she wanted to feel his arms around her. She wanted him to lie in her bed and bring her to ecstasy with his hands and mouth.
How could she be falling in love with the man, when he was doing nothing more than offering his comfort and expertise as a detective? She was going to make a fool of herself and drive away the only man who’d ever heard her story and not gone running.
She glanced outside, saw the blue-and-white car, then locked the door, pushing aside thoughts of Nathan. She stared at the boxes, still shaken by the fact that her mother had been pregnant when she’d married her father. Her grandmother had told her she was premature, but that obviously had been a lie. What else could her grandmother have lied about?
She walked over and picked up the journal. Still feeling as if she were intruding on her grandmother’s thoughts, she laid it on the end table. After changing into her gown and robe, she settled on the couch with some tea and the book. She took a deep breath and opened it to the first page.
Skimming the few pages in front, she learned her grandmother had started the journal when her grandfather had taken ill with cancer. Her grandmother had described her feelings while she’d cared for him.
She found a section describing her grandmother’s reaction to her mother’s pregnancy. She could hear her grandmother’s voice in her writing; it was almost as if she were in the room.
I pray she will marry the man and not make my grandchild grow up a bastard. Amelia is already growing heavy with the child, and unless they marry soon, the whole town will know. I’ve considered moving away to hide our shame, but Amelia seems to be coming around, and I’ve talked with Amelia’s doctor about keeping her pregnancy a secret. She’s agreed to tell people that the baby was premature.
Veronica closed her eyes and squeezed back tears. Her grandmother had considered her birth the family’s shame. She remembered the way her grandmother had cried and taken care of
her. Had her grandmother loved her? Or had she only taken her in out of pity?
Curious, she turned a few pages.
Amelia is to be wed today. I thank God for answering my prayers. I have made her wedding gown to disguise the soft mound of her belly in hopes that no one will notice. Her morning sickness has finally gone and she is starting to talk about the child as if it is already alive. I regret the way my daughter has behaved, but I think she will make a wonderful mother. She is kind and loving and I see the way Robert looks at her, and I know he is a good man who will provide a living for her and the baby.
Veronica wiped a tear from her eye and read on. Her grandmother had always told her that her mother loved her, but somehow reading it in print made it so much more real. She could imagine her mother pregnant, smiling at the thought of her birth.
As the day draws near for the baby, I am nervous. Amelia’s doctor has taken ill and I hope the new doctor Baits will keep our secret.
Veronica paused—Arlene Baits, the woman she’d met in the emergency room. Had she delivered Veronica? Excitement made her turn the pages faster and skim for details.
May 7—Dr. Baits helped Amelia bring a baby girl into the world today. It will be hard for people to believe she is premature since she is such a nice healthy size, but Dr. Baits has told people Amelia would have had a tenpounder if she’d carried to term. And Robert is such a tall man that I think folks may accept the story.
The baby is beautiful, with soft dark hair and big brown eyes. She reminds me of Amelia, but I think Robert is a little disappointed that she doesn’t favor him. She may change as she gets older. Babies do, I told him.
Veronica continued to read, tears slipping down her face as her grandmother described her visits to see her, how much her mother loved her and how proud she was her father’s law practice was doing so well. She skimmed over her early childhood, forcing herself to try and remember the incidents her grandmother described. But nothing seemed familiar.