Share the Moon

by Sharon Struth

  Dad’s light brows lifted. “Who’s the lucky guy?”

  “Duncan Jamieson.”

  Dad gave a noncommittal head-bob. “He’s a nice man, honey. Even though Jay has his knickers in a bundle over the land issue, you’re more sensible than your brother. Go with your heart. You deserve to this time.”

  Jay walked in wearing the long-sleeved T-shirt his wife had given him this past Christmas with a chubby, mustached cartoon chef and the words Never Trust a Skinny Chef above his head.

  “Dad, you missed a great play.” He looked between them. “What’s going on?”

  “We’re discussing how lucky we are Mom taught you to cook.” He cast Sophie a conspiratorial grin on his way out and patted Jay on the shoulder. “Great brunch, Son. Back to the game.”

  Sophie returned to the dishwasher task, adding a few more glasses to the top.

  Jay plunked his mug in the sink she’d cleared. “What were you really discussing?”

  Sophie pointed to the mug then cast Jay the same disbelieving look she’d have given her kids as she motioned to the dishwasher.

  “Oops. Sorry.” He stuck the mug in the top rack. “So, the real topic?”

  “Love.”

  He wrinkled his nose, opened the refrigerator, and removed the bowl of fruit she’d just put away. “Then he knew about you and Duncan?”

  “He does now.”

  Jay put the bowl on the counter and removed the plastic wrap. “Are you guys that serious?”

  “Maybe.”

  Jay’s lips pulled into a thin line. “Hmm.”

  “Hey.” She tossed a dishtowel at him. “We okay?”

  Jay reacted fast and caught it with one hand. “Yeah. Eileen told me I made a big deal out of nothing and you had your reasons for not telling me about the offer. I’d stopped in yesterday morning to tell you something else, though.” He plopped the towel near the sink and dropped his voice. “Remember when I said I’d contact my high school buddy Andy Murray? He used to work at the Northbridge police station?”

  “Yeah.” Dread wormed through her. She’d hoped he’d forgotten the request.

  He took a cereal-sized bowl from the cabinet. “Andy is living in and working outside of Hartford. Anyway, we met for lunch Friday. I asked if he remembered anything about the gunshot at Buzz’s house. Turns out your instincts are right. The incident involved the Jamiesons. Did you know Duncan has a brother named Trent who’s adopted?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “How’d you—” He waved a hand. “Never mind. So you probably know there might be another reason the Jamiesons have returned to Northbridge.”

  Even though Duncan had told her plenty, years of interviews had taught her to wait to hear what others said first, sometimes not what she expected. “What’d you find out?”

  “The gunshot in the article happened when Trent Jamieson paid a visit to Buzz and Marion’s house. Andy told me a neighbor reported she saw Trent running from Buzz’s house right after a gun went off. She called the cops. A little later, they found Trent downtown hanging out with some kids and took him into the station.”

  This confirmed the old dispatcher’s story. “Did Andy know why Trent showed up there?”

  “He said the guy wanted to find out the truth about his birth parents.”

  “So he went to them?”

  “Have I out-scooped the ‘queen of the scoop’?” Jay smirked with too much glee.

  “Come on! Don’t torment me.”

  His grin disappeared. “Get this… Marion Harris is Trent’s real mother.”

  Marion’s strong reaction when Sophie had uncovered the newspaper story and spoken to Buzz took on new meaning. In the hallway at the December zoning board meeting, she’d had that strange, almost fearful, reaction to Duncan, too. An uncomfortable wave rushed at Sophie. At the bowling alley, when he’d mentioned Trent was adopted, her question about Trent’s birth mother had been quickly glossed over.

  She leaned against the counter and crossed her arms. “Are you positive?”

  “You want me to do blood work? No, I’m not. I’m repeating what Andy said.”

  “Sure explains a lot.”

  Jay’s eyes opened wide. “Like what?”

  “Between us, okay?” Sophie raised a warning finger. “I’ve never been more serious.”

  He nodded.

  “Duncan’s purchase of the Tates’ land wasn’t only for the resort. Elmer Tate is Trent’s birth father. So he’s kind of the de facto heir to the land.”

  Jay’s lips pursed. “Did Duncan tell you that?”

  “Of course.”

  “I’m not sure it’s true.”

  “Why?”

  “Andy said Trent went there to ask Marion the identity of his father.”

  “So what? Maybe he didn’t know Elmer was his dad in those days.”

  “At the station, Trent confessed he believed Marion had lied about his real father. Claimed the birth certificate wasn’t true. He refused to leave their house until Marion told him the truth. When Buzz got home, he pulled the gun to make him leave.” Jay shook his head and his short ponytail bobbed. “Freaking Buzz is crazy. Anyway, Trent went to grab the gun and a shot fired. Luckily, nobody got hurt.”

  “Did Andy say who else Trent might have believed to be his dad?”

  “That’s the real rub. You won’t like this.”

  A sick feeling settled in Sophie’s stomach. The problem with snooping was sometimes she got answers.

  Chapter 28

  Ice pellets bombarded Sophie’s windshield on her way to Duncan’s house. She’d spent the entire afternoon mulling over Jay’s find. Had Duncan kept this crucial part of his family’s past from her or would this be news to him?

  She followed the town sander truck as it threw a dusting of salt and sand on the slick roads. The truck went straight when she turned toward Duncan’s place. The tail end of her car swerved. Sophie regained control of the vehicle and continued along the road as the Subaru wipers batted away hard pellets hitting the windshield, like bullets warning her to stay back.

  Sophie played out the possible scenarios that might unfold tonight, none great. This news tested her trust in Duncan, gave him every reason not to trust her, and, if true, would deliver a walloping punch to his reality.

  What the hell was she doing?

  Maybe the Jamieson brood preferred their dirty business kept tucked away in the vaults of history. Who wouldn’t? A tidal wave of caution knocked her over, the kind where you second guess an idea that seemed perfect only seconds earlier.

  She approached his house. Bright headlights peeked out from his driveway. A car pulled out and headed her way. She immediately recognized the extended front end and barred grill of the 1998 Buick Park Avenue. As it passed, she caught a shadowed glimpse of the driver, Buzz Harris, behind the wheel. A silhouette in the passenger seat looked like Marion. Sophie’s palms tingled, the way they always did when a lead on a story dragged her under its tow. Any other day, she’d have thought Buzz’s visit might be about the resort or zoning matters.

  This wasn’t any other day.

  At the end of his long driveway, she parked next to an Audi she recognized as Trent’s car. She hurried from the car to the walkway, covered by a salt-sand mixture. The sleet assaulted her as she took careful steps. She pressed the doorbell and made every effort to ignore the panicked voice inside her head urging her to flee before it was too late.

  Duncan opened the door. Right away, his face broke into a smile. “Hey. What a nice surprise.” He led her inside, planted a quick peck on her lips, then stole a glance toward the driveway.

  “They’re gone.”

  “Oh, you passed the Harris’ on their way out?”

  “You can’t miss him in that big sedan.” The welcoming aroma of a baking pie or cake with coffee reminded Sophie he had guests. “Sorry to barge in unannounced. I didn’t realize you had company.”

  “Just m
y brother. I was going to call you later.” He gently cupped Sophie’s cheeks and gave her a tender kiss. “Should you be driving in this ice? They left because of the weather.”

  “I won’t stay long. Are you social friends with Buzz and Marion?”

  “Not really. They stopped by to say hello to Trent.” The words came out fast. “They met during our summer visits.”

  “Oh.”

  The strange facts from Jay stood on more solid footing. Trent’s deep voice carried from another room, followed by Patrick’s laughter.

  “Can we talk in private?”

  “Sure.” He pressed his hand to her lower back. “Let’s go to my office.”

  He led her from the spacious foyer, down a hallway and into his study. Oversized, like most rooms in the McMansions in this part of town, oak panels against light cream-colored walls created a cozier than expected space. This trip served as a reminder they lived in different worlds, her house quite small by comparison.

  He shut the door partway and drew her close. “Listen, I was going to call you. Yesterday morning, you said something very personal to me. About how you felt when we’re together.” Worry lines creased his face.

  “Sorry I came on so strong.”

  “No. I’m glad you did. You bring out feelings in me, too, but they’re not easy for me to share.” Duncan tapped his chest near his heart. “They’re in here, though. Please don’t give up on me.”

  “I’ll never give up on us.” She meant every word.

  His shoulders relaxed. “Buzz wasn’t here about zoning, you know.”

  “I didn’t think so.” She stepped away from his embrace but still felt trapped by circumstances.

  “There are some things you should know about my family situation here.”

  Tension in her body, present since she’d left her house, disappeared. Duncan’s offer to share the details Jay found meant she wouldn’t be the bearer of sordid family news.

  He lowered his voice. “Marion Harris is Trent’s birth mother. That’s why they came here tonight. Trent wanted to talk to her, now that I’ve returned to town.”

  She studied Duncan’s face for any signs he might have more, but he only stared back and seemed to wait for her reaction. Did he really not know what happened with the gunshot or his father’s possible involvement?

  “Anything else?”

  Duncan tipped his head. “What do you mean?”

  Sophie went to his desk and dropped her bag on top. She removed the two pieces of paper that had started her chase. “Before you moved here—before we got close—someone left this for me at the newspaper.”

  He went to her side and picked up reading glasses off his desk. Slipping them on, he studied the first note. “The Jamiesons are corrupt. Both now and in the past. Question the gunshot.” His forehead crumpled in deep lines. “What gunshot? Why would anybody…?” His eyes narrowed. “Who gave this to you?”

  “It was left anonymously at the Gazette office. For me. Cliff suggested I do some research on why.” His brows rose, but she didn’t stop. “The same person also left me this.” She handed him the news story with the police report.

  Duncan’s jaw muscle flexed as he read. He looked up. “So? What does a story about a gunshot at Buzz’s house have to do with anything?” He glanced at the paper again. “This happened in nineteen eighty-one. I wasn’t even—” He paused and stared at a spot on the wall behind her. “Eighty-one. The summer before I started high school.” His voice dropped. “We were here. Our last summer before Dad put the house on the market.”

  “So you don’t know anything about that story?”

  “No, I don’t.” His tone strong and unshaken, Duncan narrowed his gaze. “Why haven’t you mentioned this before? We’ve been together enough.”

  “Until today, this really had no meaning.”

  “Oh?” The tight press of his lips offered a deadly pause. “You’ve been researching me again?”

  “No! I started this before we... Before I had feelings for you.”

  He lowered the paper then wandered to the window, crossing his arms and staring into the black night.

  She went to his side and touched his forearm, which tensed under her hand. “I learned the answer today. This time, I came right to you.”

  Duncan’s neck corded tight and he kept his gaze fixed on the darkness. “What’d you find now?”

  “Hey! Cut me some slack. I’m trying to be honest.”

  He faced her and his facial muscles softened. “You’re right. So, what’s this about?”

  “The incident here is related to Trent’s real father.”

  “Elmer? How?” He tilted his head.

  Either Duncan was a phenomenal actor or he hadn’t heard the tidbit Jay had told her. “It’s a long story.” Every muscle in Sophie’s body tensed as it prepared for impact. “The article is about Trent. He was there when the gunshot in the police report was fired.”

  Duncan returned to his desk and again studied the short news clipping. “I don’t see his name here.”

  “I’ve been told the story in the paper isn’t what really happened.”

  His pupils turned to dark pools and his voice rose. “Let’s stop playing games. What’s going on?”

  A creak from the door opening made them both turn. Trent stood in the doorway, somber and less confident than the first time she’d crossed his path.

  He stepped inside. “Hello, Sophie. Looks like you’ve uncovered the very thing I’d hoped had disappeared for good.”

  * * * *

  Duncan’s head throbbed. How had he missed all this?

  Trent paced in front of the desk, hands jittery with wild animation as he divulged details Duncan couldn’t believe happened right in front of him their last summer here. Yes, his parents had acted strangely when he’d been told their vacation would end early. He hadn’t even tried to guess why. They never shared their behind-closed-door issues with the two kids.

  He leaned his elbows on the desk and pinched the bridge of his nose. The inside of his head felt like a pane of shattered glass. He digested Trent’s explanation about how he’d gone over to see Marion one day, to get answers to questions only she could answer. Duncan was about to ask what kind of question only Marion could answer when Trent continued with his story.

  “Buzz came home early and all hell broke loose. I didn’t know a neighbor saw me leave or she’d even called the police until they found me downtown and took me in. I was scared, so I told them the truth.”

  The idea his entire family had kept the story from him pounded Duncan’s ego worse than a hard kick to the groin. “Why would you all keep this from me? This is why we sold the lake house?”

  A thin layer of humiliation lined Trent’s face, one Duncan witnessed every single time Trent screwed something up. “Yes. It’s why Dad insisted we sell it. He didn’t give Mom any say in the matter. It’s also why he bribed the police.”

  “Bribed the police? Why on earth would he have to do that?” Duncan glared at his brother, but before he could answer, he shifted his attention to Sophie. “I can’t believe you kept the note from me.”

  An end table lamp cast a light on her face and he caught a glint of moisture in her eyes. “They came to me anonymously. I wouldn’t ever—”

  He held up a hand. “Don’t.”

  She dropped her chin. Her silence about those notes over the past weeks burned his wounded soul. Could he ever trust her?

  His focus returned to Trent. “Why did Dad need to bribe the police?”

  “To change the records.” Trent lifted his head. “He didn’t want the details I shared with the cops anywhere in writing.”

  “I know I’ll be sorry I asked, but what did you tell the police that Dad wanted erased from the records?”

  “That I went to Buzz’s house to learn who was really my birth father.”

  Duncan slammed his palms onto the desk and the bang resonated off the walls. �
��I’m only buying this land because Elmer—I’d been told—was your real father! Now you’re telling me he may not be?”

  The muscles of Trent’s jaw clenched and his cold, hard stare bore through Duncan. “Yes. Look Duncan, there was no easy way to tell Mom what I suspected without upsetting her. This whole deal with the Tates happened so fast.”

  Duncan squirmed, Trent’s unusual calm during a crisis leaving him uneasy. “Why would she be upset if Elmer wasn’t your real father?”

  “Because…” Trent pulled in then slowly released a deep breath. “It might be Dad.”

  “Our dad?”

  Trent nodded.

  “Where would you get that crazy idea?”

  Trent plopped into an oversized chair. “I found some letters.”

  Sophie stood and took the straps of her purse, left on the desk.

  “Stop.” Duncan’s voice rose louder than he intended.

  She released her hand and looked at him with her mouth downcast, her usual glow gone.

  “You started this, you might as well stay.” The request came out nasty, nastier than he planned. “Please. Take a seat.”

  She returned to the sofa, not far from Trent. Duncan massaged the edges of his mouth between his finger and thumb, staring at his brother and the woman he believed he loved.

  A woman who kept digging up the past about his family.

  Her gaze locked with his, its sadness wielding a power over him. He forced himself to detach, not sure he wanted her to sink into his soul any deeper.

  “Let’s hear it, Trent. The truth. For once, give me the truth.”

  Trent folded his hands in his lap, his gaze focused on the area rug. “About two months before we were to come up to the lake for the second summer, I’d been in the attic trying to find my old baseball trophies. Remember the year I set up a display on my bedroom wall?”

  Duncan recalled his brother’s sports success in high school and the endless trophies and write-ups in the local paper. He nodded.

  “I found a box marked ‘Frank’s college papers.’ Dad acted like such a pain in the ass about my schoolwork. I got nosey about his performance. Halfway down the box some letters were bundled with a rubber band. They were addressed to Dad at his office. The words ‘personal and confidential’ were on the outside.” Trent shifted in his seat. “I read them.”