Heart of Lies

by Jill Marie Landis

  He’d been shocked when he heard that she didn’t remember her own past. She still furtively clung to the idea that she had not been “changed” simply because Grande assured her she hadn’t been, but Tom suspected she had been victimized like the others. Claiming her parents had left Maddie in his safekeeping was a very convenient story from a man who collected children. What caring parents knowingly turned their child over to a master thief and confidence man?

  If Dexter had lied to her, who was she? Where had she come from? She appeared to be in her late twenties, but she could be younger or older. Megan Lane would be thirty-two now. What if Maddie was the woman he’d been searching for all along?

  Impossible, he thought. Insane. But what if?

  Surely there were stranger coincidences in life.

  As the fog crept in off the water, he warned himself to take care. He thought of Laura McCormick in Texas, of Maddie. And of himself. He was in danger of breaking so many hearts — but if Maddie turned out to be Megan Lane, not only would he have reunited the sisters, but he would give Maddie the gift of knowing who she really was along with a family and a new start.

  He watched a small flame flare, and then the yellow glow of lamplight filled Maddie’s shack. Her silhouette passed by the window. He went back to the open door without making a sound. Inside, Maddie was carrying a mug to the table. She hadn’t heard him, hadn’t seen him yet.

  “Megan?” His voice carried across the room.

  He’d expected her to turn and tell him to leave again. He hadn’t expected her to drop the mug. It shattered and spilled coffee on the floor. Color drain from her face, and she turned pale as chalk. She stared at him with red and swollen eyes.

  “What did you just say?” She trembled violently, her hands fisted at her sides. She watched him warily as he crossed the room.

  “Megan.”

  She flinched again, as if he’d slapped her. He crossed the room, took hold of her arm.

  “Does the name mean something to you?”

  “No.”

  “Then why are you shaking?”

  “You frightened me. Isn’t that enough?” She shoved away, went to get a dishrag. He picked up the remains of the mug.

  “There’s something more.”

  “It’s just a name.” She shook her head and knelt to mop up the puddle of coffee.

  When she finished, he reached out and pulled her to her feet. She came willingly, too distraught to fight him. He smoothed her hair back off her forehead, tipped her face toward the lamplight. Her brows were perfectly matched, evenly arched.

  “Let me go,” she whispered.

  He did. She walked outside.

  The fog hugged the water but could not silence its gentle slosh against the pilings. The night air was cool and damp. Maddie hugged herself as she stood at the very end of the crooked dock, staring down into the mist.

  Tom walked up behind her, tempted to draw her into his embrace, but did not dare.

  She surprised him, suddenly turning her back on the water. They were face-to-face now, inches from each other.

  “Who is Megan?”

  Impossible, he thought.

  Perhaps he held the key to the door to a new life for her, a life that would take her far away from him.

  “Tom? Who is she?”

  “You have no idea?” He’d found his voice, but not his courage.

  “Yes. I’m afraid she’s the girl in my nightmare,” she whispered. “One of the children I changed. I don’t know why else the name would frighten me so.”

  He ran his hands down her arms, took hold of her right hand, and led her to a low bench outside the front door. She sat down, leaned against the wall of the shack.

  Seeking confirmation, he said, “Tell me about your nightmare.”

  After a hesitation, she took a deep breath. Her voice took on a far-away quality as she spoke.

  “I’m always a child again, running, always running through the streets of New Orleans, trying to keep up with another little girl. She pulls me along, refusing to let go of my hand.” She paused, closed her eyes but only for a second. “There’s a man with us, a tall man—”

  “Dexter.”

  She shook her head. “No. Definitely someone else. I never see his face. He’s tall and much thinner, like a scarecrow. His back is to us. He’s in a hurry, dragging her along. She’s tugging on me. We form a chain of three. I can’t break free.”

  He could see the telling was painful, but she went on.

  “She won’t let go. Once I asked Dexter about the nightmare, fearing he’d lied to me and I had been changed like the others, but he swore I wasn’t. He said when I was small, I got lost in the market stalls and screamed for Betsy. He said that’s all the nightmare was — a memory of my terror that day.”

  “What does she look like, this girl in your dream?”

  Maddie frowned. “I don’t know,” she whispered. “She hasn’t any face. When she turns to me, she has no face, Tom. That’s what is so terrifying. There’s nothing where her face should be.”

  “The name Megan Lane —”

  “Is it her name? Is it the name of the faceless girl?” She looked as terrified as she was hopeful that he could put an end to her nightmares. “Who is she?”

  Not once since he’d known her had she been this fragile. He might have the knowledge to put the pieces of her life back together, to make her whole. But did he have the courage to tell her when the truth would take her away?

  Because he loved her, there was only one choice he could make.

  “Based on your reaction, I think it’s you, Maddie. I think your name is really Megan Lane.”

  “That’s impossible,” she whispered. “I’m Madeline. Madeline Grande.”

  “Your name may have been Madeline, but not Grande. Think, Maddie. If your parents gave you to Dexter, you would have had a name other than Grande at one time.”

  “We were all renamed Grande.”

  “It’s very possible Dexter lied about your family.” He took a deep breath, told her about Laura Foster McCormick’s search for the sister she hadn’t seen in over twenty years.

  “Laura’s name was Lovie Lane back then. Does that mean anything to you?”

  Tears welled up in Maddie’s eyes. “I’ve never heard it before but …” She grabbed his hands, held on tight. “I feel as if I’m coming apart inside and out.”

  Her fear was palpable. No longer able to watch her suffer, he wrapped her in his arms and rocked her gently, shushing her with whispers and kisses against her temple. In the state she was in, he doubted she was even aware of what he was doing or she would have never allowed it.

  Maddie was very aware of the warmth of his embrace, the comfort of Tom’s strong arms around her, his lips against her skin. He placed each kiss with tenderness and care.

  Even if she was someone else, what difference did it make now? What relation would want to claim her? She had been Maddie Grande for too long. Her soul was tarnished. She was not worthy of his love.

  Tom’s lips were moving near her temple. He whispered, “Surely you know better than anyone that Dexter was a confidence man, a master manipulator. Didn’t you ever catch him in a lie?”

  Sadness filled her heart, like the fog that crept slowly along the bayou. Sadness and humiliation not of her making.

  “After Dexter died, Anita told me that my marriage had been a sham. Dexter had sensed I was changing, that I wanted out, so he brought Louie into the tribe. As he planned, Louie and I fell in love. We believed him when he claimed he had the power to marry us. He was so proud. We would be the first of his tribe united in marriage. It was only after Dexter died that I learned he hadn’t any legal right to perform a marriage ceremony. We were little more than children ourselves. How could we have known any different? He was in complete control of our lives. We believed everything he told us.”

  She remembered how furious Anita was when Dexter pronounced them man and wife. Anita knew the truth. It was all a sham
. But Maddie wanted to believe in the lovely lie, for it was, after all, her wedding day.

  “My children were illegitimate,” she sighed. “At least Louie never knew.” It was another pound of shame added to the burden she already carried.

  Now that her initial shock had passed, she found the strength to raise her head and meet Tom’s eyes. They were shadowed by more than the darkness of the night. There was worry there, and deep concern.

  She sat up straighter, but didn’t pull out of his embrace.

  “If this is all just some story you’ve concocted to keep me here …”

  “I was looking for Megan Lane before I connected the twins to the kidnapping. Elizabeth Henson told me to talk to Anita Russo. That would have led me to question you eventually, even if there had been no kidnapping.”

  His arm was still draped around her shoulders. She leaned back against the wall, folded her arms around her waist, and stared out into the dark. The fog had dissipated. High overhead, the sky was spattered with stars. In the distance, a bullfrog croaked. Then there came a loud splash and the sound was silenced.

  “There is only one way to find out, you know,” he said. “Laura Foster McCormick.”

  “Laura McCormick.” The name called no face to mind. “What does she look like?”

  “We met years ago, during the war. Long before she moved to Texas. She’s beautiful. Blonde. Blue-eyed. Looks a bit like your friend, the missionary.”

  “Nothing like me.”

  “She describes Megan as having brown hair, brownish eyes, and fair skin. Her parents were Irish. That describes one of a million women in New Orleans.” He paused. “I think you should go to Texas and meet her. Perhaps she can identify you.”

  Texas. The idea was daunting, not to mention insane. “I don’t have the money to get to Texas.”

  “I’ll take you, of course.”

  “I can’t let you do that.”

  “Mrs. McCormick will pay the expenses. Hopefully she can put all doubt to rest once she sees you.”

  “You’re grasping at straws, Tom. You want me to be more than I am. Turning me into this Megan Lane is the most convenient way.”

  He shook his head and took her hand.

  “Believe me, Maddie, there’s a part of me that hopes you are not Megan Lane, because that would open up a world of opportunity for you. You’ll have family, and if I know Laura, you’ll have a home too. One that’s miles and miles from here.”

  It was insane to even consider there was a chance, and yet, what if the woman in Texas proved to be the faceless girl of her nightmare? The girl who once promised “I’ll watch out for you. No matter what.”

  What if that girl had been searching for her for all these years?

  “If she is my sister, she surely won’t want someone like me in her life.”

  “Why not give her a chance to make up her mind?”

  Maddie knew she’d get no sleep this night. Just then Tom’s stomach rumbled.

  “Sorry,” he apologized.

  It served as a good excuse for Maddie to let go of his hand. She was amazed to discover she had the strength to stand.

  “You must be starving. I’ve some turnip pie.”

  “I don’t want to put you out, but if you’re eating, I’ll take some.”

  She shook her head. “I’m not hungry, but let’s not let it go to waste. Besides, you can eat by the light of the lovely lamp you gave me.”

  Tom followed her inside, both of them thinking of everything he’d just told her, neither willing to speak of it again just yet. He pulled out a chair and sat down after Maddie refused his offer to help. She dished up a huge slice of thick-crust turnip pie.

  She didn’t eat a bite but was content to sit nearby and watch. Neither of them said much, but their unspoken words hung heavy on the air.

  “It’s getting late.” He leaned back in his chair.

  “Too late for you to leave now.”

  Their eyes met and held. Her cheeks flushed and she looked away.

  “If you don’t mind, I’ll bed down in the shed again,” he offered.

  Relieved, she nodded her assent and went to collect some blankets and a pillow off one of the twins’ cots. She walked him to the door, handed him the bundle. The night was cool but dry.

  It had been a long time since she’d known a man’s touch, the feel of a man’s hands on her. It was the first time she’d been tempted since Louie died. But Tom was a man of duty and honor and she … She wasn’t certain who or what she was anymore.

  “Think about everything I said tonight,” he urged as he stood in the doorway again.

  “As if I will be thinking of anything else.” She almost smiled.

  “Tomorrow we’ll make plans to leave for Texas, but only if you want.”

  Maddie watched him walk alone down the narrow path toward the shed. She might not have known who she was, but she knew what she wanted: a man she didn’t deserve.

  CHAPTER 27

  Maddie gave up trying to sleep and rose long before dawn. She stoked the fire in the stove and mixed up a batch of biscuits. The table was set when Tom knocked on the back door. Despite a determined effort not to react, her heart jumped when she saw him standing there with water droplets glistening in his hair. His shirt collar was damp. A night’s growth of stubble covered his jaw, which was both masculine and tempting. She could almost feel his rough beard against her cheek.

  He looked as if he hadn’t gotten any more sleep than she. His gaze roamed over her, and her knees went weak.

  “Come in.” She stepped aside and he walked past her. Thankfully he didn’t bring up the subject of Texas until he’d polished off two helpings of everything and plenty of coffee.

  Silence lengthened in the cabin as the minutes ticked by. Finally, Tom casually linked his arm around the back of his chair and studied her closely.

  “Have you made a decision, Maddie?”

  At least she tried to smile. He didn’t even make an attempt.

  “What if I go to Texas and this woman, this Laura Foster McCormick, wants to find her sister so badly that she’s ready to believe I’m the one … even if I’m not?”

  “I’m willing to bet she wants to be as certain as you.”

  It was impossible to ignore him. His presence filled up the cabin the way thinking of him filled up the empty spaces in her heart. She took a deep breath, drummed her fingers against the tabletop. “She may not want anything to do with me once she finds out about my life.”

  Unable to sit still any longer, she walked over to the stove, picked up a pot holder, and moved the coffeepot off of the front burner.

  Texas was a world away from everything she knew; her old life in New Orleans, her love of the bayou. If Mrs. McCormick proved to be her sister, if the woman offered her a place in her life, would she miss Louisiana? Would she think of Tom Abbott and find herself wondering what might have been?

  If she truly was Megan Lane, would she miss Maddie Grande?

  There was only one way to find out.

  She turned to Tom. He was still waiting for an answer.

  “I won’t need to take much, I guess,” she said, looking around the cabin.

  Tom waited without comment, his expression closed.

  “When should we leave?”

  He slowly stood, carefully pushed the chair beneath the table. His hat was on the closest cot. He picked it up, dusted it off with his cuff. “As soon as you can be ready. I have a bit of business to attend to first. A day in New Orleans should do it.”

  “How long will the journey take?”

  “I’m not sure, exactly. We’ll go by train whenever we can.”

  Her things were packed. “I can be ready in a quarter hour,” she said.

  “I’ll wait outside, give you some time alone.”

  “There’s one more thing. I almost hate to ask.”

  “Anything.”

  “I need to see Terrance. To … to tell him good-bye before we go.”

  Sh
e could see that he was less than happy with her request. He straightened his jacket collar. Fiddled with a button. Finally he said, “I can arrange it if that’s what you want.”

  “I do. I need to see him. He could have let me go to prison for the kidnapping too, but he didn’t.”

  “I understand, but I’m going with you. You’ll not face him alone.”

  She nodded. “Thank you.” He started for the door. She stopped him. “Tom?”

  “Yes?”

  “This is impossible, you know. I’m not the one.”

  “We’ll see, won’t we?”

  He apologized for the state of his apartment. Maddie didn’t know why. The place was larger than her cabin and he lived there all alone. On the second floor of a building with a lovely walled garden, light poured through double-glass doors that opened out onto a balcony that overlooked the street below. The apartment mirrored the man himself; well kept, organized, with few personal touches to give any hint as to the nature of the person dwelling there.

  He found lodging for her with his landlady, Mrs. Matthews. The woman was more than happy to have her stay in her spare room. Tom went to make arrangements for their journey and left Maddie uncomfortably settled with the talkative widow. She pretended to listen to a stream of idle chatter while sipping café au lait.

  An hour later, there came a knock on the door and Mrs. Matthews ushered in an elegantly dressed woman accompanied by a young mulatto girl in her teens carrying large bundles wrapped in muslin.

  Mrs. Matthews smiled and looked over at Maddie with new regard. “Miss Grande, this is Madame Bouchard.” Mrs. Matthews’s excitement was more than evident. “She is the most well-known seamstress in New Orleans.”

  The lean, sophisticated woman in a lovely pearl-gray gown gave a slight bow and spoke in a pretty French accent. “I am here to help you with your travel wardrobe, mademoiselle.” She turned to Mrs. Matthews. “You have a room we can use, I suppose?”

  Mrs. Matthews led the way as Maddie followed the short procession down the hall. Her concern grew with every step. The moment the bedroom door closed, the young girl began pulling an assortment of expensive gowns out of muslin bags.