“Who’s burying his head in the sand now? I just said, what if? I don’t know for sure why he would, but he could. Can you imagine their reaction if they get hit cold with what I’ve done? They’ll think I don’t love them.”
“Donna—”
She’d stopped listening to him. Her door was already open.
Donna got out of the car without waiting to hear the rest of Bruce’s reply. She’d tell Mark what had happened. The time for holding back was long past. From now on, she’d be honest with everyone. Mark was always so rational. He would know what to do next.
Bruce’s door slammed a second after hers, and he rushed around to grab her arm as she started up the steps. “Please, Donna, slow down and think. You’re panicking. I can feel it. All you have to do is—”
“I know. Keep calm and go through a civilized little meeting. But I don’t think I can. I don’t know how to cope anymore. Mark’ll know what I should do. I’m going to ask him.”
Bruce yanked her to a halt with enough force to make them both stumble. He held her arms. “I’ve told you what to do. And I’ll be there with you all the way. Mark can’t make this situation go away for you, any more than I can.”
“He’ll think of something, I tell you, I know he will.”
“Dammit, Donna. You say you trust me, then you run to Mark. I don’t want him brought into this.”
“Why?”
“Because everything will come out. What’s happened between you and me. The way I fell for your little hoax in the first place, everything—”
“And your pride won’t take it.” As soon as she closed her mouth she wished she’d never opened it. Bruce’s warm blue eyes turned to pure ice. She bowed her head. “I didn’t mean to sound like that. I didn’t mean to say…”
He cut her off with a shake of his head. “That’s exactly what you meant. And you’re right. My pride doesn’t like it one damn bit. But, just like you, sweetheart, I’ve still got some growing up to do. I’ve never quite gotten over Mark having to bail me out of scrapes years ago. Deep down inside Bruce Fenton, there’s a nasty, snotty-nosed little kid who wants a chance to tell Mark Hunt he’s not the in-control piece of perfection everyone says he is. I don’t like that about myself, so maybe I’d better do something about it. Come on.”
Donna trailed Bruce miserably through the house. Laura sat at the kitchen table. The room was still and humid. The steady thud-thudding of the open window above the sink against the outside wall suggested a breeze, but Donna felt as if she were slowly suffocating.
“Hi, you two,” Laura said, looking up from the book she was reading. Her smile faded instantly. “What’s happened? You both look miserable.”
Without preamble, Bruce announced, “We want to discuss something with Mark. A lot’s happened in a short space of time, and we seem to have gotten out of our depth. At least, Donna thinks we have, and she may be right.” His mouth formed a grim line.
Donna twisted her hands together and sat on a stool by the counter. Was she being unfair to Bruce? She did trust him, but that didn’t seem to be enough at this moment.
The kitchen door opened and Mark, in suit pants and white shirt, cuffs rolled back, collar open, strolled in. “Hi,” he said. “What’s up?”
Laura opened a cupboard and pulled out some glasses. “It’s stuffy in here. Let’s have a cold drink and some snacks on the terrace.”
“Sounds great,” Mark said, and Donna couldn’t help noticing the look of longing in his eyes as he watched his wife. She wondered if Bruce had seen it, too, but couldn’t bring herself to look at him to find out.
“We have to talk,” Bruce said sharply. “What has to be said may take some time, and you won’t like what you’re going to hear.”
“Bruce, do you have to come on like a Hummer?” Laura asked crossly. “Go outside and pull some chairs together while I finish this. Is sangria okay?”
“If there’s something on your mind, Bruce, shoot,” Mark said, as if he hadn’t heard Laura. “What did you do this time?”
Bruce rocked backward on his heels, his lips drawn back in a mirthless smile. “What did I do this time? Always, what did I do, right, Mark? We must have had some of the same profs in law school. Attack, boy, attack. Never give the SOB a chance to find any dry powder. You’ve been attacking me as long as I can remember. What does it take to prove to you I’m not an irresponsible adolescent?”
“Stop it!” Laura ordered, and she stepped between Mark and Bruce. “Outside, Bruce. You too, Donna. Mark, would you please help me with the drinks?”
Mark stared at her, his lips parted as if he intended to refuse. Then his expression softened and he nodded, as he quickly gathered the lemons and oranges Laura had sliced and dropped them into a tall jug. Donna caught hold of Bruce’s sleeve and pulled him outside, sliding the door shut behind them.
She dragged a white-painted metal chair forward and pointed silently at it. Bruce sat down and clamped his hands behind his neck. He glared up at her, his nostrils flaring.
Donna quickly assembled three more chairs in a circle around a low table. “Cool it, Bruce,” she muttered. “You’re using this as an excuse for some private war you’ve been itching to wage on Mark. Don’t. If there’s something you two need to get in the open, choose another subject to battle over.”
He tipped his head all the way back so that she couldn’t see his eyes. “Old habits die hard. I’ve always had to use whatever weapon came readily to hand with Mark. He puts me on the defensive.”
“He likes you. You’re the closest thing he has to a brother. Maybe he even loves you in a way, have you thought of that? Sometimes we’re tough on the people we really care about.”
Bruce sat up, his clear eyes speculative. “You could have something there. He’s pretty special to me, too. I just wish he didn’t seem to think of me as an incorrigible.”
If there was one time in her life when Donna needed to keep calm, it was definitely now. “Give him a break for once, Bruce. He’ll do what’s right.”
“Oh, hell…” Bruce sighed, his hands hanging between his knees. “You can’t know how long I’ve listened to Mark being billed as a saint.” Any antagonism he felt appeared to have drained from him.
The hand Donna passed over her brow came away sticky. She wasn’t hot. So why was she sweating? Dumb question, she acknowledged instantly. Enough tension charged this small area to make an infantry platoon sweat. “Bruce,” she said quietly, “you’re as good as any man—better to me. I guess that’s why I—”
“Drinks, folks,” Mark announced, cutting off the rest of her sentence. He stepped onto the terrace carrying a brimming jug.
Donna swallowed. She looked at Bruce and he regarded her steadily, an oddly sweet smile on his lips. The smile, the softness in his eyes, told her he knew she’d been about to profess her love for him. Instead, she said, “I love sangria,” and was certain she must sound as artificial as she felt.
“Me too,” Bruce agreed, in a voice that suggested he felt as disconnected as she. Donna longed to hold his hand. How could she expect him to keep caring for her when she brought him nothing but trouble?
Laura brought glasses on a tray, and crackers and cheese, and set them on the table. “Would you pour, please, Mark?” she asked and when Mark’s eyes met his wife’s, Donna felt the first spark of anything but misery she’d experienced for hours. In the adversity Mark and Laura must feel approaching, they were closing ranks.
As Mark passed Donna he squeezed her shoulder, and she smiled up at him.
When they sat, tall glasses held aloft, silence enveloped them again. Donna looked at each face. Bruce’s expression was closed, Mark’s enigmatic. Laura’s marvelous blue eyes moved from one to the other, clearly nervous, until they connected with her husband’s and he smiled. Laura smiled back, and Donna’s coiled heart unfurled a little more in the reflection of the love that passed between the two.
Her relief was short-lived. “We’ve got a problem, Mark,”
Bruce announced, downing half his drink. “I don’t think either of these lovely ladies in our lives has let you in on a little secret they’ve been harboring.”
Donna’s heart seemed to stop altogether. She met Laura’s eyes and saw her own sick apprehension mirrored there. Bruce couldn’t, wouldn’t, tell Mark she’d thrown herself at him, proposed marriage.
“Mark,” Donna said quickly. “Mark, I’ve done something awful. Not Laura, me. She told me I shouldn’t, but I did it anyway. Now I’ve put everyone in a bind, at least Bruce and myself, and I may end up hurting Mom and Dad if…oh, Mark, don’t get mad.”
“Donna, let me explain,” Bruce broke in. He took the glass from her shaking hand and set it on the table. “Don’t get so upset. We all have to keep our heads.”
“Bruce is right, Donna,” Laura agreed.
“I did this,” Donna said. “I’m the one who should do any explaining that has to be done.”
Mark smacked his glass onto the table with enough force to spill the sangria. “That’s it,” he said. “I want to know what’s going on here—now. Who tells me doesn’t matter. Just get it out.”
“Yes,” Donna said, “I’ll tell you, Mark. I got Bruce to look for my father.”
She kept her eyes on Mark’s face. He parted his lips a fraction, and stared back, frowning. “Your father?” he repeated finally. “I don’t get it. I spoke to Evan earlier today. He calls almost every day about something or other.”
“No. Not Daddy. My biological father. The man Prairie was living with. Raymond Tsung.”
Donna saw understanding dawn in Mark’s brown eyes. “You wanted to know about your real father, Donna?” he asked quietly. “And you thought I wouldn’t understand that? Honey, I do. Seems like the most natural thing in the world to me.”
Sure, Donna thought, unless you use the search as a ploy to catch a man and then, when the hapless father in question has the gall to show up and be enthusiastic about you, you don’t want to see him; unless you’ve sneaked around not telling your family what you intend to do.
Donna felt sick. She’d behaved like a kid. It was time for a little plain honesty. She shivered, although it wasn’t cold. The sun was sinking, but the breeze that moved the roses edging the terrace was warm. She concentrated on the peachy color of a single, heavy bloom until it blurred against the sky. Nobody had spoken for a long time. If only they could just stay like this.
Finally, Donna cleared her throat. “You see, Mark, there is more to the situation than that. The reason—the silly, juvenile, idiot reason I asked Bruce to hunt for Tsung was because I wanted Bruce’s attention for the rest of the summer. I figured that the investigation would get it for me.” The steadiness of her voice surprised her, but she could feel her face flaming with embarrassment. “The reason I wanted his complete attention was…because I thought I could make him fall in love with me. I…I fell in love with Bruce when I was fifteen.”
“You what?” He sounded very much like an attorney getting the facts straight.
Donna swallowed hard. “You heard me, Mark. To you it may sound unbelievable. It sounded unbelievable to Bruce—”
Mark’s head swiveled around. “Bruce?” There was an edge of anger in his tone.
“No,” Donna interrupted him, reaching over and placing her hand on his arm. “Don’t shout at Bruce. He’s the innocent bystander here—the one who gets hit by the iron safe falling from a window.”
“All the same, dammit, Bruce. You should have come to me immediately.”
“You heard the lady,” Bruce said levelly. “I’m out of it. I’m the guy the safe fell on.”
“Save your crummy jokes, Bruce. She’s only nineteen! Nineteen years old, Bruce.”
Bruce’s glass missed the table and crashed to the stone patio. “Just a minute—”
“No, Bruce.” Laura spoke for the first time. “Stop it.” She hit Mark’s shoulder lightly. “You have every right to yell at Bruce about work at the office if you want to. You have no right to say anything at all to him about his personal life.”
“His personal life! What about Donna’s personal…Good Lord, Laura, she’s just a kid—”
“I’m sure Bruce is as aware of Donna’s age as we are,” Laura said, speaking almost sharply. “I’d stake my life on the certainty that he’s been treating her like spun glass ever since she dropped her bombshell.”
“That’s a good description of it,” Donna said. “I’ve been hanging onto his coattails, but I feel like there’s an invisible ten-foot pole between us, and I’m the object he wouldn’t touch with the end of it.” She sounded so rueful that Mark gave her a halfhearted little grin and placed his hand over hers. There was a sudden bond between them. She sensed that he knew how much this was costing her.
“What your wife is saying, Mark,” Bruce said lightly, “is that the time is long past for you to stop telling me how to think. And what to do about what I think. I needed a guiding hand once, and you were there. You gave me more than I deserved, and no one could have done more for me or done it better. But you’ve got to let go, Mark. For God’s sake, man, I’m your partner, not your son.”
“The thing is,” Laura continued relentlessly. “Whatever does, or does not, develop between them is just that, Mark, between them. And we should stay out of it. People—” Her voice became slightly unsteady for just a moment. “People should work out their own problems.”
“Thanks, Laura,” Donna said softly. “The point is, the point we’re getting away from, is that Bruce found him, found Raymond Tsung.” She felt very tired.
Laura’s voice came from far away. “Mark, dear,” she said softly, “I think Bruce and Donna need your help with this…this Mr. Tsung. I think things may have gone farther than either of them expected. You will help, won’t you?”
Donna looked at Mark. He stared back. “No kidding. You found him? I’m amazed. What do Evan and Sara say about it? They couldn’t have expected anyone to have more luck finding your father than they did.”
“They don’t know,” Donna wailed. She poured out the rest of her story: how she’d planned her trip to San Francisco for almost two years, how she’d come up with the idea of trying to find her real father, the way Bruce had agreed to start a search, the mix-up over Raymond Tsung’s name, the fact that the name hadn’t mattered anyway because she’d never expected Tsung would be found. She poured out the details while her heart pounded faster and faster and Mark’s expression changed steadily to that of a deeply troubled man.
“And now he wants to see me and have me meet this other family I’m a part of, and I’m sick, Mark, just sick about it. Mom and Dad will never understand, and they’re almost bound to find out.”
Mark had moved to the edge of his seat. “Did you realize Evan and Sara were in the dark about this?” he asked Bruce.
“No,” Bruce said wearily. “But I didn’t ask, and before you tell me I should have, Mark, I already know. The main thing is to get through this without too many scars—for anyone. Donna didn’t mean to hurt anyone. She simply didn’t think her way through all the possible consequences of what she’d decided to do.”
“Don’t blame Bruce,” Donna interjected. “How was he supposed to guess what I planned to do. Having Prairie wander back in to my life every few years has been hard enough on them. They don’t need this father I’ve produced, too. I certainly don’t need him.”
“You started something, then found you were out of your depth. It happens. But I wish you’d come to me earlier, Donna. We could have avoided the trouble we’re probably going to be faced with.” Mark turned to Bruce. “You used our names when you contacted the man?”
“He knows all about us. My appointment with him was made through the firm. And, Mark, this is the Raymond Tsung who’s president of the Bank of Cathay.”
Mark whistled through steepled fingers. “Then Donna has to finish what she’s started. But Evan and Sara have to be told. I won’t be a party to deceiving them any longer. If Donna were my
child, I’d want to know.”
He spoke as if she weren’t there, Donna thought absently. When she checked each face at the table, all three seemed to have moved away from her; they all seemed to be deciding her fate while she just looked on.
Mark pushed his chair back and stood. “Laura, I know you’re closest to Evan, but I think I can stay calmer. I’m going to call him now.”
He went to the door and paused, turning. “Bruce?”
“Yes, Mark?” Resignation underlined the question.
“I was out of line a minute ago. My apologies. When the chips are down, your integrity is first-class, and in my saner moments I know it. I’m officially butting out. Okay?”
“Sure. Forget it.” Bruce grinned, and gave a mock salute.
“And Donna…Look, honey, I’m only going to tell Evan about Tsung. I’ll leave the business about your feelings for Bruce for you to tell him later. Whenever you decide the time is right. One thing at a time. No point in throwing everything at him at once. Right?”
She nodded, unable to speak.
SARAH MCGRATH CLOSED her son’s bedroom door and stood in the hallway, listening for a few seconds. Jim murmured indistinctly, and she smiled through the tears that had welled in her eyes. Like a lot of young children without close siblings, five-year-old Jim talked a lot of his thoughts aloud when he was alone. When Donna was home, he chattered to her constantly. She was so good with him. Every few days since she’d been in California she’d sent Jim a card with a printed message. She’d always loved her brother, loved them all; Sara refused to believe Donna’s feelings for her family had changed.
Her lower lip trembling, she climbed slowly down the spiral staircase to the main floor of the town house she and Evan owned. Evan hadn’t turned on any lights in the huge living room. She saw him immediately, his back to her, his straight-backed, athletic body a dark outline against the wall of glass overlooking English Bay.
Her stockinged feet made no sound on the deep carpet, and Evan started when she slipped an arm through his. He lifted his chin slightly and continued to stare out at the evening sky. In the distance, to their left, the lights of Vancouver were coming on, a million glittering pinpricks against a lavender sky.
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