“I’m glad,” Ellen said. “Good night, Mr. Halloran.”
“Good night,” he said softly. He had a hunch that Ellen was very much her mother’s daughter and that they both spent a lot of time with stars in their eyes. All he had to do was figure out why his precious Lizzy was so damned determined to deny that.
Chapter Twelve
Brandon woke up at dawn with an oppressive sense of foreboding. It took him less than a minute to recall why. Ellen’s late-night warning, he thought with dismay. He was grateful that she’d told him, but now that he knew, what was he supposed to do about it?
How the devil was he supposed to talk Lizzy out of going home? If he hadn’t convinced her by now of the strength and endurance of their love, how could he expect to do it in the space of a single conversation or even a single act of passion? That one tender, memorable night they’d shared in Boston weeks ago certainly hadn’t gotten through to her. She’d dashed off first thing the next morning as if all the hounds of hell were after her.
Tricks were out. So was hog-tying, despite its appeal to his take-charge nature. Persuasive words hadn’t worked. What the dickens was left? Hell, he’d inundated her with flowers once, only to have her grumble about her allergies. He’d tried candy. He’d tried sentiment. He’d dusted off just about every last thing in his courtship repertoire. He was getting too damned old for all this mincing around. Maybe he ought to fly her to Las Vegas, stand her in front of a minister and dare her to say anything short of “I do.”
Before he could come up with a plan, his phone rang.
“Mr. Halloran?”
“Yes?”
“This is John Vecchio.”
His heart seemed to constrict at the unexpected sound of the detective’s voice. “How did you track me down?” he inquired testily.
“Finding people is what I’m best at,” the man reminded him.
“But why would you even be looking for me?”
“Actually I was doing a job for someone else and something came up I thought you had a right to know about since it fits in with the investigation I was doing for you.”
“Who hired you?” Brandon asked with deadly calm. He suspected he already knew the answer, and if he was right, there was going to be hell to pay back in Boston.
“That’s confidential,” the detective replied glibly.
“If the person who hired you is confidential, then it seems to me whatever you learned ought to be, too. Am I right?”
The man had the grace to sputter a bit at that. “Well, yes, I suppose. Although in this instance, it was made quite clear that you were to get the report.”
Brandon lost it at that. Whatever curiosity he might normally have felt was overshadowed by fury. “Well, you tell your client, whoever the hell he might be, that he can take his damned report and… Well, never mind. He’ll get the picture.”
“But, sir, I think he’s right. You’d definitely want to know this.”
“No,” Brandon said adamantly, “I wouldn’t.”
He slammed the phone back into its cradle and stood staring at it as if it were a nasty rattler about to strike. Before he could think twice, he snatched it back up and punched in Kevin’s office number. When his secretary, Harriet answered, he demanded to speak to his son.
“He’s on another line,” she said. She served all three Halloran men but she’d been with Brandon the longest and knew all of his moods. She tried to buy Kevin some time. “Shall I have him call you back?”
“No, you’ll get him off whatever damned call he’s on and put me through. If he knows what’s good for him, he’ll get on this line before I completely lose my patience.”
“Yes, sir,” Harriet said. “Is everything all right, Mr. Halloran?”
“Do I sound as if everything’s all right?”
“No, not really.”
“That’s very perceptive of you, Harriet. Now get Kevin.”
“Yes, of course. I’m sorry, sir.”
If he could have paced the room with the phone in his hand, he’d have done it. Instead, the short cord kept him in place, which added to his foul temper.
“Dad?” Kevin said finally. “What’s wrong?”
“You know damned good and well what’s wrong. You hired that detective, didn’t you? How did you know which one to go to? Did you have Mrs. Farnsworth go digging around in my desk for you?”
Kevin sighed. “No, actually the bill happened to come in yesterday. I know you’re probably upset, Dad. But it’s better that you know this now, before you get in any deeper.”
“Kevin, I know everything I need to know about Elizabeth. I told you that before and I meant it. I refused to listen to a word that detective had to say. The only reason I’m calling you is to tell you once and for all that I have had enough of your ridiculous suspicions and your meddling. If you ever expect to see me again, if you ever expect to have a civil conversation with me, you will drop this now!”
“But, Dad—”
“Goodbye,” Brandon said. He hung up and then called the hotel operator. “I want no more calls put through to this room. None.”
Whatever the hell his son had found out or thought he’d discovered didn’t matter. He took a deep, calming breath and shoved his hand through his hair. He couldn’t be at his persuasive best with Lizzy if he was all worked up like this. He deliberately forced himself to empty his mind, to dismiss the past fifteen minutes as if they’d never happened.
He could hardly wait to leave the entire incident behind. As a result, when he stepped out of his room and walked over to Elizabeth’s, he still didn’t have a detailed plan in mind. He rapped on the door. She took so long coming, he wondered if she’d fled during the night, and he found that more worrisome by far than any slander Kevin had intended to spread.
The door opened and Brandon’s gaze took in the cool linen slacks, the rose-colored blouse, the careful makeup that made her eyes seem brighter and more compelling than ever, but didn’t hide the shadows beneath. His heart ached at the prospect of losing her, especially without ever understanding why.
“Morning, Lizzy,” he said and before he even realized what he intended, he hauled her into his arms for a bruising kiss that left them both gasping for breath.
“What on earth?” she murmured, her expression bemused. Her hands clung to his shoulders. “Brandon, have you taken leave of your senses?”
“No, Lizzy. I don’t believe so. I believe I’ve just come to my senses.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“It’s just fair warning, woman. You and I have some serious things to talk about today. I figure on having a hearty breakfast and some straight answers.” He scowled when he said it, so she’d know he meant business.
“About what?” she asked warily.
“Whatever you’re up to,” he said, figuring the enigmatic answer could take whatever meaning she wanted it to.
She immediately looked guilty, and he knew then that Ellen’s fears weren’t unfounded. Lizzy intended to run from him.
And, despite the way his son felt about it, Brandon intended to do everything he could to prevent her going.
* * *
Brandon certainly was in an odd mood this morning, Elizabeth thought edgily as she tried to recover from that breath-stealing kiss and the knockout punch of his warning. It was a mood that told her she’d been right to pick now as the time to flee. She couldn’t withstand many more kisses like that one, not if she wanted to keep a clear head. As for answers, she had plenty. Yet none of them were likely to be the ones he wanted.
They settled at a table on an outdoor terrace, surrounded by flowering cactus. Brandon was as good as his word. He ordered bacon, eggs, hash browns and blueberry muffins. Without sparing her a glance, he ordered the same for her. Apparently he figured on needing stamina for the conversation he intended to have.
Elizabeth looked at all that food, considered the implications and felt her stomach churn. She tried to will herself to say th
e words she’d rehearsed again and again during the night.
A simple goodbye should have come easily, especially since she knew all the reasons why it had to be said. After all, they had parted twice before. If nothing else, practice should have made the phrasing perfect. But this one made her heart ache because she knew it was irrevocable. Brandon had put pride, love and commitment on the line by chasing after her. He wouldn’t take yet another rejection.
Elizabeth surreptitiously studied him and dreaded ruining the morning. Maybe she could wait until after breakfast, she decided, furious at the weakness that that implied, but grateful for the reprieve.
What was so terrible? she argued with herself. She was putting it off a half hour, an hour at most. Sitting across the breakfast table from Brandon had become one of the highlights of her day. There was an intimacy to sharing the first part of the day with him that she knew she’d never forget.
A sigh trembled on her lips. How she would miss the easy, companionable talks about the news, the thrill of studying his face as his expressions shifted from amusement to sorrow, from troubled to angry as he studied the headlines. Even more, she would miss the lazy planning of their day.
Capturing every last memory she could, she delayed telling him as long as possible. They were through breakfast and Brandon was on his second cup of coffee by the time she found the courage.
“Brandon, I’ve come to a decision,” Lizzy blurted finally, seizing the initiative he had threatened to steal. She desperately needed whatever edge might be gained by saying her piece first.
“About what?” he inquired, lowering the newspaper he’d been reading for the past ten minutes. His gaze locked with hers. His brow furrowed in a show of concern. “What is it, Lizzy? You sound so serious.”
“I am serious. I’m going home.”
The paper slid from his grasp as an expression she judged to be incredulous spread across his face. Or was it astonishment, after all? she wondered after a moment’s study. Her own gaze narrowed. Brandon looked as if he’d actually anticipated the announcement, but how could that be?
“Why?” he inquired with no evidence of the fury she’d expected. Instead, he was all solicitous concern. “Aren’t you feeling well?”
“I feel just fine,” she mumbled, trying to figure out where she’d missed the mark with her strategy. Not that she’d wanted him to fight her decision, but this absolute calm was definitely disconcerting.
“Are you homesick already? Do you miss your family? I must say I’m rather glad mine’s out from underfoot.”
“It’s not that,” she said, increasingly uncomfortable under his penetrating eyes. This was the part she’d hoped to avoid, this intense scrutiny of her motives. She didn’t want to have to sugarcoat the truth. She was no good at it.
“What is it then?” he asked.
She could explain part of it, but certainly not all. She drew in a deep breath and tried to tell him what was in her heart. “I went against everything that was right and proper more than forty years ago. I can’t do it again.”
Lizzy wasn’t surprised that Brandon regarded her as if she’d lost her marbles. The sudden surge of propriety was rather belated.
“What the devil are you talking about?” he asked.
“This,” she said with a gesture that encompassed the terrace, the inn, maybe even all of New Mexico. “We’re sneaking around like a couple of adolescents.”
“There’s one surefire way to fix that,” he countered without missing a beat. “Marry me.”
She was just as quick to respond. “No,” she said in a rush before she dared to consider the offer. The rest came more slowly, because she had to make it up as she went along, watching his reactions, altering the excuse as necessary. “I can’t leave my family and you can’t leave your work. I saw that yesterday.”
“Saw what, for goodness’ sake?” he asked, his expression thoroughly puzzled.
He still wasn’t angry, though. She found his lack of outrage just a little insulting. “You,” she said grumpily. “At that weaving place. You’ll never truly retire, Brandon. You love it too much. You belong back in Boston with your business, your friends, your family.”
Once again he looked only slightly surprised. “Just because I looked at some old rugs, you’re ready to throw away everything?”
“I won’t take you away from that.” If she’d meant it to sound noble, she failed miserably. Even to her own ears, she sounded like a woman grasping at straws.
“You’re not taking me away from a damn thing, woman. You’re giving me a future.” His gaze narrowed. “Lizzy, what’s really going on with you? I’ve never heard such a trumped-up batch of excuses from a woman in all my days. Even forty-nine years ago you were more inventive.”
“Think what you will,” she said stubbornly. “That’s the way it has to be. You’re not ready for retirement.”
Despite her best intentions, tears sprang to her eyes as she confronted the actuality of losing him. He was on his feet in a heartbeat then, gathering her into his arms. Suddenly all she wanted to do was weep and have him promise that everything was going to work out just fine. When a man like Brandon said such a thing, he had a way of making it happen. She wondered, though, if even he could perform miracles.
“Oh, Lizzy,” he soothed. “I’ll never set foot in that company of mine again, if that’s what you’re worried about. It’s time for Jason and Kevin to have their turn, anyway. Now tell me what’s really behind all this. No man could love a woman more than I love you, more than I have loved you all these years. Surely you know that.”
“But why?” she said miserably. “Why do you love me?”
“That’s like asking why the sky is blue, Lizzy. It just is. From the moment I saw you running barefoot through the grass all those years ago in Maine, something within me turned inside out. There was a look about you, such a joyous zest for living. I felt as if being around you would be like basking in sunshine my whole life.”
“That was so long ago, though. You were about to go off to war. You knew you could be killed. It was natural to want to grab hold of life. But what about now?”
“Nothing’s changed,” he said gently. “I still see endless possibilities when I look into your eyes. I still hear bells ringing when I hear your voice. I still feel sunshine when I touch you.”
The beautiful, tender words spilled over Lizzy like a cozy comforter, wrapping her in warmth. The only problem was they were based on a dreadful misperception.
Those words he’d suffused with so much love brought on a fresh bout of tears and decades worth of self-recriminations. How could he possibly love her, when she knew for a fact she was a liar and a cheat?
“You don’t know me, Brandon. I’ve done terrible things,” she blurted out, then almost died from the regret that ripped through her. She’d done it now. She had really done it. He would poke and prod until the truth came out. All of it.
“Shh, Lizzy. Hush that kind of talk,” he whispered, rubbing her back.
Brandon scooped her up, then sat back down and settled her on his lap, oblivious to everything and everyone around them. She wanted with all her heart to rest her head on his shoulder and pretend that there were no problems, no reasons why they could never be married. She wanted to cling to the memory of the way the sun felt on her shoulders, the way his arms felt around her at this precise instant. Those were the memories she’d cherish for the rest of her life.
“What do you mean terrible?” he chastised. “You couldn’t do a terrible thing if you tried.”
She had to prove he was wrong about that and about her. There was only one way to do it, one way to put an end to this charade of a love affair once and for all.
“I’ve lied,” she told him, slowly daring to lift her gaze to meet his. Tears streamed unchecked down her cheeks. There was no need to wipe them away, when more were certain to follow. “For nearly fifty years, I’ve lied.”
“About what? What on earth would you need to li
e about?” he said, and now there truly was astonishment on his face. “And even if you did, so what? Nothing could be as bad as you’re making it out to be.”
“You wouldn’t say that if you knew,” she said, finally taking the handkerchief he offered and blotting up the tears, only to have more spill down her cheeks.
“Then tell me,” he said matter-of-factly in a tone that promised understanding and forgiveness that she doubted he would offer if he knew everything. “Whatever it is, we’ll handle it together,” he vowed.
Elizabeth supposed she must have known from the moment the conversation started—no, even before that, when they’d met again—that Brandon would have to know the truth eventually. It was not the sort of thing she could hide forever from the man she loved, even though she’d hidden it for decades from the daughter she adored.
Now that she’d admitted to keeping some deep, dark secret, it seemed there was no way to prevent revealing it at long last. Even if she tried, Brandon would hound her forever for an adequate explanation.
“It’s Ellen,” she began slowly. “I’ve lied to my daughter.” She looked into his eyes, then away. “And to you,” she said in no more than a whisper, filled with regret.
She couldn’t be sure, but it seemed for an instant he might have already guessed. But he waited for her to go on. She clung to his hand, trying to draw on his strength, desperate for the forgiveness he’d promised.
“Finish,” he said quietly, his gaze riveted to hers. In his eyes there was no mistaking the storm already brewing. It was as if he anticipated the rest even before she found enough courage to say it.
She knew now there was no turning back. She kept her chin up. It was a matter of pride that she also kept her voice steady. “Ellen is our daughter, Brandon. Yours and mine.”
Chapter Thirteen
The tension on the bricked patio of Kevin and Lacey’s Beacon Hill house was suddenly so thick it was difficult to breathe the lilac-scented air. Kevin had invited Jason, Dana and Sammy over for one last luncheon before he and Lacey officially moved their residence to Cape Cod. After the closing on the sale of this house in the morning, they would keep an apartment in the city for use during the week.
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