Quinn’s heartrate accelerated as she waited for the doctor to speak. What she said, however, wasn’t quite what Quinn had expected.
“Are you currently on blood pressure medication?” Dr. Crawford asked. She came around the desk and reached for a blood pressure cuff on a nearby shelf. “May I?”
“Why?” Quinn asked, annoyed.
“You’re a pregnant woman whose blood pressure just spiked in front of my eyes. Before I answer your questions, which I will do gladly, I must make sure you are well enough to have this conversation and your child isn’t in any danger.”
“I’m fine,” Quinn retorted. “I’m just nervous.”
“That’s understandable. Slightly elevated,” Dr. Crawford said as she took off the cuff and sat back down. “Can I get you a cup of tea?”
“Yes, please,” Quinn replied, defeated. Everyone felt the need to mother her and it annoyed her to no end.
Dr. Crawford rang reception and asked for some tea, then turned back to Quinn and Logan. “I’m sorry for the delay, but I am a doctor, first and foremost.”
“Understood,” Quinn replied. “Now, please tell us about Quentin.”
“What would you like to know?”
“Everything,” Quinn replied. “You must recall the adoption, having been a teenager at the time.”
“Yes, I do. It was an odd time for my family.”
“How so?” Logan asked.
The receptionist brought it a tray loaded with three cups of tea, a jug of milk, and a sugar bowl. Quinn added a splash of milk to hers and took a sip. It did calm her and allowed Dr. Crawford a moment to compose herself while she made her own tea. She took a sip, then set the cup down, ready to explain.
“When Quentin was discovered in the emergency area of the Royal Infirmary she was in a bad state. She had difficulty breathing caused by a severe heart murmur. She might not have survived had her mother not brought her to the hospital when she did. My father fell in love with that little girl the moment he saw her, or more accurately, he fell in love with the idea of being her savior,” she added bitterly. “You see, my dad, God rest his soul, loved attention and publicity, and adopting an abandoned little girl whose life he’d saved was the jewel in the crown of his achievements. He was enamored of the idea.”
“Are you saying it was all a publicity stunt?” Logan asked.
“Not a conscious one, but if you knew my dad, you’d understand.”
“What about your mother? How did she feel about adopting Quentin?” Quinn asked.
“My mother was nearly fifty when Quentin came into her life. She’d raised her children, supported her husband’s career for nearly thirty years, and had been looking forward to some time to herself, to enjoy life. She thought Dad would scale back his hours and they would travel, or take up a new hobby. They both enjoyed golf, and Mum had this idea of visiting some of the world’s most famous golf resorts. She had no desire to start all over again at her age, but once my father made the announcement to the press, she could hardly refuse. It would have made Dad look bad.”
“Had he not consulted her?” Quinn asked, shocked.
“Not really. My father never consulted anyone. He presented them with a situation that they had no choice but to deal with. So, Mum did what she did best. She dealt.”
“How?”
“She hired a nanny. She just wasn’t up to taking care of a newborn. Sleepless nights, teething, daily trips to the playground; she was past all that. She was very much involved, but more in a managerial capacity. The nannies did all the hands-on work.”
“Nannies?” Logan asked.
“Yes, there were several.”
“So your mother never made peace with your father’s decision to adopt Quentin,” Quinn interjected.
“No, she didn’t. She cared for Quentin deeply, as did my father, but adopting her had been an impulsive decision that near tore our family apart. My brother and I were ready to go off to uni. We resented Dad for springing this new sibling on us and couldn’t wait to leave, which we did as soon as we could. Michael went first, and then I left home a year later. We saw Quentin when we came home, but we never developed a close relationship with her. At the time, she seemed to us to be an interloper in our family. Of course, we were young and selfish, and focused only on our own needs.”
“So, what happened?” Quinn asked. She noticed that Karen spoke of Quentin only in the past tense. She hadn’t mentioned any current feelings or circumstances.
“Mum died just after Quentin turned seventeen. She’d been ill for some time, and spent the last few months of her life in hospice care. Quentin had been planning on going to university, but suddenly changed her mind. She asked Dad for a sum of money, which he gladly gave her, out of guilt I presume, and took off. We haven’t seen her since. She didn’t even come for Dad’s funeral.”
“Are you in touch with her?” Quinn asked.
“No.”
“So how would she know about the funeral?” Logan asked.
“She would have found out through our solicitor. Dad arranged for a very healthy trust fund for Quentin. She would never need to work if she had no wish to.”
“Does she?” Logan asked.
“No idea. Like I said, we haven’t seen her since she was seventeen.”
“And you’re okay with that?” Quinn asked, her blood pressure rising again.
“No, I’m not, and neither is Michael. We were beastly to her, and we feel awful about that. We tried reaching out to her over the years, but she never replied.”
“Do you know if she’s well?” Quinn demanded.
“As far as we know, she’s all right. I’m sorry I couldn’t be of more help. Seeing you brought it all back,” she said, blowing her nose delicately on a tissue.
“May I ask you one more question?” Quinn’s heartrate increased and she held her breath without realizing it. “Are we identical?” Karen would know the answer to the question that had been plaguing her since she found out about her twin.
“No, but you look very much alike. Seeing you was a shock.”
“Can you give us the details for the solicitor?” Logan asked.
“Of course. He’s right here in Leicester. Would you like me to call him for you? He’s not in the office on Saturdays, but I believe he’d see you as a favor to me.”
“We would greatly appreciate that,” Quinn replied coolly. She had nothing more to say to this woman who’d been so selfish and unfeeling toward an innocent child and a neglected teenager. It seemed that Quentin’s life hadn’t been nearly as charmed as they’d first assumed.
Dr. Crawford pulled out her mobile and made the call. She spoke to the solicitor and turned to Quinn and Logan. “He can see you in a half hour. Here’s the address. His name is Louis Richards.”
“Thank you for your time,” Quinn said as she got up to leave. She heard the disdain in her voice, but didn’t care. She’d never see this woman again.
“Cheers,” Logan said as he followed Quinn out the door. “God, what a cow,” he said as soon as they exited into the street. “I wouldn’t want to keep in contact with her either. I bet she’ll still charge the NHS for the appointment. After all, she took your blood pressure, didn’t she? What is it, Quinny?” he asked, noticing her pained expression.
“For years, I agonized about finding my birth parents instead of appreciating the wonderful parents I had. I see now how foolish and selfish I’ve been, especially since Quentin wasn’t as lucky.”
“Quinn, don’t beat yourself up. You’re only human, although Saint Quinn does have a nice ring to it,” he said with a wicked smile. “We all need to know where we came from, even if our origins are not very exciting.”
“But I was wanted and loved. It seems that no one really wanted Quentin.”
“Still, I’m sure she had a better life than most unwanted children. I wouldn’t say no to a trust fund myself,” Logan added.
Quinn ignored his flippancy and reached for her mobile to call Ga
be. The solicitor’s office was within walking distance, so there was no sense in Gabe interrupting Emma’s play time.
“Gabe, we’ll meet you at the playground as soon as we’re done. I don’t imagine it will take long. I’ll fill you in later,” Quinn assured him. “All right, Logan. Let’s go.”
She didn’t protest when Logan wrapped his arm casually about her shoulders. He didn’t say anything, but she appreciated the gesture of support. What they’d learned so far upset her, and she didn’t hold out any great hope for their interview with the lawyer. Solicitors were notoriously tight-lipped, so Quinn didn’t imagine he’d tell them much.
Logan pulled her close and lightly kissed her temple, nearly making her cry.
Chapter 53
It took Quinn and Logan less than a quarter of an hour to reach the address Dr. Crawford had given them. On the ground floor, a discreet brass plaque by the door announced the offices of Richards and Saunders, Esqs. Logan rang the bell, since the door was locked, and they were buzzed through. It being a Saturday, there was no receptionist at the front desk. The office was quiet and dim, the lamps not having been lit in the reception area.
A nondescript-looking man in his early fifties came out to greet them. He was dressed casually, like someone who’d been enjoying a Saturday afternoon at home when he was rudely interrupted and yanked into the office.
“We’re sorry to have disturbed your weekend,” Quinn said as she accepted a seat opposite the massive mahogany desk in Mr. Richards’ office.
“It’s no trouble, Mrs. Russell. It’s not every day that I get this type of phone call,” Mr. Richards said, smiling kindly at Quinn and Logan. “How shocking this must have been for you both. May I ask how you came to learn about Quentin?”
“Yes. Reverend Alan Seaton of Leicester Cathedral told me there’d been another baby, left at a different location on the morning he found me in his church. My birth mother confirmed that she’d given birth to twins the night before and had taken my sister to a hospital.”
“That is quite correct. You do look like Quentin,” he added with a wistful smile.
“So you know her well?”
“Well enough. Her father and my father were great friends—golfing buddies. I’d known Dr. Crawford all my life, so by extension, I knew Quentin since the day Ian decided to adopt her.”
“Did you handle the adoption?” Quinn asked.
“My father did. I was still a student in those days. It went through very quickly, if I recall correctly.”
“Mr. Richards, where is Quentin?” Quinn asked, hearing the blood rushing in her ears. She was excited, nervous, and apprehensive all at once.
“Mrs. Russell, I am not at liberty to disclose personal information about my client. Surely you know that.”
“But under the circumstances!” Logan exclaimed.
“Mr. Wyatt, I give you that the circumstances are extraordinary, but I can’t break the attorney-client relationship. I can tell you that your sister is well, and I can offer to pass on anything you wish to send to her, like a letter or an email. Whether she chooses to respond is entirely up to her.”
“Can you tell us if she’s in the country?” Quinn asked.
“I’m really not sure. I haven’t been in contact with her for some time.”
“Is she married? Does she have any children?” For some reason, it was important to Quinn to know that. In some far-fetched fantasy, she could already see herself and Quentin sitting side by side in the garden as their children played on the lawn, laughing and chasing each other. Cousins. Friends.
“I can’t answer that.”
“Can’t you give me her contact information?” Quinn demanded. Surely it couldn’t hurt to send Quentin a direct email. It wasn’t as if Quinn would show up at her door or accost her on the street.
“I’m sorry, but I can’t. That information is confidential.”
“We’ve tried to find her online, but there wasn’t a single hit for anyone named Quentin who might have been her,” Quinn persisted.
“Perhaps she’s not on social media,” Mr. Richards replied, his face expressionless.
“Even individuals who are not on social media leave an electronic footprint,” Logan argued.
The lawyer didn’t respond.
“Can you at least reach out to her and let her know we are searching for her?” Quinn pleaded.
“Certainly, I will do that. It would help if I had something to forward to her, as well as your own contact details, if you wish to leave them.”
Quinn sprang to her feet. “I will write her a letter and post it to you forthwith,” she said crisply, using the legal term with great sarcasm. “Thank you for your time.”
“I’m sorry I couldn’t be of more help.” Mr. Richards uttered the words, but clearly didn’t mean them. He’d likely put Quinn out of his mind as soon as they left his office until he received the letter from her.
“I bet you are,” Logan grumbled under his breath as they left the solicitor’s office. “Home?” he asked as they walked toward the playground.
“Home. There’s nothing more to learn here.”
“Is it me, or was he particularly guarded?” Logan asked.
“It wasn’t you. He gave us nothing.”
“Quinn, have you considered the possibility that Quentin might already know?”
Quinn stopped walking and turned to face him. “Know what?”
“Know that she is a twin. Surely, Dr. Ian Crawford saw the news and read the papers and put two and two together. Two babies, found on the same morning, wrapped in similar blankets, with identical notes attached to the folds. It doesn’t take Sherlock Holmes to deduce that they might be related.”
Quinn lowered her eyes to the ground. Logan was right. The news had come as a thunderbolt to her, but Quentin might have known about her twin all along. Perhaps she had no interest in finding Quinn, and wouldn’t wish to meet her now. She shook her head. “No, we have to operate on the assumption that Quentin doesn’t know. Karen seemed genuinely surprised. If her parents knew Quentin had a twin, surely Karen would know as well. She was old enough to hear the talk, even if they didn’t tell her directly.”
“I suppose it’s possible that the good doctor only wanted the one baby, and had no wish to defend his decision to separate the twins. His wife would have put a kybosh on that adoption right quick if he wanted to adopt both of you.”
“I suppose.” Quinn sighed. “As a student of history, I know that people are always motivated by self-interest, but it still amazes me sometimes how selfish human beings can be. Did no one care about us? About what we might mean to each other? They separated us and gave us away, like a litter of puppies. Even our own mother couldn’t care less about keeping us together.”
“I’m sorry, Quinn. I can only imagine how that knowledge must hurt,” Logan said kindly. “Do you believe in destiny?”
“To some degree. Why?”
“My mother found you by accident. She saw that article about your house being broken into for grave goods. Right?”
“Right.”
“Then you ran into Reverend Seaton at Rhys’s office, having gone there that day on a whim. What were the chances of that happening?”
“Very slim.”
“Perhaps the universe, or destiny, is pushing you toward finding Quentin. You’ve found your birth mother and your natural father in less than a year, after decades of wondering about them. And now you know you have a sister. We might not have a lot to go on, but we got further in the past two days than we thought possible. We know something about Quentin and her life after she was abandoned. We have a way to contact her. Perhaps you should just write that letter and take a step back. Let her come to you. I know she will.”
Quinn gave Logan a watery smile. “Even if we never find Quentin, I’m really glad to know you, Logan.”
“Me too, sis.”
Chapter 54
On the ride back, there was no discussion of what had transpired
. Emma would have been full of questions, being permanently attuned to every conversation between the adults, and Quinn needed a little time to process what they’d discovered in Leicester. When Emma was finally in bed, she filled Gabe in on everything she and Logan had learned, and everything they hadn’t.
“Logan is right, Quinn. You’ve made significant strides in the past few days. Be patient. I know it’s hard, but you must allow this situation to play out naturally. The lawyer will pass on your letter, once you’ve written it, and then Quentin will contact you.”
“Sure of that, are you?”
“Very sure. I do think you owe Seth a call.”
“I know. I keep putting it off.”
“Quinn, I know you dread calling him, but he’s your father, and he deserves to know what you’ve discovered. Besides, I’m sure he’s desperate to hear from you. He was so excited to have met you, and so looking forward to becoming a grandfather.”
Quinn nodded, but didn’t reply.
“Quinn, Brett is in prison. He can’t hurt you anymore,” Gabe reasoned as he smiled in understanding. He took Quinn’s hand in his and began to massage it gently to help her relax.
“Yes, he can. Knowing that I put him there will haunt me for the rest of my days.”
“Brett’s actions put him there. Surely you know that.”
“Of course I do, but had I not delved into family history and planned to make it public, things would have never gone that far. We all have secrets, and this was his, and I was about to trumpet it from the rooftops. People have killed for less.”
“You can’t blame yourself. You couldn’t have known that Brett shares your psychic ability.”
“No, I couldn’t have,” Quinn replied sulkily. “But I think Seth blames me for losing his son. If it weren’t for me, Brett would be getting ready to start his freshman year of college, shopping for school supplies, and looking forward to making new friends. Instead, he’s in prison, only about two months into his sentence, with a decade of nothing but fear, resentment, and misery stretching out before him.”
The Forsaken (Echoes from the Past Book 4) Page 29