by Marta Perry
Amanda blinked at that. “You mean they really thought she killed herself? But I thought it was declared an accident.”
He shrugged. “In the absence of proof either way, it was kinder to call it an accident.”
“But what about the other person Jacob heard? Because he kept silent, no one ever heard about that.” She found herself fuming in defense of the girl who might or might not have been her mother.
Trey was probably reading her mind, because he gripped her hand tightly in warning and flicked a glance toward Sarah. Amanda got a grip on herself. Whatever she might think, none of it was Sarah’s doing.
“Maybe he did wrong by keeping silent,” Sarah said with dignity. “But I understand why he did. He says I should tell you that he will come back and tell his story to anyone you say. And that he wants to see you.” Her voice shook a little on the last words.
He wanted to see her. Sarah really meant that Jacob Miller was assuming Amanda was his daughter. Whatever Amanda had thought when she’d started this search, she hadn’t envisioned coming face-to-face with her father, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to.
She realized they were all looking at her, waiting for her to say what came next. “I... I think I’d better take some time before deciding. Is that all right?”
“Yah, of course.” If anything, Sarah looked relieved. “I will tell Jacob. He’ll be waiting at the phone shanty for me to call him.”
“We’d better say good-night, then.” Trey rose, and Amanda suspected that he felt relieved as well at her decision. Or rather, her lack of decision.
They moved toward the door. Sarah and Amos stepped out onto the porch with them into the chilly night air, Sarah pulling a shawl around her shoulders. She reached out to Amanda, an oddly tentative gesture.
“However it turns out, I am glad to know that I have a cousin in you.”
Amanda felt a momentary panic. What did Sarah expect from her? She wasn’t sure herself what she was feeling, and she wasn’t ready to find a whole new family waiting to claim her.
Fortunately, Sarah didn’t seem to expect a response. With a soft “Good night,” she walked off toward the phone shanty. To call the man who was waiting to hear what Amanda had said.
It was all too much. She should never have started this. She walked off quickly in the direction of the cottage, fumbling in her bag for the flashlight she’d taken to carrying with her.
She’d gone a mindless twenty yards before she realized that she was not alone. “You don’t need to come with me,” she snapped.
Trey seemed unmoved. “I think I do. We need to talk about this.”
It took until they were within sight of the cottage to get herself under control. Then she had to contend with feeling foolishly embarrassed.
“Sorry. This is a lot to handle all at once.”
“All the more reason that we should talk it over now. For one thing, you need to decide what you want Jacob Miller to do. Go to the police, or not?”
“I know.” She unlocked the door and gave Barney the greeting he expected. “Come in.”
But Trey was already in. He stood looking at her, and she couldn’t decide if that was disapproval in his face or not.
“I’d offer you coffee, but I think we both have enough to keep our nerves jumping,” she said, trying for a normal tone. She gestured to the sofa. “Let’s sit down if we’re going to talk.”
“You’re right about the coffee.” He sat next to her, close but not touching. “We got more than we bargained for from Jacob Miller, didn’t we?”
It was reassuring to hear him say “we.” “I guess I never thought about actually finding either my birth mother or father. I thought only about information. Satisfaction of knowing. Not of being expected to face... Can I really refer to him as my father?”
“You don’t have to, but I’d think you’d want to. It might be awkward, but...”
“Awkward isn’t the word for it. I told you before that I never missed having a father. If you haven’t had something, you can’t miss it. I don’t think I can drum up appropriate feelings for a stranger.”
Trey smiled faintly at that. “I doubt that Jacob would expect anything much from you.” The smile disappeared. “But Sarah...you already know Sarah. You might have shown a little more warmth at the idea that she’s your cousin.”
The fact that she already felt guilty about her lack of response to Sarah made her annoyed with him for pointing that out. “Juliet was enough family for me. I’m not looking for more.”
Trey studied her face, his own tight with what was probably disapproval. “Maybe you ought to ask yourself why it’s so important to see yourself as Juliet Curtiss’s daughter.”
“That’s not fair,” she flared. “I loved her.”
But that love shouldn’t keep her from loving anyone else, should it? She didn’t like the question, and she tried to ignore it.
“Anyway, you’re forgetting that it hit me out of the blue,” she said, trying to excuse herself. “Apparently Sarah has been thinking that way for some time. She’s gotten used to the idea of our being related. Maybe that’s why they’ve been so patient in putting up with me.”
“They’re patient because that’s who they are.” He sounded as if he were trying hard to speak evenly. “And I suspect because they like you, to say nothing of how you helped with the foal. Did you expect them to toss you out because of a prowler?”
“I guess not.” He’d succeeded in making her feel small.
“Maybe we’d better get back to the facts, not feelings. If Jacob was right, and someone else was there with Melanie when she died, that means someone knows how Melanie died and deliberately kept quiet.”
“I know.” She rubbed her forehead, trying to think through the ramifications of going to the police with this story. “I suppose it could be someone who’d given her a ride and took fright when she fell.”
He was silent for so long that she began to think he wasn’t going to speak. Then his eyes met hers. “Have you considered that it might have been Juliet?”
Now it was her turn to be speechless. “I can’t believe... I never thought of that. I guess I assumed that she’d have been taking care of me. If she’d been there, why would she have kept silent?”
He shrugged. “She might have been afraid the Winthrop family would take you away from her if she came out in the open. I don’t know, but it’s possible.”
“I can’t believe that. I mean, I know she kept silent about the fact that I was adopted, but that’s a different kind of thing. By Jacob’s account, whoever it was must have run away at once after Melanie fell in order to be out of sight by the time he got there. Whatever else Juliet might have done, she wasn’t a coward, and she wasn’t a person who’d turn away if someone needed her. She would have run to help, not run away.”
Trey had watched her face closely, frowning a little. “I didn’t know her, so I can’t judge.”
“There’s another possibility, you know.” She was reluctant to bring it up. “It could have been some member of the family.”
“I thought of that,” Trey said. “In a way, it’s the most logical conclusion if she came back because she wanted to make peace with them.”
“We don’t know why she came back.” The frustration was eating at her. “We don’t know who was with her, or why. And we don’t know whether her death was accident or suicide.” She stopped, reluctant to give voice to the thought. “Or murder.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
TREY FOUND HE’D been staring at the same document for fifteen minutes the next morning, and he still hadn’t absorbed any of it. He either he had to put everything else aside and get to work, or he had to deal with the issue that clouded his thinking and made him feel like a hamster on a wheel.
He shoved his chair back with an impati
ent movement and walked to the window. Main Street was quiet this morning. Across the way, Esther’s helper was writing a lunch special on the chalkboard, and down the street he could see someone walking out of the bank. Otherwise all was still...a typical Echo Falls morning.
But an eruption might be coming that would shatter the peace, just as Amanda’s words had shattered his. Murder. The worst of it was that he couldn’t deny the possibility.
Possibility, not certainty. He’d tried to debunk the idea as soon as Amanda brought it up, but he didn’t think he’d convinced her of anything. He’d told himself he needed to get away from her disturbing presence in order to think clearly, but that hadn’t helped.
There were too many possible ways to account for Jacob Miller’s story. If Amanda went to the police with the idea of murder, it would be all over town in minutes. As a scandal, there was little to beat it.
In the end, the decision wasn’t up to him. Personally, he hoped Amanda would connect with Jacob Miller if he was her biological father. It would fill one of the holes in her background, at least, even if she decided not to have a relationship with him.
Warmhearted Sarah was willing to love her right now, but Amanda had backed away from that. Her explanation had been logical enough, but it made him wonder. Was it so hard for her to accept love when it was offered?
Enough poking about in Amanda’s psyche, he told himself sternly. He had plenty to concern him when it came to his own feelings.
The buzz of his intercom cut short a fruitless line of thought. He pressed the button. “Yes, Evelyn?”
“Your mother is here to see...”
She didn’t bother to finish, because Mom had opened his office door and sailed in. “I told Evelyn she didn’t need to announce me, but she insisted.” She kissed his cheek and then drew back, studying his face. “You look worried.”
“I’m fine, Mom.” He led her to his visitor’s chair. “What’s wrong?”
“Does something have to be wrong for me to drop in and see my favorite son? I’m on my way to the grocery store, so I thought I’d stop.”
She was hedging, and they both knew it.
“Come on, out with it. You never come to the office in the middle of the day.” Alarm struck him. “Is it Dad? What’s wrong with him?”
“Now, don’t overreact. It’s nothing serious, I’m sure.” She fidgeted with the clasp on her handbag. “It’s just that he’s heard all the rumors going around town about the Winthrops and your client.”
At a look from him, she held up her hands. “Not from me. But I can’t stop him from going out to coffee with his friends, and you know how they sit there and talk.”
He did, indeed. His father’s weekly meeting had been going on for decades. He and his buddies had their own table at Esther’s, where they sat for a couple of hours every Friday and solved the world’s problems. He should have realized.
“I’m sorry, Mom. Probably the rumors are greatly exaggerated. Elizabeth Winthrop agreed to a DNA test, so that will settle everything. Then people will have to find something else to talk about.”
He was being evasive, and he suspected she knew it. He never had been able to hide things from her.
But she didn’t call him on it. Instead, she nodded, standing up. She’d made her point without telling him what to do, just like always.
“That’s all I wanted to say. I know you’ll do the right thing.”
Sometimes he thought it would be easier if she didn’t make that assumption.
“I’ll stop by the house and talk to Dad about it soon. I promise.”
“Good.” She patted his cheek. “You know we have confidence in you.”
Confidence he’d do what? he thought as she slipped away. Confidence that he’d know what was right? If so, it was misplaced, because he didn’t.
What he did affected others in widening circles. His parents were affected already, and it would be worse if this thing exploded into accusations of murder. His partner was affected, he felt sure, even though Jason hadn’t said anything about it to him.
Jason was newly engaged, expecting to be married soon. A man who was acquiring a wife and a ready-made son couldn’t want his business put in jeopardy because of his partner’s actions.
Trey had a loyalty to the firm, and all that it represented. And he had a loyalty to his client, quite aside from any personal feelings he might have for Amanda. When it came to two conflicting loyalties, how did he decide which one was the right choice?
* * *
IT WAS LATE MORNING, and Amanda still had no answer for Sarah about seeing Jacob Miller. She had to, didn’t she? He had important information about Melanie’s death, and now that they knew, she couldn’t avoid it. But did that have to mean acknowledging him as her father?
Trey hadn’t been pleased with her attitude. It wasn’t any of his business. So why couldn’t she ignore his opinion?
He’d implied, if he hadn’t come right out and stated it, that she was too proud of her place as Juliet Curtiss’s daughter. That wasn’t true. She discovered she was arguing with herself.
Certainly she was proud of her mother’s accomplishments, but it wasn’t as if she’d lived in Juliet’s shadow. She had her own life, her own career. If she didn’t want to accept some stranger as her father, that was her own business. It didn’t have anything to do with her feelings about herself. Did it?
A memory came drifting unbidden into her mind—one she’d pushed down a long time ago. She’d told Trey, and she’d told herself, that she’d never doubted she was Juliet’s child. But this...
She must have been about five or six at the time. They were still living in the run-down apartment house. A man had come to visit—an unwelcome visitor. Her mother’s brother, she realized now, and her mother had tucked her in bed early.
She’d been wakened some time later by loud voices in the other room. Afraid to stay in bed, afraid to get up, she’d finally tiptoed to the door. Strange, how clear it was now. She could see herself, barefoot in the animal pajamas she’d loved, easing the door open a crack to the sound of a loud voice.
“...okay, if you won’t help me, you won’t. But don’t drag in this stray kid as a reason. Where’d she come from? She’s not a thing like you or anybody else in the family, and you weren’t pregnant the last time I saw you. So where did you pick her up?”
His voice had been loud, but her mother’s was deadly soft, with a tone that frightened her even more than the shouting.
“Get out. Don’t come back if you value that miserable skin of yours.”
Shaking, she’d closed the door, run back to bed, pulled the covers over her ears. Too late to block out the words. She’d known that if she called out, her mother would come, would comfort her and hold her.
But she hadn’t. Why not? Was it because she was afraid it was true?
It couldn’t be. She was Juliet Curtiss’s daughter. Only now she knew she wasn’t. If she didn’t have that assurance... It was terrifying to think she’d based her entire image of herself on a lie.
She tried to dismiss the uncomfortable line of thought, but it clung like a burr clinging to a horse’s mane.
Amanda quickened her pace as she walked toward the barn. She ought to be thinking of nothing more than enjoying the crisp fall weather. Not the past or the future, just now. She looked up toward the ridge as the lane came out of the patch of trees. Red and russet leaves still clung to the trees on the hillside, although one hard rainstorm would probably send them to the earth.
Stopping at the barn to check on the mare and colt had become a pleasant habit. Amos seemed happy enough to have her do it, and the kids always gave her a friendly greeting, sometimes stopping to chat for a minute or two before returning to their work. She’d seen this cheerful acceptance of shared chores in other farm families, and it struck
her again how good a way it was to raise children.
The horse barn was the one place on the farm that she made a point of not taking Barney. She wasn’t afraid of his behaving badly, but she’d noticed the colt was skittish around him, so she refrained. The little guy was getting used to her, cooperative about being handled, and she didn’t want to mess that up.
With the younger children in school at this hour, things were fairly quiet. The older boys would have helped with the early milking and then been off to work on whatever job Amos had decided on for today. She’d heard him mention repairing fences in one of the fields.
The heavy door to the horse barn stood open, and only the mare and her foal were in the largest box stall. Amos was being cautious about turning the baby loose in the pasture, preferring to put him out only when he was close at hand. She couldn’t blame him. That foal represented a big return on the money they had invested in the Percherons.
“Hello, there.” She approached the stall, eager to have a look at them and pleased that they always came to the gate when they heard her voice.
But not today. To her surprise, the horses lingered at the back of the stall. She came closer, putting one hand on the top bar and holding out a carrot with the other. “Don’t you want your treat today?”
The colt peered out at her from behind his mother, eyeing the carrot. Before he could move, the mare had nuzzled him back into the corner. She displayed every sign of nervousness—her back rippling, ears laid back, tail swishing.
Amanda was too good a reader of animal behavior not to take alarm. Something in the front of the stall, maybe, that they were avoiding? She bent, trying to spot anything—a snake, even a mouse, that could account for it. Nothing that she could see. Odd.
Frowning, she took a step back. The mare stamped feet the size of dinner plates, tossing her mane. Perplexed, Amanda took another step away. Even as she moved, she heard a sound from the loft over her head. She looked up in time to see a wall of hay bales plummeting toward her.