The Housekeeper's Daughter

by Laurie Paige

  “Are you with him?” When she continued to stare at him, he added, “Is it serious between you two?”

  She realized who he meant. “Andy is my friend.”

  “That was Andy Martin?” He frowned. “He’s changed.”

  “Well, that’s because you probably haven’t seen him since high school. People do grow up. Some people,” she tossed in for good measure.

  “Meaning I haven’t?” He laughed softly, cynically, at that ridiculous accusation.

  The baby did a double flip, and Maya grimaced and pressed her side in discomfort. Would she ever make it to her due date? At this moment, she had her doubts.

  “I’ll get the liniment,” Drake volunteered.

  “No—”

  But as usual, he was quicker than a cat. He retrieved the bottle from the table and opened it. Then he chuckled.

  “What’s so funny?” she demanded, feeling big and clumsy and at the end of her tether.

  “Our daughter is going to think her parents are of the equine variety if we keep using the horse liniment to rub you down.”

  “She wouldn’t if you’d just leave me alone.”

  “I can’t,” he stated, so simply she couldn’t think of an argument to convince him he could. “Lie down,” he requested, gesturing toward the bed.

  Sighing, she heaved herself up and went to the bed, not caring if he saw her as round as a pumpkin in her gown. It wasn’t as if he were going to ravish her.

  Memories rushed at her, tilting her already shaky emotions. Tears sprang to her eyes. Eight months ago, he had laved her with kisses and caresses and sweet, sweet words of love. And then he’d left.

  “What is it?” he asked softly.

  She shook her head. Maybe the words hadn’t been those of love, only need and physical hunger. Except she’d felt the love in him, saw it in his eyes. Or thought she had. “Nothing. It’s nothing.”

  Putting a knee on the bed, she let herself down on the cool sheet and turned on her stomach as much as she could, her leg drawn up to take her weight. She sighed at her own awkwardness, then at her foolish dreams.

  With the same mastery he’d shown last night, Drake massaged the pain away, then rubbed her lightly until the tension also dissolved. She sank toward slumber.

  “You’re beautiful,” he murmured at one point.

  “If you like whales.”

  Laughing softly, he set the liniment bottle on the table, then slid both hands over her plump waist. “Let me touch you. Turn toward me. Please.”

  The request was so humble, she couldn’t refuse. She rolled to her back with his help. He ran his hands over her abdomen in gentle forays, a look of intense concentration on his face.

  “A child is such a miracle, isn’t it?” he said softly at one point when the baby kicked against his hand.

  “Yes.” She hardly dared speak aloud, the moment seemed so fragile. Longing coursed through her. Life could be so wonderful, if he loved her, if he truly wanted her and the baby.

  “I can’t believe we created this. I never thought about having a child.”

  She remained silent in the face of his seeming enchantment. Her heart fluttered in agitation, not sure what the moment meant, or where it was leading.

  His eyes met her questioning ones. A tender smile lit his handsome face, warming her and soothing the agitation. Silently they shared the magic of creation as he continued to caress her through the silky material of her gown.

  She would remember this forever.

  The saltiness of tears stung her eyes and she closed them so Drake wouldn’t see.

  “Maya,” he said thoughtfully after a while, “we’d better marry soon. Before the baby gets here.”

  As far as proposals went, she would rate it around a one out of a possible ten. Angry with herself for falling under his spell again, she pushed away from the gentleness of his touch.

  “Why would we do that?” she asked, striving to sound calm and reasonable. “The baby is my responsibility, not yours. You needn’t concern yourself about us.”

  Instead of answering angrily as she’d expected, he merely watched her from those dark eyes with their golden glints that reminded her of a wild creature at times.

  “I am concerned,” he finally told her. “We created this life together—”

  “No,” she said.

  His chest lifted and fell as he took a deep breath, then let it out. “What would a DNA test disclose?”

  Her gaze dropped before his probing one. “I won’t marry in order to give the baby a name. Ramirez is a respectable family name, one I’m proud of.”

  “And so you should be. Your parents are two of the finest people I know. However, that doesn’t solve the question of this baby. Our baby,” he added softly, his hands sweeping over her again.

  “It’s my problem. I’ll take responsibility for it.”

  This time the anger showed in his eyes. His expression became grim. “Do you think so little of me that you would deny me my own flesh and blood? Or my part in what happened between us?”

  “I—I don’t know,” she said, torn between dreams and reality.

  He went absolutely still, staring at her in disbelief. She knew then that she’d wounded him.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean… It’s just that I want the best for the baby. A forced marriage doesn’t seem to be the answer.”

  “I’d go willingly to the altar.”

  His quick assurance didn’t ease her heart. She wouldn’t accept marriage because of his strong sense of duty. While he might love the child, he would hate her for tying him to a union he didn’t want.

  “Your note said there was no place in your life for a wife,” she reminded him.

  “A man says some damn fool things under stress. I’m sorry for leaving the way I did. I’d gotten an emergency call and had to return to duty. I should have told you instead of ducking out while you were asleep. That was a stupid, cowardly thing to do.”

  He sounded so sincere, she didn’t know what to say. No retort came to mind, yet she couldn’t let herself feel sorry for him. When she sighed, it came out shaky and uncertain.

  His face softened. He turned the light out, then leaned over her. “We’re not through yet. Before I leave, you’ll tell me everything I want to know. We’ll get through this and get it resolved.”

  They watched each other for another long minute in the dim glow from moonlight. She sensed desolation in him, this man of depth and darkness who came to her from a sense of duty. At that moment, she knew what she wanted from him.

  Love, of course, but more than that, she wanted joy from him. She wanted him to be happy in their love. But the shadows within were stronger than his feelings, whatever they were, for her and their child.

  He touched her eyes gently. “Sleep.”

  In another second he was gone. She felt the emptiness in the room and deep inside, at that place where hurt collected into a hard ball of longing.

  The baby was quiet, as if she felt it, too.

  Four

  Wednesday morning, Joe Colton answered the doorbell himself instead of waiting for Inez to emerge from wherever she was working in the house. Thaddeus Law, the local police detective assigned to the Colton shooting stood there, looking grim.

  Reacting from gut instinct, Joe steeled himself for bad news. “Come in,” he said and led the way into his study. “Coffee?” he asked the lawman, who was in his mid-thirties but looked older, as if he’d led a hard life.

  Losing his wife in an airplane crash and trying to raise a preschooler on his own had probably contributed a few worry lines to the man’s face. However, Thaddeus had recently wed Heather McGrath, Joe’s personal assistant and daughter of Peter McGrath, Joe’s foster brother, so presumably the detective now lived a happier life.

  “That would be good,” Thaddeus replied, removing his hat and placing it on his knee as he took the chair Joe indicated. “It’s drizzly and chilly again, a day to stay inside before a fire.”

&nbs
p; He nodded toward the fireplace where a blaze crackled merrily, dispelling the dampness of the morning.

  “Yes, another cold front moved in last night.” Joe poured coffee from an insulated carafe into two mugs, then added a third when he saw Drake at the door. “Come on in, son. You know Thaddeus, don’t you?”

  “Of course.” Drake entered and shook hands with the detective before taking the coffee cup. He settled in a chair next to Thaddeus, his gaze intelligent and alert. Joe’s heart warmed with pride and love.

  “Do you have any news?” Drake asked the lawman.

  “Yes.” Thaddeus turned to Joe. “Is your wife available?”

  Joe wasn’t surprised that Meredith’s presence was requested. The police had questioned her extensively after the attempt on his life. It was a sorry state of affairs when a man was forced to face the fact that his own wife might be guilty of wanting his demise. Once he would have dismissed that notion as absurd, but truth to tell, he no longer knew what she would do.

  “I’ll ring for her,” he said. Using the intercom connected to the phone, he called his wife.

  She answered sleepily, irritation in her voice. Joe told her Thaddeus was with him in the den and she was needed. A long pause ensued, then she informed him she would be a few minutes.

  Forcing a smile, he told the other two men Meredith would be there in about twenty minutes.

  He was fifteen minutes short on his estimation.

  She swept into the den on a wave of the expensive perfume he’d given her last Christmas. Her black pantsuit was elegant, as were all her clothes. Gone were the days of jeans and sneakers, of running in the sun, her laughter teasing him and the children as they chased after her.

  “Coffee?” he asked, suppressing the memories that haunted him more and more of late as the new generation married and had children of their own. The lonely path of old age loomed before him.

  “Please.” She studied Thaddeus disdainfully. “What are you doing here? Have you found Emily?”

  “No, ma’am,” the detective replied in his polite manner. “It’s about a different matter.”

  Neither the gravity of the lawman’s voice nor his impressive size appeared to intimidate Meredith. She accepted the cup and sat gracefully on the loveseat, her eyebrows raised slightly as she waited for the lawman to continue, her manner regal. Joe found it embarrassing. The old Meredith, the woman he remembered, or maybe had fantasized, would have been warmly welcoming.

  “Mrs. Colton, do you have any idea where your twin now resides?”

  The coffee splashed all over the table and rug as the cup fell with a clatter into its saucer. She stared at the detective, at first seemingly horrified, then her face became livid with anger. “Why are you prying into my past?” she demanded instead of answering the odd question.

  “We investigate everyone who might have a motive in murder,” he explained calmly. “Our records show there were two daughters born to your parents—twin girls, Meredith and Patsy. Checking further, we also discovered that Patsy Portman was once incarcerated for murder. At eighteen, she killed the man who was father to her child.”

  “My God,” Joe muttered, shocked almost to stupefaction by the news. He automatically sopped up the spilled coffee with several napkins, his mind reeling at the revelations.

  Glancing at Drake, Joe felt a deep sorrow. While he had been disillusioned about his wife long ago, it was still a sad day when a child lost faith in a parent. But there was no time to dwell on it and no way to protect his son, Joe realized. Drake was a man, one who’d seen his share of trouble in the world.

  “Later,” Thaddeus went on relentlessly, “she was transferred to a clinic for the…” Here, he did pause for an instant. “…insane.”

  Joe exhaled sharply as shock rolled over him again.

  “Mother, is this true?” Drake broke in, disbelief rampant as he tried to comprehend this new development.

  Aware of his own disjointed thoughts, he glanced at his father, afraid such news would give the older man a heart attack. His father looked resigned, almost defeated, his expression the bleakest Drake had ever witnessed.

  His mother glared at him. “What of it? It had nothing to do with me. Nothing!”

  Drake shook his head as the realization sank in that the police report was accurate, that this wasn’t some kind of bad joke.

  “Where is she, this twin you’ve never bothered to mention?” Joe asked, his voice low and hoarse, the strain evident in the way he held himself.

  Suddenly her composure crumpled and she put her hands over her face. “She’s dead. She’s been dead for years.”

  Drake and Joe looked to Thaddeus for confirmation. The detective shrugged. “Mrs. Colton, is there anything to verify your sister’s death, such as hospital records or a burial site?”

  Drake recoiled from his mother’s expression when she lifted her head. She looked almost insane, as feral as a house cat gone wild, her eyes glinting dangerously. Then she smiled triumphantly and the impression was gone.

  “Wait, I remember something!” She leaped to her feet. “I have a letter from the clinic, the St. James Clinic. I can get it. I’ve kept it all these years.”

  When she dashed into the hall, the lawman followed. Drake glanced at his father. Both of them went after the other two. The day’s revelations apparently weren’t over.

  Both he and his father pressed close as Thaddeus read the letter, which was on the clinic’s letterhead. It offered condolences over Patsy Portman’s death and spoke of her unhappy state of mind and suggested she had gone on to a more peaceful life than the one the young woman had led here on Earth. The body had been cremated and the ashes scattered in the Pacific, as she had requested.

  “She blamed me,” Meredith said when the three men looked at her. “I wouldn’t lie for her at the trial. She said I had betrayed her.”

  “Why didn’t you ever tell us, tell me about her?” Joe asked, his face as grim as a death mask.

  “Patsy begged me not to tell anyone about her. Later, after she’d been at the clinic for several months, she said she wanted the family to forget she ever existed, that her life was nothing—”

  With a little cry of despair, she swayed and reached out a hand toward them. Drake caught her before she fell into a faint.

  “Put her on the bed,” Joe said. “I’ll tend to her.”

  “I need to keep the letter, sir,” Thaddeus said after they had made Meredith as comfortable as they could. “To go in the file.”

  Nodding, Joe covered his wife with an afghan. Drake brought a damp cloth from the bathroom and laid it on her forehead. “I’ll get Inez.”

  “Yes, please,” his father said. “Then I want to talk to Thaddeus and clarify a few more details.”

  After learning all that was known from the detective, Drake went to his own room to sort through his mixed-up thoughts and impressions. One thing for sure—his homecomings were becoming more and more fraught with surprises.

  After thinking things over, then making sure his mother was still in bed, the housekeeper with her, he checked the time. It was past noon back East. He picked up the phone and dialed Washington, D.C.

  His brother’s wife and research assistant answered the law office number on the first ring.

  “Lucy? This is Drake. Is Rand available?”

  “Well, hello! Yes, I’ll put him right on.”

  Drake liked his older brother’s new wife. She didn’t waste a lot of time on chitchat and foolish questions.

  “Hey, bro,” Rand said a minute later. “Where are you?”

  “At the family homestead,” Drake said with more than a trace of irony. “We’ve had some interesting disclosures here this morning.”

  “Oh?” Rand said, detectable caution in the word.

  “There’s more to our mother than meets the eye.” Drake informed Rand of the lawman’s visit, the shocking news, the letter concerning the death and their mother’s fainting spell. “Comments?” he finished.

/>   Rand cleared his throat. “I was the one who sent Dad the message that Emily was okay.”

  This non sequitur gave Drake pause. Knowing his brother and that there had to be a connection, he asked, “You’ve been in contact with her?”

  “Yeah. She asked me not to reveal her whereabouts. I’d tell you, but, uh, not over the phone.”

  “Good thinking,” Drake agreed. “The way things stand, I don’t trust anything or anyone right now.”

  “Listen, Drake, you remember that Em thought there were two Merediths—the good one and the evil one—back when she and Mom were in that car wreck?”

  A chill swept up Drake’s neck. “Yeah.”

  “This confirms that possibility, doesn’t it?”

  Drake muttered an expletive. “I can’t believe…” He let the thought trail off. The problem was, he could believe in the weird possibility that their mother was an impostor.

  Rand picked up on the idea. “The evil twin. Seems like something out of a bad movie.”

  “You believe Emily?”

  His brother let out a loud sigh. “Enough that I’ve had Austin McGrath check into Mother’s background.”

  “You knew and didn’t say a word?” Drake demanded, realizing why his brother hadn’t sounded surprised. “You knew about the twin…and the murder?”

  “And the clinic for the insane, yes,” Rand confirmed. “Lucy found out recently. I’ve had a bit more time to absorb this, but believe me, I was as shocked as you and Dad. I’ve asked Austin to see if he could find out what happened to the twin, but so far, no trace. I suppose, if she’s dead, there isn’t more to find out.”

  “If she’s dead?”

  Rand didn’t immediately reply. “What if Mother’s dead and her twin took her place? That would explain Em’s vision of two Merediths.”

  Drake released a pent-up breath. “The implications are pretty awful.”

  “Yeah. Mother may have been murdered.”

  “Ten years with all of us living with an impostor? Surely Dad would have guessed… No, it’s too bizarre.”

  “I, uh, don’t believe our parents have slept together in a number of years. They’ve had separate bedrooms since, well, I can’t remember when, but a long time.”