"It's okay. You don't have to say any more," Julia told her.
"When Henry asked to see her… they said there was nothing left to see." Susan drew in a deep, painful breath. "We buried her ashes in the cemetery down the road. I've gone there every year on her birthday. I pray for her and I talk to her and tell her about our family, our life." She sniffed as her mouth crumpled once again. "How could she have been alive and not let me know?"
Julia had no idea how Sarah could have let her mother suffer the way she had. For twenty-five years she'd kept her silence, allowing her mother to believe she was dead. Unless… was there another explanation? Had there been a third party involved in the deception? Had Sarah been told her parents didn't want her at the same time her parents were being told she was dead? Was that even remotely possible? There was a time discrepancy. And that time was what bothered her the most. Sarah had supposedly died when Julia was three years old, about the time that photograph was taken. But Sarah had always told Julia that her parents had disowned her when she became pregnant.
"I just can't understand why Sarah would have hurt me that way," Susan added, dabbing at her eyes. "I thought I'd cried out all my tears, but they just keep coming."
"I'm so sorry," Julia said, feeling helpless in the face of such terrible grief. "I shouldn't have come here and dropped these revelations on you."
"You said I have another granddaughter, too?"
Julia nodded. "Elizabeth. I call her Lizzie. She and I have different fathers. I don't actually know who my father is, but my mother married Gino DeMarco when I was five years old, and nine months later Lizzie came into the world. She's twenty-two now. And she's beautiful. She looks a lot like our mother."
"You don't look anything like Sarah," Susan said.
Julia knew Susan didn't mean anything by her somewhat harsh words, but they still stung. "She used to say I had her nose and her long legs, but you're right. We really didn't look much alike."
"And she told you that we disowned her?"
"That's what she said."
Susan shook her head in disbelief once again. After a moment, she asked, "Where do you all live?"
"San Francisco."
"That's so far. How did Sarah end up in San Francisco?"
Julia could only shrug. "She never spoke of her past. She said it was too painful. And she kept her silence up until the day she died."
"How did she pass?"
"She had breast cancer. She fought hard for two years before she lost the battle."
Susan's eyes teared once again. "My mother had breast cancer. They shared that, too." She paused for a long moment. "I'm glad Sarah got to be a mother, that she found love." Her voice was heavy with sadness. "I'm sorry she didn't want her father and me to be a part of her life. That I'll never understand."
Julia looked to Alex for help. She didn't want to say any more. It seemed as if every word that came out of her mouth only brought her grandmother more pain.
"Maybe we should go," he suggested.
"No, don't go," Susan said suddenly. "Not yet. I have so many questions to ask. Do you have any other photos of your mother?"
Julia nodded. "Yes, I brought several with me. I was wondering if you had any pictures of her when she was a little girl."
"Upstairs." Susan stood up. "I'll show you everything I have, and you'll tell me about your life together. And maybe somewhere we'll find some answers."
* * *
It was after midnight by the time they left Susan's house and checked into the hotel near the airport. Julia was exhausted but also wired. She'd seen her mother's bedroom as well as dozens of photographs of Sarah as a little girl. She'd learned about her grandfather, grandmother, and assorted relatives. They'd shared stories and tears. Alex had been as patient as a saint through it all. She glanced at him now as they took the elevator to the third floor and walked down the hall to their adjoining rooms, wondering what he was thinking.
"Are you going to go to sleep right away?" she asked. "I feel like talking."
"That's all you've been doing for the last four hours." He unlocked his door and opened it. "Aren't you talked out yet?"
"Not really. We probably bored you to death, didn't we?"
He shrugged. "It wasn't too bad."
"I guess I'll see you in the morning." She checked her watch. "Which is in about five hours. Good night."
"Good night."
She walked into her room and set her purse and a small overnight bag on the table. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, she flipped on the television, but it was late and there was nothing on but infomercials. She turned off the set, knowing she should just go to bed, but her head was spinning with everything she'd learned. She smiled when she heard a knock on the connecting door. Opening it, she said, "Did you change your mind?"
"I can't sleep either." Alex walked past her and sat down on her bed. He stretched out his legs, resting his back against the headboard and patted the mattress next to him. "Why don't you sit down?"
She hesitated, her instincts telling her that that could be a dangerous move. They'd been so caught up in the search, she'd been able to ignore her attraction to Alex. But now they were alone in a hotel room, and the kiss they'd shared the night before was back in her mind.
Had that been only last night? So much had happened since then.
"What's the matter, Julia? You look worried."
"I'm engaged."
"Yeah, you've mentioned that a few times."
She sat down on the side of the bed, deliberately putting some space between them. "I should call Michael and Liz, too. They're both probably wondering where I am. And I have so much to tell Liz."
"I thought you left messages for them."
"I didn't say where I was, just that I'd be home tomorrow."
"Sounds like a good message to me. Do you really want to tell them over the phone?"
She thought about her options. With the time difference, it would be only nine o'clock in San Francisco. Still, what would she say? That she was in New York with Alex, that she was at this moment sharing a bed with him? That didn't sound like a good idea. They would be back tomorrow. It would be easier to explain everything then.
"You're right. This information should be delivered in person. I'll talk to them both tomorrow." She didn't like his knowing smile. "What? Why are you grinning at me like that? Did I say something funny?"
"You keep making excuses not to talk to your fiance. Don't you ever ask yourself why that is?"
"I've been a little busy lately. And what do you know about it anyway? Have you ever been in love? Ever been engaged, married, or shacked up with someone?"
"Do they still call it 'shacked up'?"
"You know what I mean. Don't be evasive."
"Have you heard the phrase 'It's none of your business'?"
"That doesn't apply to us. We're friends, and friends share."
"You don't have many male friends, do you?"
"What? Is your love life a secret?" She pulled her legs up beneath her, sitting cross-legged on the bed, so she could face him. "There must have been a serious girl at some point in your life. You're in your thirties, right?"
"Thirty-four," he said. "There have been a few women, one serious. We lived together for about a year when I was in my twenties. She wanted more than I could give her. End of story."
She eyed him with interest, pleased he was finally telling her something. "She wanted marriage?"
"A house, kids, the whole deal. But I was just starting my career. I knew I wasn't ready for any of that. I thought she might wait, but she didn't." His voice was dispassionate, cool, but there was something in the tightness of his expression that told Julia he wasn't as uncaring about the failed relationship as he pretended to be. "After that, I focused on work and put relationships on the back burner."
"It sounds kind of lonely, Alex."
"Believe me, it's not," he said, the grin back on his face.
"I'm not talking about sex. I'm talki
ng about relationships."
"That's the difference between men and women. We want sex. You want a relationship. I realized a long time ago that I'm not cut out for the married life. I like to be free—just like my father."
"But your father married your mother," she pointed out.
"Yeah, and look how well that turned out," he said in a voice filled with sarcasm.
"You're not your father. Maybe things would be different for you now that you're older. You're established in your career. You're successful. Maybe it's time to try another relationship."
"Are you volunteering?"
"No." She immediately squashed that idea. "I'm—"
"Engaged. Yeah, I got that. You're on your way to a permanent address, what every woman wants."
His arrogance put her back up. "How do you know what every woman wants? That's a very generalized statement."
"That's what you want, isn't it?"
She started to answer yes, then stopped. Is that what she wanted? A permanent address? She'd been raised to want that. But did she? Did she really?
"It's not that difficult a question, Julia," he said dryly.
"I was going to say yes, but the truth is I'm not sure what I want anymore. Every girl grows up thinking about marriage, a home, babies. I know I want children someday, but not anytime soon. I have things I want to do first."
"Like what?"
"Travel. I want to see some of the world. I'd also like to get my radio show nationally syndicated. And there's this charity that brings music to poor children in other countries. They provide musical instruments to those who can't afford them. I run a concert in San Francisco that helps out the charity, but I'd like to do more. I believe that music brings a peace and a harmony to people, that it inspires and heals and…" She paused at his smile. "Too much information?"
"Not at all. I like it when you get fired up about something. Your eyes sparkle."
"I'll admit I'm a fanatic about music. When I play a piece on the piano or bang out a rhythm on some drums or just listen to a song on the radio, it changes me. It makes me feel better, more powerful and capable, less stressed. It transforms my life for those brief moments. I want everyone to have a chance to feel that way. Is there something wrong with that?"
She didn't know when his opinion had become important to her, but it had, and she seemed to wait forever for him to respond. She licked her lips in nervous impatience and saw his gaze drop from her eyes to her mouth, and just like that the air between them became charged with electricity. "Alex?" she prodded. "You were going to say?"
"I have no idea. You distracted me." She swallowed hard at the desire flaring in his eyes.
"Maybe you should go back to your room."
"Just when things are getting interesting? Weren't you the one complaining that I always stop in the middle of a conversation?"
"Which you just did. I was telling you about my passion, and you didn't even respond."
"Oh, I responded all right," he said. "Believe me."
She felt a warm flush wash over her cheeks. "That's not what I meant."
"You want to know what I think, Julia?"
She slowly nodded. "Yes."
"I think you're the most fascinating, beautiful woman I've run across in a long time. I like your passion for music. I like that your dreams are big and bold. And I like the way you lick your bottom lip when you feel things you shouldn't feel—the way you're doing now." He held out his hand to her. "Come here."
Her breath caught in her chest. She couldn't. It was tempting, but it was wrong. "I can't."
He swung his legs to the floor and moved so quickly she didn't realize his intention until his arms came around her shoulders and his face moved within inches of her own. "You know what an engagement period is for? To figure out if the person you're going to marry is the one you really want."
"I think it's just supposed to give you time to plan the wedding," she said somewhat desperately.
"I want you, Julia. I think you feel the same way, even though you're fighting it as hard as you can."
"Even if I did want you," she said breathlessly, as his mouth moved closer to hers, "it would be a fling for you, a one-night stand. You said yourself that's not what I'm about." But wasn't that exactly what she wanted right now? His hands were stroking her back, his breath hot on her face, his mouth so temptingly within reach. Every instinct she had was telling her to go for it.
Her cell phone rang, the sound hitting her like a splash of cold water in the face. She jumped back. Alex's hands fell to his sides.
"Saved by the bell," he mocked. "Are you going to answer it?"
She grabbed the phone out of her purse and saw it was Liz. "There's no way I can tell her where I am right now. She wouldn't understand. I don't understand." She stared at him, feeling as angry with him as she was with herself, because he was confusing her even more. "I'm supposed to be in love with Michael. I don't know why I want you so much," she said honestly, "but I think you need to go back to your room."
"What I need is you. One kiss."
"It won't stop there."
"It will—unless you don't want it to."
"You're the devil, you know that?"
"I've been called worse. Don't you want to be sure, Julia? If you're really supposed to marry your Michael, then this won't bother you at all."
Before she could answer, his mouth covered hers with a purpose and determination that cut through her defenses. She might have been able to fight him, but she couldn't fight herself, too. She wasn't that strong. One kiss, she thought. Then she could get him out of her system.
"Julia still isn't picking up her phone," Liz complained. Michael didn't answer. He was busy scraping wallpaper off what would be the master bedroom in his new house. His shirt was unbuttoned, and there was a fine layer of perspiration across his chest. She drew in a deep breath and forced herself to look away and focus on the matter at hand. She'd been calling Julia off and on all day, but aside from one brief message from her sister stating that she was on to a new lead, there had been nothing but silence. "I need to talk to her about the newspaper article. And a man called our apartment earlier. He had a heavy accent, and he asked for Julia. His voice made my skin crawl." Which is why she'd come running to Michael's house.
Michael paused, wiping the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. "What kind of an accent?"
"He sounded Russian. Just when I start believing that Julia is completely crazy to think she's that girl in the photograph, something happens to change my mind."
"I need a beer," Michael said. "You want one?"
"Absolutely." She followed Michael down the hall, into the family room/kitchen. "Hey, what's with the sleeping bag and pillows?" she asked, pointing to the pile in the corner.
"I've been sleeping here. That way I can work late and start early."
"On the floor?"
"It's not that bad," he said with a laugh. "Did anyone ever tell you you're a spoiled brat?"
"I think Julia has mentioned it a few times."
He opened a beer and handed it to her. "I don't have any glasses."
"This is fine."
Michael leaned against the counter as he sipped his beer. "Tell me more about the phone call. What did the guy say?"
"He asked for Julia. No, wait. He twisted her name. It sounded like 'Yulia.' I said she wasn't home. He asked me where she was, when she would come back, if she had a cell phone number he could contact her on. He said he had to speak to her immediately. I tried to put him off. He got agitated, started saying something in Russian, I guess. Then the line went dead. I think he was calling from a pay phone. There was a lot of background noise." She shook her head, feeling edgy and restless. Too much was happening too fast, and she was in the dark about most of it. "I really need to talk to Julia."
Michael nodded. "I'm sure she'll call you back."
"She hasn't so far. This isn't fair, Michael. She stirs up a hornet's nest, then leaves me to fight off the
stinging bees."
He smiled at that. "You do love to be dramatic."
"I'm not being dramatic. My life is spinning out of control. So is yours, in case you hadn't noticed."
"I've noticed," he said heavily. "But Julia is worth waiting for."
Liz wasn't so certain of that. The last few days seemed to be pulling Michael and Julia farther and farther apart. Michael was renovating a house and planning for the future. Julia was digging up skeletons and searching for her past with a man who wasn't her fiance. She wondered why Michael wasn't more bothered by that fact.
"Why don't you help me scrape some wallpaper," Michael suggested. "It will take your mind off your problems, and I could use the help."
The last thing she wanted to do was scrape wallpaper. Then again, she didn't particularly want to go home, where the doorbell and the phone would keep ringing with mysterious strangers laying claim to her sister. "Fine," she said. "On one condition: We work for an hour, then play some cards."
Michael loved blackjack. In fact, he'd been the one to take her on her first casino trip to Lake Tahoe after her twenty-first birthday. Julia had stayed on the beach while Michael had shown Liz how to play craps, blackjack, and poker. She'd been hooked ever since. "I have cards in my purse," she said.
"You carry cards with you?"
"I have to admit I was hoping to talk you into a game. On your break, of course. I know you're obsessed with this house."
"I am obsessed with it," he admitted. "It's the first place that's mine. I've been living with my family my whole life. I've never had a place of my own. This is what I've always wanted."
"It's a great house."
"Julia will like it, don't you think?"
For the first time she heard some doubt in his voice. "Sure, she'll love it."
"You're just saying that, aren't you?"
"I don't think it's the house you have to worry about," she told him.
He frowned. "I know, but the house is the only thing I can control at the moment. Julia is the wild card."
Chapter 10
Don't Say a Word Page 14