body.
He picked up a letter that had arrived yesterday, addressed to his father, but Gray handled all of his parents’ correspondence these days. They’d relinquished that responsibility happily, and thank God for that. What if Mother had opened this instead of him?
The thought sent a shiver through him. Mom would have been devastated. He had to protect her at all costs.
He read it yet again with a creepy fascination, as though rubbernecking at a traffic accident.
I have three children to support. Their father is dead. My oldest son has Duchenne muscular dystrophy. I can’t pay for his therapy. He needs a wheelchair. I need money. I’m desperate. I’ll go to the newspapers.
Shelly Harper
Who was this woman? This Shelly? Was she for real? Were her accusations true? That Dad was her father? He checked the postmark. Denver. Too close to home for comfort’s sake, only an hour away.
At heart, Gray was a cynic and took nothing at face value.
And yet, he had an eerie suspicion that everything she’d said was true.
She’d enclosed a birth certificate, hers, with his dad’s name on it, along with a photograph of herself that showed a strong likeness to Dad. The final shot, though, of three children, one of whom was the spitting image of himself at around nine or ten, left him shaken.
It all seemed legit. These kids looked like family. The woman bore an eerie resemblance to him.
Nonetheless, after he’d received the letter yesterday, he’d posted one back to her. I need proof. Give me a DNA sample for testing.
Let’s see if she had the nerve to provide one.
His gut screamed she was telling the truth. In business, he trusted his instincts all the time—they rarely steered him wrong—but how could this be real? Dad couldn’t possibly have committed adultery. Could he have? Dad?
If the woman’s allegations were true, Gray would need quick money to buy her off. It took time to come up with the kind of cash she demanded—four hundred thousand dollars.
Four hundred thousand dollars. Mind-boggling. He started to sweat again.
Yes, his business was successful, but he wasn’t a millionaire. He didn’t have buckets of cash lying around.
He’d already started things rolling yesterday with instructions for his CFO to liquidate certain of his own assets, but it wouldn’t be nearly enough.
Farm-Green was willing to buy now—the ultimate answer to this mess.
The woman’s threat filled him with cold dread.
How could Gray ever let Mom find out? How could she survive the betrayal once she knew that her husband had been unfaithful, that she’d been wrong about his character throughout her marriage?
He dropped into his old desk chair. It squeaked under his weight. He wouldn’t let Mom be ruined by this. He threw the paper on to the desk—not while he had any say in the matter. But what could he do? If this woman was telling the truth—and it sure looked as though she was—she had a real need.
Then again, if what she claimed was true, she was his half sister and only a year older than he.
Man, that floored him. He’d been a happy child, but so alone. For a long time, there’d been an emptiness inside of him, a wish for more, a sense that he’d lost something he couldn’t name and couldn’t get back.
For years, he’d wanted a sibling.
Was he willing to accept this woman’s assertions too easily because of a long-buried wish for a brother or sister? For something to combat being alone in the future after his parents died, and to assuage his current loneliness?
How was her existence even possible? Dad had adored Mom all of his life. Dad, the epitome of ethics and morals, a man whose backbone and strength of character were admired by all, couldn’t have had an affair.
Gray, though, was stuck considering the unthinkable, that his dad had fathered an illegitimate child while married to his mom.
Talk to Dad.
Can’t. What if I find out it’s true?
Suck it up and ask.
It would shatter Gray, make a mockery of his history and his parents’ history.
You need to know.
In fresh clothes, he went back out to the garage where Dad still puttered.
This whole thing could be cleared up with one conversation.
When Gray stepped close, Dad looked up and smiled. Gray’s heart hammered. He was about to blow Dad’s world apart. And his own.
He handed Dad the letter.
“What’s this?”
“It came yesterday.” Try as he might, he couldn’t keep the foreboding from his voice. Was Dad the man he thought he’d known all of his life? Or a stranger like the one he was becoming now?
The man took a pair of wire-rimmed reading glasses out of his sweater pocket and read the letter.
“What is this?” He sounded genuinely confused.
“Have you ever known a woman named Edie Kent? She was this woman’s—” he gestured toward the letter “—mother.”
“This woman who says that I’m her father? No. I’ve never even heard of Edie Kent.” He thrust the paper back at Gray. “You don’t believe this crap, do you?”
Gray handed him the photo. “Look at her son.”
Dad’s skin paled. “My God, he looks like you. Like seeing a ghost. That’s impossible. Coincidence. Nothing more. They say everyone has a double somewhere on earth.”
Now for the crucial question he’d never thought he’d ask his father. “Did you ever have an affair?”
Dad scowled. “How can you even consider that? I adored your mother. Always have since the second I first laid eyes on her, and always will.” He slammed the photo against Gray’s chest, and Gray barely caught it before it fell to the ground. The man still had some power in him.
Gray’s dander rose. He wouldn’t have even considered the possibility that Dad would do this, but that photo was damning, and waiting for DNA results would take too long. Plus, his dad was becoming a stranger. He needed to know now so he could put his mind to rest on this problem at least. He had too much hanging over his head, too much that needed to be settled, and all of it taken care of instantly. Yesterday.
“Is it possible you could have gotten drunk one night and slept with this woman’s mother without remembering?”
“No. Once I married your mother, I became a homebody.” Dad strode out of the garage, and Gray followed. “Besides, when would I have had time? I had a business to grow, and I worked my butt off to do it.”
He stalked around to the front door. “Can’t believe you even considered that I might have—” He spun back to Gray. “Don’t you know me at all?” The anger had left his voice, replaced by hurt. He entered the house and closed the door behind him, as though Gray were no longer welcome in the home he’d grown up in.
Given the changes at work, given Dad’s crazy decisions, Gray was left to wonder whether he knew him at all.
He felt as low as low could be. He’d just hurt and alienated his father. But he’d had no choice. He’d had to know.
* * *
AT ELEVEN-THIRTY, Gray stood in John Spade’s law office tamping down rising nausea, not sure he’d heard the immaculately groomed lawyer clearly.
“Jeez, John, what are you doing these days? Having facials? Mani-pedis? You’ve primped the daylights