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“Yes, Doctor.”
Eve cried harder. “Ointment? Th-that’s all you’re going to do?”
The doctor ushered Eve into the hall.
Garrett followed, shutting the door behind him.
With his arm around Eve’s slumped shoulders, the doctor said, “You have to understand, little things that help him be more comfortable are all your father wants us to do. Even if he didn’t, drastic measures would only prolong the inevitable.”
Begrudgingly, knowing it was the right thing, Garrett went to her, attempting a hug, only she pushed him away. “You hate him. Don’t even try pretending you don’t.”
“Eve…” Not knowing what to do with his hands, Garrett crammed them into his pockets. “What I do or don’t feel for your father has nothing to do with what we just heard. Think about it. I don’t have a clue why, but your father has to be lying. You need to pull yourself together so when he wakes, we can drill him as to why he really wanted me here.”
“I agree. What he said c-can’t be true,” she managed to cry between more sobs. “Daddy wouldn’t do that to me. He wouldn’t be that cruel.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. You heard him—for the best? As in just like he controlled whether or not you were allowed to have a relationship with me. Seems your old man’s playing games all over again.”
“Stop!” Eve turned her back on him, but Garrett wasn’t having it. She wasn’t running from this, the way she had after their son’s death.
“I, ah, need to make a call.” Dr. Mulligan waved his phone before leaving the two of them alone.
“Look—” Garrett placed his hands on her shoulders and gently turned her to face him “—I’m sorry your dad’s sick. I know you two are close. But if there’s even the slightest chance what he said is true, we have to find out more. Hopefully, Hal’s going to wake up. And when he does, we have to question him for definitive answers. We—”
“What’s wrong with you? He’s dying. But if there’s any hope of him hanging on, I can’t risk upsetting him again.”
The doctor had returned and now paused alongside Garrett. “Maybe it’s best you leave. I’m going to give Eve a sedative, and my nurse will stay with Hal through the night.”
Tossing up his hands, Garrett laughed. “There we go with that word again—best. Oh, I’ll leave for the night but, Eve, you’ve got exactly twelve hours until I’m back.”
* * *
GARRETT’S FAMILY MAY have been waiting for him, but considering he’d just come out on the wrong end of playing emotional catch with a grenade, he wasn’t ready to see them.
He’d have liked a hard run to work off the tension knotting his shoulders, but considering the Thanksgiving Day weather, he opted for the less healthy alternative of Schmitty’s.
The bar and burger joint was good and dark. High wooden booths allowed for privacy. Loud ’70s rock made it damn near impossible to think. When the waitress stopped by his table, he ordered a pitcher of beer. But once she brought it, he was too shell-shocked to drink.
Hal’s revelation had Garrett pissed. Actually he was beyond pissed. He had passed into some bizarre state he hadn’t been in since he was seventeen and the old man told him his son had died. Logically, hearing the opposite should’ve sent his spirit soaring, but it wasn’t that easy. On the off chance what the old man said had been true, even all-powerful Hal Barnesworth couldn’t turn back time to rest that baby in Garrett’s loving arms. And he would’ve loved his kid. Eve, too. They could’ve had it all, but their futures had been manipulated as though they’d been puppets on strings.
Their every choice had been stolen.
Worse yet, Eve seemed more concerned about her father’s passing than the news that their son may actually be alive.
Chalk him up as a horrible person, but Garrett sure as hell wouldn’t be sorry to see Hal Barnesworth go.
While all around him seeds of a good time were watered by beer and burgers into louder conversation and laughs, Garrett’s mood grew proportionally darker. What if this was just the grand finale to Hal’s puppet show? Garrett wouldn’t put it past him to lie for the twisted amusement of seeing Eve and Garrett dance. But if Hal had spoken the truth? That meant somewhere out there Garrett and Eve had a son. Garrett’s Thanksgiving leave was only a week, which didn’t offer much time to find a child gone eight years. Even if Garrett eventually found him, what happened then? Was the kid happy and healthy? Assuming he was, then what? There wasn’t exactly an Idiot’s Guide written on how to tell an eight-year-old you were his dad.
Covering his face with his hands, Garrett struggled to find answers where there were none. He’d hoped to seek solace in the pitcher on the table, but had yet to take a drink. In order to process Hal’s revelation he needed clarity, not a good buzz.
After thirty more minutes staring at the initials carved into the backrest of the wooden seat across from him, he finally paid his tab and exited the warm bar.
The night had grown even more ugly, wind driving rain so hard against his face that the drops nipped like teeth. In the car, he couldn’t focus. Soaked, cold, his hands shook so bad it was a battle to work his Mustang’s manual gearshift. While his mother lived only a few miles away at the foot of Coral Ridge’s lone hill, the few-minutes’ drive lasted a minilifetime.
Finally, he parked in front of the modest ranch-style home where his mom lived alone since his fireman father had died while on duty a few years back. Having nagged Garrett for grandchildren, what would she think of this possible twist of fate?
The Barnesworths were Florida royalty, local gods. After an obligatory round of questions ranging from what the house looked like to what designer Eve had been wearing, his mother finally got around to asking, “So? How was seeing Eve again? Is Hal as sick as she led you to believe?”
“Who knows?” Garrett shrugged off his coat, hanging it on a rack beside the door. “He’s for sure bad off, but I wouldn’t put it past him to rally, then live fifty more years just to torture me.”
“Oh, dear…” Dina Solomon leaned forward from her seat on the couch. “What did he talk about?”
Garrett sighed, wishing for privacy instead of an audience consisting of not only his mom, but maternal grandparents, his mom’s sister Carol, brother-in-law Todd and their son, Zane. “I’m not sure I should say. Probably his big confession isn’t even true.”
“Now,” Dina said, “you have to tell us.” The group sat in the formal living room near the fire, being teased by the rich scent of Thanksgiving dinner still on hold in the kitchen. His mom usually went overboard when it came to decorating for holidays and this one was no exception. Life-size stuffed pilgrims stood smiling in a far corner, framed by dried cornstalks and, of course, a stuffed turkey.
“Bet the old man left Garrett a bundle,” his twenty-year-old cousin Zane said.
“Put a sock in it.” Garrett thumped the back of the kid’s head. “Well, I can’t believe it, but Eve and I might still share a connection.”
Ashen, his mother—the only person present who’d known what he’d been through—frowned. “What’s that mean? I thought this was the first time you’ve seen her since she left for—” she stopped herself from blurting where Eve had really gone “—finishing school?”
“It was.”
“I went to an Easter egg hunt on the mansion grounds when I was a little girl.” Grandma Fern sipped from her ever-present martini. The woman was already a touch senile. Why was his mom adding liquor to her already addled mind? “The gardens were like something from a fairy tale. Are they still as fancy?”
“I don’t know, Grandma. It was dark and raining.”
Dina adjusted the throw pillow nestled near the small of her mother’s back. “I’m sure they’re just as gorgeous as you remember.” To Garrett, she said, “Go on, hon. What did Hal say?”
Tired of keeping everything secret, Garrett told them the whole story—including Hal summoning him to the mansion to inform him his son had been stillborn. Eve moved from the unwed mothers’ home to an East Coast college prep school, then on to college. He hadn’t spoken to her since she’d left town carrying his son. “Tonight, Hal coughed so hard he could hardly speak, but what he did manage to get out…” Garrett shook his head. “Hal said my son’s alive.”
Garrett’s mom clutched the gold cross she always wore on a thin chain around her neck. “I have a grandson. Where is he? I want to see him now.”
“Slow down.” Garrett helped himself to someone’s abandoned glass of white wine. “I’m having a hard time believing this is even true. If it is, our son may be out there, but Hal didn’t say where. I’m going back in the morning. Hopefully, he’ll tell us more. But my gut feeling is that it’s a lie.”
“Hal wouldn’t lie on his deathbed. You’ll find your son,” Garrett’s grandpa Ira assured him.
“Where’s Eve now?” his mother asked.
“I assume with Hal. Best as I could, I tried comforting her, but she pushed me away.”
“As much as we all want you here,” his grandmother said, “you should go to her. I remember when her mother died like it was yesterday. Marianne Barnesworth was a lady through and through. Each public appearance, she and Eve were always matching, only Eve had that blond hair of hers fastened up in a big bow. When Marianne died in that car crash, the whole town nearly shut down. And the funeral—saddest thing ever. Eve looked so small and alone. Those horrible photos of her standing graveside were published in most every paper in the state. Such a fragile little girl.”
“Yeah—” Garrett shook his head “—well, now she’s all grown-up and more than ever, wants nothing to do with me.”
* * *
AT 1:57 FRIDAY MORNING, Eve’s father died.
She refused the sedative the doctor had left and dismissed the nurse. What she needed was privacy—not coddling.
Hugging a bottle of merlot, grateful the staff and her father’s longtime housekeeper, Juanita, were off with family for the holidays, she returned to her father’s room. The coroner had taken her father’s body a while ago and the nurse had changed the bed linens and removed all signs of this having been a makeshift hospital room. Even the sick scents had been sanitized away. Now all that remained of her once strong father was the faint trace of his spicy cologne.
Seated in a wing chair before the dancing fire, Eve poured the wine, but left her glass on the side table, too exhausted to lift it to her mouth.
Eyes closed, she struggled to wrap her mind around his words. Your son isn’t dead. I lied. For best.
“Daddy,” she whispered, “how could you?”
With her father’s cancer, her divorce from Matthew only a year behind her, two miscarriages before that, she was afraid to hope she might truly have a son. For so long her mind had been focused on grief, she was afraid to even hope for light.
Lately, aside from work, it seemed her life had been nothing but a succession of grief-filled episodes. It’d been so long since she’d truly been happy, she feared permanently losing her smile.
But with this news…
She fumbled for her wineglass, taking a fortifying sip.
She’d loved Garrett more than she’d thought it possible to love. The only time she’d ever fought her father was when he’d sent her away. How different would her life be had she stayed? Faced the ridicule of her classmates and no doubt the whole town? How hard could it have been compared to losing Garrett? Their son?
My father. His admission compounded the pain of her most recent loss. Not only was he physically gone from her life, but she wasn’t sure he was the man she’d forever admired. Forget the fact he was her dad—the one person she’d always believed unconditionally had her back. Where was his soul? Who told his own daughter her child died, then justified it by saying it was for the best? When was a lost child ever best?
Eve pressed the heels of her hands to her forehead and struggled to make sense out of a night that’d been sheer chaos.
Abandoning her wine, Eve sought her room—not the nondescript luxury guest room she’d slept in since leaving Matthew the year before, but the space she’d occupied in what felt like another life.
As dusty and disorganized as the place felt in her mind, it came as a shock to find it in pristine condition—as if none of the memorabilia, pictures and uniforms had actually been used, but were merely props for a catalog diorama.
Eve fingered her cheerleading skirt, recalling the thrill of working the crowd at her first varsity game. Of Garrett kissing her after that game. He’d scored his first varsity-team touchdown and she’d rewarded him with what started out to be seven kisses, but ended as so much more. Her gaze skipped to history and chemistry texts that’d never been returned. To snapshots of her friends making faces in the locker room before that long-ago season’s first basketball game. Garrett’s Christmas gift—a giant stuffed alligator—still sporting his big, red bow. Folded love letters that’d been passed during class were in a box she’d decoupaged with magazine clippings she’d found in Coral Ridge High’s blue-and-gold colors.
Having left school in January, she’d never gotten yearbooks for her junior and senior years, but as she perched on the foot of her bed, she flipped through page after page of sophomore memories, chest aching when tracing Garrett’s image on the page they’d shared for being on the homecoming court. Funny how pics of her ex-husband, Matt, only made her angry. Seeing Garrett reminded her how rich and full her life at fifteen had been compared to now.
Two pages were dedicated to the class trip they’d taken to Disney World. Space Mountain had not only terrified her, but given her a wicked case of motion sickness. Garrett hadn’t pressed her to get over it, like some of his jock friends. He’d bought her a Sprite with his precious lawn-mowing money, then held her hand while they’d explored what most of their crowd considered to be the more childish sections of the park. They’d ridden the boats on the “It’s a Small World” ride five times, always laughing and singing along. That day, with Garrett by her side, she’d felt like the luckiest girl alive. Like nothing or no one would ever break them apart.
Throat aching for the many losses she’d suffered, she touched the tip of her finger to the phone number he’d childishly written on the photo sideways up his tie. They’d moved, necessitating the change to his home line. He’d wanted a cell, but his parents refused. How many times had she called? Lying on her pink striped comforter, talking with him until his mom yelled for him to go to bed.
Eyeing the phone on her nightstand, knowing Garrett’s mom still lived in the same house, Eve couldn’t help but wonder if the family number was also the same. If so, who would answer? Dina? What would she say? If Eve asked for Garrett, would his mother pass him the phone?
As badly as she’d earlier wished to be alone, she now craved her old boyfriend’s company—not for any romantic sentiments—all of those were long gone. More to verify she hadn’t been dreaming. That there really was a chance she might be a mother.
On autopilot, she lifted the handset. The low, flat dial tone seemed to fill the room, much the same as her pounding pulse reverberated in her ears.
Chapter Two
Garrett planned to be at Eve’s by sunrise, but his mom talked him into the more reasonable hour of nine. A mistake. In the night, Hal had indeed died. The place now crawled with attorneys and funeral-home suits.
Upon ringing the front doorbell, he’d been greeted by a uniformed maid, then shown to the solarium. “Ms. Barnesworth will be with you shortly.”
“Thanks.”
This had been Eve’s favorite room. Was it still?
Garrett had to admit, it was pretty cool. Outside, it was fifty and raining, yet in here the weather was always in the balmy eighties, smelling of loamy earth and sweet orchids. Beneath the domed glass ceiling resided a tropical rain forest, complete with palm trees, blooming hibiscus and a pair of huge, red lories. He couldn’t believe the birds were still alive. What were their names? Rhett and Scarlett? Brick paths meandered alongside a slow-moving stream. In the massive room’s center were wrought-iron tables surrounding a splashing, three-tiered fountain.
Garrett had a seat, trying to let the soothing surroundings calm his erratic thoughts. What if Hal’s deathbed ramblings were true, and he and Eve did share a son? He was no P.I., and didn’t have a clue how to find a child who no doubt Hal had wanted to remain lost.
“I almost called you.” When Eve appeared, his pulse soared. She wore a figure-skimming black dress and matching pumps. Her long blond hair had been restrained in a fancy updo he didn’t much like. This flawless woman wasn’t the Eve his memory knew. He’d first loved her messy, wearing her red-and-white cheer warm-ups with a crooked ponytail, painting homecoming posters while sitting on the gym floor. A lousy painter, she’d always managed to get more on her and her surroundings than whatever she was supposed to be creating.
“Why didn’t you?”
She shrugged, joining him at the table. “What would we have said? All of this seems easier handled in person.”
“Probably true.”
Hands clasped, she said, “Daddy’s lawyer will be here soon. I find it easier to think out here than in my father’s office.”
“Agreed. Last time I was in there wasn’t good.”
“What did he say?”
Her question and overall fragility threw him off guard. How many times had he rehearsed what he’d do should their paths ever cross? Yet now, all of that escaped him. Her complexion pale, body rail thin, his sole thought was to wonder when she’d last had a decent meal.
Garrett cleared his throat. “Hal told me our baby died and that you’d chosen to complete your basic education in a Connecticut finishing school. Had Google been what it is now, I probably could’ve found you, but…” He shrugged. “Water under the bridge.”
She stared past him, deep into her own world. “I was so devastated over losing the baby, I just did what I was told. To go from feeling life growing inside you, to grueling hours of lonesome labor, only to come out on the other side with my arms empty, I…”
“For what it’s worth, I hurt, too. I used to have nightmares you’d died. I spent so much time moping my folks took me to a shrink. I know you loved your father, but I’ve gotta tell you, the man meant nothing but trouble to me.”
“Good. You’re both here.” Barry Stevens had been Hal’s personal attorney, friend and Coral Ridge bigwig for decades. Every edition of the Coral Ridge Gazette carried an ad for the guy’s law firm featuring the Scales of Justice, along with Barry’s meticulous swoop of white hair and supersize smile. Though they’d never formally met, the lawyer extended his hand and worked his trademark smile as if they were long-lost friends. “Garrett, good to see you. Each and every one of us here in town is darned proud of all you’ve accomplished.”
“Thank you, sir.” Garrett would’ve preferred a more flippant retort but, for Eve’s sake, kept his sarcasm to himself. If he’d been president, it wouldn’t have been good enough for Garrett to be with Hal’s little girl.
“Okay.” Barry set a few files on the table before taking his seat. “Eve has filled me in on her father’s deathbed confession and in doing so, I believe, given me just cause to break attorney-client privilege.”
“Wait…” The comprehension of this suit’s admission hit Garrett harder than any stray bullet. So it was true? He actually had a son? Mind spinning, chest tight, he found it hard to breathe. During the endless night, he’d convinced himself the whole thing was a cruel joke. That in the morning, Hal would pop out of bed with his pompous barrel laugh, bragging about how he’d gotten them good. “You knew about this from day one, yet did nothing to stop it?”
“Slow down there, partner.” Barry tidied his files. “My hands were tied.”
Eve started to cry.
“The only thing Hal told me—and this was only after a couple glasses of Macallan Scotch—was that your son hadn’t died. I pressed him for more, told him you both had a right to know, but he admitted neither of you had even wanted the baby, so this resolution was best. Absolved you both from any guilt, so you’d feel free to get on with your lives.”
Barry reached out to comfort Eve, but she pushed him away. “Don’t touch me.”
The lawyer held up his hands. “I’m sorry. I advised Hal he’d handled the whole situation poorly, but he was insistent no one ever know.”
“Where is our son now?” Garrett pressed clenched fists to his knees. There was so much he wanted—needed—to say, but what would going off on this guy solve?
“God’s honest truth?” Barry’s expression was sober. “I don’t have a clue.”
