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“To the morgue at County General.”
Because of her newspaper work, Sabrina knew that a death certificate would have to be signed, and that her father’s body would be kept at the morgue until whatever funeral home she and her mother chose would claim it.
Her lips trembled. Body. Morgue. Funeral home. They were such harsh words. Harsh and alien and final. Suddenly the numbness that had kept her grief in check evaporated.
Burying her face in her hands, she allowed the tears to come.
“Ashes to ashes, dust to dust…”
Sabrina listened to the words of the minister with the same stoic acceptance she’d worn for the past three days. Everything that had happened since her father’s fatal heart attack was a big, mixed-up blur in her mind.
Giving her mother the bad news. Making decisions about the viewing and the funeral. Notifying relatives and friends. Listening to all the expressions of sympathy on the phone and in person. Greeting everyone who came to the funeral home to pay their respects—hundreds and hundreds of people—a testament both to her family’s prominence in Rockwell—her mother had been a Rockwell before her marriage to Sabrina’s father—and to the fact that Ben March had been well liked by everyone.
And today, the funeral itself.
It seemed ironic to Sabrina that today should be such a beautiful one—crisp and cool, with a clear blue sky and golden sunshine gilding everything it touched. People weren’t supposed to be buried on a day like this. Burials should take place on dark, gloomy, rainy days.
The minister dribbled a handful of dirt over the bronze coffin. “Benjamin Arthur March, we commit your earthly remains to…”
Sabrina tuned out the rest of the words. They were meaningless. Nothing anyone said would change a thing. Her father was dead.
She wished she were anywhere else but here. She didn’t want to remember her father like this. Didn’t want to see his coffin lowered into the ground. Didn’t want to believe she would never see him again.
Her eyes burned with unshed tears. She hadn’t allowed herself the luxury of crying since those few minutes in the park.
What good would crying do?
Her father was gone. Never again would she see his smile. Never again would he bring his optimism and good humor home. Never again would she feel the comfort and support of his strength.
Oh, Daddy, what will I do without you?
Next to her, her mother stirred. Sabrina glanced sideways. Isabel’s profile was calm and dignified, her chin raised, her posture straight.
“Rockwells don’t air their emotions in public,” she’d said more times than Sabrina could count.
Resentment bubbled inside. Her mother hadn’t broken down once. Not once. Not even when Sabrina had given her the news, a fact that had shocked Sabrina and made her wonder if her mother had ever loved her father. Then she felt guilty. She knew she shouldn’t judge her mother simply because Isabel didn’t show her grief the way Sabrina showed hers.
It wasn’t just that her mother was a Rockwell and felt she had a certain position to live up to. Isabel had never been able to show her love easily. Some people were like that. They held their emotions inside, unable to share them. It didn’t mean they didn’t feel them.
Only once had Sabrina ever seen her mother lose control. It was a memory long buried, but today it surfaced and Sabrina remembered how, as a twelve-year-old, she had heard her parents arguing.
She’d been upstairs in her room studying and the raised voices had drawn her to the top of the stairs. Ben and Isabel had been in the library—which was on the first floor near the stairway—and the door had been partially open. Neither had noticed, so caught up in the storm of emotion that their usual caution when Sabrina was nearby had been forgotten.
“It’ll be a cold day in hell before I give you a divorce,” her mother had been saying.
Sabrina had gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. Divorce! No! Not her parents. They couldn’t get a divorce.
“Isabel, be reasonable,” her father said. “Whatever love we once felt for each other is gone, and you know it.”
“Rockwells do not divorce.”
“Just to save face, you’d rather be miserable the rest of your life, is that it?”
“Who says I’ll be miserable?” her mother had shot back. Then she’d stalked out, heading for the stairs, and Sabrina had scrambled to get back to her room before her mother discovered her listening.
That night Sabrina’s father hadn’t been home for dinner, and the next day her mother had left for a skiing trip. The skiing trip where she’d had the disastrous accident that had so affected the rest of her life.
From that day on, Sabrina’s father had been a devoted husband. No one would ever have known the March marriage had been on the brink of dissolving, not from Ben’s actions and certainly not from Isabel’s. In fact, over the years, Sabrina had often wondered if she’d imagined that whole scene in the library.
Today, though, she knew she hadn’t. No, her father’s patience with, compassion for and devotion to her mother had been his penance. For Sabrina knew he’d blamed himself for the accident, even though he hadn’t been there and hadn’t caused the accident physically.
Nevertheless, she was sure he felt responsible, because if her mother hadn’t been so upset, she wouldn’t have been foolhardy enough to ignore the warnings and ski in conditions that were less than favorable.
Sabrina sighed. It wasn’t right to judge her mother. Until you walked in another’s shoes, you couldn’t know how you would behave in similar circumstances.
Dad wouldn’t want me to be bitter toward her, she thought. If he were here right now, he’d tell me he was depending on me to be understanding and kind, that Mom will need me now more than ever.
As that realization sank in, Sabrina could feel the weight of the future pressing down upon her. Now she could never leave the newspaper. Never try something different. Never have a life of her own.
After the last of the food had been eaten and all the guests had finally gone home, Leland Fox, her parents’ longtime friend and the family’s lawyer, asked if they were up to going over Ben’s will.
“If you’re too tired today, we can do it another day,” he said gently, smiling down at Isabel.
“No, let’s get it over with.”
Sabrina would have preferred to wait, but the decision was her mother’s, so she settled herself in a chair and waited for Leland to dig the will out of his briefcase.
“I’ll just go give Florence a hand in the kitchen,” Sabrina’s Aunt Irene said. She smiled at Sabrina, then left the room.
There were no surprises in the will. The family home had belonged to Isabel’s parents. After their death, she had bought out Frank’s and Irene’s shares, so the house was already in her name. Her and Ben’s bank accounts and investments were held jointly with survivorship benefits. As for Ben’s company, Sabrina and Isabel already held twenty-four percent of the stock apiece. Of the remaining fifty-two percent, eighteen percent belonged to Bob Culberson, Ben’s general manager, and thirty-four percent was in Ben’s name with the provision that upon his death, any stock held by him would be divided equally between Isabel and Sabrina.
In addition, there were two cash bequests: one to Florence and one to Jennifer Loring, Sabrina’s cousin and the daughter of Irene.
For a few moments, Leland discussed the logistics of transferring money and stock, then he kissed Isabel goodbye and Sabrina walked him to the front door.
As he was putting on his coat, he dropped his voice and said, “Sabrina, could you stop by my office in the morning? I need to see you about a private matter.”
“Of course.” She wanted to question him, but she could see he didn’t want her mother to know about this, so she only said, “What time?”
“Ten?”
“All right.” Standing in the open doorway, she watched as he got into his car and drove off. What could he want that couldn’t be said in front of her mother? A bequest, perhaps, that her father wanted kept secret? That seemed unlikely, but it was all she could think of.
For the rest of the day, as she helped Florence clean up after their guests, as she tended to her mother and helped get her ready for bed, and as she finally had some time to herself and was able to take a soothing bath before climbing into bed in her old room—she was staying at her mother’s for a few days—she thought about Leland Fox’s request and wondered what it involved.
The next morning, as soon as breakfast was over and her mother and aunt were ensconced in the sunroom with a pot of tea and their knitting, Sabrina said she had some errands to run and would be back for lunch. She kissed her mother’s cool cheek with only a twinge of guilt.
She arrived at Leland’s office, conveniently located next to the courthouse in the town square, ten minutes early.
“He’ll be with you shortly,” said Betty Treehorne, his longtime secretary.
Sabrina settled herself on to one of the burgundy leather sofas. Less than five minutes later she was ushered into his office.
“Have a seat, my dear,” Leland said. He stood—a tall man with dark hair turning gray and friendly blue eyes—until she was seated in one of the chairs flanking his desk. Only then did he sit, too. “How are you holding up?”
Sabrina shrugged. “Okay.”
“And your mother?”
“She’s doing all right. Aunt Irene is going to stay for a couple of weeks.”
“That’s good. The next months are going to be hard for you both.”
His kind face was almost Sabrina’s undoing. But she fought the tears that hovered and managed to subvert them.
“Well…” He seemed at a loss. “You’re probably wondering why I asked you to come to the office.”
Sabrina waited.
He opened a file that lay on his desk and removed an envelope. “Your father left this letter in my safe-keeping. He asked me to give it to you should anything happen to him.”
Sabrina’s hands shook as she reached for the letter. Her heart felt as if it might burst. Her father had written her a farewell. It was so like him to know how much she would need to know he had been thinking about her and wanting to ease her grief.
She didn’t open the letter in Leland’s office. Instead, she headed for the park, thinking that would be a fitting place to read her father’s final message to her. Even after arriving and settling on their favorite bench next to the rose garden, she didn’t open the envelope.
She looked at the seal, looked at her father’s hand-writing—the bold letters and black ink. She traced the letters with her finger, then held the envelope close to her heart for a long moment.
Then, with a tremulous smile, she put her index finger under the sealed flap and slit it open.
Chapter Two
The letter was dated November, two years earlier.
Dearest Sabrina, she read.
Her father went on to say how much he loved her and how sorry he was to cause her pain, but there was something important she needed to know.
This is hard for me to write, and I know it will be painful for you to read. There’s no easy way to say it, so I’ll just say it. Six years ago I fell in love with a woman I met while conducting a tour in Italy.
I couldn’t seem to help myself. I knew she would never keep seeing me if she knew I was married, so I pretended I wasn’t. I told her I had been, but I was divorced. I told her my name was Ben Arthur. She had no idea I owned the tour company. I told her I was a consultant who worked for a dozen different companies, both in the U.S. and abroad.
After we’d been seeing each other for almost a year and she began to press for a permanent commitment, I tried, but I couldn’t give her up, so we were married in Las Vegas and honeymooned in Italy.
Sabrina gasped.
Married!
He couldn’t mean that. Her father was already married to her mother. How could he marry someone else?
She and I have had two children together. Sabrina, I know how this must shock and hurt you, but please believe me when I say that what I feel for Glynnis and our children takes nothing away from what I feel for you. You are my first and will always be the beloved child of my heart. But I love little Michael and Olivia, too, and I know you will love them as much as I do after you get to know them. As I write this, Michael is three and a half, and Olivia is just a month old.
If you are reading this, I am dead, and there will be no one else to take care of some things that must be taken care of. I could have asked Leland to do them for me, but it’s going to be painful enough for Glynnis to discover not only that she’s a widow but the truth about our marriage, so I was hoping you could find it in your heart to go and see her and tell her everything in person.
Sabrina read the letter three times before it really sank in. Her father was a bigamist. The man she’d admired and respected and thought so honest and upright and loyal and straight was a liar. He had betrayed her mother and her and everyone they knew.
How had he gotten away with this for so long? How had he managed to keep each family a secret from each other as well as everyone else? In this day and age, with cell phones and e-mail and the Internet, how had he continued to keep his two lives separate?
She stared into space for a long time. It was only when a squirrel scampered across the path, startling the pigeons that were scavenging for food, that she was jerked out of her painful thoughts and she once more picked up the letter to finish reading it.
The letter ended with contact information for both Glynnis and her twin brother Gregg. Sabrina was startled to see that they lived only a couple of hours away, just north of Columbus. Somehow she’d envisioned her father’s second life as taking place far from Rockwell.
Maybe you would prefer going to Gregg and telling him the truth and letting him break the news to Glynnis. Yes, this might be the best way.
Sabrina, please tell your mother that I am sorry about the scandal this will cause. I know how much her position in the town and her social circle matters to her.
Dear heaven, Sabrina thought. Even worse than confronting her father’s other family would be breaking this news to her mother, for Sabrina had no illusions about Isabel’s reaction. Her mother might not have loved her father the way Sabrina did, but she cared very much about her reputation. In fact, her standing in the town was probably the most important thing in her life. She would be devastated.
I am so sorry for the hurt I know you are feeling. Hurting you is the last thing I ever wanted to happen.
Although all Sabrina wanted to do was tear up the letter and put the whole nasty business out of her mind, she knew she couldn’t do that. Those two small children—her half brother and half sister—were blameless in this affair. And now that she was over the initial shock, she had to admit, she was curious. What kind of woman was this Glynnis? Young and sexy, Sabrina imagined in disgust. Probably a curvy blonde with a Marilyn Monroe voice.
Daddy, how could you do this to us?
The pain she’d tried to quell hit her then, so swift and hard it was like a kick in the stomach. Her father said he loved her, but if he’d really loved her, he could not have done this awful thing. Marrying this, this Glynnis person, was a betrayal of everything he’d stood for.
Blindly she shoved the envelope into her handbag and stood. As she started on the path leading to the parking lot and her car, clouds moved across the sun, plunging the afternoon into darkness.
A darkness that was echoed in her heart.
Sabrina drove straight back to Leland Fox’s office. She could see by the expression on his face that he had known the contents of the letter.
“How long have you known?” she asked.
“About six months.”
Sabrina couldn’t imagine why he had kept her father’s secret. Leland and Isabel had grown up together. He had always been more her friend than Ben’s. You’d think he’d have felt more loyalty toward her. She glared at him. But as quickly as her anger had come, it disappeared. None of this was Leland’s fault.
“What are you going to do?” he asked. His eyes were kind.
“I guess I have no choice. I’ll have to go see this woman and tell her about Dad’s death.”
He nodded sympathetically. “When you return, I’ll help you break the news to your mother.”
“You think I should wait before telling her?”
“There’s no hurry, is there?”
Sabrina looked down at her lap. Leland was right. There was no hurry. Nothing would change whether she told her mother today or two weeks from now. In fact, it would be easier to wait until her mother was feeling stronger and over the shock of her father’s death. She looked up, meeting Leland’s eyes. “No, there’s no hurry. And I’d be grateful for your help when I tell my mother.”
