A Secret Identity (23 page)

“Yo, Morgan! I’m talking to you, girl!”

I couldn’t resist the impulse to glance over my shoulder and see who was yelling and whom he was yelling at.

A very large but considerably younger version of Amos Yost was stalking down the hall toward me. Obviously he was the yeller. The problem was that I saw no yellee. Unless he was yelling at me? It certainly seemed so, the way he was glaring at me.

“What are you planning to do, crash the party?” His voice got nastier.

I looked up and down the hall again, but there was no one in sight but him and me.

“Are you talking to me?” I asked hesitantly.

He sneered at me. “Oh, that’s cute. Just who else would I be talking to? Do you see anyone else?” He grabbed for my arm.

I jerked away and frowned at him. “Hands off, buddy!” I said in my best Bentley hauteur.

When he stepped toward me, I stepped back and felt the wall behind me. I tried to slide along it, ready to call for Todd—scream for Todd if need be.

The kid reached for me again, and as his hand closed over my arm, he froze. His eyes narrowed and he stared at me, looking me over from head to toe. I slid a step along the wall, uncomfortable under his scrutiny.

“I don’t believe it,” he muttered. He looked flabbergasted.

“What?” I asked in spite of myself.

“Hey, Pip,” he yelled suddenly. “Come here! You gotta see this!”

If he could call for reinforcements, so could I.

“Hey, Todd,” I yelled. “Come here! Quick!”

Another young man, presumably Pip, appeared behind my captor. He didn’t have the bulk or look of the one staring at me with unfriendly eyes. He had, in fact, a strong resemblance to Jessica Yost.

“What do you want, Mick?” asked the newcomer. “Oh, you found her. It’s about time.”

“Who’s he?” I asked the bigger kid. “Your brother?”

I got no answer.

“Come on, Morgan, you’re holding us up! And what are you wearing that ridiculous dress for?”

“It’s not ridiculous,” I said, stung. “And I’m not Morgan.”

I looked pointedly at my arm where Mick had it in a death grip. My skin around the edges of his hand was white from the pressure, and I thought that tomorrow I might well have a hand-shaped bruise. “Don’t you think it would be a good idea to let go of me?”

“Oh. Right.” Mick released me just as Todd came into the hallway. He looked wonderful, my hero, though by now I didn’t think I needed rescuing. I’d figured out who I was talking to, thanks to the memorized family tree. Mick was undoubtedly Michael Yost and Pip was Phillip. Morgan was their sister.

“Who’s he?” Mick demanded, looking at Todd. “What’s he doing here? And who in the world are you?”

“Mick,” Pip said, “just leave Morgan there. If she doesn’t want to come with us, there’s no rule that says she has to. I’d rather go without her anyway.” He looked at me like he expected me to complain about being abandoned. And I guess if I were Morgan, I might have. As it was, I looked from him to Mick and answered Mick’s questions.

“He’s Todd Reasoner. We’re here for your father’s dinner party. And I’m Cara.”

“Anything wrong?” Todd rested a hand protectively on my shoulder.

“I don’t think so,” I said. “I think it’s a case of mistaken identity.”

By now Pip was staring at me over Mick’s shoulder like he couldn’t believe his eyes. “It’s not Morgan…but it is.” His voice was full of awe.

“Who’s Morgan?” Todd asked.

Mick glanced at him and then looked back at me. “Our sister.”

“And I must look like her. Right?” My heart was tripping at a fantastic rate, and I brought a hand up to keep it from pounding out of my chest. I looked at Todd to see if he understood the possible ramifications of a resemblance here. He looked at me with a crooked eyebrow that said I understand but don’t jump to conclusions. He gave my shoulder a squeeze.

Suddenly a girl with long brown hair and long slim legs came barreling around the corner and down the hall behind Mick and Pip.

“What’s keeping you two?” she demanded. “I’ve been waiting out in the car. It’s getting later by the moment, and I don’t want to miss the beginning of the movie because you two are too dense to tell time.”

Then she saw me. It was as if someone had punched her in the stomach. Her mouth made a small “O” and a little
oof
sound emerged. I suspected that I looked exactly the same.

In fact, I did look exactly the same. Certainly there were slight differences. The shape of our eyes wasn’t quite the same, and my hair appeared to be a little lighter than hers, though she had just washed hers and it hung long and dark with moisture down her back and almost to her waist. And she was younger.

But looking at Morgan Yost was like looking in a mirror. And it gave me goosebumps.

The five of us were clustered in the hall, staring, when suddenly Amos and Jessica were there, Amos swearing under his breath as they came up behind Todd and me.

“Who are you?” Morgan asked when she could finally talk.

I swallowed, trying to get enough moisture in my mouth to speak. “I think I might be your long-lost cousin.”

“Really?” Morgan looked surprised.

“Neat!” Pip looked impressed.

“Rubbish!” Mick looked furious.

“Oh, dear.” Jessica looked worried.

Amos snorted. “We will talk in my study.” And he stalked off down the hall and around the corner, obviously expecting everyone to follow.

We all did. It was that family charisma.

The three kids sat on the navy-and-white checkered sofa in descending order by size—Mick, Pip, Morgan. Jessica sat in a navy wing chair while I sat in an overstuffed white chair piped in navy. Todd sat on the arm of my chair, a very comforting support. Amos sat behind his desk in an executive’s chair covered in blue leather. The navy rug was deep and plush and had sweeper marks across its surface. A watercolor of a sleek Nittany lion hung over the sofa, and various service and award plaques hung in clusters on the walls. However, the pride of the place was a photo of Amos shaking hands with football coaching great Joe Paterno. It was a Penn State alumnus’s dream office.

“I know all about you,” Amos began, his eyes on me cold and accusing. “Tel Hai called. So did Alma.”

“I was very sorry that your mother had to go to the hospital,” I said. “Alma told me she’s doing well and was expected back at Tel Hai today now that her heart is regulated. It was a matter of medication.”

“Medication, my foot.” He put his hands on his desk, palms down, and leaned forward. “It was
you
.”

I jerked as though hit. Todd put a comforting hand on my shoulder.

“Amos, that’s not true and you know it,” he said.

“No, I don’t know it,” Amos said. “Mom had been doing quite well until she came along.” And he pointed at me.

“She wanted to see me.” I sounded desperate that he believe me.

“Ha! She’s a senile old lady. She doesn’t even understand why you were coming. But
I
know.”

Suddenly something felt very strange here. What did he think he knew? “Why do you think I wanted to see your mother?”

He all but sneered. “Her money, of course.”

“She’s wealthy? I didn’t know that.”

This time he did sneer. “Do you honestly expect me to believe that?”

We Bentleys weren’t used to being called liars, and my spine stiffened. “You might try. It’s the truth.”

“Cara came to me as a client because she was looking for her family and needed advice on Pennsylvania law regarding adoptions,” Todd said. “She has been following leads carefully since she’s been here. She has not indicated in any way that she seeks anything from her family but acquaintance.”

“Well, we’re not her family, and even if we were, we wouldn’t want any acquaintance.” Amos’s voice was heavy and final.

I thought about the call from Alma he’d mentioned. Surely she didn’t call random people about something like this, but I didn’t challenge him. It wouldn’t do any good; that was obvious.

“I don’t know about us not being her family, Daddy.” Morgan got up from the sofa and walked toward me, studying me intently.

I glanced at Amos, and while he didn’t look happy with his daughter, neither was he going to stop her speaking.

“Look at her, Daddy. She’s me. Or me in what? Twenty years?”

Thanks a lot, I thought, and could feel Todd’s enjoyment of my scowl at the unintended barb.

“How old are you?” Morgan asked.

“Thirty,” I said. “How about you?”

“Eighteen. I graduated this year.”

“Are you going to college next year?”

She nodded. “Penn State, main campus.”

“What will you be studying?”

“English and journalism. I want to write.”

My skin prickled. “I’m a writer.”

“Really? What do you write? Are you published? How did you get published?”

“That’s enough!” Amos roared.

I flinched but Morgan didn’t. “We’ll talk later,” she said to me quietly. “When he’s not around.”

I nodded and opened my evening purse. I pulled out a little gold case and extracted a business card. “Here. It’s my cell phone number and the address where I’m staying.” I smiled at her. “I just made them today in case I saw anyone important tonight.”

“Thanks,” she said, and with a challenging look at her father put the card in her shorts’ pocket.

“Morgan,” Amos said in a taut voice, “you will not contact this woman. Do you understand me?”

Morgan nodded but made no promises.

Strong-willed parents breed strong-willed children, I thought as she took her seat beside Pip.

“Dad, Morgan’s right,” Pip said, also apparently not intimidated by his father. “There’s a family something here. There has to be with a resemblance like theirs. Aren’t you at all curious about it?”

“I already know about it,” Amos said. “She claims she’s the descendant of an illegitimate child of my grandmother.”

“Yeah?” Pip looked intrigued. “So it’s not you that was adopted?” he asked me. “You’re not Mom or Dad’s kid?”

My horror at such a thought was second only to that of Amos and Jessica’s. I tried not to shudder as I shook my head.

“Not me,” I said. “It’s my grandfather who was adopted. He’s the one whose family I’m trying to trace.”

“And you think we’re yours?” asked Pip. “And you’ve met Aunt Alma?”

“I’m tracing everyone I can find who is or was a Biemsderfer.”

Pip nodded. “Well, that’s us a couple of generations back.”

“Pip,” Amos said, heavily authoritative. “We do not have illegitimacy in our family.”

Pip didn’t seem impressed by the claim of familial purity. “Dad, who cares if your grandmother had a baby before she was married? She’s been dead for years. Besides, it happens all the time.”

“That does not make it right!” Amos all but shouted.

Somehow I didn’t think the issue of having sex outside of marriage was what Amos saw as wrong. It was that his grandmother had gotten caught, that his family had had to deal with it then and was having to deal with it now. And most important, his reputation might get besmirched by this bit of family history, though I had to agree with Pip. Who cared at this point?

I realized how overwhelmingly important appearances were to my cousin or uncle or whoever he was. Expedient rather than ethical, Todd had said.

Jessica had sat quietly through the conversation so far. Now she spoke to me, her eyes hot with contained resentment. “When I was introduced to you, I was absolutely shocked. I knew you were out there.” She waved her hand vaguely. “We’ve known you were looking ever since Alma called. She said there was an uncanny similarity between you and Morgan. But when I turned around and saw you right here in my own yard…” She let the sentence trail away, the horror of my presence speaking for itself.

I nodded. “I can only imagine,” I said. “I had no idea I was coming to your home…that The Paddock was your house.”

Amos suddenly stood, and with that movement he took control of the conversation once more. He walked out from behind his desk, and Jessica sank back into her chair, looking sorry she had spoken.

Amos came to a stop a few feet in front of me, standing too close, trying to intimidate me by making me look up at him. I refused to cooperate, looking instead at his belt buckle. I wasn’t a Bentley for nothing.

Todd stood and moved to the front of the chair we occupied. When he turned sideways to offer me his hand to help me rise, his movement forced Amos to step back. I looked at Todd gratefully.

“Listen here, whoever you are,” Amos said when we finally stood face-to-face, eyes close to level. “I forbid you to see my mother. I absolutely forbid it.”

I looked from Amos to Jessica and then to the children, especially Morgan. I felt a burning behind my eyes. I’d had such hopes. To have them dashed like this, especially after Alma had been so kind, was very painful.

“And one other thing,” Amos said, his voice low and threatening. “If you ever try to insinuate yourself into my home or family again, you will regret it.”

Insinuate. Ugly word, I thought.

Todd bristled immediately, but I laid a hand on his arm. “Let’s go,” I whispered. “It doesn’t matter.”

But it did…it did…and I was desperate to get out of there before I began to cry.

Chapter 11

T
odd was so gentle and kind to me when he brought me home that Saturday night and then again when he picked me up for church Sunday morning. There’s something quite terrific about a man who supports you even when he doesn’t necessarily go along with your objectives.

For church Mr. Monochromatic was all in tans, from the tan-and-white stripes of his shirt to his tan slacks. I had on tan too, so we sort of looked like a matched pair if you discounted height, hair, and gender. I had added some color to my cotton knit dress with a necklace of multi-hued wooden beads Marnie had given me. It was only the second time I’d worn it in spite of having it two years.

“So you don’t blend in with the woodwork completely,” she’d told me with a loving wink.

“We Bentleys don’t blend,” I’d told her as I hung the beads about my neck.