All Who Are Lost (Ashmore's Folly Book 1) (52 page)

He had followed along in his copy of the pleading with Tom’s logic, and relief washed through him at the solidity of the argument. “That makes sense,” he said. “I have all the paperwork for Julie. And you’re right. From everything Laura has said, he was a control freak.”

A control freak who had prevented Laura from seeing him and Julie in London.
I am all the family she needs.
St. Bride had shown a hell of a nerve, keeping Laura’s own family from her.

Yet, less than two months later, they had started divorce proceedings. For the first time, the strange timing of that struck Richard. And he saw too, on the first page of the pleading, what he had not noticed before. Laura had not been the one to file; she had been filed against. Cameron St. Bride’s desire to control the divorce that his wife wanted? Or had he actually been the one to want out?

“Good,” said Tom. “Now let’s get down to the rest of this. Please tell me, just so I can file a motion to quash in good conscience, that no docs, photos, etc., exist that show anything between you and Francie. Please tell me that you did not see fit to write her any letters.”

Well, that, at least, he could answer without hesitation. “Of course not. I was a fool, but I wasn’t that big a fool. The only problem is,” and he heard Tom groan, “I haven’t a clue as to what Francie wrote. She never wrote me any letters – just some cards and tapes, and I destroyed those. But those girls wrote everything down. Dominic trained them to keep journals for their music from the time they were little. Diana stopped once she went to college, but I remember seeing Laura writing in hers. And she and Francie took those journals with them. That’s how we knew right away that they hadn’t been abducted.”

Tom swore. “Damn that man! No wonder Lucy makes lists of everything. All we can hope is Laura doesn’t have any of Francie’s stuff left, or maybe Francie had the journal with her when the plane crashed—”

Richard stopped making notes on the fax.

“Plane crash? What are you talking about?”

Silence. He could almost hear Tom’s mind racing.

“Laura told Lucy that Francie died in a plane crash.” Tom sounded tentative, as though he searched for something. “Lucy didn’t want to press Laura for details, so she asked me how we could get more information. Sorry, I thought you knew. Where did I put… oh, here it is.” His voice resumed its authority. “I have a coded file on Francie. Private plane crash, en route from Angelfire to Texas. Laura didn’t say when.”

The air conditioning must be on high, or else shock was chilling his skin. “That’s not what she told me,” Richard said, and heard again Laura’s words, full of pain and a desire to hurt.
She bled to death. Right here in Virginia.
“Check WESTLAW or LEXIS. The NTSB investigates every private plane crash in this country, and they publish their reports. And – look after August 1991.”

His attorney paused for a telling moment. Then Tom said dryly, “Tell me how you know that.”

“Because—” What he would have done not to admit this! “— I saw Francie then, and she was far from dead.”

At that moment, he benefited from Lucy being asleep in the Maitland house. “God damn it,” and Tom’s voice did rise, “how many years have I represented you, and you are just now telling me that salient fact? You said that you ended things in June 1988—”

“And I did.”

“And now I find out that you had contact with Francie, what, three years later? Where the hell was this, anyway?” He didn’t like the sharpness of Tom’s voice, but knew he had earned it. “And who got in touch with whom?”

“Francie called me. I saw her on Ash Marine. And,” he cut in before Tom could say anything, “there was nothing even remotely sexual about it. I saw her. She saw me. We exchanged a few words.”

Don’t ask about Laura. Don’t ask.

“Hell,” said Tom. “Okay, and I need a straight answer on this. Was Laura there? Could she possibly know about this meeting?”

Had Laura been there… he had a vision of bright, passionate eyes, of a body that melted and responded… as, dear God, she had melted and responded beneath him on the floor of her kitchen an hour before, no longer a child, but a woman offering herself heart and soul.
I came back for you. I’ve loved you my entire life….
And he had thrust her away.

Come upstairs with me.

For Diana. Diana, who sought to strip away the secrets Laura had fought so hard to conceal. Diana who had slashed her wrist, put her sister through a terrifying afternoon, and now was attempting to divide her from the rest of the family by resurrecting old wounds, old feelings, old moments that no longer meant anything.

He had, he thought, truly meant to preserve her relationship with Diana. He had not taken her upstairs, as she had begged him to take her, because he had wanted her still to have her sister. And for what! Diana had already broken her relationship with her younger sister for good, with this damnable piece of paper, threatening the core of Laura’s life.

Because he knew how Laura would react to the subpoena. She had to avoid it. To give that deposition, she had to perjure herself, lie through her teeth, anything to keep them from knowing that Meg was not her natural child. Laura deserved Meg. She had married for her, taken her as her own, endured twelve years of Cameron St. Bride for her. He and Francie had accidentally created Meg, but by accident or design, she had ended up with exactly the right mother.

And no one, especially not Diana, was going to interfere with that.

It struck him then that, in the space of a heartbeat, his priorities had shifted, that Diana was no longer his axis.

Your marriage is dead. Diana is gone.

“Richard?” Tom said again, and he sounded suspicious. “Was Laura there?”

He had to shut that avenue off decisively. Only Francie and his father knew, and they were both gone. He said swiftly, “No, she wasn’t,” and skimmed through the subpoena again. “What’s the impact? Bottom line?”

“Bottom line? Zip. Zero.
Nada
. An affair that ended fourteen years ago after Diana had refused you your marital rights for three years? After which time she then lived with you another three years? With no witnesses and no written documents? It doesn’t even matter that it produced an illegitimate child.” Richard winced. “Let’s face it, the child’s adoptive mother is never going to divulge that, and Kevin doesn’t know to ask the question. Here’s what will happen. Laura will be served, she’ll notify the St. Bride lawyers immediately because she won’t want to testify, and they’ll file a motion to quash. I can imagine the firepower St. Bride kept on retainer. Kevin doesn’t stand a chance. They’ll demand a hearing, and we can sit quietly by as they trot out all the reasons why this is pure harassment. Then, if Laura can’t prevail at a hearing, the deposition will get delayed and she’ll get a call to return to London. Then she’ll get whisked onto a private jet and out of the jurisdiction.”

And she would never be able to return.

Richard said bluntly, “She’ll lie if she has to testify.”

“Yes, I’m afraid she might. And I hope it doesn’t come to that, because I’d have to report known perjury to the court.” Tom sounded calm. “No, let Laura’s attorneys file the motion to quash. I’ll hold off on ours, because it’ll look better if we act as if we don’t mind her testimony. We’ll take the position that she is welcome to testify because she knows nothing that hurts our case, and we want to get this whole matter out in the open.”

But he didn’t, he thought after Tom hung up. All the reasons why he had never told anyone, why he had never confessed his guilt, still held strong. He had never wanted his parents, and now Julie, to know what he had done to his marriage vows. He did not want to risk his stature in their eyes. He did not want them to know that he had failed to meet their high standards.

That he had surrendered to a pair of hungry eyes and a young man’s desire too long denied.

But Diana – Diana, whose own sins couldn’t bear the light of day – Diana had forced his hand.

And she had forced Laura’s as well.

Either Laura lied, and Tom felt himself honor-bound as an officer of the court to report her perjury, or she ran again to avoid testimony.

And if she ran, this time there was no coming home.

Not unless he divorced Diana.

~•~

I should have divorced her years ago. Julie would be safe. Laura would be safe. Meg would be safe. I wouldn’t have to worry about her hurting Julie. I wouldn’t have to worry about her.

I’d be free to build another life. I’d be free to love another woman.

Laura.

He stood again in her kitchen, feeling her body against his back, her hand sliding down his arm, as he fought his arousal and she fought his resistance. He remembered her lovely soft skin underneath his hand, and his pen in his hand trembled in remembrance. His body reacted in memory of hers beneath him, her pale breast lying warm to his hand, her mouth opening to meet and love his in return.

And Laura, as he had left her, stricken with rejection. No matter that he had not rejected her, but rather the situation in which they found themselves. The woman that his parents had thought perfect for him had walked back into his life after all these years, and she had still loved him enough to risk her heart and her pride. Laura, knowing the worst, had still loved him, and he had handed her heart right back to her. She had laid herself wide open, after a lifetime of silence –
I’ve loved you my whole life, I came back for you
– and he had walked away.

Diana is still my wife. I may not like that fact….

God! What had he done?

You can have all the years ahead with me.

And he had told her that the future didn’t matter because the past still lived.

Well, that at least I can change.

~•~

By the time Tom called back, thirty minutes later, he had outlined a plan. He glanced down coolly at the legal notepad in front of him, with its columns of pros and cons and numbered items, and the financial spreadsheets that detailed the price of getting rid of the past. This was no more than a business deal, a buyout of a troublesome partner.

“Guess what,” Tom said. “I found the NTSB reports—”

It took Richard a few seconds to orient himself. The NTSB reports. The putative plane crash. “Really?” But he didn’t care. Laura had lied for her own reasons, and he’d find those out in good time. “So did you find anything?”

“Sure did,” said Tom. “There was a plane crash, all right. A Kate St. Bride, resident of Plano, Texas, who just happened to be St. Bride’s mother, was a passenger on a private plane that went down in the Texas Panhandle five years ago, killing all aboard. But no Francesca. I ran every name variation I could think of, and there are no matches on any private plane crashes in the last fourteen years. I did get a hit on a Francesca on an international crash a few years ago, but I don’t think it’s worth pursuing.”

“I agree.” No, Laura had lied classically; she had woven facts from something she knew and gambled that no one would ever find out. Who knew how Francie really had died… and heaven help poor little Francie, the truth might be so much worse than a plane crash. But time for that in the future. He drew the pad closer to him. “Back to Diana. Here’s what I want to do.”

Tom was silent.

“Monday morning,” Richard said, “file for divorce. I want this clean and simple. We haven’t lived together for over ten years, and that should be reason enough. I want Julie, I want my company, and I want my separate property. Specifically, I want the Park and all the belongings. She keeps her separate property, she relinquishes any claim to my mother’s jewelry, and she drops any custody threat. In return—” He consulted his notes. “I’ll pay her a generous allowance until Julie turns twenty-one, and I’ll give her Ash Marine, my father’s cottage and all the land in a trust, to be turned over to her unconditionally at that time. It’ll be worth a fortune in another year or so. I’ve already been approached by developers who want to build a resort.”

Dead silence at the other end. He could imagine Tom’s surprise.

“There are two nonnegotiable conditions,” he added. “I’ll waive any claims of adultery against her, if she’ll do the same for me. And she has to drop the subpoena against Laura immediately. I will not have Laura harassed by her sister.”

More silence.

“Well? What do you think?”

He heard Tom suppress laughter. “What do you expect me to say? High time? Good riddance?” He sobered down. “That sounds comprehensive. Do you really want to give up Ash Marine?”

“Yes. We’ll have to find somewhere else to fly RC.” He rubbed his eyes. “This way, I won’t have to worry about her. She’ll have enough money to live on the rest of her life if she’s careful. And she gets it only if she behaves herself. She welshes on any part of this deal, and it stays mine.”

“Fax your notes over,” Tom said. “I’ll start drawing up papers. Do you want me to approach Kevin with this first?”

“File,” he said. “Have her served. I know Diana. That will scare the hell out of her. She’ll be much more amenable to an offer then.” Cold, ruthless way to talk, he thought wearily, the way he might talk about an enemy, not a woman he had adored. “And, before I pay her a cent, she drops that subpoena and signs a custody agreement.”

He added, as he put his notes into the fax machine, “Oh, and one more thing, Tom. Write this in. No more fake suicide attempts.”

~•~

For a man who had just tossed away a potential fortune, he felt curiously light of heart. In one evening, a marriage of eighteen years – half his life! – ended; in one evening, his daughter’s emotional safety secured; in one evening, the long-planned restoration of Ashmore Magna postponed for the foreseeable future, the money now to be given to the woman he had once promised to cherish for life. In one evening, his future returned to him….

You can have all the years ahead with me.

No. No, better not to think of Laura, not to think of that silky pale skin beneath his hand, better not to feel that sudden splendid rush of longing.
Come upstairs
. Better not to think that, if not for Diana, by now he would have explored her, tasted her, met her desire for desire. Better not to think of her at all.