Don't Say A Word (5 page)

    "I feel the same way," Michael said with a laugh.

    "We're very happy for you," Lucia said. "Now, you must be starving. I'U fix you a plate of food."

    "That would be great."

    "And I'll get you a beer," Liz added, following Lucia over to the bar.

    Michael sat down at the table. "Big party."

    "Like always," Julia replied. "How did your charter go?"

    "Fine. Sorry I'm late. I got hung up talking to my father about our advertising. I want to make changes. He doesn't. Same old argument. What did you do this afternoon?" he asked, reaching across the table to take her hand in his, his thumb playing with the engagement ring on her finger. "Did you go Shopping for a wedding dress?"

    She shook her head. "No. I'm sure Liz wants to do that with me."

    "Just make sure you get something sexy and low cut."

    She smiled as she knew she was meant to, but it must have looked halfhearted to Michael, because the light disappeared from his eyes. "What's wrong, Julia? You've been acting strange since we left the museum."

    "You'll think I'm crazy if I tell you."

    "I could never think that. If something is bothering you, I want you to share it with me. I'm going to be your husband."

    She gazed down at their intertwined hands and knew she had to be honest with him. "I'm feeling rushed."

    "Because of the December wedding date?"

    She glanced back up at him and nodded. "It's fast, Michael. Only a little over three months."

    "We've been engaged for a year."

    "But not a normal year. Not a year of just being together without my mom being sick and endless trips to the hospital."

    "I understand that you're still sad, Julia, but it will get better. And it will get better faster if we're together. I can't wait to get on with the rest of our lives. I have so many plans for us. I promise to do every-thing I can to make you happy. And I honestly believe that once you get into the wedding planning, you'll feel more confident that this marriage is absolutely right."

    She thought about his words. He might be right. Maybe she just needed to be settled. But how could she settle down when there were so many questions running through her mind? "There's more," she said slowly. "I've been thinking about my past, about my real father and who my mother was before she married Gino."

    Michael looked at her in confusion. "Why would you be thinking about all that now?"

    "That girl in the photograph at the museum. She looked just like me, and she was wearing the same necklace that my mother gave me when I was a little girl."

    "I don't understand. You're saying you're… Russian?"

    She winced at the incredulous note in his voice. It did sound ridiculous Coming from his mouth. "I'm saying I don't know who I am," she amended. "I don't have anything from before my mom married Gino. Nothing-no pictures of anything or anyone. It's like I didn't exist before I became a DeMarco."

    "Didn't you ever ask your mother about your real father?"

    "Of course I did, hundreds of times. She wouldn't talk about him. She said he left us and what did it matter?"

    "It doesn't matter, Julia," he said, squeezing her hand. "You don't need him. You don't need anyone but me, and I don't care about your bloodline."

    But she did need something besides him-she needed the truth. "I have to find out who I am, where I come from. It's important to me."

    "Before the wedding?"

    She nodded, seeing a flicker of annoyance cross his face. "Yes."

    "And this is all because of some photograph?"

    "That was the trigger, but to be honest, if it wasn't that, it would have been something else."

    His eyes narrowed at that comment. "Because you want to postpone the wedding? Is that what you're trying to tell me?"

    She wasn't quite sure how to answer that question. "It's just so fast."

    "Yeah, that's what you said." He sat back, releasing her hand. "Look, Julia, just let things ride for a few days, see if you feel the same way in a week or two, before we change the date. If we don't take December, we'll have to wait another year. I know how much you love history, and I think the museum would be the perfect setting for you."

    "I know." God, she felt so guilty. Michael had been so happy earlier. Now his face was pinched and tight, his eyes filled with disappointment.

    "Here's your beer." Liz set the bottle down on the table, glancing from Michael to Julia, then back at Michael again. "Who just died?"

    "Julia wants to postpone the wedding," Michael said glumly.

    Julia sighed, wishing Michael had not shared that piece of information just yet.

    "Are you out of your mind?" Liz asked in astonishment. "Why would you want to wait? You have the best place in the world to get married and the perfect guy. What's wrong with you, Julia?"

    "Good question," Michael said, Standing up. "Maybe you can talk some sense into your sister, Lizzie. I'm going to find some food."

    Liz quickly took his seat. " me what the problem is," she said as Michael left.

    "I just need more time. I don't want to rush into marriage."

    "Rush? If you go any slower, you'll be moving backwards."

    Julia looked away from her sister's determined face, wondering if she could make a quick exit through the front door. But that door was blocked by a tall, dark-haired man with light green eyes. Her breath caught in her chest. Alex Manning? He'd cleaned up, shaved, showered, and put on more clothes, but it was definitely him. What did he want? Did he know something? Did she want to know what he knew?

    Oh, God! She suddenly felt terrified that she was about to go down a path from which there would be no turning back.

    "Who's that?" Liz asked, following her gaze.

    Julia looked at her sister. "What?"

    "Is that man the reason you want to postpone your wedding?"

    "Maybe."

    "Julia! How could you?"

    "It's not what you think, but I do have to talk to him." She jumped to her feet and crossed the room, intercepting Alex before one of her aunts could shower him in cheek kisses, plates of ravioli, and cake. "What are you doing here?" she asked.

    "I wanted to see your face again."

    Julia fidgeted under his sharp, piercing gaze. "And?"

    "I talked to someone about the photograph."

    Julia pulled him out the front door of the cafe and onto the deserted pier, where darkness and shadows surrounded them. "What did you find out?"

    "I was told to tell you that the girl died a few weeks after the photograph was taken. I was also told to butt out and mind my own business. That's not my style."

    She wasn't sure how to read the gleam in his eyes. "What is your style?"

    "To find the truth. Are you up for it?" he challenged.

    Goose bumps raced down her arms. She should be focusing on her relationship with Michael and her wedding-she had a million things to worry about, things that were far more important than that old photograph. But something inside of her wouldn't let it go. All the questions about herself that she'd never had answered suddenly demanded attention. Maybe once she knew those answers, she'd feel more confident about moving on with the rest of her life.

    "Yes," she said. "I want to find out who that girl is."

    "Whatever it takes? Because there's no turning back once we get started."

    She bristled at his Controlling tone. "Look, I'll turn back whenever I want. So-"

    "Then I won't help you."

    He started to leave. He was actually going to walk away from her? In fact, he was six feet away before she said, "Wait. Why are you acting like this?"

    He hesitated for so long she wasn't sure he would answer. Then he said, "The only reason I'm here is because you bear a striking resemblance to that girl. The necklace and the fact that you have no concrete evidence of where you lived before the age of four are also intriguing. But I promised not to talk to any-one about that photo. I won't break that promise with you unless I know you're committed to finding out the truth about that child."

    "Who would have asked you to promise such a thing?"

    "Are you in or are you out? Because I tell you nothing unless we have a deal."

    She could see the resolve in his eyes. If she said she was out, she'd never see him again, and she'd never know if that picture had anything to do with her. She could research it on her own, but she wouldn't know where to Start. Alex would have more contacts, more information. Oh, what the hell. It wasn't like she was selling her soul. She drew in a breath, praying she wouldn't regret her decision. "I'm in. Tell me what you know."

    He met her gaze head-on. "My father didn't take that picture. I did."

    "What do you mean, you took that photograph?" Julia asked, shocked by his Statement.

    "Just what I said. I was with my father on that trip to Moscow."

    "But you're young. You must have been a little boy then."

    "I was nine."

    "I don't understand." Julia sat down on one of the wooden benches outside the cafe. She could hear the laughter and the music from inside the restaurant, but they sounded like a million miles away.

    Alex sat down next to her. "I went to Moscow with my father," he explained. "It was the first and only time he took me with him on one of his assignments. My father was photographing a cultural exchange-an American theater group performing in Moscow. It was 1980. The Cold War was beginning to thaw, and both sides were eager to show that East and West could come together. My father got me a small part in the play so that I could go with him. It's a long story, but bottom line-my parents had separated that year, and this was the only opportunity my dad and I had to spend together. A few days after we arrived, he had a meeting one afternoon in Red Square. I got bored, and I picked up his camera. I wandered away, pretended I was shooting pictures the way I'd seen my father do. That's when I saw the girl at the gates." He paused, his eyes distant, as if he were recalling that moment. "She looked like she was in prison. I moved closer and said something to her, but she answered too softly for me to hear. She was… terrified. So I took her picture."

    "I can't believe it. You were actually there? You saw her? You talked to her?" Julia searched his face, wondering if there was any possible way she'd ever seen him before. But she had no memories of her early childhood. She never had. Other people said they could remember events when they were two or three. Why couldn't she?

    "After I took her picture," Alex continued, "I heard my father call my name and I ran back to him. I never told him I took the shot. My dad sent his film back to the magazine to be published. It wasn't until the magazine came out a few weeks later with that photo in print that he realized what I'd done. I'd never seen him so furious."

    "Why? What did it matter? It turned out to be a famous shot."

    Alex's lips tightened and a hard light came into his eyes. "I don't know why he was so upset about it. He wouldn't say, but he made me promise never to tell anyone I took the photo or that I saw the girl. He told me to forget she ever existed. There was fear in his eyes. I don't know if I realized that at the time, but in retrospect I believe he knew something I didn't."

    "Like what?" she asked with a bewildered shake of her head. "How could a photo make someone afraid? I don't understand."

    "All I can think is that the girl or the background of the picture revealed something that no one was supposed to see."

    Julia thought about that for a moment. "Didn't you say there was a public reaction after the publication, that people were searching for that girl, but no one could find her?"

    "What?" Julia stared at him in shock. His voice was matter-of-fact, but his words were horrifying. "Your father died the day after the photo was published in the magazine? What happened to him?"

    "Car accident," Alex said shortly, as if he couldn't bear to go into more detail. "My dad managed to travel all over the world without a Scratch, but he lost his life a few miles from here on the Pacific Coast Highway." He looked off into the darkness, his profile hard and unforgiving.

    Julia wanted to ask more questions, but there was so much pain in his voice, she couldn't bring herself to break the silence.

    Finally, Alex turned back to her. "At any rate," he said, "I want to take another look at the photo. I think there's a good possibility the negative might still be in my mother's possession. The magazine gave her all of my father's work after he died. In the meantime, you should try to find some concrete evidence of your life before the age of four, especially when you lived in Berkeley. Your mother must have had friends, neighbors, someone who would remember seeing you as a baby. If you find them, your questions will be answered."