She's Not There (28 page)

“…sisters?”

“I guess.”

“You really sure you want to be part of this family?” Michelle asked.

Caroline ran down the hall to her bedroom before she could hear Lili's reply.

S
he was lying in her bed, wide awake at just after six
A.M.
, having tossed and turned most of the night, her mind vacillating between hope and despair, anticipation and dread. What would she do if the tests proved Lili was indeed Samantha? What if they proved she
wasn't
?

You really sure you want to be part of this family?

Michelle's words bounced against the side of her brain, increasing in volume with each repetition, filling her head like a stubborn cold, leaving her barely able to breathe.

Her daughter was right. The family that Lili would be returning to—if the DNA test revealed she was, in fact, Samantha—was severely splintered, if not irreparably broken. Caroline and Hunter were divorced; Caroline barely tolerated her mother; she had a strained relationship with her brother, a strained relationship with Michelle…

I'm the common denominator here,
Caroline acknowledged, finally climbing out of bed an hour later, her body a collection of aches and stiff joints.
Everything, my fault.

She threw a housecoat over her cotton pajamas and headed down the stairs, past Michelle's and Lili's closed bedroom doors. She walked into the kitchen, moving as if she were on automatic pilot, and made a pot of coffee, then poured a large mug even before the coffeemaker indicated it had finished brewing.

“Is there enough for me?” Michelle asked, shuffling into the room on bare feet and plopping down into a chair at the kitchen table.

Wordlessly, Caroline reached into the cupboard for another mug and poured her daughter a steaming cup, depositing it in front of her. “You're up early.”

“Didn't get a whole lot of sleep. I take it you're not going into work today.”

“I told them I'd be out for the rest of the week.”

Michelle nodded. “Probably a good idea.” She sipped her coffee, offered nothing further.

“I owe you an apology,” Caroline said.

“For what?”

“Last night. The way I acted. You were absolutely right to be angry.” She opened the breadbasket at the far end of the counter, removed two slices of raisin bread, and dropped them into the toaster. “I should have waited for you to come home to decorate the tree, at least given you the chance to…”

“Say no? I would have, you know. Said no.”

“I still should have waited, given you the choice.”

“Yeah, well. What's done is done, right? Tree looks great, by the way.”

“It does look nice, doesn't it?”

“Except for the missing angel on top. My turn to apologize. I'll go out later, pick something up.”

“That would be nice.”

“Except I don't believe in angels or any of that stuff, so I'll probably just get a star or a snowflake. Something like that. Is that okay?”

“Sounds good.” The toast popped up. Caroline put the slices on a plate, opened the fridge, took out some butter, and applied it to the two browned surfaces. “You want a piece?” she asked her daughter, without thinking. “Sorry,” she said immediately. “Forgot you don't eat bread.”

“I'll eat the raisins,” Michelle said.

“You mean, right out of the bread?”

“As long as they don't have butter on them.”

Caroline studied the two slices of toast. “You can't have the raisins. They're the best part.” She caught Michelle's grin as she sat down at the table and began dunking the toast in her coffee.

“Oh, gross,” said Michelle.

“You didn't used to think it was gross.”

“What are you talking about?”

“When you were little. You used to watch me dunking my toast in my coffee and insist on doing the same thing.”

“I don't believe you.”

“It's the God's truth. I swear.”

“I don't believe in God.”

“Yeah, well. It's true anyway.” Caroline smiled at the memory. “You were this little thing, I don't think you were even two years old, but even then you were very clear about what you wanted, and what you wanted was to dunk your toast in coffee, the same way I did. So every morning I'd pour a little bit of coffee into your cup and we'd sit there and dunk our toast together. And one day, I was busy doing other things, and you came marching into the kitchen, quite indignant, and demanded, ‘Where's my coffee?' ”

Michelle chuckled. “You're making that up.”

“I'm not. You were quite the character.”

Michelle wiggled forward in her seat, intrigued. “How so?”

“Well, you were very verbal very early, and you used to keep up this steady stream of chatter about everything you were doing,” Caroline said, warming to her subject, her mind suddenly flooded with memories. “I remember one time, you were maybe eighteen months old, and you tripped over something, and you said, ‘Oh, I fell down.' And then you said, ‘It's all right. I get up.' It was like you were narrating your life.” She paused, watching the scene play out in her mind. “And there was this one afternoon I took you to the movies. You were maybe two and a half. I think it was
Clash of the Titans,
some movie like that, and there were maybe half a dozen other people in the audience and you talked the whole way through the picture, this little voice like chipped glass, describing everything that was happening on the screen.
Oh, look, Mommy. Andromeda's taking a bath. She's getting out of the bath. She's walking to the door. She's opening the door.
On and on. And when the movie was over, we were in the washroom and this woman was at the mirror and I apologized if your voice-over had disturbed her, and she smiled and said, ‘It's okay. She was very informative.' ”

This time Michelle threw her head back and laughed.

“And one time your father got a new car and I was terrified to drive it because you know how he is about his cars.”

Michelle nodded.

“But one day I was driving and you were in your car seat and I had to back into this parking space and I was a nervous wreck. It must have taken me ten minutes to park the damn thing. I was going back and forth and back and forth, trying to squeeze into the damn space, and I was covered in perspiration, absolutely soaking wet by the time I finally managed it, and from the backseat came this little voice—‘Good job, Mommy!' And it made my day. It really did.” She shook her head. “God, I haven't thought about these things in…”

“Fifteen years?”

Caroline got up from her seat and poured herself another cup of coffee. Michelle was right. Her memories of Samantha had been so all-consuming, they'd all but erased her memories of Michelle's early childhood. “You want some more?”

“Sure.”

Caroline filled her daughter's mug and returned to the table, her conscience getting the best of her. “Listen. There's something I have to tell you.”

“Oh, dear. It's never good when sentences begin that way.”

“I overheard you last night, talking to Lili.”

“You
overheard
?”

“I didn't mean to.” Caroline stopped. “No, that's not true. I saw Lili go into your room and I deliberately listened in.”

“You're telling me you eavesdropped?”

“Yes.”

“That's such a funny expression—‘eavesdropped.' Wonder where it came from.”

“You don't sound too upset.”

Michelle shrugged.

“Or surprised.”

Another shrug. “I knew you were there.”

“You did?”

“You breathe through your mouth.”

“I do?”

“Whenever you're anxious or upset.”

“You knew I was listening the whole time?”

“Not the whole time, no. But at some point I just knew you were there.”

“And you kept talking anyway.”

“I was curious to hear what Lili had to say.”

“You did most of the talking.”

“Guess I did.”

“Did you mean the things you said?”

“I don't know. I said a lot of things.”

“You asked Lili if she really wanted to be part of this family.”

Michelle opened her mouth as if to speak, then stopped, taking another sip of her coffee as Lili entered the room. “Speak of the devil. Although technically, of course, I don't believe in the devil. We didn't hear you come down the stairs.”

Lili glanced toward the wooly pink bunny-festooned socks peeking out from underneath her blue-and-white-striped pajamas, as if they explained the silence of her approach. “Is there enough coffee for me?”

“I think there's still some left.” Caroline got up and poured Lili a cup. “Milk? Sugar?”

“Black's good.”

“I can make eggs, or there's cereal,” Caroline offered.

“Maybe just some toast.” Lili crossed to the counter and extricated two pieces of raisin bread from the bag before Caroline could do it for her. A minute later, she was sitting between them at the table, buttering her toast.

“Have you spoken to Beth this morning?” Caroline asked, realizing she was breathing through her mouth and coughing into her hands.

“I called, but nobody answered. Not her landline or her cell.” Lili glanced at the clock on the wall. “I wouldn't be surprised if she's already on her way to the airport. She always likes to get places way early.”

“Why would she be on her way to the airport?” Michelle asked. “Don't tell me she's coming here.”

Caroline felt a stab of panic in her side. “What time would her plane get in?”

Lili shook her head. “I'm not sure.”

“I'll check the Internet,” Michelle offered, getting up from the table, “find out what flights are arriving from Calgary and when.”

“I better call your father,” Caroline said.

“I'm sorry this is getting so complicated.” Lili began absently dunking her toast in her coffee.

“What are you doing?” Michelle asked, stopping dead in her tracks.

“Sorry.” Lili immediately lifted the now-coffee-soaked piece of toast from her mug. “I guess it's kind of gross.”

Tears filled Caroline's eyes, as if this simple gesture was the genetic “tell” she'd been looking for, all the proof she needed that Lili was indeed her child.

The phone rang.

“Maybe that's her,” Michelle said.

Caroline moved quickly to answer it. “Hello?”

“Caroline. It's Arthur…
Aidan
Wainwright. Please hear me out.”

She immediately slammed the receiver down.

“What happened?” Michelle asked. “You're white as a ghost. Who was that?”

Caroline leaned back against the counter, instinctively understanding that the reporter knew of Lili's existence and wondering how long it would be before the rest of the world found out.

“Mom? Who was that?” Michelle repeated.

Caroline put two and two together and came up with the only possible answer under the circumstances. “Trouble.”

“H
ere comes a taxi.” Caroline backed away from the living room window, her heart pounding.

Michelle immediately moved to take her place behind the sheer curtains. “No. It's not stopping. Oh, crap.”

“What's happening?”

“I just saw something move behind the big tree across the street.”

“Another reporter?” Caroline was immediately back at the window.

“Probably.”

“Shit. Looks like the vultures are circling.”

“Are you serious?” Lili asked from her seat on the sofa.

“I'm afraid so,” Michelle said.

“I don't understand. How would they even know…?”

“Somebody must have tipped them off.”

“You think it was Beth?” Lili asked Caroline.

“I don't know. You said she threatened to.”

“I know, but…”

“But what?” Michelle asked.

“It doesn't make sense,” Lili said. “She'll be here any minute. The last thing she'd want is a bunch of reporters waiting for her.”

“Unless that's
exactly
what she wants,” Michelle said.

“What do you mean?” Caroline and Lili asked together, their voices overlapping.

Michelle spun toward Lili. “You almost had me convinced, you know. Not that you were actually Samantha. But that you really believed you might be.”

“But that's the truth.”

“Is it? Or is it something else? You said before that this was getting so complicated, but maybe it's not complicated at all. Maybe it's what my uncle Steve suggested: a chance to get in on the action, to jump-start a career in show business, make the cover of
People
?”

“No,” Lili protested.

“You know that's not true,” Caroline said.

“I know it's no coincidence that your reporter boyfriend happened to phone this morning after five years. I know that the press isn't camped out on our doorstep because it's a slow news day. Somebody told them Lili was here, and why.”

Caroline winced at the word “boyfriend,” its sting as painful as if Michelle had physically struck her.

“Did you tell anyone?” Michelle asked Lili.

“No. Did you?”

“
Me?
Are you kidding? Shit. Here comes a truck from Fox News.”

“Damn it,” Caroline said. “Call your father.”

“I've already called him three times.”

“Call him again.”

Michelle groaned as she pulled her cell phone out of her jeans pocket and punched in the number for Hunter's office. “Hi, Lucy. Sorry to bother you again, but…Yeah, I know he's with clients. He's been with clients all day…”

“Give me that.” Caroline grabbed the phone from her hand. “Lucy, this is Caroline. I need to speak to Hunter immediately.”

“I'm so sorry, but he's in a very important meeting,” the secretary responded.

“Then. Get. Him. Out.”

“Just a minute.”

“Wow,” Michelle muttered. “That was impressive.”

“What's up?” Hunter said moments later, his voice rushed and impatient. “I'm in the middle of a major deal…”

“And I've got a street filling up with reporters.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Aidan Wainwright phoned me this morning.”

“Who the hell is Aidan Wain…? Oh, shit,” he said, before Caroline could answer. “What did that jerk want?”

“I didn't give him a chance to tell me. But I suspect he was calling because he found out about Lili.”

“You think she called him?”

“No. But it's possible that Beth…”

“Who's Beth?”

Caroline couldn't bring herself to say “Lili's mother.” “Apparently she's on her way here from Calgary,” she said instead, hoping to jog Hunter's memory.

“What the hell? When did that happen? Why didn't you call me?”

“We tried. Three times. You're in the middle of a major deal, remember?”

“What time is her plane arriving?”

“We're not sure. The direct flight from Calgary was delayed. Apparently there's a snowstorm. Anyway, she may not even be on the direct flight. And she's not answering her phone.”

“You think she's the one who alerted the media?”

“It's possible.”

“Okay. Look, I'll be there as soon as I can. In the meantime, don't answer the door. Don't answer the phone. Don't say a word to anyone.”

“Of course I'm not going to say anything,” Caroline began, but he'd already hung up. “What—am I an idiot?” she asked as she handed the phone back to Michelle. She'd taken her landline off the hook immediately after Aidan's phone call.

“Is he coming over?”

“As soon as he can. Try Beth again,” she directed Lili.

Lili used her cell phone to place another call to Beth, shaking her head as a recorded voice announced the line was temporarily not in service. “She's probably still in the air.”

“She's just waiting until more troops arrive,” Michelle said, glancing back at the street. “The woman clearly knows how to make an entrance.”

“You're wrong,” Lili insisted. “The last thing she wants is for anyone to know about this. She just wants me to come home.”

A car pulled up in front of the house and a woman with long, shapely legs and wavy blond hair emerged from the backseat, a microphone in her hand. A bearded man trailed after her, half a dozen cameras draped around his neck. “Damn it,” Caroline said, her eyes following them up her front walk.

The doorbell rang.

“What do we do?” Lili asked.

“What
can
we do?”

It rang again.

“We just let them keep ringing?”

“They'll get the message eventually.”

“It's like being held hostage,” Lili said as the ringing continued on and off for the next five minutes.

“They know we're home,” Caroline said. “They probably saw us at the window.”

“Maybe we should close the drapes.” Michelle indicated the heavy beige panels framing the sheer curtains.

“Maybe we should call the police,” Lili said.

“Great idea,” Michelle told her. “Let's make the story even bigger. Maybe we can make the national news.” The doorbell rang ten more times in rapid succession. “God, aren't they ever going to give up?”

“Thought you didn't believe in God,” Lili said with a smile.

“Shut up,” Michelle said.

Caroline found herself stifling a laugh.

“What? What's so funny?”

“You're starting to sound like sisters.”

“Okay, that did it,” Michelle said, moving away from the window. “I'm out of here.” She headed for the front door.

“Wait, Michelle. You can't go out there.”

“Then I'll go out the back.” She turned on her heel, heading for the rear of the house.

“Michelle,” Caroline pleaded, following after her. “Please…”

“Relax, Mother. You won't even know I'm gone.”

“You're being foolish…”

“
I'm
being foolish?” She pushed open the rear door.

A man was standing on the other side.

“Who the hell are you?” Michelle asked, startled.

“Dear God,” Caroline said from behind her. “Shut the door, Michelle. Now.”

“Caroline, wait,” the man said, grabbing the door to keep it from closing. “I know you don't want to talk to me and I can't say I blame you…”

“Is this that fucking reporter?” Michelle demanded.

“I'm Aidan Wainwright.”

“The creep who wrote that awful story? Get the fuck out of here.”

“You must be Michelle.”

“You must be fucking kidding. Let go of the door, asshole.”

“Look. I know you all hate me, but I think that if you go back and read that story again, you'll find it's not so bad. You actually come off very well,” he said, speaking directly to Caroline. “I portrayed you in a very sympathetic light.”

Caroline stared at the not-quite-handsome man she hadn't laid eyes on in five years, the man whose story, whose betrayal, had cost her not only her job but what was left of her self-esteem. His hair was shorter than it had been the last time she'd seen him, and graying slightly at the temples, but other than that, he looked essentially the same. She was somewhat mortified to realize she still found him attractive.

“Is it true?” he asked. “Is Samantha back?”

“I don't know what you're talking about.”

“What's going on?” Lili asked, coming up behind Caroline.

“Is that her?” Aidan asked, pushing harder on the door, trying to worm his way inside. “Talk to me, sweetheart. Who are you? What's your story?”

“Get back in the living room,” Michelle told Lili. “Now.”

Lili spun around and ran out of the room.

“You might as well tell me, Caroline,” Aidan said. “You know I'm going to write something anyway.”

“First tell me who tipped you off,” Caroline said.

“You know I can't betray a source.”

“Really? You had no trouble betraying me.”

“Not quite true. And if you think about it, I also did you a favor.”

“A favor?”

“I gave you a forum, a place to vent…”

“Without my knowledge. Without my permission.”

“You never would have given me permission.”

“Doesn't that tell you something?”

“It was never my intention to hurt you, Caroline. I liked you. I really did. I debated with myself for hours about handing in that story. I knew there was a chance you wouldn't understand.”

“A
chance
I wouldn't understand? Understand what, exactly? That you abused my trust? That you humiliated me? That you used me to further your ambitions, to increase the size of your byline?”

“You'd been carrying around this huge burden of guilt for so many years that it was crippling you,” he argued. “I like to think I might have actually lightened that load.”

Was he really so delusional? she wondered. But then, why should he be any different than everybody else? Sometimes delusions were all that carried you through life. “Don't you dare try to fool yourself into thinking there was anything noble about what you did,” she told him, pushing such thoughts from her head. “I bet you have a tape recorder on in your pocket right this minute, don't you?”

He looked away, trying not to smile. “A girl shows up on your doorstep, claiming to be the daughter stolen from you fifteen years ago. That's one hell of a story, Caroline, even if it turns out she's not Samantha. Let me write it. Give me a chance to make things right.”

“First tell me if you really had a wife and daughter who were killed by a drunk driver.”

His sheepish expression was all the answer she needed.

“You piece of shit.”

“Talk to me, Caroline. Give me an exclusive and I swear you'll come off more saintly than goddamn Mother Teresa.”

Caroline stared into his not-quite-handsome face, relieved to discover that all she felt was contempt. Then she wrested the door away from him and slammed it in his face.

“You should have told him to fuck off,” Michelle said later.

“Yes, it's always a good idea, telling a reporter to fuck off,” Hunter said.

“Sometimes it's just better to take the high road,” Caroline said.

They were gathered in her living room, waiting for Beth to arrive. Her plane had landed half an hour earlier, and she'd called Lili as soon as she cleared customs to tell her she was on her way. Lili had, in turn, told her about the growing number of media surrounding the house and asked whether she was responsible for their presence, something Beth vehemently denied.

“Is it true Samantha's come home?” a reporter had shouted at Hunter as he was climbing out of his BMW.

“When will you get the DNA results back?” another demanded as Caroline opened the door and pulled him inside.