THE GREAT BETRAYAL (11 page)

They had to talk.

Although she sat facing the garage, she hadn’t moved a muscle as the door lifted. Hadn’t even seemed aware it had opened.

For a moment Luke just stood staring at his wife. She was sitting in the SUV. Just sitting there with a look on her face that tore his heart out. He knew that look. It didn’t happen very often, but he’d seen it enough over the years. It was when she drifted off into those mysterious dazes, to the places he’d never been privy to.

Why couldn’t he reach her? What the hell was wrong with her? And how the hell could he deal with something he couldn’t understand?

Frustration propelled him forward.

He shot into the driveway, his long stride covering the distance between them.

He knocked on her window.

Obviously startled, Leslie opened the door. As the dome light came on, he could see that she’d been crying, but he steeled himself against her tears.

It was getting old.

“Where’d you go?” he demanded. “I want to know right now. Is the trunk filled with shopping bags? Are we ready for bankruptcy court yet? Pop the trunk. ”

“Luke.”

“No, seriously. Pop the trunk.” He stared her down.

In a flat tone she said, “Luke, I didn’t go shopping. We have to talk.” Getting out of the car, she walked into the garage.

He followed.

When they were upstairs in the privacy of their bedroom, Leslie explained her whereabouts.

“
I went to grab a bite with Dawn. She had some things she wanted to talk over. I didn’t go shopping.”

Sitting in an armchair by the terrace doors, Luke said nothing. He waited.

Leslie dropped her purse on the nightstand, folded her arms, and leaned against the bedpost. She caught her husband’s eye—something she hadn’t been doing a lot of lately.

“
Luke,” she began. “I was married once before. I was married to a man named…Jeffrey Phillips. My maiden name was actually Sanders.” She shook her head, trying to keep her voice steady. “Jeffrey died.”

Luke’s face was unreadable. Was that shock she saw? Speechlessness? Anger? Indifference? Leslie couldn’t decipher it. Her mind was in overdrive; it had skipped ahead.

“Why are you telling me this now?” asked Luke finally.

“Wait—there’s more. Much more.” She hesitated. “I was pregnant w-when Jeffrey passed away.” She took a deep breath to get hold of her nerves. “I g-gave birth to a little girl. She’s been living in Memphis with Jeff’s family since she was born. His mother sent me a letter yesterday. She says they never told her about me. She apparently believes that Jeff’s sister, Beth, is her real mother, but now Ingrid says they plan to tell her the truth, so she may try to contact me.” Leslie winced. “T-that’s why I have to tell you now.”

“Uh-huh.” Luke’s voice was just above a whisper. “That’s some story. You have another daughter. And you never, ever told me anything. All these years, that’s what you’ve been hiding.” His face hardened. “For the love of God.
Why
?”

“I don’t know. I can’t explain it. It was just easier that way.”

“How old is she? Why was she raised by his family?”

“She’s fifteen now. They raised her because I left her there. I knew she’d be well cared for. I thought I’d eventually go back. You know, when the pain lessened.” She broke into tears. “When the mere presence of her didn’t break my heart into a million little pieces. I could barely stand to look at my own baby.”

She expected Luke to come to her, embrace her as he typically would. But that did not happen. He didn’t leave his chair. Nor did his face show any signs of softening.

“Honey, I know this is big,” she sobbed. “I know you’ll probably not understand why I’ve never told you. But I simply couldn’t. And as time went by, it got to the point where I was too ashamed to go back. It seemed best to stay out of her life altogether.”

“Best?” he exclaimed. “Best for whom? For yourself? Did it ever occur to you that she would try to find you one day? That Kate and I—at the very least—deserved to know she was out there? I can’t believe this!” He stood up. “So, what do you plan to do now? Invite her to move in? Because if those are the lines you’re thinking along, you can forget it. It’s not fair to Kate—and it’s damn well not fair to me. I won’t have it.” He paused, his anger clearly getting the better of him. “Goddamn it, I don’t fucking believe this shit!”

Then, without warning—and in true Luke Cavanaugh fashion—he “quietly” stormed out of the room.

He flew down into the den.

He poured himself a scotch. He nursed it for more than half an hour.

It was more than he’d expected. A hell of a lot more.

He wasn’t sure what he
had
been expecting—but this wasn’t it. A fifteen-year-old daughter was
not
it.

His wife had been married before. She was a widow. She’d just run off and left a baby behind. Never looked back.

How could she have done that? Women lost their husbands all the time, right? They didn’t abandon their children and simply start over.

Why had she?

He recalled what she said. The baby had been a reminder of what she’d lost. She hadn’t even been able to look at her.

And in all these years, she’d never
had
to look at her. So, what in the hell would happen when she did?

Suddenly the years of mystery suffocated Luke. The years of coveting his wife’s complete trust. Of coveting these very secrets. Of wanting—no, needing—her to open up to him.

Eventually needing it more than anything.

Luke’s eyes widened suddenly as a realization struck.

Now he knew exactly what his torment had represented.

The secret.

A humiliated anger bubbled inside his belly.

Downing the last of the scotch, Luke headed for the stairs, taking them two at a time.

How dare she
!
How fucking dare she
.

Leslie had just emerged from the bathroom when the bedroom doors suddenly swung open. She’d showered, crying the entire time, feeling utterly alone and frightened of the future.

She’d cried herself out. Hurting for Grace. For Jeff. For Luke and for Kate. Even for Dawn. For the way she’d just left her friend sitting there.

But most of all, she’d cried for herself. There was nothing left to hide behind anymore. The secrets were told. And she felt terribly exposed. Who was Leslie Cavanaugh now? Without the veil?

Am I still the same person
?

Just as she’d slipped into her panties and was reaching for her nightshirt, Luke came barreling through the double doors. He treated her to an angry stare.

“
Leave it off,” he barked. Then he lowered his voice to barely above a whisper. “And get in the bed.”

Leslie was stunned. “What?”

Before she could move he came after her. Grabbing her arms, he pushed her onto the bed.

“Luke, what are you doing? Let’s not complicate things…”

But then he was covering her, crushing her under the full weight of his six-foot frame.

In one swift motion, he pinned her hands above her head and removed his jeans—all before Leslie even knew what had happened. He was moving quickly, with purpose.

His mouth crushed hers. She tasted the scotch. He roughly parted her thighs and swiftly freed himself from his briefs.

With one solid thrust he plunged himself inside her.

Leslie gasped…then she sighed. Wrapping her legs around his waist, she let him have his way.

Like a raging bull, he unleashed years of pent up frustration, banging her furiously.

How dared she be in mourning over someone else all these years?

Has she thought of Jeffrey Phillips every time Luke made love to her? Had she wished it were
him
lying beside her in bed every night? Waking up beside her each morning?

Had she?

Well, tonight, Luke was going to make goddamn sure she knew who her fucking husband was!

Chapter 22

The following morning, on the drive to drop her off at school, Leslie broke the news to Kate. Was it the best timing? Maybe not, but she needed to get it all over with.

At first she was very quiet, apparently processing what Leslie had just told her. She watched her daughter carefully. At eight, Kate was quite sensitive, and a little apt to taking things much too personally.

“
How come we’ve never met her, Mom?” Kate asked finally.

Slipping on her sunglasses, Leslie steered the car out of their neighborhood and into the flow of the morning traffic. “Well, honey, it’s because she lives in another state and…and she doesn’t know about you yet either. But I’m pretty sure you’ll be meeting her one day soon.”

“How old is she, Mom? Is she
way
older than me?”

“She’s a bit older. She’s fifteen…and I haven’t seen her since she was born.”

“How come?” pressed Kate.

Leslie hesitated. “I had to leave her where she belonged…with her daddy.”

“She has her own daddy?”

Leslie had to fight back tears. “Yes, sweetheart. She has her own daddy.”

When she got into the office she immediately called Dawn, who always got to work at least an hour before she did.

She was either away from her desk or she was ignoring her call, because Leslie got voice mail. She left a message. “I’m sorry,” she said softly. “We’ll talk at lunch, okay?”

She opened the vertical blinds behind her desk.

It was a typical Palm Beach morning. The sun was out. The palm trees were kissing the sky. The city streets were bustling.

But she felt completely out of touch with normalcy, a deep sense of disorientation. Who was she today?

Who was Leslie Cavanaugh the morning after?

Without being told, one can predict the occurrence of certain events. Be it intuition or gut instinct, one just
knows
.

Leslie had known to expect the call. She’d spent the morning awaiting it. She’d simply sensed it was coming.

It came just before lunchtime.

“
Hello, Leslie.”

For a moment she was struck silent.

“
Hello, Ingrid.”

“You should’ve had a box delivered, express mail. Did you get it?”

“Yes.” She glanced around the office, her palms beginning to sweat. “Yes, I did.”

“I had to hire a private detective agency to find you. I had no idea where you’d gone.” A pause. “You left your daughter, you know…”

Leslie closed her eyes.
I know.

Another line beeped, lighting up. She ignored it.

“Ingrid, I-I’m sorry.” She hesitated. “I just don’t know what else I can say…after all this time.”

“Would you at least like to speak to her? To Grace?”

Leslie panicked. Her heart began to race. “Speak to her? What, like, right now? No, not yet. I’m not ready yet.”

“No, dear,” said Ingrid, sounding annoyed. “I didn’t mean right this second. She’s at school…and she doesn’t know anything yet—we don’t want to ruin the holidays for her. The plan is to tell her the first of the year. Just trust in God and let the chips fall where they may…once everything’s finally out.”

“
I guess there
is
something more to be said.” Leslie finally opened her eyes. “Thank you, Ingrid. She’s beautiful, and she looks so happy…and so…so healthy. Thank you, and please pass on my thanks and appreciation to Beth and her husband.”

They lapsed into silence, the phone line heavy with words that needed saying.

Finally Ingrid asked, “Why did you leave her, Leslie? For God’s sake,
why
?

“Ingrid, I—”

“
I will say that I never did judge you for it. For a time I even thought I understood. But when you never came back…”

“I know, Ingrid. I know.” Leslie pushed her hair from her face. Her hand was trembling. “I couldn’t…I couldn’t stay there. I had to get away. But then…too much time passed. And shame kept me from coming back. It seemed easier just to stay away.”

“Easier?” asked Ingrid. “Easier for whom?”

Now, where had she heard that question before? She changed the subject. “Your letter mentioned you were ill? I was very sorry to hear that. How are you?”

“I didn’t call to talk about myself. I think it’s a trifle too late for that with us. I just wanted to find you and see to letting you know that your daughter might likely be in touch with you soon.” Ingrid cleared her throat, and Leslie heard shuffling before she continued. “I hope you’ll be kind to her, and honest. She’s a good girl, Leslie. A fine child. She wants to do hairdressing.”