The House on Hancock Hill (20 page)

“What?” He sat up too, and his genuine dismay made me falter. “Why? Can’t you stay?”

“I have to be up really early for work.” God, when had I become such a jerk?

“Me too. I don’t mind. Stay the night, Jason.” With large, imploring eyes, Tom looked at me, and when he saw me hesitate, he put his hand on my arm and rubbed it. I recognized it as a move he always made to get his way, and it made up my mind.

“I can’t. I’m sorry.” He looked hurt, and I suppressed a sigh as I shrugged my clothes back on. “Will you be in town for a while?”

“A week.”

I reached for the hotel stationery and jotted my cell phone number down. The luggage rack by the table still had a zipped-up suitcase on it. He’d gotten here and come to find me right away.

“Give me a call if you want.” Bending over the bed, I kissed him, let Tom deepen it for a minute or so, and then straightened.

“’Night, Tom.”

He didn’t answer.

I regretted giving him my number almost immediately. Tom had been a smooth talker before he graduated from Harvard law. I doubted that had changed over the years, and if he called me wanting something, I was pretty sure I’d give in. On the other hand, ending up in bed with him after only a few hours was proof enough of exactly how lonely I was. I didn’t need to call my therapist for that piece of self-examination.

Needless to say, I didn’t sleep that night. Another batch of Belgian chocolate truffles was made, as well as a successful foot-tall Easter bunny I’d take into the bakery tomorrow.

Chapter 12

T
HE
NEXT
morning, my phone rang at 8:00 a.m. I was up to my elbows in croissant batter, convinced it was Tom. “Who is it?” I yelled at Alice since she was currently flour free and in the office.

“No name, only a number, area code nine zero six,” she yelled back. The bell above the door chimed, and Alice went to serve the customer while I stood frozen, dripping dough over the work surface. By the time I’d gathered my wits and controlled my heavily thumping heart, the phone had stopped ringing.

“Shit,” I muttered, grabbing the nearest towel and wiping my hands on it as I rushed to the office. “Shit shit shit.” I got flour all over the phone as I hit redial.

“Houghton County Sheriff’s Office,” a woman said.

My heart sank, and the adrenaline rush made me dizzy. Clutching the desk, I said, “Hi Colleen, it’s Jason. I missed your call.”

“Oh, Jason,” Colleen said, and I knew immediately whatever it was, it would be bad news. All the blood drained from my face, and the room swam. I sank down on the floor, my legs unable to hold my weight anymore.

“Henry,” I breathed weakly, because I could think of no other reason for that tone in her voice.

“What?” She took a second and seemed to catch on, because she hurriedly said, “No, honey, Dr. McCavanaugh is fine. He’s fine. It’s the body from the Johnson farm…. We have an ID.”

At first, nothing beyond
he’s fine
sank in. I had to clasp a hand over my mouth to keep a harsh sob inside. Then what she’d said penetrated the rush of relief. “What? I mean, that’s good I guess, but what does that have to do with me? I’m one hundred percent sure I didn’t know her.” What else could they want from me? Did they need permission to get back onto the property or something?

“Jason, I think you’d best talk to the sheriff. I’m going to put you through, okay?”

“All right.” I quickly clambered to my feet before Alice could see me like this and sat down at the battered—literally—desk.

A soft click. “Mr. Wood?”

“I’m here.”

“It’s Ben Curtis.”

I noticed he omitted his title. “What can I do for you, Sheriff?”

“The mother of the young woman came up here a week ago looking for her daughter.”

“Oh, no.” I winced in sympathy. “How awful. That poor woman.”

“Look, I don’t know how to say this, and I’d prefer not do it over the phone, but I have no choice.”

“What? What is it?” My heart began to beat against my ribcage again, like some drumroll herald of bad news.

“The young woman—Taylor was her name. I’m sorry, son, but she was your half sister.”

Immediately, I said, “That can’t be,” and then, “Wait, are you saying my mother is up there?”

“No, Mr. Wood… Jason. She was not your mother’s child.”

I needed a second to process that, and when I did, the anger was immediate and absolute. “Are you saying my
father
—”

“Yes, that is what I’m saying.” I heard the weariness in his voice.

“That woman is lying.” Dad would never. He
wouldn’t
have.

“She’s not,” Curtis said like he’d expected that. “It’s why we didn’t contact you sooner. We requested your father’s DNA records from the Traverse City Police Department—”

“Why would they have his DNA?”

“—and Taylor was definitely his daughter,” Curtis went on like he hadn’t heard me. “I’m sorry, Jason.” We sat in silence, voices from the shop barely infiltrating the fog of my mind. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

“Does she…. The mother—does she want to see me?” I croaked, closing my eyes and resting my forehead in the palm of my hand as I leaned over the desk. I felt… I didn’t know how I felt.

“No, she didn’t want to meet you. She felt you should know.” An irrational surge of bitterness toward this woman made bile rise up from my stomach, and I swallowed. It wasn’t her fault, or not just her fault anyway, and she had lost a daughter. “I don’t think she knew your father had passed away,” Curtis said placatingly, like he knew where my thought process was going.

“How….” I had to swallow again before I could get the words out, but somehow I already knew. “How old was sh—Taylor?”

“She was twenty-six.”

A
T
SOME
point, the sheriff hung up, but I didn’t hear it. There was a DTE energy bill on the desk that needed paying, and on the computer screen to my left, I saw a message coming in for Alice, who’d left her e-mail open.

“Jason?” I looked up. Alice peered into the office. “There’s someone here who says he’s—
Jesus
, are you all right?” Alice hurried to the desk and held out her hands like she thought I was going to fall over. I was sitting down, so I didn’t get it until I felt tears fall on my arm.

“I—” Tom entered the office, and I hid my face behind my hands. There was soft shuffling, a door closing, and a warm hand on my shoulder.

“Do you need your inhaler?” Tom asked gently, rubbing circles over my back as he crouched by my chair. I shook my head. “What is it? Can you talk about it?”

Tom had always known how to handle my panic attacks. It was one of the things I’d loved about him. He was calm and always asked if I wanted to talk or if I wanted him there, because sometimes I did and sometimes I didn’t, and not once had he made me feel bad about it.

I wasn’t having a panic attack, though. “I have to go to Florida,” I managed and then, horrifyingly, broke down crying.

“Jason, baby,” Tom whispered, and I understood why it had bothered me when Daniel called me that. Tom gathered me in his lap. I was getting flour and snot all over his suit but he didn’t seem to care; he just held me, rocking gently side to side, until I calmed down. “Is she in a bad way?” he asked when the mortifying sobbing stopped.

Shaking my head, I swiped at my eyes, and out of nowhere, Tom produced a white handkerchief—seriously, who still carried those things?—to dab at my face. I took it from him and wiped my nose. “No, not that I know of. It’s something else.” As much as I appreciated him being there, I wasn’t ready to share what I’d learned with anyone.

“I’ll go with you.”

My head snapped up so fast, I nearly brained him. “What? What about your work?”

To my infinite surprise, Tom—who had never, in all the years of us being together, been known to blush—colored a deep red. “The truth is, when I heard my company was sending someone here for the case, I volunteered to go because I hoped to find you. I have vacation time saved up. I can take a week.” The blush faded, and he rubbed his hands over my arms. This time, it didn’t bother me. “I’m serious; let me go with you. You shouldn’t go there alone.” I swallowed past the sudden urge to start crying again.

“Can I think about it?”

“Of course,” Tom whispered. He thumbed a leftover tear from my cheekbone and kissed me tenderly on the mouth. “Of course you can.”

Tom insisted on letting Alice take over the shop. “I’ll manage,” she said, wringing her hands, her eyes wide as she took in the state of me. “Are you all right?” Tom was trying to usher me out of the door and Alice gave him a slightly mutinous look.

“Jason has a family emer—” Tom began, but I stopped him with a hand on his arm.

“I’m all right, Alice, but I have to go out of town for a few days. I can call a temp agency for help. Or Denny, maybe.”

“No, don’t worry about that. I have a friend from culinary school, David. He’s very good, if you don’t mind him coming in here without you seeing him first.”

“If you trust him, so do I,” I said, because under the circumstances, I didn’t have much choice. “Call me if you need anything.”

“I will,” Alice told me. She quickly leaned into my space and gave my arm a short squeeze. “You take care of yourself.”

Tom thanked her and walked me out the door.

“Let me drive you home,” Tom said when we neared his rental car. “I’ll pick you up in the morning, either to bring you back here or take you to the airport. Whatever you need.”

“I only live a few miles away. I can drive.”

“Then at least let me follow you, or I’ll worry all night.”

“All right, fine.” My skin had started to crawl with all the feelings I was keeping at bay, and I walked off. Tom stuck close to me all the way to the bookshop and then gave me a little wave from where he idled on the road. I could tell he wanted to come in, and I was infinitely grateful he didn’t.

Once upstairs, all I wanted to do was call Henry even though he hadn’t talked to me in weeks. I was already reaching for the phone when a thought paralyzed me. Had he somehow known everything I believed about Dad was a lie and kept it from me? Was that what he never ended up telling me while I was in Hancock? Maybe Johnny and Henry had both known, and that’s why they’d fought. If Dad had found out about that, it would be a good reason not to take me back north. My thumb hovered over his number, but I couldn’t make myself press it. Betrayal flared like heartburn, and something deep inside me withered and went very still.

A
FTER
BOOKING
my flight to Tampa in a daze, I called Denny and explained what had happened.

“Shit, dude,” he said with his usual flair, making me laugh. “Are you okay going by yourself? You’ve got terrible timing as always, but I can take a day or two off and go with you if you want. The new assistant is actually very good, and I’m sure Maddy can cope.”

Unexpected warmth flooded me. I’d known, of course, Denny was a good friend, but I hadn’t anticipated such ready support twice in one day. Perhaps I wasn’t as alone as I’d thought. I did know what Denny would say about Tom making the same offer, though, so I kept that quiet. “That’s very good of you, but it won’t be necessary. I feel bad enough leaving Alice to deal with the pre-Easter rush. And besides, I think I’ve got to do this by myself.”

“Yeah, I hear you,” Denny said. “Are you all right, though? You sound down, Jason. I know what your old man meant to you.”

“Yeah, I’m—” Was I really going to say
fine
again? I sighed. “I don’t know what I am, to be honest.”

“It’s okay to feel like that,” Denny told me with uncharacteristic severity. “God knows you’ve had a shit year of it so far. Find what you need in Florida and soak up some sun while you’re at it. Things might not look so bad after that.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right. Thanks, Denny.”

“Anytime. Listen, I know I never met your dad, but from what you’ve told me, I think he was a good person. People make mistakes, and they change, you know? Don’t take it too hard.”

“I’ll try,” I promised.

“Call me when you get back,” Denny said and rang off. Only one thing left to do. While I was on the phone with Denny, Tom had sent me a message asking how I was doing.

Flying to Tampa at 9 a.m.
, I texted back.

The reply came barely thirty seconds later.
Send me your flight number, I’ll book a seat
.

It’d be nice to not have to face this alone, but facing it with Tom was somehow an impossibility.
I have to do this by myself. Sorry
.

Ominously, there came no reply. I spent the rest of the day baking and preparing what I could to drop off at the bakery in the morning. Sleep was an unattainable ambition at this point anyway.

It was too much to expect Tom to leave me alone all night, though, and at seven o’clock, a hesitant knock sounded from my front door. Since mine was the only apartment above the bookstore, it wasn’t hard to figure out where I lived. An excuse to send Tom home without hurting his feelings at the ready, I pulled the door open and came face to face with Henry.