The Spiral Path (11 page)

Painful
though the conversation was, for the first time ever they were actually talking
to each other. "You didn't fail entirely. I'm not self-destructive like my
mother."

"But
you're still a stranger."

Rainey
was unable to control her bitterness. "Whose fault was that?"

"Ours."
Virginia's face was bleak in the harsh cafeteria light. "By the time you
arrived in Baltimore, we had nothing left to give."

"What
about today? Are you sorry I came here?"

"No,
you're William's only grandchild. It was right for you to come." She
stood, pushing her chair back from the table. "I must go back to him now.
You might as well leave. The nurse said he won't wake up for hours."

A
hint that heavy was impossible to overlook. Suppressing a sigh, Rainey got to
her feet. "I'll stop by in the morning before I go."

CHAPTER 6

O
n the way to
Val's house, Rainey used her cell phone to call Dr. Darrell Jackson in
New York. Luckily, he was home and answered his private line. When she heard
his deep voice, she said, "Hi, Darrell. It's Raine Marlowe. How are Sarah
and the kids?"

"Raine!
Great to hear from you. They're fine. Bobby's grown six inches since you saw
him last. How's my favorite actress?"

"I'm
afraid I have a big favor to ask."

"If
I can do it, you've got it." His voice softened. "I'll never forget
how you came to visit my mother. She died with a smile on her face because of
you."

"That
smile was because she was so proud of her children and grandchildren."
Angie Jackson had worked hard as a domestic to raise her children. All had gone
to college on scholarships with her encouragement. She'd deserved to live until
she was ninety, pampered by her adoring family, but fate hadn't been kind.

Angie
had been dying when Darrell contacted Rainey's office and said that Raine
Marlowe was his mother's favorite actress, and would she consider visiting?
Since Rainey was shooting a movie in New York City, it had been easy to fulfill
the request. Her first visit had been from altruism. The half dozen other
visits she'd made had been because it was impossible not to love Angie Jackson.
If only William and Virginia Marlowe had possessed a tenth of Angie's warmth.

"What's
your problem, Raine?"

Tersely
she described her grandfather's injuries and the aneurysm. "I don't know
if you'll be able to help, but maybe what's inoperable to the average, garden
variety brain surgeon is something you can pull off."

"I'm
not God, but if you have the CAT scans sent up, I'll take a look."

"Thanks.
If you can't help, nobody can."

"You
didn't listen when I said I'm not God. We'll see."

After
signing off, Rainey called Emmy in California to make arrangements to get the
CAT scans from Baltimore to the neurosurgeon. How had she survived before the
invention of the cell phone?

She
leaned back in the seat, drained. The ringing of the phone jerked her up again.
Retracting her prior kindly thoughts about cell phones, she opened it.
"Hello?"

"How
are you doing?" Kenzie asked. "I had to call Emmy, and she told me
about your grandfather's accident. I'm sorry. Hard for him, and very bad timing
for you."

As
always, his rich, beautifully modulated voice soothed her. "I don't know
quite why I'm here in Baltimore, given that he always wished I'd
disappear."

"No
matter how difficult your relationship with your grandparents, you're connected
to them, and connections are what keep us anchored in life."

"True.
Plus my friend Val--you've met her, the sexy redhead--guilted me into making the
trip. I'm glad I came, actually. I was just at the hospital, and my grandmother
and I had the closest thing we've ever had to a real conversation. That was
worth flying cross-country for."

"Indeed."

Was
that wistfulness in his voice? Kenzie had a hundred colorful tales about his
father, the colonel, or perhaps the viscount, and his mother, who'd been
debutante of the year, or maybe a big game huntress in Kenya. But if he had any
real relatives, Rainey had never met them. He was a man without a past. It was
something they had in common--she had only half a past herself.

"Sometimes
I wonder about my father, and what family I have on that side," she said
slowly. "I probably have cousins, maybe even half-brothers and -sisters.
Would I like any of them if we met? If I needed a bone marrow transplant, would
one of them be a match? But I don't know. I'll never know."

"Have
you ever thought of hiring a private investigator to find your father?"

She
stared out the window of the car at the dark streets, still familiar more than
a dozen years after she'd left. "I doubt that even my mother knew who he
was. She lived one of those very liberated '70s rock-and-roll lifestyles. There
must be plenty of candidates for the sperm donor who absentmindedly created
me." Had her mother been glad to have a baby? Rainey didn't know that,
either.

"She
may have had several lovers around the time you were conceived, but the number
is finite. Five? Ten? Twenty? Not beyond investigation. If you find a likely
candidate--well, these days DNA testing can verify who a father is."

"I
never thought about searching." Knowing her mother's promiscuity, seeking
her father had seemed like a waste of time. Kenzie was right, though--the number
of candidates couldn't be that large. Even if she found her father, it would be
unrealistic to expect a warm embrace from a man who probably didn't know she
existed. And yet... "I'd probably regret it if I tried."

"At
least you might be able to satisfy your curiosity."

Deciding
she'd think about it, she switched the subject to business. "Are you set
to start shooting?"

"As
ready as I'll ever be," he said without enthusiasm.

"Do
the script changes I made help any?"

"A
little."

If
only he cared about this movie. He was too much a professional to give a bad
performance, but he might give one that was without heart, and that would be
almost as bad. Well, it was a director's job to coax, threaten, bully, or do
whatever was necessary to get the best possible performance from her actors. By
the end of
Centurion,
she'd know how good a director she was. "I'll
see you next week in New Mexico, then."

"Maybe
I'll come down a day or two before you start shooting my part. We've wrapped on
my currently untitled opus."

Ad
Kenzie hated not being busy. "If you decide to come early, just let me or
Emmy know so we'll have your suite ready."

He
thanked her and signed off. It had been thoughtful of him to call. How could a
man so sensitive in many ways be such an unacceptable husband?

Foolish
question. She'd known from the beginning the marriage wouldn't last. The
mistake was hers for saying yes when he asked her to marry him. They should
have stayed with a grand affair, then gone their separate ways with only a pang
or two.

But
maybe he had a point about trying to identify her father. Her marriage was
over, she was embarking on a new venture that could change her career. She'd
even had a real conversation with her grandmother. Maybe it was time to see if
she could find her father. The trail was cold after so many years, but it would
only get colder. If she was successful--well, as Kenzie said, at least she'd
satisfy her curiosity.

The
car pulled up in front of Val's attractive old brick row-house near Johns
Hopkins University. It was a peaceful neighborhood of mature trees and
carefully tended yards. Welcoming. Seconds after ringing the bell, she was
being greeted with a rib-crunching hug. "I'm so glad to see you," Val
said warmly. "How are you feeling?"

"Tired."
Rainey slung an arm around her friend's shoulders and they entered the house.
"Since you're wearing a navy suit and your hair is forcibly restrained, I
assume you just got home."

"I
walked in the back door about thirty seconds before you rang the bell."
Val peeled off her tailored jacket and tossed it over the back of a chair, then
yanked out some pins and freed her hair into a curling red frenzy. "What
will it be--wine or ice cream?"

"Ice
cream, with as many extra calories as you can pile on."

"I'll
make you the Sinner's Special." Val shook her head. "How does an
ice-cream addict like you stay so slender?"

"Remember
that I was unfashionably skinny when I was a kid--all bones and eyes. I just got
lucky that skinny is now trendy."

"Slim,
yes. Skinny, no." Val disappeared into her kitchen.

As
Rainey sat down, her black cat jumped onto her lap and began to purr. As she
scratched the sleek, furry head, her nerves began to unknot. A cat was better
than a psychotherapist.

Coffee
ice cream, hot fudge, nuts, and whipped cream helped even more as she described
her visit to the hospital. "Here's hoping Darrell Jackson can help my
grandfather. I wouldn't miss him much if he dies, but Gram certainly
would."