Truth Be Told (22 page)

G
race's Manolo Blahnik sling-back pump trembled on the tip of her stocking foot. Her eyes darted around the living room. The furniture seemed much closer today than two days before.

She slipped her foot into her shoe, then swiveled in the half-moon shaped chair that reminded her of one that sat in her grandmother's living room thirty years ago. It was a curious piece, though it fit with the rest of the room's design. Grace wondered what was on Pilar's mind when she furnished this space. From the couch, to the gold and green brocade chairs, to the fading walnut-brown walls, the room was dark, the furniture heavy. It felt as if the house carried a burden.

She turned again, wishing that Conner would finish. She could hear him in the dining room on his cell phone.
It could be worse,
she thought.
Pilar could be sitting here with me
.

More than fifteen minutes before, Pilar had met them at the door with a sweater in one hand and keys in the other. “I'm sorry, but I got a call. My friend's car broke down.”

“Oh,” Conner had said. “We'll come back.”

Grace had followed as Conner stepped back from the entryway.

“No,” Pilar exclaimed. Grace noticed the way Pilar lowered her eyes when she motioned for them to come inside. “I'll be right back. It'll take fifteen minutes … or so.”

“But …” Conner had started to protest, then asked, “Where's Solomon?”

“In his room doing his homework,” Pilar yelled over her shoulder. Grace had never seen her move so fast. “He won't be a bother.”

It's a setup, Grace wanted to scream, as Pilar backed her car away. But she pressed her lips together and waited for Conner's cue. When Conner closed the door, then motioned with his chin toward the living room, she'd followed.

Now, almost twenty minutes had passed and Pilar had been right: Solomon had not been a bother. He hadn't appeared at all. Maybe this hadn't been an arrant attempt to bind him with Conner. Still, she couldn't wait for Pilar to return, so they could have their visit and then she could leave this place.

Her eyes moved to the magazines on the end table.

“Oh, no,” she whispered as she picked up a copy of
Jet
. She prayed that Solomon had more than this connecting him to his lineage.

“Do you want to go outside with me?”

The magazine slipped through Grace's fingers. Her eyes rose to the voice.

Solomon smiled at her.

Yesterday she'd watched him from afar. But now that he stood so close, she couldn't stop studying him. His eyes, nose, mouth—all were familiar to her.

He repeated his question.

“Uh, I don't know.”

He placed his hand in hers. “
Por favor
. It's okay.” The cleft in his chin motioned toward the back of the house.

Grace stared as he stood wearing the confidence of one much older. She glanced at the soft hand that held hers. She allowed him to lead her to the back, where they stepped through a glass doorway.

At first, Grace felt as if she was in a concrete prison. The space, no larger than the bathroom inside, was enclosed by a sevenfoot high orange-red brick wall. It would have been depressing except for the dazzling yellows, greens, reds, and blues that brightened the brick yard.

“This is my garden.” Pride swelled the twelve-year-old's chest.

Grace bent over, examining the orchestra of impatiens, zinnias, and marigolds.

“I planted everything myself.”

Grace looked at the smiling boy.

“I learned this in my earth science class.”

Grace looked at the garden's ceiling. The sky was beaming blue; still, there was not enough light to grow this Garden of Eden.

“I know what you're thinking,” Solomon said. “There's not enough light. This is how I do it.” From a wicker table he lifted what looked like a television remote. He pressed a button and heated light as bold as the sun flooded the space.

Grace squinted in the glow. She hadn't noticed the lightbulbs that were fastened to the lattice affixed to the wall.

“It's not as good as natural light, but it does the job. These,” he pointed to the yellow zinnias, “don't usually bloom until May. But with my lighting and the good winter, we're blessed to appreciate their beauty early.”

He spoke as if he were older than Jayde.

He stared into her eyes. “Do you like?”

She held his gaze, knowing there was more to his inquiry. She looked away and noticed a photo album on the table. “What's that?” Asking her question was safer than answering his.

Solomon's smile disappeared when he turned to the book. He opened the album and gave it to her. She stared at the child's drawing, sketched with the talent of a twelve-year-old. There were three figures—a boy in the center of a man and a woman. A mother. A father. A family.

“I drew this picture a few months ago when I found out that my mother …” He kept the rest of his sentence inside.

Grace felt as if her heart was sinking. A boy didn't draw pictures like this. Boys drew rockets, airplanes, and racing cars.

“My mother is very sick.”

Her sinking heart did a somersault. She took his hand. “I know. But you're going to be fine.”

The confidence that was in his eyes was replaced with dread.

“What are you doing out here?” They turned toward Conner's voice. He was leaning against the door's frame with his hands in his pockets, wearing a smile of hope.

“I was showing … ,” Solomon paused, “your wife my garden.”

“I'd like to see it.”

Grace stepped back as Solomon pointed and gave the same explanation that he'd shared with her.

She took a deep breath. All she'd been focused on were the hard parts. Solomon had just given her something easy.

From the corner of her eye, Grace saw movement. Pilar stood in the doorway. Her eyes moved from Conner and Solomon to Grace. She held Grace's gaze for a moment, her face stiff with sorrow. Then, slowly and silently, she stepped away, leaving Grace, Conner, and Solomon together in the garden.

C
onner kissed Grace. “Are you sure you don't want to come with me?”

She stroked his face with her fingertips. “No, I'll see you in a bit.” She closed the door and listened to his footsteps as he walked to the elevator that would deliver him to the car that would take him to Pilar.

Pilar had asked for one last meeting before Conner and Grace returned to Los Angeles. Although Grace couldn't imagine what else they needed to discuss, she'd remained silent when Conner agreed.

“I'll make lunch,” Pilar had told them. “Solomon will be in school.”

But Grace had spent too many days in her home. Conner read her thoughts and suggested that Pilar come into the city if she were up to it. Pilar had agreed.

“Grace and I will pick you up.”

But this morning, Grace suggested that Conner take the trip to Queens alone. “You and Pilar need to talk.”

“There's nothing to discuss without you.”

She was grateful for his words. “Pick up Pilar. I'll be waiting for you.”

The moment Conner agreed, Grace had wanted to yell,
April Fool! What are you thinking?
her inside voice screamed.

Now, as she looked out the window, her internal wisdom still taunted her.

She tried to quiet the voice by taking in the Central Park view. New York wasn't enjoying the summer—like spring that heated Los Angeles, but spring was good enough for this city. Through the thick glass, Grace could almost hear the sounds of New Yorkers—who had spent the winter months prisoners in their apartments. She imagined their shrieks of joy in the air: their joy of the soft, warm air; cars honking at errant cyclists, children shrieking as they chased pigeons, Rollerbladers yelling for strollers to get out the way.

This is the worst decision you've ever made
. The voice would not be denied.

“There's nothing wrong with Conner and Pilar being alone,” she said aloud. “They need to finish unfinished business.”

What business could they have?
she continued the conversation with herself.
Anything they need to work out should be done in front of you
.

Grace shook her head to get rid of the thoughts.

Suppose they end up in bed?

“That'll never happen.”

It happened before.

Grace went into the bedroom and picked up her cell phone. If she was going to have a conversation, she should at least do it with someone.

“Hey, Devry.”

“Girl, I've been dying to speak to you. How're things?”

Grace lay on the bed. “Do you have an hour?”

“I have as much time as you need. Chandler just left for the office. Tell me everything.”

Grace sighed. “Are you my friend or my psychologist?”

“Who do you need?”

“The shrink. I sent Conner to Pilar's house alone.” Grace repeated what she'd told Conner. “So I've been sitting here having this conversation.”

“With who?”

“Myself.”

“Girl, you do need me.” Devry chuckled. “So you've seen Pilar and met Solomon?”

“Yup, even had a private conversation with Pilar, and I didn't beat her down for sleeping with my husband.”

“See, God is good.”

Grace laughed, but quickly became solemn. “And I didn't slap her crazy for possibly giving Conner the one thing I never gave him.”

Devry's silence told Grace that she understood. Then Devry said, “Grace, would it be different if Pilar's child had been a girl?”

“I don't know. I just feel like I'm going crazy. The uncertainty of not knowing if Conner is Solomon's father is bad enough. But then, the possibility that he is … I want some peace.”

“Only God can give you that.”

Grace sighed as the sun's shadow took a new shape in the room.

“Grace, only God's power and His glory could pull any woman through this.”

“I've been praying.”

“That's good. Keep doing that. He'll show you what to do.”

“I hope so, Devry. I'm tired of my heart breaking.”

“I know, sweetie. But if you hang in there, there's always joy at the end. Do me a favor. Look at Genesis 33:5.”

“What does it say?”

“You look it up. I love you,” she said before she clicked off the phone.

Grace stared at the cell phone for a moment before she pulled the Bible from her suitcase.

And he lifted up his eyes, and saw the women and the children; and said, Who are those with thee? And he said, The children which God hath graciously given thy servant.

Grace reread the verse before she closed the book.

The children which God hath graciously given.

Could it be that God had graciously given Solomon to Conner? And if He'd done that, was he a gift to her as well?

If she could believe that, then maybe she could leave the battlefield. But as much as she wanted to just lean on God's word, her human side wanted to know the truth. She just had to prove that all was not right with Pilar.

As on their previous visits, Pilar opened the door before Conner knocked.

“Hello.” She looked over his shoulder. “Where's Grace?”

“She's waiting at the hotel.”

Pilar raised her eyebrows and motioned for Conner to come inside.

“We decided to have lunch in the suite.” He stepped in but stayed in the entryway.

Pilar said, “You can come into my home, Conner.”

His eyes moved, but his feet didn't. “Are you ready?”

Pilar half-smiled. “Let me get my purse.”

Conner stayed in place as Pilar tied a sweater over her shoulders, then picked up her purse. They walked silently to the car. Once inside, Conner pulled out his cell phone.

“Hey, sweetheart. Pilar and I are on our way.” He started the car. “I love you.” He made a U-turn, heading toward the expressway. The words from his call hung in the silence.

Finally, Pilar asked, “You're happy with Grace?”

“Very.”

She stared out the window. “I often wondered,” she began, “what would have happened if you had known about Solomon.”

The muscle in his jaw twitched. “I would have worked it through with Grace the way we're doing now.”

She looked at him. “I'm happy for you.”

He stopped the car at the red light at Merrick Boulevard. “Are you?” He sounded as if he were challenging her.

“Yes, because Solomon is going to be with a mother and father. He deserves that.”

It happened every time. When he became annoyed or angry, she reminded him that while he would probably be here in a year, she probably wouldn't.

The car behind him honked.

“The light is green,” Pilar said. “We can go now.”

They rode in silence until Conner eased onto the Belt Parkway.

“Pilar, are you afraid?” He kept his eyes on the cars in front of him.

“Only for Solomon. I want him to be well taken care of.”

“I will do that.”

She smiled. “I believe you. I wasn't sure at first, but you were my only hope.”

“From what I've seen, you've done a wonderful job with him.”

“Thank you. You gave me good genes to work with. You look so much alike on the outside I knew he would be like you on the inside.”

He glanced at Pilar. “Thank you,” he said, for more than the compliment.

Her smile acknowledged his gratitude, and their conversation began to flow as smoothly as the traffic around them.

“Pilar, did Solomon ever ask … about me? About his father?”

She nodded. “Especially once he started school. At first, I'd planned to tell him that his father died, so that knowing you would never be an issue.” She sighed. “But something told me to stay close to the truth. So I told him that his father loved him, but that circumstances kept him away.”

“He accepted that?”

“Yes. I think it was because I filled the story with love. He loved you without knowing you.”

Conner thought about how different it could have been.

Pilar said, “I did it for Solomon. I wanted him to feel good about who he was.”

Conner swallowed. “He doesn't have my name.” It was a statement and a question.

“His name is Solomon Cruise.” She lowered her head. “I didn't want you ever to know. By the time I found out that I was pregnant, I had put you out of my head, out of my heart, out of my life.”

“I'm sorry, Pilar.”

“I knew the rules.”

More silent minutes sat between them before Conner said, “Thank you for telling me about my son.”

He turned on the radio, letting music fill the car. His thoughts wandered to Grace. His wife had been right. He and Pilar had finished their business.

“It's beautiful up here,” Pilar said.

“Grace and I've never stayed here before,” Conner responded, “although I've been here on business.”

Pilar moved to the window, and Conner followed.

“Ever since I moved here, I've wanted to live in Manhattan.”

“I know what you mean. If I lived in New York, I'd live in the city.”

“I didn't order anything.” Grace held the room service menu in her hand. She had to do something to stop this lovefest. From the moment Conner and Pilar had entered the room, Grace felt as if she had walked into the middle of a movie. The two chatted like old friends, making no attempt to include her.

I guess they took care of all their unfinished business,
her mind mocked her.

She handed one of the menus to Pilar and shoved the other into Conner's chest.

Conner didn't seem to notice. “Do you know what you're having, honey?”

Grace smiled. “No, sweetheart.” She hoped he could read her eyes.

After turning a few pages of the menu, Conner said, “I'm going to have the oak-smoked trout.”

“I'll have the same.” Pilar smiled and handed the menu to Grace.

Grace took a deep breath, and turned to the phone. She placed their orders, then stood aside as Pilar and Conner continued their chat.

By the time she heard the knock from Room Service, Grace wondered if any of the windows in their suite opened and how many years she'd get if someone were to accidentally fall out of one.

The waiter rolled in the table and laid out the lunch.

When they all sat, Pilar said, “Grace, your husband is so wonderful.”

Conner smiled, and Grace fingered the knife at her place setting, caressing the ragged edge.

“I know that my son will be all right,” Pilar continued.

Grace's hand roamed to the knife's handle.

“Before we begin lunch …” Pilar lowered her eyes. “I want to show you this.” She pulled an envelope from her purse.

As she handed it to Conner, Grace's fingers slipped from the knife.

Grace's heart pounded as Conner removed the contents. He flattened the paper on the table and scanned the words. The seconds lasted forever until Conner raised his eyes. He handed the document to Grace. With the way his eyes watered, Grace didn't need to read.

“He's my son.”

Pilar nodded. “I told you.” She turned to Grace. “But I understand your needing this. It's better that we all know.”

When Conner turned to Grace, she forced herself to smile. She didn't know what to say. She was relieved when Conner wrapped his arms around her, expecting no words. She closed her eyes as she held him, hoping her pounding heart didn't give her away.

When she opened her eyes, she saw Pilar's smile. Her eyes spoke, “I told you.”

“Well,” Conner began as he leaned away. “We can start planning.”

Pilar nodded. “I spoke with a child psychologist about our next steps.” Her tone had changed. She sounded as if she were leading a board meeting.

Grace frowned. “How long have you had the test results?”

“Since this morning. But I spoke to the psychologist when I returned from Los Angeles.” She paused. “I didn't have to wait for something I already knew.”

Conner nodded, as if he understood her. Grace stared as if she didn't believe her.

Pilar handed a business card to Grace. “It may be good for you to talk to the doctor. Dr. Jordan met with me and Solomon. He doesn't think there is going to be any challenge acclimating Solomon into your life because he has always wanted to know his father.” She paused. “Dr. Jordan says one advantage is that Solomon is a male. It would have been a bit different with a daughter.”