All That Lies Broken (Ashmore's Folly Book 2) (22 page)

Now, a Texas cyber-heiress, whose operative number was a three, who would happily hand over every cent in her trust if only he would take it.

A trust that would break on remarriage, freeing Laura from her in-laws… her
other
in-laws.

Would Laura consider him a good bargain? What a laugh. If he asked, she’d say yes so quickly he wouldn’t have to finish the sentence.

Or maybe – just maybe – she wouldn’t. She must know that Richard wasn’t exactly madly in love with her. Lucy hadn’t even seen them together, and she could tell that much. Laura had already endured one difficult marriage. Would she settle again for less than what she truly wanted, sacrifice herself again for the greater good? Lucy had no reservations that Richard would be kind and faithful, even if his heart wasn’t touched; Francie had been an aberration that could never happen again. He would watch out for Laura, protect and cherish her, even if he never loved her. But would that be enough for her sister, who’d had so little love in her life?

And would it be enough for him? He’d known one great love. Would he settle for giving friendship and respect and devotion, knowing that his heiress was deeply in love with him? She had always thought that he had been comfortable loving Diana more than she loved him; he had never wanted to be in the position of accepting what he could not return.

Richard, Lucy decided, had grown too comfortable with the habit of sacrifice. He’d sacrificed so much to keep Julie safe, to keep Diana from going off the deep end. He was willing to sacrifice the money he needed to keep Meg safe. He might even be willing to marry Laura to give her the security and affection he thought she needed.

But what he really needed – what would bring him alive again – was to marry for himself.

Well, what he needed and what Ashmore Park needed might be two different things.

Or maybe, just maybe, the same thing?

The same woman?

Are you putting ideas in my head, Mom? Is this what you want?

Richard ended the call. “You and Laura have help. Mel’s off the hook for ER duty, so she’ll be here with bells on, ready to float away on a sea of margaritas – what is it?”

Lucy said thoughtfully, “I think you should marry Laura.”

“Damn it, Lucy—”

She mustn’t allude to the money. Nothing would make him break off with Laura faster than the suggestion that he marry her for her money. “It’s what they all wanted, Mom and Dad and even Dominic. They wanted you to wait for her. They never,
ever
wanted you to marry Di.”

“I know that,” he said impatiently. “Luckily, I didn’t listen to them, and I did marry her. Everyone seems to forget that, if I hadn’t, there would have been no Julie.”

“And,” said Lucy slowly, “there would have been no Meg.”

~•~

She hadn’t meant to say anything. She had promised Tom that she would not interfere, but the second the words were out of her mouth, she felt relieved. Secrets went against the grain with her, and this was the sort of secret that could smolder for a long time and then blow up horribly in everyone’s face. She watched his face harden and his mouth set, and his eyes changed from the heat of mild irritation to a wintry chill that echoed the iceberg blue of the walls.

He said nothing. “Tom said he sent you an email—”

“I got it,” Richard said coolly. “This is not a subject for discussion.”

“She’s my niece. You need my help, Richard.”

“No, Lucy. I don’t.”

He turned on his heel and walked out of the room, and a second later, she heard the front door slam. She let him have a minute. She knew what he was doing – regrouping, using physical action to steel himself against the onslaught of emotion. He’d done this in times of great stress – when Diana had broken up with him after his freshman year, when she had left him after their first anniversary, when Francie and Laura had disappeared, when Diana had run amok and he had thrown her out. He needed privacy; he wasn’t like her, needing family and friends around to help her lick her wounds.

Meg provoked feeling in him. She was glad of that.

She found him out on the great portico, leaning against one of the pillars, his hands jammed in his pockets, staring unseeing at nothing at all. The sun rode high in the sky; the guests would start arriving in a few hours. They would have to go play host and hostess soon, the best of friends, a happy, united family with no secrets.

Lucy sat down beside him. “Sit down, Richard. Let’s talk.”

He gave her a hard look, but after a moment, he joined her. He didn’t put his arm around her or even relax his shoulders or let that set jaw soften. She saw him reach for a phantom pack of cigarettes. He was probably wishing that he hadn’t given up smoking.

A couple of minutes passed. Then he said stiffly, “All right, go ahead and say it. For fourteen years, you’ve wanted me to admit it. There’s no point in denying it any longer. Yes, I had an affair with Francie. Yes, I—” He looked off in the distance. “I am Meg St. Bride’s biological father. Go ahead, Luce. You’ve waited a long time to lay blame. Lay it.”

Lucy liked people to ’fess up to their sins, but she hated seeing someone in pain. And here was pain – pain he wouldn’t admit to, but pain nevertheless. She touched his hand. “I’m not going to lay blame, Richard. It’s not mine to lay. I can’t make you feel any guiltier than you already do.”

She felt the gates closing against her. He was about to disappear behind his wall again.

“How do you feel?”

“How do I feel?” He sounded incredulous. “How do you think I feel? I got a girl pregnant, I let her and her sister cope with it alone, and I let another man shoulder my responsibilities.” He turned his head to her. “What do you expect me to say – I feel great, and thank God I got away with it?”

She chose to ignore his sarcasm. “No. I know you. I’d expect you to feel the way you do. And as for letting anybody do anything – you didn’t know. It’s not like you abandoned Francie.” She hesitated. “What are your plans?”

“I don’t have any plans,” he said flatly. “Don’t start spinning some fairy tale solution, Lucy. There’s no happy ending here. Things aren’t going to work out just because—” He didn’t want to say it. “Meg St. Bride has a father. There’s not a thing she needs from me at this point.”

“Her father is dead.”

“So what? Do you think a man stops being a father when he dies? Dad is still our father.” He was right there. Philip was still a positive force in their lives. “That ship has sailed. At this point, I’m just a sperm donor.”

Lucy wanted to pull her knees up against her chest, but she was pregnant enough to make that uncomfortable. She settled for sitting cross-legged instead. “You’re more than that. Her mother is in love with you.”

“That’s irrelevant.”

Lucy thought it was anything but. “You don’t intend to talk to her about this, do you?”

“No.” There was no mistaking the steel in his voice. “There’s no point. She isn’t interested in telling me. I’ve given her several openings, believe me, I gave her one the other night she could have driven a truck through. If she wanted me to know, she would have told me by now.”

“She can’t.” Lucy felt sure of herself now; she was on solid legal ground. “Not until you’re divorced. Didn’t you know that? It’s not only that subpoena. Laurie’s smart, Richard. She’s probably figured out you might have to testify. At some point we
will
come to depositions, and she’s making sure you don’t know anything for certain. She’s giving you plausible deniability.”

He appeared to consider that. “I told her flat out that she was not to lie on my behalf.”

“I’m sure Jay has told her the same thing. That’s why I sent her to him. I knew she’d feel comfortable if she had to tell him the truth.” Lucy picked a stray piece of lint from his shirt and flicked it into the breeze. “So you’re planning to keep this gigantic secret unspoken between the two of you? She knows, and you know, but she doesn’t know you know? That doesn’t seem to me like a very solid foundation.”

He leaned one shoulder against the pillar and cocked an eyebrow at her. “You and Tom have no secrets from each other?”

Lucy started to say no, but the knowing look in his eyes stopped her. She sure did have a secret, and Richard had kept it for her for over eight years. For the first several weeks she had dated Tom, she had continued to see her previous boyfriend, an airline pilot whose erratic schedule had made it easier to juggle two men. She had even spent one last weekend with her flyboy before deciding that she liked Tom much, much better. “Okay, but my misspent single girl days are small potatoes next to this. How do you plan to keep this quiet?”

“By not talking about it.” No missing the finality of his tone. “When people talk about secrets, they don’t remain secrets for long. You and I won’t discuss this again.”

“But—” He shook his head across her voice, and she stopped. “Okay, but aren’t you curious? This is your child, your flesh and blood. Don’t you want to know about her?”

He shrugged and looked away. “I’m sure we’ll meet eventually – Laura can’t hide her forever. I know a bit already. She’s a dead ringer for Mom at the same age, and she seems to have a lot of Francie in her. She sounds like a little hellion.”

And you care like crazy
, Lucy thought, watching him.
You hate that you can’t do anything for her. You loathe being a sperm donor. You’re thinking about the times you’ve missed with her, how you should have taught her to tie her shoes and ride a bike. You’re wondering who’s going to kill her bugs or vet her boyfriends or walk her down the aisle.

She was lost in her thoughts, so she didn’t realize for a moment what he was looking at as he turned an examining gaze on her. “Luce, how far along are you?”

“What?” She snapped to alertness.

“How pregnant are you?”

“Three months. Why?”

He was looking at her again, almost scientifically. “You’re starting to show. Not bad – you look great, but for someone who knows you, it’s obvious that you’ve changed.”

He walked a few feet away to stand by the edge of the portico. Lucy stared after him. “You’ve seen me pregnant before. I’m right where I should be. What’s your point?”

A long silence. What a strange question. She wondered what was going through his mind.

He turned around, his hands stuck in his pockets again.

“Do you know when Meg was born?”

He wasn’t seeking information, at least not that, she knew from his tone. She tried to remember if she’d seen the date in Cam’s will. “No, I don’t. Why?”

He was looking at her intently. “She has the worst birthday. Laura hasn’t told you?”

Lucy shook her head. “When is it? Christmas?” And then she read the expression on his face. “Oh, God. No. No.
No
.”

He nodded.

She felt sick. Her baby’s only day… and, for the world at large, a day beyond horror.

“Exactly,” he said. “That poor kid’s father died on her birthday in front of the entire world. For the rest of her life, she gets to remember that. But that’s not why I’m asking.”

She struggled to wrench her mind away from her grief for her son and his cousin. “I don’t understand,” but then she did, she saw what he was getting at. “Wait a minute.” She held up her fingers and waited for him to nod before she started counting. June, July, August, September…. “No way. I saw Francie and Laurie at their graduation. That’s not possible.”

“I have a copy of the divorce petition,” Richard said. “Meg’s birthday is there in black and white. I thought you’d gone to their graduation, so you saw Francie only a few days before I last saw her. I have to ask – did you notice anything?”

“Are you kidding? Do you think I would have kept quiet?” Lucy shook her head. “Besides, Mom and Dad went to cheer Laurie on. You can’t tell me that Mom wouldn’t have told me if she’d noticed. Then
you
would have known, because I would have knocked your block off.”

He gave her a small smile. “That is for damn sure. But the timing is off. Nine months before September 11 is impossible.”

She’d wondered all these years when it had started. She asked delicately, “So what’s the earliest date that makes sense to you?”

He paused; he clearly did not enjoy admitting this. “End of September.”

So Diana had guessed right about New Year’s Eve. Lucy said briskly, “Babies don’t always come when they’re supposed to. Teenagers are at higher risk for premature births.” So was she, and she was no teenager. Could she and Francie have that in common? “Let’s count this back. If it happened New Year’s Eve,” she saw a dull color on his face, “then Meg was two, almost three weeks early. Back up three months to June, and Francie would have been five and a half months. I don’t know, Richard. You read those stories about girls who give birth and no one sees anything, but I don’t buy it. Everyone I know has been noticeable at that stage.” She lifted her chin. “Why do you want to know this?”

He didn’t want to answer her; his voice was tight. “Because obviously Meg was more than two or three weeks early, and I want to know what Laura and Francie were facing while I was here stonewalling and pretending everything was fine. I want to know if Meg was sick and that’s why Laura married St. Bride.”