Secret Sister (25 page)

I took a deep breath. “You’ve always been such an honorable man, Nick—”

“Honor doesn’t have anything to do with me, or
you,
” he interrupted. “I lied to Cathy when I kept your secret. And I concealed things from her, like when I called you about how you were feeling, and when I stopped over to check on you a couple of times. And I continued to lie over the next few weeks, including when Cathy and I went away at Christmas, when she asked me if I thought you had been acting strange.”

Nick twisted his napkin into a knot. “Do you know she was worried about you the whole time we were in New Mexico? I never told her what I knew. It’s the only time I ever lied to Cathy. I betrayed the one promise I’d made to my wife, and now she’s gone and I can’t ever tell her I’m sorry. Thank God she’ll never know about what happened today.”

For the first time since I realized who I was, I confronted the reality that I might not win him back. My brain froze, for I was almost out of energy. Nick was ready to move on with his life, to fall back into his disbelief in my identity, and put his sins, real and imagined, behind him. And, imagined or not, in his heart I
was
one of those sins.

Nick stood and threw some money on the table. “I’m sorry for what happened earlier today, Roxanne. I never should have let it go that far.” He touched my shoulder and said in a spent voice, “There’s no reason for us to see each other again. Take care of yourself.”

Then he walked away.

“You’re
not
the man I thought you were, Nick.” I got up and hurried after him.

He turned.

“The man I love
wouldn’t give up on me if there were the smallest, one in a million miracle chance that what I said was true. He would listen to his heart, and trust the truth when he heard it. He would believe
me
.”

Nick’s eyes glittered but he said nothing.

“If you won’t take a risk and give me a little more time to convince you that, despite what your eyes tell you, it really is me, then you’re going to lose me, Nick. You’re going to lose us.”

Nick shook his head. “Roxanne, what you’re saying can’t be true. You know that. I don’t believe you, and frankly, who would?”

“Okay,” I whispered. “You win. But just remember, your wife fought for you, Nick. Her love is real.”

He turned and left without speaking again.

And what, really, was there left to say?

Only goodbye.

Chapter 22

Monday, August 15, 7 p.m.

Nick at Ryan Seth’s Office

I’d been sitting in Seth’s reception area about fifteen minutes, an unusually long time. He was good about not keeping his clients waiting, although I wasn’t here for an appointment. I’d called to tell him I was leaving town and he’d asked me to stop by so he could say goodbye in person.

I stared at my watch. It was nine minutes after seven and my plane left at midnight. Just as I considered calling in to the answering service to check if Seth was behind the closed door, his wife, Inga, knocked on the window outside.

“Nick. Hi there.” She walked in. “Seth phoned up to the house a minute ago and asked me to see if you were here. He’s had an emergency with one of his patients, but he’ll be here soon.”

“Oh, nothing bad, I hope,” I replied.

Inga pursed her lips. “Very bad, I’m afraid. A suicide. A sweet young woman he’s been seeing only a few weeks. She’d tried several times before. I’ll never understand how people can give up when there is so much to live for.”

Her words shocked me. They seemed indiscreet from a therapist’s wife. I thought of the young Asian woman with the bandaged wrists I’d seen a few weeks ago.

I wondered how much Seth told Inga about his clients.
Like
me.
I couldn’t guess what he might have told her about my story, or about Roxanne, or the other night at Simone’s.

“Thanks for bringing the message,” I said.

“No problem. It’s nice to see you again.” She draped herself over the only other chair in the tiny room and lit up a cigarette.

I rubbed my hands on my thighs, unsure of what to say. Inga was incredibly good looking; tall and curvy, with eyes as blue as the Pacific. Though her hair was silvery, it did nothing to make her seem past her prime. In every way she was sexy and alluring. I smiled nervously.

She returned it. “Seth told me you were going to Europe for a while.”

Obviously he did talk about people he saw professionally. “Yeah. France.”

“Oh, how wonderful. Where, exactly?”

“Outside Paris, Bougival. I’ve rented a place for a few months.”

“Bougival? Umm, so you’re interested in the French Impressionists, are you?”

“Well, only because of my wife. She minored in art history in college and loved Claude Monet. She said some of his paintings were of the area, so I thought I’d go look around. See if the bridge he painted in Cathy’s favorite painting is still there.”

“That’s very romantic of you, Nick. Is that something you planned to do together, before the accident?”

I cringed. “No. We never discussed doing that. It’s something I came up with myself.”

“But what about your work?” Inga’s blue gaze stayed on my face. “Aren’t you a musician of some kind?”

“No, I used to want to be one, but I work for an insurance company, and they agreed to let me take a year’s leave of absence.”

“A year?” She raised her eyebrows. “Always fun to think of what a year can bring, isn’t it? Maybe enough time to become a musician.”

“Now there’s an idea.” I didn’t want to talk about my plans for the future. I didn’t have any. Only to get away and not think about Cathy, or deal with Roxanne. My mind flashed on that afternoon in bed with her and my hands began to sweat. “I love music, but I have no real talent. I’m tone deaf, I think.”

“The deaf can learn other ways to hear.” Inga blew a smoke ring and rubbed a spot on her neck. “I’m sure Seth said you were a rock and roll kind of guy.”

My pulse percolated. I had no clue what Inga was thinking. I seldom got the implications of what women meant versus what they said. Cathy always laughed about that. She said it was an endearing male quality, but lately it seemed a critical deficiency.

“No,” I said. “No rock and roll here. Seth might have been referring to one of my jobs in the past. I was a disc jockey at KRLA, in Pasadena, a long time ago. Before I got a real job.”

“I remember that station! When I was a med student at USC, that was a good one. Crazy, sexy DJs playing all the classic stuff. The Beatles. The Doors. Bob Dylan!
Real music.
Not like my daughter listens to today. All those whiny girl singers talking about revenge, or rappers boasting about fancy cars and getting shot. I do love Adele, though. She sings about those things that never change. Men and women, and how they love and
hurt
each other.”

My uneasiness increased. “A lot of critics say popular music reflects the times in a society more than any other art form.”

“Maybe. But how does anyone make love with one of those songs playing in the background? I heard a Jay Z song this morning. He said, ‘I’ve got 99 problems but a bitch ain’t one.’ That’s not at all seductive, is it?”

“Ah, no. I guess not.” But it was sure applicable to me, which I thought was what Inga might be reaching for. “So, ah, you’re a doctor, too?”

Inga snubbed out the cigarette on the bottom of her shoe and tossed the butt into the trashcan. “Yes. I’m a plastic surgeon.”

“That must be interesting.”

“Oh, it’s like working at an auto body shop, patching over problems. People are what’s interesting in life. Their stories, their personalities. My profession requires me to interact with them during stressful periods, if they’ve been injured, or ill. So yes, I guess it is
interesting
. But not fun.” She got to her feet. “Surely not as
fun
as being a DJ.”

The office door opened and Seth stepped out. “Nick, are you here?”

“Hello, darling.” Inga walked to him and planted a kiss on his head as she pressed the length of her body against his. “Nick Chance has been keeping me company, telling me about his plans for France. You didn’t tell me he was such a romantic young man.”

Seth put his hand on Inga’s pale face as if he were seeing her with his fingers. He kissed her fully on the mouth. For a moment they seemed lost in each other and oblivious of me.

Finally, Seth nodded in my direction. “I didn’t know he was a romantic young man. Come in, Nick.”

I got up, tense from the vibes of sexual communication between Inga and Seth. It made me sick with longing. I followed Seth into his office, remembering how it felt to pull Cathy’s body next to me, knowing I could have her, do anything to her I wanted to, when we were alone.

I shut the door and walked into the middle of the room. Outside the glass walls of Seth’s office, the late August sky was darkening. Seth snapped on a light on his desk and the bulb dimmed and sizzled and then went out. Seth couldn’t see it was nearly dark, and he evidently didn’t understand the significance of the sound, as he made no attempt to put in a new bulb.

He seemed preoccupied. “Make yourself comfortable, Nick. I’m glad you could come to say goodbye. What time is your flight?”

I told him and we talked for a couple of minutes in the darkness about the security at the airport, the food, the length of the flight. We fell into an awkward silence, at least on my part. I glanced at Seth and he was leaning back in his rattan chair, very still.

“Inga mentioned you lost one of your patients today.  That must suck,” I said.

Seth frowned, his brow wrinkling. “Inga talks too much sometimes. But you are correct. Anytime someone gives up on life, it is very difficult to accept. You question yourself, feel like you could have or should have done more. Especially in this case. A beautiful girl. She’d recently suffered a severe disappointment in her personal life, but still . . .”

Something in his voice, some undercurrent of criticism, increased my discomfort. I shifted in my chair. “Everyone can’t be saved. I think you told me that once.”

Seth didn’t reply.

I took a breath. “Well, as I told you on the phone, I’m heading to Europe for a few months. I got a lease on a flat and a lead on a job at a small radio station. They play American rock standards. I’m hoping they’ll let me lend a hand, maybe even do some on-air stuff.”

“Can you find AA meetings there?”

“Yes. I called the embassy in Paris and they told me AA is everywhere. There may be a bit of a language barrier, but the feelings should come through loud and clear.” I laughed and the noise I made sounded more like a yelp.

“See, you are gifted, too, like your sister. It’s a great asset to be able to understand emotion without benefit of the words that explain it. Bravo.”

I wasn’t sure about that, but I didn’t argue. Instead, I asked the question I suddenly knew was the real reason I’d come to see Seth tonight. “Have you spoken to Roxanne since that night at Simone’s?”

“Yes.”

I waited. “How’s she doing?”

I waited some more.

“Is the light on?” Seth asked suddenly. He got out of the chair and put his hand against the side of the lampshade. “Why didn’t you tell me the bulb was out?” He opened a desk drawer and pulled out a new one. He took the shade off and tried to unscrew the bulb. It appeared to be stuck.

“Can I help with that?” I asked.

“No, no, I can get it. But I don’t like my clients to be in the dark. You should have said something.” Skillfully he screwed the new bulb in and flicked it on. He raised his hand as if feeling the heat from a campfire, and sat. Seth seemed weary tonight, and I noticed a few gray hairs in his bushy eyebrows.

“Now, what was that you asked?” Seth said.

“How’s Roxanne?” I repeated.

“What do you mean?”

Great, Seth is in that mood.
“I just wondered how she was doing.”

“In what way?”

“Has she stopped saying crap about how she’s not Roxanne, and all that bullshit?” My hands shook. I ran them through my hair and realized my emotions were pretty goddamned out of control. I wanted to get to the airport. I pictured the cart on the plane that held all those little bottles of scotch, and swallowed.

“So you don’t believe her?” Seth asked.

“No. Of course not. It’s absurd, like something out of a horror movie. Which is where Roxanne belongs, if you ask me. She was always jealous of Cathy. I think she’s taking advantage of this situation, and trying to ditch her own past and latch onto Cathy’s.”

Seth sat very still, his hands grasping the sides of his chair. “Have you always felt Roxanne was unstable enough to try and pull something like that off?”

“I don’t know. No, I guess not. I’m not saying she’s nuts or anything.” I put my head in my hands. All I could think of was lying in bed, my arms around the only woman who had ever made me feel whole. Tears stung my eyes and I squeezed them away, glad Seth couldn’t see me.

“She was very upset after you left Simone’s that night.” Seth spoke softly, as if relating a bedtime story. “I talked to her for a bit that evening, and a couple of times over the next few days. But I haven’t talked to her for about a week. She’s been at the hospital day and night.”

I jerked my head up quickly. “The hospital?”

“Yes, she’s at the hospital caring for Betty Haverty, who is very ill. Ovarian cancer. Terminal, from what I understand.”

“Jesus.” I was shocked. Beyond shocked.

Seth fell into another distracted silence. A chime struck in the distance, measuring the half-hour.

“Well, I wish you well on your journey, Nick. Let me hear from you. Send a card.” Seth stood.

I struggled out of the chair. “Thanks. And hey, tell Roxanne, if you see her, I’m sorry about her mom.”

He grasped my hand. “I’m no good at passing messages, Nick. If you want to say something, you should say it yourself.”

“You don’t really believe any of what she says, do you, Seth?”

We stood gripping each other’s hands. I felt like I couldn’t breathe, as if something important was about to be revealed.

But it wasn’t. Seth squeezed my hand and walked with me to the door. The light glinted off the sleek, silver frames of his sunglasses. “Are you asking me if I believe what she says happened to her is the
truth as she knows it?
I’m blind, not deaf, you know. And in my line of work, it’s very easy to
hear
honesty and sincerity. And that’s what I hear.”

“But it’s crazy! It’s science fiction, for fuck’s sake. You can’t think that, that during the accident . . .” I couldn’t form more words for a moment. “You don’t believe she really
could be
Cathy, do you?”

Seth crossed his arms. “Do you find my wife desirable, Nick?”

“What?”

“Do you think Inga is beautiful? Sexy? Do you think most men would want her, want to go to bed with her if they had the opportunity?”

“I, uh, yes. I guess. Yes. Yes, of course.”

“So you would agree with me if I said she could probably have her pick of men?”

“Yes.”

He nodded and then reached up and took off his sunglasses. I gasped. His eyes, what should have been his eyes, were a mass of reddish-purple scar tissue, a smear of flesh grown over one eye socket, an empty hole where the left eyeball should have been.

“Sorry for the shock.” Seth slipped his glasses back on. “Inga never knew me before the accident that did this. She didn’t fall in love with me first, and then have that reservoir of love to overcome this horror. Instead, like people with great spirit and loving souls, Inga listened to me with her heart, and looked past my outer self.

“Despite what her sight, and logic, told her, she trusted I wasn’t what I looked like, which was a damaged and unlovable mate. She trusted instead what she felt. Inga’s loving me taught me to believe in the inexplicable, Nick. To trust that sometimes, what can’t be explained is still true. So yes, to answer your question, I do believe Cathy’s story.”

I couldn’t speak, or argue.

He walked the rest of the way to the door. “Betty Haverty is at Sierra Monte Hospice, the Spanish style building behind St. Anne’s church on Alpha Drive. If you want to stop there before your plane leaves, I’m sure they’d let you in. The people that run the place are lenient with visiting hours for the dying.”