The Girl Who Wrote in Silk (31 page)

Thursday, August 23—present day

Harborview Medical Center, Seattle

The blinds were drawn against the setting sun, making the single light burning over the hospital bed shine like a spotlight on the fragile form covered by a white sheet. Sobs tore from Inara’s throat as she saw from the doorway how small and weak her dad looked with tubes going up his nose and into his arm. The machine next to the bed beeped softly with each timid heartbeat. She crossed to his bedside. “Dad?”

“He’s sleeping.” She turned and found her brother coming toward her from the shadows in the corner, looking like he’d aged twenty years since she’d last seen him. His suit jacket and tie were missing and his dress shirt was rumpled. His hair stuck out and a gray pallor dragged his face down, causing dark pockets under his eyes. “Glad you made it.”

She leaned into his hug without taking her eyes off her dad. “How is he?”

Nate’s chest rose and fell in a sigh. “Not good. Too much damage. It’s just a matter of time.”

She pulled away in anger. “Why aren’t you finding someone who can help him? What do you mean it’s a matter of time? I’ll find someone.” She reached into her purse for her cell phone so she could locate the country’s leading cardiac surgeon.

Nate put his hand on hers, stopping her movements. “There’s nothing anyone can do, Nara. His heart is too weak for surgery.”

Everything inside of her froze and a silent scream filled her ears. “He’s dying?”

Nate’s Adam’s apple bobbed. “At least we get to say good-bye this time.”

The reminder of their mother nearly made her legs give out, but it accomplished what Nate intended. Feeling raw, she reached for her father’s hand and lifted it to hold between both of hers. “Hey, Dad. It’s Inara.” His skin felt warm, but it didn’t feel like her father’s hand. His was stronger. His would squeeze back.

“They don’t expect him to last through the night.” Nate went to the other side of the bed and laid his hand on their father’s head like he was the parent. “Olivia and Jen went to get the kids and Adam’s in surgery. He still doesn’t know.”

“They’re bringing the kids here? Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

Nate didn’t take his gaze from their father as he shook his head. “I don’t know, but I think they need to say good-bye to Grandpa, even though they won’t really understand what’s going on.”

A fresh wave of pain made tears overflow and roll down her cheeks. Grandpa. Her dad was a wonderful grandfather who loved those kids so much. They were so small they probably wouldn’t remember him in a couple years. Maybe Will, Olivia’s oldest, would, but he was only nine. Even he wouldn’t remember all the times Grandpa played cards with him or taught him how to hit a golf ball or played hide-and-seek, hiding in plain sight so the younger kids wouldn’t get scared.

If she had kids of her own someday, they wouldn’t know him at all.

“Hey, what’s that all about?” Her dad sounded out of breath, but his voice was surprisingly loud in the quiet room. “No crying allowed.”

“Dad!” Careful of his tubes, she leaned down and hugged him, grateful he was still here. “How do you feel?”

His hands weakly patted her back and she knew it was all he could manage. She stood back up, but grabbed a hold of his hand again. “Nate says the kids will be here soon.”

“Good, good.” He coughed then scrunched up his face in pain. “Water.”

She helped him sip from the tiny white cup and straw sitting on the table next to the bed. When he was finished, he laid his head back and closed his eyes. Pain etched a white line around his mouth. She’d never felt so impotent in her life. “Go back to sleep, Dad. Rest.”

He shook his head. “Need to talk to you, Nara.”

She looked at Nate in question but he just shrugged. “What about?”

His gray-blue eyes pierced into her. “Starbucks.”

Oh, please, no.
Before he could say more, she had to tell him. “Dad, I never wanted to be in international business. I only did it because it’s what I thought you—”

“I know,” he interrupted her. “I knew all along and I let you do it anyway. But now you need to do what will make you happy. Are you sure about the hotel?”

Surprised, a laugh escaped her before she could stop it. “Yes. Are you serious?”

Her dad squeezed her hand, sending a fresh spurt of tears to her eyes. “Then that’s what you should do.” He coughed again. “When I’m…gone, you’ll have everything you need, as will Nate and Olivia. I saw to that. If the hotel is what you want, then do that. I support you.”

Inara’s mind raced as her dad fell silent. She could keep the hotel. It’s what she wanted, but she never wanted it to happen like this.

“Sorry I meddled.” Her father’s voice sounded weaker and she knew he was using what little strength he had to talk to her.

“Shh, Dad. It’s okay. You don’t need to talk.”

He shook his head and pulled at her hand until she leaned closer. “After you found that sleeve, I was so afraid,” he whispered. His watery eyes pleaded with her to understand. “I saw what the truth did to your mom. It changed her, dimmed her. Didn’t want that for you. Thought if I got you off the island, the whole thing would go away.”

“This was about the sleeve? Even calling in my loan early?” Bewildered, she shook her head and was about to say more, then remembered that Nate was here and he didn’t know anything about the family secret. Careful of her words, she asked, “It was all because of the…because of Duncan?”

Her father’s tired eyes went to Nate then back to her. His lips pressed together and then he said, “Tell him. Olivia too. They need to know, but later.” He struggled to bring his other hand across his body so he could hold her with both hands. “You remind me so much of your mother, do you know that? So much like her. I’m so damn proud of you.” His bottom lip quivered.

She was crying now and could only nod in response.

He let go of her hand and wiped at his eyes. “I wish I could have seen your hotel.”

“You can see it, Dad,” she insisted. “Just hold on longer.”

He gave her a sad smile and closed his eyes again. “Can’t, Nara-girl. Too tired.”

Inara couldn’t hold back the sobs. Nate reached across Dad to rub her shoulder in comfort but it did little to ease her pain.

When she finally got herself back under control, she saw that her father’s eyes were still closed so she turned to find a chair to sit in. His voice stopped her. “Nara. Book…on my nightstand.”

Confused, Inara looked at the bedside table and found only a tissue box and her father’s water cup. “What book, Dad?”

“At home. You’ll know.”

And then Olivia arrived with her two kids and Jennifer was soon after with hers. The family crowded in the tiny room to wait, going in shifts to take the kids for walks down to the cafeteria or outside. Dad drifted in and out of consciousness and by ten o’clock the doctor told them he was in a coma and would not likely waken again.

By eleven, he was gone.

• • •

Inara pushed open the double doors that led into her father’s bedroom. The last two days had been busy with phone calls to friends and family, meetings with the funeral director and her father’s attorneys and financial adviser. Flower arrangements and cards seemed to arrive nonstop, as did phone calls she let go to voice mail. The local news station interviewed Nate for their story on Dad, but thankfully, Inara didn’t have to be part of that. With arrangements finalized for the next day’s service, she realized there was nothing left to keep her busy.

And then she remembered the book.

When she opened her father’s bedroom door, the spicy, sweet scent of his cologne filled her head and made her eyes sting with tears she didn’t know she had left. Maybe it was a bad idea.

She was a mess. If it wasn’t something about her dad that set off her tears, memories of her mom, and even Daniel, did it to her. Losing her dad brought the pain of her mother’s death into sharp focus, and then, to make it worse, she found herself reaching for her phone time and time again to call Daniel for comfort, only to remember they’d broken up. She was alone in her grief and barely hanging on.

She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, letting the feel of her father’s presence wrap around her. For a moment she let herself pretend he was here with her, propped in the bed reading the newspaper. As a little girl she’d come in on weekend mornings to find both her parents lingering under the covers with the paper. She’d launch herself in between them and snuggle into their warmth, feeling safe and content, surrounded by the scent of her father’s cologne and her mother’s lavender hand cream.

Her mother’s scent had disappeared years ago—God, she missed that smell—but her father’s was still strong, as if he’d just splashed it on before heading out for the day.

Sighing, she opened her eyes and crossed the plush carpet to the bed. There, again, emotion snuck up on her. His reading glasses lay on the polished wood surface of his nightstand. The red light on his digital clock indicated the alarm was still set for five a.m. A single pill sat beside an empty water glass as if her dad had forgotten to take it that morning. And next to the lamp lay an old book that didn’t look like her father’s usual reading material, since it wasn’t covered in a glossy book jacket graced with the smiling face of a well-known business executive.

It must be the book he wanted her to have.

She picked it up and turned it over in her hands as she eased down on the edge of the bed. It was made of scarred brown leather and had a leather thong wrapped several times around the middle. A journal? Had her dad kept a journal?

From between the frayed pages, a yellow sticky note poked up, showing the letters
ARA
in her father’s handwriting.

ARA.
Ara. Inara?

Taking a deep breath, she undid the leather thong and opened the fragile pages to the one marked with the sticky note. There she found the words
Give
to
Nara.

Okay, Dad. What did you want me to see?

She pulled the note off and looked closely at the page, feeling her breath catch at the date written in a female hand at the top.
February
3, 1895
.

Whose diary was this? She flipped to the front page and, in awe, read the name
Gretna
MacTavish
Campbell, Orcas Island, Washington State
.

Gretna Campbell had been Duncan Campbell’s wife and Dahlia’s grandmother. She was the one who’d had the nervous condition that kept her on the island full-time while her husband traveled back and forth to Seattle for business. She would have been Mei Lien’s neighbor and the first woman to live in Dahlia’s house after Mei Lien left.

Her dad had told her there were no records like this, or if there had been, he’d told Dahlia to get rid of it all. He’d lied to her.

Feeling a sense of urgency, she clicked on the lamp and then held the book under the light to better see the faded handwriting…

The new house, while bigger than our last, is not enough for my husband. He talks of adding on so that our home is fit for entertaining guests, as he puts it. I must admit, I much prefer the quiet that we have now and do not look with eagerness upon the time when our home is overrun with strangers.

Inara paused. She was sure Gretna was talking about Mei Lien’s house here. Apparently Duncan had planned to build Rothesay right from the start. She kept reading…

The new house is wonderful. Even though that Chinese woman lived here before us, a fact that irks Duncan to no end and was the reason he insisted the servants scrub every inch of it before we moved in last month, I very much like the amount of space we now have. The kitchen opens onto the garden, which is itself quite large compared to the plot I had on our old property. The kids love all the land outside to run and play after chores are done.

Speaking of the Chinese woman, I really mustn't laugh, but it amuses me greatly to watch Duncan jump at shadows. It seems the woman disappeared without word to anyone. Duncan told me the last time he saw her was when he delivered payment for the property to her. He didn't notice anything amiss and he did not linger. No one saw her again after that day, and he knows because he asked around, so driven was he to find her and ensure she had indeed vacated the premises. She simply disappeared. I have to believe he thinks she fell victim to misfortune and is now haunting our new home by the way he flinches at every noise and shrinks from shadows.

I'm sure this will encourage him to build his grand estate that much faster so he doesn't have to live within these walls. As for me, I'm quite content.

Inara let the book drop to her lap as the realization hit her. Duncan hadn’t known Mei Lien’s fate. Which meant he hadn’t killed her.

Duncan hadn’t killed Mei Lien!

She still didn’t know for sure what had happened to Mei Lien, but she did know that her great-great-great-grandfather had not murdered her. Sure, he was still guilty of killing hundreds of other people, but not this one woman whom Inara had grown to know and care about. Crazy as it was, that fact meant a lot.

“Inara? You okay?”

She looked up to find Nate filling the doorway. Only then did she notice her face was wet with tears. She wiped them away with her fingers and laughed. “He didn’t kill her, Nate.”

As shock registered on his features, she realized her brother had no idea what she was talking about. She patted the bed beside her, and when Nate joined her, she told him her secret fears that their ancestor had murdered Mei Lien for her land. “But Dad had this diary that says Duncan didn’t know Mei Lien’s fate, so that means he didn’t kill her. Isn’t that wonderful?”

Nate lifted his eyebrows and gave her a look that said he doubted her sanity. “Why in the world would you think Duncan murdered her in the first place? He had enough money to buy any property he wanted.”

“You two having a cry fest without me?” Olivia asked as she swept into the room dressed in pressed slacks and a starched blouse. She bounded onto the bed with them. “I want in.”