Things We Never Say (13 page)

‘Mind if I ask you something?’ asked Ryan.

‘What?’

His expression was slightly uncomfortable. ‘D’you have any ID? Anything to prove you’re Ellen Connolly’s daughter? Because as far as I know, you’re Abbey Andersen and I found you in the house of Pete Caruso, which doesn’t make much of a connection, does it?’

‘I trusted you with that pathetic piece of cardboard you call a business card,’ said Abbey. ‘The very least you can do is trust me to be who I say I am.’

He smiled. ‘Fair enough.’

‘But …’ She fumbled in her purse and took out her driver’s licence. ‘This is me. Obviously it doesn’t prove I’m Ellen’s daughter, but if you’re a PI, you have to know that she
has
a daughter.’

‘To tell you the truth, I didn’t,’ admitted Ryan. ‘Just as I didn’t know she was married.’ He frowned. ‘I should’ve been able to find a record of that, but I’ve been struggling to find any information on her at all.’

‘Mom and Dad got married in Latin America. Maybe you were looking in the wrong place.’

‘Maybe.’ He looked thoughtful. ‘It’s a pity I didn’t know about it when you handed me your card. I’m sure it would have set a bell ringing in my head.’

‘If you’d said anything in Union Square, I would’ve been equally freaked out,’ said Abbey.

‘I suppose you would,’ he conceded. ‘So … well, I thought that perhaps Ellen might have married and had a family. I said this to her father. I have to be honest and say that his main concern was with finding his daughter, but I’m sure he’ll be delighted to know about you too.’

‘You think?’

‘Of course. Now that I have actually tracked down one of his relatives, can I meet your mother?’

Abbey was stuck for words. The bottom line was that she had no idea if she wanted him to meet Ellen or not. Or whether her mother would even agree to such a meeting anyway. Besides, if anyone was going to talk to Ellen about this astonishing news, it was going to be Abbey herself. And even she didn’t know when that would be. Because this was something that would have to be done face to face. And it was nearly a year since she’d spoken face to face with Ellen.

Her mother had never said anything about being adopted. So would this be as big a shock to her as it was to Abbey? Or had she found out? And if so, thought Abbey, had it influenced the choices she’d made after Gramps and Gramma died? But if she’d known, or had found out, why hadn’t she said anything?

Ryan Gilligan was still looking at her, waiting for an answer to his question. Somewhat belatedly, Abbey shook her head and told him that no, he couldn’t meet Ellen, who wasn’t in San Francisco.

Disappointment etched itself on Ryan’s face. ‘Where is she?’

‘You’re the investigator.’ Abbey took another sip of the whiskey.

‘Clearly not as good an investigator as I thought.’ Ryan looked rueful. ‘Though tracking missing persons isn’t usually my thing.’

The whiskey was warming Abbey, relaxing her more. She watched him as he mentally processed the information she’d given him.

‘Can we get her back here?’ he asked. ‘It’s important I speak to her soon.’

‘Why?’

‘Because my client is an old man and he wants to meet her before he dies.’

‘What if she doesn’t want to meet him?’

‘I’m sure that when I explain the circumstances to her she’ll agree.’

‘You can explain it all to me. I’ll tell her.’

‘In a heartbeat I would.’ The warmth in Ryan’s eyes matched the tone of his voice. ‘But my client hired me to find Ellen Connolly and ask her to come to Ireland to see him. I’m certain he’ll be eager to know about you too, Abbey, but it’s her I need to speak with.’

‘What about my mother’s mother? Doesn’t she want to meet her too?’

‘At the moment, all I can tell you is that Ellen’s birth mother died shortly after she was born. If I can talk to Ellen and get her to travel—’

‘I’m sorry, but that’s not possible,’ Abbey told him.

‘Of course it is,’ Ryan told her. ‘Her father is prepared to pay for her to come to him if money’s the issue.’

‘It’s not money.’

‘Then what?’

‘This has been a huge shock to me. I’m sure it’ll be an equal shock to my mother. However, she really isn’t in a position to come to Ireland, and I don’t think that she’d even want to.’

‘I don’t think it’s up to you to make that decision for her.’ Ryan’s voice, though pleasant, was determined.

Abbey hesitated. In the years since her grandparents’ deaths, she’d guarded Ellen’s privacy fiercely. Being honest with herself, it was as much for her own sake as her mother’s. People could be judgemental, and she wasn’t prepared to have troublesome discussions about the kind of life Ellen had elected to live.

‘She’s not immediately contactable,’ Abbey said finally.

‘How soon would you be able to get in touch?’

‘I’m not sure.’

‘But this is very important. She’d want you to make every effort to let her know.’

‘You don’t know what my mother would or wouldn’t want,’ said Abbey.

Ryan looked suddenly contrite. ‘You’re right. I’m sorry. The thing is, my client might not have a lot of time left.’

‘Ellen’s father is dying?’ Abbey was shocked.

‘He’s not on his deathbed,’ Ryan assured her. ‘But he’s elderly and he’s had a few health scares, and he feels that time is running out to make amends.’

‘Amends?’ asked Abbey. ‘For what?’

‘For not being there.’

‘He’s looking for her because he wants to hear her say that she’s all right with being adopted? That she forgives him?’ Abbey shrugged. ‘I know already that she’ll forgive him, if that’s what he needs.’

‘You do?’

‘I know my mom.’

‘I still need to talk to her,’ said Ryan. ‘My assignment is to find Ellen, not her daughter. Although,’ he added, ‘I’m very glad to have met you.’

Abbey gave him a brief smile.

‘Seriously,’ said Ryan. ‘I like you, Abbey. I do. Is there some reason you’re keeping your mother’s whereabouts a secret?’

‘No, but …’ She frowned. ‘Look, all I want to say right now is that Mom can’t travel to Ireland. It’s simply not possible. Perhaps I can arrange for you to meet with her, although it could take a few weeks. But she won’t travel. That’s that.’

Ryan looked at her thoughtfully.

‘Tell you what,’ he said. ‘I’ll talk to my client. Tell him what you’ve told me. See what he wants to do and get back to you. OK?’

‘Good idea,’ said Abbey. Her fingers tightened around the glass in front of her and she waited a moment before she asked the question. ‘What’s he like?’

‘My client? Like I said, an elderly man. A widower. He’s in his eighties.’

‘And he’s my grandfather.’ Abbey spoke out loud even though she hadn’t meant to.

‘I truly am sorry about how I broke that to you,’ said Ryan. ‘I should’ve thought a bit more.’

‘It doesn’t matter,’ said Abbey. ‘It’s not your fault.’ She exhaled slowly. ‘I can’t help thinking … I’m not who I thought I was. Gramma and Gramps weren’t really my grandparents. At least …’

‘I should’ve handled this differently.’ Ryan looked at her with concern. ‘Maybe when you get this sort of information you need to have a counsellor or someone standing by.’

‘I don’t need a counsellor.’ She rubbed her forehead. ‘But I do need to absorb everything you’ve told me.’

‘Perhaps I’ve been watching too much Jerry Springer, telling you the way I did.’ Ryan looked shamefaced. ‘I didn’t mean to upset you.’

‘I’m not upset,’ Abbey assured him. ‘Just shocked.’

‘What do you know about your mother’s early life?’ asked Ryan. ‘It’s OK to tell me that, isn’t it?’

Abbey ran her finger around the rim of her glass. Her vision was slightly fuzzy now and she wished she hadn’t downed the first whiskey so quickly.

‘My grandparents came to America from Ireland in the nineteen fifties, when my mom was a baby,’ she told him. ‘They lived in Boston, where Mom trained to be a nurse. When she qualified, she moved away. Eventually she ended up in California, where she met my dad. They got married and worked together in Latin America, but he was killed before I was born.’

‘Killed? How awful. What happened?’ Ryan’s voice was full of sympathy.

‘It was a car accident in terrible weather. The jeep he was driving went off the road. He died instantly.’

‘I’m so sorry,’ said Ryan.

Abbey smiled faintly. ‘As it was before my time it doesn’t much matter to me, except that – well, he was my father and I never got to know him. And it was obviously a tough time for my mom. Anyway, after that she decided to take a job in a small clinic in Venezuela. We were there for a year before she moved again, and after that she changed jobs every few months, quite often to somewhere in a different country. The medical organisation she worked for had clinics across Latin America so it was easy to move around. Eventually, though, we went back to Venezuela and stayed there till I was twelve and she decided that I needed to get more of an American education.’

‘Your mother dragged you around Latin America while you were a kid?’ He sounded horrified.

‘It was fun,’ said Abbey. ‘I had a blast.’

‘Perhaps, but … some of those countries – and as a baby!’

‘Babies are born in Latin America all the time,’ Abbey reminded him with a smile. ‘Just because some places get a bad press doesn’t mean they’re not good places with good people. My mother liked the rhythm of life there but she could never stay anywhere for very long, no matter how much she liked it … She was a kind of free spirit, I guess. She believed – she still believes – in following the road, and in peace and love and getting on with your fellow man.’

‘Right. So what did she do when she got back?’

‘While we were in Latin America all her work was with … well, needy people, I guess. But back in the States she got a job in a private clinic. That was where she met Pete Caruso. He’d been through a bad time, lost his only brother to cancer. A younger brother. It made Pete feel guilty but also turned him into something of a hypochondriac for a time. Mom helped him get over it and the two of them … well, they were good with each other. We all lived together. But then my grandfather – her adoptive father …’ She stopped in sudden confusion. ‘That’s so weird. I always thought they looked alike, but of course they couldn’t have, could they? Anyway, he had a stroke and my grandmother couldn’t cope because she was elderly herself. So Mom and I went to Boston.’ Abbey made a face. ‘I’m not a Boston person. Neither is Mom. But she stayed with them until my grandfather died. After that, my grandmother wanted to go into a home. She was in her eighties then. Mom didn’t want her in a home, she wanted her to come back to California with us, but my grandmother insisted. She was a very strong-willed woman. So my mom agreed, but shortly after Gramma went into the home, she died.’

‘I see.’

‘After that, Mom decided she wanted to … to follow her own path,’ said Abbey. ‘I’m wondering now if Gramma told her something. If that’s why …’

Ryan watched her intently as myriad expressions crossed her face.

‘Anyway,’ said Abbey eventually. ‘She left San Francisco again and started a new life for herself.’

‘As a free spirit? She’s not living with Indians on a reservation, is she?’

Abbey burst into laughter.

‘Obviously not,’ Ryan said.

‘Anyway, that’s the story you can tell your client. My mother’s father. My grandfather. Can you tell me more about him?’

‘Let’s both hold something back,’ said Ryan. ‘Let me talk to him first.’

‘Tell him Mom will definitely forgive him,’ Abbey said. ‘She doesn’t hold grudges, my mom.’

‘You’re saying a lot on behalf of your mother,’ said Ryan.

‘Because I know her,’ said Abbey.

‘Maybe this is something she needs to think about for herself.’

‘Maybe.’ Abbey finished her drink. ‘Does he have any other children?’

‘Ellen’s father? Yes,’ replied Ryan. ‘That’s another part of things, Abbey. Your mam has half-brothers and sisters she doesn’t even know exist.’

But given that I exist and she’s perfectly happy to be cut off from me, I don’t think the lure of more people will mean much, thought Abbey. In fact, knowing that they’re there will probably have the opposite effect to the one Ryan Gilligan so desperately wants.

Because Abbey had drunk the whiskey, she couldn’t ride the bike back to the house. Ryan offered to take her home and she agreed, although she checked the pocket of her jacket and curled her fingers around the canister of Mace again, to be on the safe side.

‘Nice place Mr Caruso’s got,’ remarked Ryan as she opened the door.

In the kitchen, Battle barked enthusiastically.

‘He works hard, he’s entitled to it,’ she said.

‘Of course.’

‘I suppose you checked on him too.’

‘He was easy to check up on. Where is he now?’

Abbey wasn’t going to tell a stranger, even one who appeared as genuine as Ryan Gilligan, that she was spending the night alone in Pete’s hillside mansion, so she didn’t reply.

‘D’you want me to wait with you until he comes home?’ asked Ryan.

‘No,’ she said.

‘I don’t suppose you need me. You have the dog to protect you.’ He glanced towards the kitchen, where Battle had stopped barking. ‘Will you give me your mobile – I mean, cell number, so that I can contact you after I talk to Ellen’s father?’

Abbey supposed that would be OK. She called out her number and Ryan entered it into his iPhone.

‘Sure you’re going to be all right?’ he asked.

‘Yes.’ She straightened up. ‘It was only two whiskeys, after all. I can cope with that, really I can.’

‘You had a bit of a shock, though. Apologies again about that.’

‘Oh, I can cope with shocks, too.’

‘In that case, I’ll leave you to it. Good night, Abbey.’

‘Good night.’

She watched until the lights of his car had disappeared. Then she put the security lock on the door, checked all the windows and set the alarm. After that, she went into the kitchen, rubbed Battle’s ears and made herself a cup of hot chocolate. As she sipped the hot chocolate, the dog sitting on her feet, she took out her phone and dialled her mother’s cell. The voice of the operator told her that the number was no longer in service. But Abbey had known that already. There was never any point in ringing Ellen’s cell phone. She wasn’t sure why she still did it. But every so often, she did.