Blood Kin (6 page)

“Hell, no. One thing Will isn't is greedy. He's got three, four hundred acres of his own. This farm came down from their mother. It was always meant to be Elizabeth's. He wouldn't want to leave his own place and live here, and he'd never sell to outsiders for a profit. Whatever grudge Will holds against you, it has nothing to do with money.”

“It's probably difficult for you to understand, but . . .” She hesitated, unwilling to discuss her personal life with a virtual stranger. “I have a right to know about my mother.”

He shook his head. “Sometimes it's better to let the past go. A person who asks too many questions may get answers she doesn't want to hear.”

“I don't believe that. My parents were educators, but they believed that adoptions should be kept secret. They wouldn't tell me anything about my birth parents. The more they refused to discuss the matter, the more
important it became for me to know. I wasn't even aware that I was born on Tawes until a few weeks ago.”

“Elizabeth stirred up a hornet's nest when she left her farm to you; that's certain.” He grinned. “Speaking of Forest McCready, he's looking for you.”

“It's about time. But it was kind of you to take the time to come all the way out here.”

“It was Emma who insisted I find you. She's not easy to say no to.”

“That's what she said about the pastor's wife.”

Daniel looked amused. “Those two don't always see eye-to-eye.”

“I assumed that.”

“Can I give you a ride?” He indicated the four-wheeler. “You'll have to sit on my lap, but I'm a gentleman. I don't bite.”

Bailey shook her head and laughed. “A tempting offer, but no, thanks. I can get back to the village the way I came.” She looked back at the house. “You're a carpenter. What's your opinion of the condition of the house? It's lovely, but it probably needs repairs. I noticed that there were some rotting boards on the back porch and a loose shutter on the end of the house.”

“You're right. It does need restoration. Not a great deal, but some basic work. Have it done before you put the place up for sale and you'll get a lot more for it.”

“I've seen the quality of the work you're doing for Emma. Would you be interested in the job?”

Daniel shook his head. “Nope. Too busy with my own place. And I don't know of anybody else on Tawes you could hire either. The best thing for you is to find a contractor in Crisfield.”

“Oh, I'm sorry.” Disappointment made her words crisp. “I suppose I can't persuade you to reconsider?”

“Nope. The best thing for you to do is finish up your paperwork with Forest and go home. You may have been born here, but Tawes is no place for you. And the sooner you leave, the better.”

“I can't tell you how sorry I am for the confusion,” Forest said as he ushered Bailey into his office. “You must think the worst of me.”

The attorney, near sixty and dressed in khakis, a navy three-button knit shirt, and docksiders, was tall with a pleasant, open face, rosy cheeks, warm brown eyes, and graying hair styled in a short military cut. His handshake was firm but gentle, and she liked him immediately in spite of all the delay.

“I've treated you abominably, and you have my word that it won't happen again.”

Office
didn't accurately describe the elegant room that opened off the wide entrance hall in Forest McCready's home. Two comfortable leather chairs, a couch, and a mahogany tea table were grouped at one end of what he explained had once been the location of dances, weddings, and holiday parties for the elite of the island. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves lined the walls on either side of the marble Greek Revival fireplace. The remainder of the room was tastefully furnished
with authentic hunting prints and antique furniture, mostly Sheridan. The only items that might have fit the description of office necessities were a walnut desk with an old-fashioned black phone in the front corner. Forest McCready might be a simple country lawyer, but he wasn't a poor one.

Two Irish setters, tails wagging and tongues lolling, rose from a magnificent blue-and-cream rug in front of the fireplace. “Down,” Forest said. “Miss Elliott hasn't come to see you.” He dug into a pocket of his khakis, produced two dog biscuits, and tossed one to each animal.

“They're beautiful,” Bailey said. “And the rug too. Unusual, with the indigo-and-navy coloring. I've never seen one like it. It must be old.”

“Yes, it is. My grandfather bought it in China. It's Tibetan, early nineteenth century. I've tried to convince Fee and Ryan that it's not exclusively theirs, but I'm outnumbered.” He waved her to a high-backed chair and lifted a silver teapot. “Tea? Or would you prefer coffee?”

“Tea is fine.” Delicious scents rose from a basket of scones, a flowered plate of tiny crescent sandwiches, and a crystal bowl of strawberries dipped in chocolate.

“Sugar?” the attorney asked. “Please. Help yourself. I'm famished. Didn't have time for lunch before I left the mainland. My sister Maude had these waiting for me when I got here.” He arched a graying eyebrow mischievously. “That and a tongue-lashing for keeping you waiting. She won't let me forget it anytime soon.”

Bailey took a deep breath and plunged in. “I went out to Elizabeth Somers's farmhouse today. Tell me that that splendid old house isn't what she left to me.”

Forest shrugged. “I'm afraid it is. The farm is the only
property she owned, two hundred and forty acres, a twenty-two-foot skiff, and the household furnishings. Savings aren't much, somewhere in the neighborhood of a hundred and sixty-seven thousand, I believe, mostly in CDs. Elizabeth wasn't into taking chances in the stock market.” He took a sandwich. “Try them, please. She-crab with just a hint of chives. And Margaret makes her own bread. Wonderful.”

Her hands began to tremble so that the thin porcelain cup and saucer began to rattle. Bailey set them down on the table, opened her mouth to make a reply, and came up blank. “I'm sorry,” she stammered when she could finally speak. “Did I hear you correctly? The bequest to me is a hundred and sixty-seven thousand dollars, that house, and over two hundred acres of waterfront property?” When Forest nodded, smiled, and took a bite of his sandwich, she continued. “An aunt that I never knew existed left all that to me?”

Forest finished the sandwich, wiped his mouth with a napkin, and met her disbelieving gaze. “All of the land isn't waterfront. Much is marshland, woods, and upland pasture. It's in the form of a trust, so some, but not all, of the bequest is sheltered from taxes, but you will owe quite a bit to federal and state agencies. With the price of land today, you should have no problem covering those expenses.”

“But why me?”

“Simple. Elizabeth was a childless widow, your grandfather Owen Tawes's only sister. Owen had a twin brother. There was just the three of them: Elizabeth, Owen, and Will. Your grandfather died long before you were born. Other than her estranged brother, you're the closest relative Elizabeth had left alive. Real blood kin, as we like to say on the island. Elizabeth's always
taken an interest in your welfare. She was instrumental in your private adoption. Actually, both of your adoptive parents have distant ties to family on Tawes, but that's going back generations.”

Bailey couldn't feel her feet or her hands, and she had the distinct sensation that her brain was as numb as the rest of her. “I understood that adoptive children couldn't inherit from birth relatives. Isn't there a law—”

He chuckled. “Elizabeth could have left her worldly goods to the SPCA if she'd wanted to. She told me that if you turned out to be responsible, she'd always intended that you should have her home.”

“I don't even know . . .” She tried to organize her thoughts. “The church cemetery. I was . . . rather . . . Yesterday I was looking around. I found Elizabeth's . . .
Aunt
Elizabeth's grave, and . . .” She balled her hands into fists on either side of her lap. “Elizabeth—Beth Tawes, the sixteen-year-old. Was she my birth mother?”

“Yes, she was.” Compassion swirled in his brown eyes. “She was a sweet girl, very bright. Everyone loved her. Except for hair color, you're her spitting image. Beth was blond, like her mother. You have the Tawes look about you. Elizabeth's hair was a dark auburn. Will's too, when he was younger.”

“How did she die? My mother. Complications of childbirth?”

“She'd suffered some injuries in an accident. I believe the cause of death was listed as blood loss, but I suspect it was a combination of factors.”

“What about the father? My father? Surely—”

Forest shook his head. “Beth never said. There were speculations, of course, but no one came forward to claim paternity. You might check the church records. You were christened here at Thomas's Chapel when
you were several weeks old. There might be information there.”

“I wasn't placed for adoption immediately?”

Forest shook his head. “No, if I recall correctly, you were closer to three months of age when you left the island.”

“But why? Who took care of me? And why—”

“Your great-uncle, Will Tawes, Owen's twin. He assumed custody at the time of your mother's death. Elizabeth wanted you, but Will was always stubborn. He felt you were his responsibility.”

“But why did he give me up a few months later? And why didn't Aunt Elizabeth step in then? Why place me for adoption if—”

“I'm afraid I can't answer those questions.” He looked uncomfortable.

“So the only one who can is Will Tawes himself?”

Forest set down his cup and saucer, folded his arms over his three-button sport shirt, and leaned back in his chair. “He could give you the details if he wanted to, but he may not. Will's not an easy nut to crack.”

“He could at least tell me about my mother's death. And he could identify my birth father.”

“Maybe, but I'm not sure how much he knows. Most people on Tawes think that if he did know who your father was, he'd have shot the man years ago.”

A shiver flashed under Bailey's skin. “He's a violent person, then.”

“I don't know if
violent
is the right label for Will Tawes. In my opinion, he's a tortured soul who's suffered great personal loss and may have been wronged by the justice system. He is a hard man, but fair. Will lives by the code of simpler times. He may have been a
hell-raiser in his youth, but to my knowledge, he hasn't been in any real trouble for a quarter of a century.”

“He was at Elizabeth's today. Upstairs. He said he was looking for something that belonged to him.”

“He spoke to you?” Forest looked surprised.

“He told me that I shouldn't have come to Tawes, that it wasn't safe for me here.” She edged forward in the seat. “Should I be afraid of him?”

“No, I highly doubt that. He'd have no reason to—”

“What if he's angry that his sister left her estate to me?”

Forest shook his head. “Will wouldn't have expected anything. He's not avaricious, and he's no thief. If he told you that he was hunting for something of his, believe him. Will is somewhat of an eccentric. He keeps to himself, and when he does show his face, people stay clear of him.”

Forest offered her a scone, but as appetizing as they looked, she was no longer hungry. “I'm sorry. I wanted . . . That is, I'd hoped . . .” She exhaled softly. “I'm not usually at a loss for words. I teach fourth grade, and I'm used to keeping my students' attention for hours at a time.”

“You were naturally curious about your birth family.”

“Exactly. My parents—my adoptive parents—were very good to me. I never wanted for anything. But they were older when I came to live with them. I spent a lot of time in day care, and they were never . . .” She forced a smile. “I don't mean to whine. I loved both my mother and father, and I had great respect for them. But I always felt that I was an afterthought. That perhaps they would have been happier with a miniature poodle.”

“They were dog people?” He glanced at the retrievers
and smiled. “At times, I can see how someone could prefer dogs to—”

“No. We never had any pets. Mother said she didn't care for dog hair or the mess. Both of them were conscientious, active in community affairs—simply not very affectionate. I always knew that I was adopted, but it wasn't a subject that was discussed in our home.”

“So you knew nothing of your background?”

“Nothing. I had a lively imagination, and I came up with all sorts of scenarios. My favorite was that I was a princess stolen by kidnappers and sold on the black market when it became too dangerous to collect the ransom.”

“Sorry. No royalty. The closest the Tawes family can claim to royalty is the daughter of a Nanticoke sachem back in the early seventeen hundreds. Her name was Leaf . . . Leaf something. Matthew would probably know. You've met our pastor, I understand.”

“Everything I've done since I've set foot on this island seems to be common knowledge.”

Forest laughed. “You think it's bad for you? I was born here. Matthew's wife, Grace, can probably tell you every misdeed my father ever committed in the first grade. We like to think of Grace as our community conscience. She hears, she remembers, and she records for posterity. She's younger than I am, but she seems to have mind-melded with some higher source that all ministers' wives have access to.”

“I suspected that when I met her, but she was pleasant to me, invited me in for coffee. She loaned me her bike to use while I was on Tawes.”

“Good. I'm glad you have transportation, because things may take a little longer to resolve than I first thought.”

“How so?”