F Paul Wilson - Novel 05 (42 page)

 
          
A
long, agonizing pause, then he nodded into the sheltering hands.

           
Suddenly weak, Julie leaned against
the desk for support. She'd guessed it, she'd felt it in her heart when she'd
grasped the implications of that sperm count, but to stand here and have Eathan
acknowledge it...

 
          
My
uncle's hiding something. . . .

 
          
You
had that right, Sam, she thought. Everybody always said he raised us like his
own children....

 
          
She
reached out a trembling hand and gently, almost gingerly, placed it on his
shoulder.

 
          
"Hello
... Dad."

 
          
Eathan
took a deep, shuddering breath and pulled his hands away from his face. Without
looking at her he reached up and covered her hand with one of his own.

 
          
"Julia...
I'll tell you all about it," he said hoarsely. "But let's go
downstairs. I need a drink."

4

 
          
"How
can I toss you out because of a broken trust, after how I betrayed my own
brother?"

 
          
They
sat across from each other in the drawing room, sipping some of Eathan's
fifty-year-old scotch. Julie barely touched hers. She was already numb. She
didn't need any more anesthetic.

 
          
"You
and my mother, I saw it in Sam's 'scape ... it's hard to believe. How ...
?"

 
          
Eathan's
mouth curled in a funny way, as if the idea of Julie seeing them together was
embarrassing. "Actually, Lucy and I were a bit of an item before Nathan
even met her. Nothing terribly serious, so when I went out to Stanford, to
medical school, our relationship . . . well, I guess you might say it attenuated
itself out of existence. That was when Nathan moved in. He was pursuing his
doctorate at Cornell, so he was around all the time. Eventually they were
married and it seemed like a good match. I still cared for Lucinda, but I
didn't mind."

 
          
He
took a sip. "Or so I thought. I didn't mind until Nathan not over-involved
in his work. He ran into financial and professional setbacks; he neglected
Lucy. I was lonely too. We'd talk on the phone and I'd try to comfort her. Old
feelings revived. We'd stop by and visit each other. We had a history, and
before we knew what was happening ..."

 
          
He
sipped his scotch and looked away. Even now he seemed ashamed.

 
          
Julie
imagined Eathan and her mother in the throes of passion. Not just a kiss, but
making love.

 
          
And
suddenly she felt sorry for her father
—
no,
for Nathan Gordon, the man she'd always
thought
of as her father
—
but
she
didn't
know
him. He was little more than a string of old memories.

 
          
Eathan,
however
—
Eathan had been the guiding
force in their lives, supportive of anything they attempted, and always there
when they needed him. A real father.

 
          
"How
long did the affair go on?" she asked.

 
          
"Oh,
not long enough to qualify as a real affair. We were both too racked with guilt
to continue it, so we scurried back to our prior existences and swore never to
mention it again."

 
          
"Did
you know we were ..."

 
          
"My
children?" He shook his head. "No. I think Lucy knew
—
I'm sure she must have known
—
but
she never
told
me. Probably knew what it would do to me. No, I didn't
have an inkling until after the fire when I was going through Nathan's papers.
I almost passed out."

 
          
"But
you said his papers were burned in the fire. How
did
you get them?"

 
          
Eathan
sighed. "Nathan conned me into letting him move a filing cabinet into my
basement. He said he didn't have room for it in his place and I believed him.
His house
was
small, and with two little girls running around, there
wasn't much room. I never guessed that the real reason he wanted those records
out of the house was to make sure your mother never came across them. But after
the fire, when I
went
through them, I... I was shocked."

 
          
"But,
God, it means he knew. He knew right from the start that we weren't his. And
yet he never said anything to you?"

 
          
"Never
a word."

 
          
"Maybe
he didn't know whose kids we were."

 
          
Eathan
looked miserable. "Oh, I think he knew. But he kept mum and raised you as
his own." He grunted as if in pain. "When I think about the countless
times I dropped by and held you girls on my knee with him sitting there watching
me, knowing all the while ..."

 
          
And
that image caused another pang in Julie.

 
          
"But
why wouldn't he say anything? You were his brother."

 
          
"He
had some strange ideas. I have a feeling he somehow convinced himself that you
two really were his children."

 
          
"Oh,
come now
—
"

 
          
"No.
I'm quite serious. Because in a way you were. Genetically, at least."

 
          
Julie
caught on immediately. "Because you two were identical twins?"

 
          
"Right.
My genes were identical to his. And since he was sterile, you were the closest
he would ever come to having children of his own."

 
          
"Amazing..."
Julie said slowly. "Amazing that someone could rationalize to that point
of view and live with it."

 
          
"Your
father
—
" He caught himself.
"My brother was an amazing man." He drained his glass and leaned
forward. He stared into her eyes. "And now I have something to ask of
you."

 
          
"Name
it," Julie said.

 
          
"Your
key to my wall cabinet. I assume you had a copy made."

 
          
Julie
pulled it from her pocket and handed it to him.

 
          
"Now,"
she said. "Let me ask
you
for something: the key to that box you
kept in the bottom drawer of the locked file cabinet."

 
          
"Kept?"
Eathan said, visibly stiffening.

 
          
"I
have it."

 
          
He
shot to his feet. "Oh, no! You can't have that! You've got to give it
back!"

 
          
"I
need to see what's inside, Eathan. No more secrets, please. I can handle
whatever it is. I deserve to know everything. It's taken over twenty years for
me to learn who my real father is. . .."

 
          
"There's
nothing in there! Trust me!"

 
          
"No.
You trust
me.
I need to know
—
"

 
          
Suddenly
he was rushing from the room. Julie followed him as he pounded up the stairs
and raced toward her room. He yanked open the door and disappeared inside.

 
          
By
the time Julie reached her room he had half of
her
dresser drawers
pulled open and was pawing through the topmost.

 
          
"Eathan
—
please! It's not here!"

 
          
He
ignored her. He was out of control. It reminded her of that scene when Charles
Foster Kane rampages through
his
wife's bedroom.

      
    "Eathan, stop
... please!"

 
          
After
finishing with her dresser drawers, he went to
her
closet and rifled
through what little clothing she had hanging there. He checked the window seat
—
empty
—
then dropped to his knees
and looked under the bed.

 
          
"Julia,
get me that box. Give it back to me. Enough prying into the past!"

 
          
"It's
my
past, Eathan
—
mine and Sam's."

 
          
When
he found nothing under the bed, he began tearing it apart, tossing the sheets
and comforter onto the floor, pulling the mattress off the box spring.

 
          
Finally
he stood amid the carnage, panting, turning a slow circle. His voice became
plaintive.

 
          
"Where
is it, Julia? Please ... give it back."

 
          
"As
soon as I find out what's in it."

 
          
For
an instant his face changed, and for the second time tonight she feared he
would attack her. She must be crazy to be pushing him like this. But he closed
his eyes and took a deep breath. When he spoke his voice was flat, calm, cold.

 
          
"This
is intolerable. I have the key and will not give it to you. I expect you to
return that box to me before I leave for
London
tomorrow
—
for
Alma
's
wake,"
he said pointedly. "If you do
not, I will banish you from this house forever. Daughter or not, I will see
you and all your electronic garbage out on the driveway before I depart
tomorrow morning. Is that clear?"

 
          
Oh,
no. Was she to gain her real father and lose him in the same night? She
couldn't bear that.

 
          
"Eathan,
be reasonable. I have a right
—
"

 
          
He
jabbed a ringer at her. "No! No, you have
no
right! What is in that
box is
my
private business and has nothing
to
do with you! I want
it back. In my office. Now! Otherwise, start packing."

 
          
He
stalked past her and left her alone in the disheveled room.

 
          
Julie
knew he wasn't bluffing. Eathan never bluffed. When he made a decision, that
was it. If she didn't return the box, she'd be out of here.

 
          
And
Sam would be gone . . . forever.

5

 
          
Julie
latched the toolshed door behind her and turned on the flashlight. She pulled
her coat tight around her. It had turned so cold.

 
          
No
easy task sneaking out of the manor tonight. Eathan had sat up in the drawing
room, as if on guard. But eventually he'd come upstairs. When she heard his
shower running, she made her move to Sam's room and then out the kitchen door.

 
          
She
crossed the shed and flicked the beam around until she found the splintery
workbench. She placed the locked box on the scarred surface, then checked out
the tools. A giant hammer hung on a rack behind the bench. She took that down.
To her left sat a line of four screwdrivers. She picked the heaviest one.