Fall from Grace (34 page)

Eleven

“You can practice on my mother,” Adam had told Jack on the way to the house. Now, as the first light came through the window, he watched her face as she listened to Jack’s carefully crafted falsehoods.

In rapid sequence, her expressions betrayed surprise, bewilderment, anger, horror, and, at length, deep anxiety. Unless she and Jack were extraordinarily accomplished actors, Adam concluded to his relief, their unrehearsed interaction suggested that Clarice knew nothing about Ben’s death. That Jack had planted another lie at the heart of their relationship was the price of saving him.

Clarice took Jack’s hand, shedding the pretense of years. Worriedly, she asked, “Do you really have to tell them?”

“He does,” Adam broke in flatly. “What the police have on Teddy could convict him of a murder he didn’t commit.”

Clarice turned to him. “How can you know all that?”

“Just trust me that I do.” He paused, then said, “Like you, Teddy lied to the police about your phone call. That was your idea, wasn’t it?”

Slowly, Clarice nodded.

“I assume you were trying to protect him,” Adam continued, “and not just yourself and Jack. But I know that Teddy was protecting you.” Turning to Jack, he finished, “I’m sure that Avi Gold would represent you, and work with Teddy’s lawyer. That’ll help everyone keep their lines straight.”

Staring at him, Clarice said, “This is a lot to absorb, Adam.” Seeing his expression, she added softly, “For all of us, I suppose.”

“Then brace yourself, Mother. Because there’s more.” He sat back, speaking in the same clipped tone. “The will contest has become more complex than you know. Thanks to me, you won’t get caught trying to pass off the postnup as misplaced self-actualization. On the other hand, I’m now aware of the truth—that you got plenty of ‘consideration’ for signing it, from continuing to live here to concealing the messy facts surrounding my birth. And I suspect that Carla Pacelli knows that, too.”

Clarice looked stricken. “Ben told her?”

“I’m pretty sure he did. If so, I can’t lie about it. Right now you’ve got a decent shot at overturning Ben’s will. But between Carla and me, you could wind up with nothing. So here’s what you’re going to do.

“First, your lawyer will offer Carla a settlement of three million dollars, on which you’re also paying the estate taxes—”

“No,” Clarice protested. “I refuse to treat her as an equal.”

“You’ve got no choice,” Adam said coldly. “So feel grateful to get by with that. Carla’s got a real chance of walking off with everything; at a minimum, she’ll get almost two million for her son. Who, by the way, is Teddy’s brother, Jack’s nephew, and my cousin. All of us need to see to his well-being. This family has inflicted enough misery on its own.”

He paused a moment, allowing Clarice time to absorb this. “Next, Jenny gets her million, also tax free. That leaves you with roughly seven million dollars, of which you should give Teddy one million for himself.” Adam looked from his mother to Jack. “The two of you will have more than enough to live here. Though if I were you, I’d sell this place. The karma leaves a lot to be desired.”

Clarice seemed to blanch. “How do you know that Carla will agree?”

“Because I’m developing a sense of her. In fact, despite my best efforts, I may have a better grasp of Carla Pacelli than of either one of you. That’ll give me food for thought on the flight back to Afghanistan.” Briefly, he paused, watching the stunned look in his parents’ eyes. “For now,” he told them, “I plan to shower, drink several cups of coffee, and then call Avi Gold. After that Jack should meet with Avi, and I’m going to see Carla Pacelli. If she consents to this, as I think she will, we’re settling Ben’s estate. Are all of us agreed?”

Clarice looked at Jack, who nodded. Facing Adam, his mother retrieved some of her composure, accenting the sadness in her eyes. “I still look at you, Adam, and see him. The same iron will, the same belief that you can bend the world to your ends.”

Despite himself, Adam discovered, comparisons to Benjamin Blaine still pierced him. “Better ends, I hope—especially yours and Jack’s. But I’d appreciate it if both of you disappeared for the next few hours. I really do need to be alone.”

At ten o’clock, Adam went to see Carla Pacelli.

She was waiting for him on the deck, a light breeze rippling her hair. Smiling a little, she said, “Thanks for calling. It gave me time to dress.”

Then I regret that, Adam might have said in another life. But he felt way too tired, and even more confused. “I had to see you.”

It came out sounding wrong, not as he intended. Carla regarded him gravely. “You really do look awful.”

“And feel worse,” he admitted. “How long have you known that I wasn’t Ben’s son?”

Briefly, she looked down, then met his eyes with new directness. “For months now.”

Adam shook his head in disbelief. “And yet you had the grace not to tell me. Even though we were enemies.”

“It wasn’t my place,” she answered in a level tone. “And you were never quite my enemy. It was a little more complex between us, I thought.”

This was true, Adam realized. “Still, you could have warned me off any time you wanted to. All you needed was to tell the truth.”

“And tamper with your life?” Carla asked with quiet compassion. “It was clear that you loved your family, despite all you’d gone through. I couldn’t know how revealing the truth might change that. Once I realized that you knew nothing, it seemed best to keep Ben’s secret. At least for as long as I could.

“But there’s something else I can say now. Whatever her reasons, the affair between Clarice and his brother caused Ben terrible anguish. That’s why I never considered his marriage sacred ground.” She paused again. “At least that’s my excuse.”

“No help for it now,” Adam said wearily. “I came here to resolve the future.” He paused, searching for the proper words. “There needs to be an end to all this sadness. If I can guarantee you three million dollars, would you take it? That would spare you a will contest, and help both of you quite a lot.”

A moment’s surprise appeared in Carla’s eyes, and then she gazed down at the deck with veiled lids. “More than ‘a lot,’” she finally answered. “My lawyer won’t like this, I’m sure. But if your mother can accept that, so will I. I don’t have the heart for any more of this.” She gave him an ironic smile. “As if I’m being so beneficent. I grew up without a dime, made millions as an actress, and blew it all because of my own failings. Now I can give my son the security I lost. That’s what Clarice must have thought before you were born.”

The comparison—and Carla’s honesty—gave Adam pause. “Maybe so,” he replied. “But she was also in love with someone else.”

“Then accepting this money is easier for me, isn’t it?” Carla looked into his eyes. “You persuaded her, I know. But why?”

Adam managed a shrug. “It’s simple, really. As I recalculate my genealogy, you’re carrying my cousin.”

For another moment, Carla gazed at him, then patted her stomach. “Actually, I thought I felt him move this morning. A mother’s imagination, probably. But at least I’m not sick anymore.”

Adam shoved his hands in his pockets, quiet for a time. “I’m not sure how to say this without sounding stupid. But you’re a far better person than I took you for.”

Another smile surfaced in her eyes. “I suppose I could return your backhanded compliment. But you’re exactly who I took you for, though you did your damnedest to conceal that.” Carla paused, then said in a reticent tone, “You’re leaving soon, I know. But once you’re back, you can come to see us if you’d like.”

Adam searched her face, trying to read what he saw there. “Perhaps I will,” he told her. “After all, every boy can use a man who cares for him. No matter who.”

“Then we’ll look forward to it.” She hesitated, then added, “Be safe, Adam. Despite everything, Ben worried for you. Now I do, too.”

Adam fell silent, unsure of what else he wished to say. Then he felt the weight of what he could never tell her: that his father had killed the father of her child. “I’ll be fine,” he promised. “Take care, Carla.”

Turning from the doubt he saw in her eyes, he left without looking back, still followed by the shadow of Benjamin Blaine.

Alone, Adam walked in the Menemsha hills, too exhausted to absorb what he had heard, too shattered by the truth to seek refuge in his mother’s home. Again and again, he was beset by images of the last few days and hours, questioning his choices, yet he was unable to imagine what else he could have done. Then he grasped the moment that, more than any other, would trouble his conscience until he acted.

Before he could rest, there was one more person he had to see.

He met Jenny on the pier at Edgartown. For a time they sat together, silent, gazing at the sunlit water, the sailboats at mooring, the great houses surrounding the harbor.

“I came to tell you something important,” he finally said. “I know you had nothing to do with his death. I’m sorry for ever suggesting that you might have.”

Jenny turned to him, a deep sadness in her eyes. “It was because of what I did with him. The gift that keeps on giving.”

“No more, Jen. That was another life.”

Jenny drew a breath. “But we can never go back, can we?”

This simple question, Adam found, deepened his sadness. “No,” he answered. “We’re different people now.”

Jenny looked down, as though trying to decipher what that meant. “There’s something else,” Adam told her. “My mom and Carla Pacelli are settling his estate. Which means that your bequest is safe.” His tone was quiet but insistent. “Keep it, Jen. If not for him, for me. You’ve got all that talent. Take it as far as you can.” He took her hand. “I’ve also been thinking about your manuscript, and wondering if you should turn the page. My father’s posthumous reputation means nothing to me. But for your own sake, maybe you need to let him go.”

Jenny searched his face. “You still haven’t told Clarice, have you?”

“And never will. It would be no kindness to anyone.”

Slowly, Jenny nodded. “And you? What will you do now?”

“Go back to scenic Afghanistan, where simple farmers tend their poppies.” Seeing her anxiety, he added, “Only six months more, and then they’ll send me somewhere else. Wherever that is, I’ll keep in touch.”

Tears welled in Jenny’s eyes. “Will you?”

“I still care about you,” Adam assured her. “I always will. Whatever his motives in bringing me back, Ben helped me rediscover that. I wanted you to know that, too.”

She forced herself to smile. “But do I have to let you go?”

Gently, Adam kissed her. “Never. I’ll always need to know how you are.”

It was true. But in that moment Adam realized that the woman he was drawn to, more by instinct than by reason, was no longer Jenny Leigh.

Twelve

When Adam arrived home, no one was there.

Tiredly, he climbed the stairs, his thoughts jumbled, certain only that he had reached the end of his string. It was safe to sleep, he realized; this was not Afghanistan. Stripping to his shorts, he took a trazodone and fell into a darkness that, for once, was dreamless.

A knock on the door awakened him. He sat up, disoriented, unsure of where he was until he looked out the window. It must be morning, he realized; the sunlight was gentle, and dew glistened on the grass. And Benjamin Blaine was not his father.

“Adam,” his brother called. “Are you all right?”

They could be boys, Adam thought in his confusion, Teddy come to get him for an early morning sail. At once, the pieces of his new reality fell into place.

“Just tired,” he answered, and went to open the door.

Teddy looked at him, and then comprehension stole into his eyes. “You must have heard about Jack.”

“I have. A lot to take in, isn’t it?”

His brother closed the door behind him. Quietly, he asked, “Do you really think it was an accident?”

Adam shrugged, then wiped the sleep from his eyes and sat on the edge of his bed. “To me, the important thing is that you’re off the hook. So I guess I don’t much care. One way or the other, our father was a dead man. All Jack did is advance the date.”

Teddy sat in his brother’s desk chair, regarding Adam with deep curiosity. “Mind telling me what you had to do with all this? I’m already sure that you’re not who you say you are.”

Adam managed to laugh. “Who in this family is?”

Though Teddy smiled a little, his eyes were still grave. For a moment, Adam considered telling him that they were half brothers, and half cousins. But Teddy had always been his brother, and always would be. He thought of Carla, deciding that, for Adam, the truth was not hers to tell. It would do Teddy no good, he reasoned, to know that he was Ben’s only son, or that, despite this, his father had chosen to claim Adam as his own. And the burden of protecting Jack was Adam’s to bear, not Teddy’s. Some family secrets needed to be kept.

“Anyhow,” Adam said. “It’s done.”

“Not for me.” Leaning forward, Teddy regarded his brother with new intensity. “Ever since you got here, you’ve been looking out for me. How did you find out all the stuff about the police?”

Adam considered his answer. “As a favor to me, please be a little less curious about what I’ve been up to, and focus more on what our uncle did for you. He couldn’t stay quiet with you in trouble—”

“I understand,” Teddy interrupted. “Now tell me what you had to do with that.”

“Next to nothing. All Jack did was use me as a sounding board. So leave it there, all right? Just remember that there are few surprises in life as good as avoiding indictment.” Briefly, Adam smiled. “Or escaping homelessness.”

Teddy studied him. Then, at length, he nodded his assent. “Life feels different this morning, doesn’t it?”

“Yes, and no. You’re still my brother, and there’s no one in the world I love more. Now that our father is gone, it’s really just the two of us. That suits me just fine.”

“Me too.” Teddy glanced at Adam’s open suitcase. “Does that mean you’re leaving?”

“Yup. Frankly, I’m a little burned out. I hope our next reunion bores us all to death.”

Even as he said this, Adam wondered how coming back would feel. Lonely, he realized. The pathology of the Blaines would persist in all that Adam must conceal from Teddy, the person to whom he felt closest—that Ben was not Adam’s father, that their mother’s poise concealed tragedy and deceit, that ignorance of a murder separated Teddy from Adam and his parents. However deeply he wished otherwise, there was nothing Adam could do to change this. Whenever their family was together, Adam, like his mother and father, would become an actor in a play whose author was a dead man.