Love Will Find a Way (15 page)

Dylan shook his head. "No, Gary's father is alive. I spoke to him myself just after the funeral."

She stared at him in disbelief. His words didn't make sense. "No, he's dead. Gary told me he died."

"I don't know why Gary told you that, but his father is very much alive. And he lives in Las Vegas with his third or fourth wife -- I can't remember what number he's on now."

Gary's father was alive? Wesley had a grandfather? She had a father-in-law? She sat back in her chair. "I don't know what to believe. Either Gary lied to me, or you're lying now."

"Why would I lie to you?"

"Your loyalty is to Gary. You told me that at the beginning."

"I'm not lying about this, Rachel," he said forcefully. "I would have no reason to do that."

"You would if Gary had another -- family." Her voice broke on the last word. She swung the chair around so she was looking out the window at her apple trees. She had to find some point to concentrate on, some peaceful focal point. But the trees blurred with the tears in her eyes. She couldn't see them. She couldn't find the peace, the harmony, the safe place.

Dylan came up behind her and swung the chair back around. He put his hands on the arms of the chair and forced her to look at him. "Gary didn't have another family. The number you called is his father's house."

She stared at him, searching his face for the truth. His gaze was unwavering. He looked like a man who had nothing to hide. But then, she'd always thought her husband had nothing to hide. Where were her instincts? Why couldn't she tell who was telling the truth and who wasn't?

"If Gary lied about his father," she said finally, "then I don't know what to believe."

Dylan's face softened, his eyes filling with a kindness that only made her want to cry. "Gary and his father were estranged. To Gary, his father was figuratively dead. Just not literally dead."

The anger slowly seeped out of her, replaced with disillusionment and sadness. "I understand what you're saying, but Gary knew the difference between literally and figuratively, and he chose to lie, to hide a part of his life from me." She paused. "I thought I could do this – look into all the dark corners of Gary's life, but maybe I can't."

"Yes, you can." Dylan grabbed her hands and pulled her to her feet. "But you have to stop jumping to conclusions without getting the facts."

"I went into shock when I heard that woman speak Gary's name.
 
I didn't know what to think. I still don't.
 
It's not what I thought, but …" She gave a helpless shrug. "It's not good either."

He nodded, squeezing her hands reassuringly. "I get it, Rachel. I don't know why Gary didn't tell you about his father. But I'm here to help you sort through everything."

She nodded, thinking she should let go of his hand, but it had been a long time since she'd felt the warmth of a man's hands in hers, a long time since she'd been able to lean on anyone.
 
In fact, she found herself swaying forward, and before she knew it, her head was resting on Dylan's broad chest, her arms wrapping around his waist. She needed his strength, and she selfishly took it.

"Let it all go, Rachel," he said quietly. "Clear your mind. Stop thinking for a few minutes."

She tried to do that, forcing the confusing thoughts of the past half hour out of her head. Unfortunately, as the thoughts exited her mind, she was left with only her senses ... the smell of Dylan's musky aftershave, the feel of his chest against her face, the strength of his arms around her body … He was warm and solid and male, and she sensed an undeniable stirring of desire. She needed to pull away, because he was the wrong man, and he'd always be the wrong man.

But he was the only one in the room. He was the only one who understood what she was going through. And he was the only one she would have allowed to hold her like this, to see her vulnerability, her fear. She trusted him, she realized suddenly. Maybe that was a mistake, but it was the truth.

As the minutes passed, the quiet between them grew tense, and the desire grew deeper, more intense. She had to fight the urge to lift her face to his, to find forgetfulness in his arms, because she couldn’t go that far.
 
It wouldn't be fair to either of them.

So she lifted her head and stepped back, tucking her hair behind her ears, feeling a bit awkward and embarrassed now that they were face to face. She couldn't tell what Dylan was thinking or feeling. His face was completely unreadable -- a poker face. It suddenly dawned on her why he was here. He'd come for her grandfather's poker game, and she'd blasted him with wild accusations of Gary having two families.

"I'm sorry," she said.

He waved away her words. "Not necessary."

"I can't believe for a minute there I thought Gary was alive and that he had another family. He wouldn't have done that. That's a movie of the week. That's not my life."

"Of course it's not."

"But I still don't understand why Gary lied about his father being alive. Estranged or not, it would have made no difference to me."

"Maybe he thought you would have encouraged him to mend the relationship. You do put a lot of store in family."

"My family, not his. And what about you? Why did you get to know when I didn't?"

"So what? You're mad at me now?"

She sighed. "No, I'm mad at Gary."

"Good."

"Why is that good?" she asked in surprise.

"It means you're thinking about Gary like a real person and not a saint. He wasn't perfect. He had faults. He should have told you his father was alive. He probably should have told you a lot of things, but Gary didn't like to get personal. He was uncomfortable with emotions; he couldn't stand to see a woman or a child cry."

"That's right," she said.
 
"Gary couldn't stand it when Wesley cried. He said it made him feel helpless."

"There you go."

"But I wouldn't have been emotional about his father.
 
I knew that his father had run out on him, so why couldn't I know that he was still alive?"

"I don't know, Rachel."

"And I knew Gary went to Lake Tahoe, so why couldn't I know
why
he went there? I feel like I have only half of each puzzle piece. It's as if Gary gave me just enough information to keep me from being suspicious. But he's the last person in the world I would have thought would be secretive. He always seemed open, with not a care in the world. He could say 'I love you' without hesitation. He could kiss me in front of a roomful of people and not care what they thought. He could dance on the table with a lampshade on his head and not give a damn about the reaction. That's why nothing makes sense." She paused. "I think I'd like to talk to his father."

"I don't know if that's a good idea," Dylan said with a shake of his head.

"Well, you don't have to know. I don't need your permission to talk to my father-in-law."

Dylan held up a hand. "Take ten seconds and think about this."

"You just told me a moment ago not to think at all. Just go with my feelings. My feelings tell me that I should talk to Gary's father. He may not know Gary is dead."

"He knows; I told him. He called me shortly after the accident looking for Gary, and I had no choice but to tell him what happened. He was shocked, but he hadn't seen Gary in a couple of years he said. And the last time they'd spoken Gary had hung up on him. Apparently, he'd asked him for a loan, and Gary said no."

"His father asked him for money?"

"That's what he said."

"So they had some contact," she murmured.

"Not for a long time. There's nothing to be gained by speaking to him. He doesn't know why Gary went to Lake Tahoe. He knows less than we do."

 
"Maybe – maybe not. When you spoke to him after the accident, you didn't know what you know now."

"And what do I know now? That Gary had a bottle of a woman's perfume in his apartment. That some woman named Laura called him a few times? So what?"

"Okay, maybe I know more than I did a few months ago, because I didn't know about his father."

"You're going down the wrong road."

"Am I?"

"Yes, and I'm here to keep you on track."

"Or to steer me in the direction you want me to go." Maybe she was wrong to trust Dylan. If Gary could lie to her, Dylan could, too. It was disconcerting to realize that she'd always prided herself on being a good judge of character, but it was fast becoming apparent that she didn't have a clue about character.

"I wouldn't do that," Dylan said sharply.
 
"But we need to concentrate on the Tahoe trip."

"Agreed," she said. "But I'm also going to talk to Gary's father."

"You're a very stubborn woman," he said with a sigh.

"Do you still want to help me?"

"Absolutely. We're partners."

He stuck out his hand, and she took it. As his fingers tightened around hers, she said, "This is harder than I anticipated. When I went to see you, I thought you'd be able to clear everything up in an instant. Then I'd go on the way I'd been going on. Nothing would change. It was naive of me to think like that. But I'm not very good with change."

He smiled. "I like change. It means life is happening. There are choices, new directions, unexplored territories, uncharted possibilities."

She smiled at the energy in his voice. "And here I thought you were a pessimist, a jaded cynic."

"A realist," he corrected her. "There's a difference."

"Is there? I always thought of Gary as an optimist and you as a pessimist."

"Why?"

"Because when we first met, Gary laughed all the time and you almost never did."

"That was a long time ago. I was getting my career off the ground. I had things to prove."

"To whom?" she queried.

He shook his head. "I don't know. To everyone, I guess. No one was particularly interested in paying for my college education. No one ever thought I'd amount to much. I wanted to prove them all wrong."

"Well, you did that."

"Yeah, I guess. It doesn't matter anymore." He let go of her hand, and it was only then that she realized how long he'd been holding it. "If you do call Gary's father back, I hope you'll keep something in mind."

"What?"

"Gary didn't want you to know him."

"I don't understand why."

"I don't think he wanted anything dirty to touch you."

"I'm not some princess living in a tower. I work in dirt every day."

"Not the kind of dirt Gary's father lived in." Dylan waved his hand toward the window. "This place of yours is like a Norman Rockwell painting. Gary told me that he'd never imagined a place like this existed until he saw it with his own eyes. You have a history and roots that go back over a hundred years."

"That's true. I love this farm, but it takes a lot of hard work to run it, and not all of it is pretty. And anyone can plant seeds, put down roots. It just depends on what you want." She paused. "I wasn't sure Gary really wanted it. I thought at times, this place was too quiet for him, that he needed the city, the traveling,
the
other stuff to be happy.
 
And now, more than ever, I think I was right." She let out a breath. "You wouldn't like to live in the country either, would you?"

"I don't think I belong in a place like this. I like the city, I like to live where it's fast and busy and crazy and you don't have time to think. Out here, you can practically hear the grass growing."

"But there's a peace in that, a harmony to the seasons. You know to expect apple blossoms in the spring and hot nights in August, a bounty of fruit in the fall and cold, frosty mornings in winter. Predictability can feel wonderful, safe."

He stared at her as if she were speaking another language. Maybe she was. They were very different people with very different goals.

"That's what you want, Rachel? Safety? Predictability?"

"What's wrong with that?"

"It can be boring."

"Not if you're with the right people. What's so great about traffic and noise and being busy all the time?"

"You know you're alive."

"I know I'm alive. I have a little corner of the world -- a piece of land that I cultivate and harvest. There's a beauty in that, don't you think?"

"Yeah" he said huskily "There's a beauty in that. There's a beauty in you."

"I wasn't talking about me."

He stared back at her, his gaze darkening. "You make me want …"

He didn't finish the sentence, and her mind shot ahead to complete it, but every finish seemed too dangerous to say out loud. The seconds ticked by, and then he cleared his throat.

"Never mind," he said. "By the way, I looked over the plans. I'll start work on Monday. Travis will help me, and he gave me some other names as well. You'll be able to see some real progress in a couple of weeks."

"Okay," she said, unsettled by the abrupt change in subject and not sure why she felt disappointed that their conversation had taken a right turn. It wasn't as if she wanted to have personal conversations with Dylan. It made far more sense to keep their relationship businesslike.

"I must say the plans were familiar," Dylan added.

"What do you mean?"

"Gary probably already told you this, but a long time ago we used to ride our skateboards through this neighborhood in San Francisco and pretend that we lived in the houses there. It's where we first thought about what we wanted to do with our lives. There was one house in particular that intrigued us. I took a picture of it once and hung it on my wall. I told myself that one day I would build a house like that."

Her heart skipped a beat as she thought about the Polaroid picture tucked away in one of the drawers.

"Hold on one second." She walked over to the filing cabinet and pulled out the file labeled "House." Her fingers flipped through the loose papers until she found what she wanted. She held it up for Dylan to see. "Is this it?"

His jaw dropped in disbelief. "No way. It can't be. I lost that picture years ago."

"Gary had it. He said he'd always imagined living in a house like this."