Shadow of Doubt (5 page)

“What you do mean, afraid?” my mother said.

“I don't know. But she kept telling me she wanted to go home, that she'd only come because her mom had insisted. That's when I realized that it hadn't been all Beth's fault. She'd tried, but my daughter didn't want to be with me. She didn't want anything to do with me.”

“She was just a child,” my mother said.

“I know. I mean, I know
now
. But at the time...” He shrugged helplessly. “I didn't know anything about being a father. And I sure didn't
feel
like a father. After a week of her being miserable, I put her on a plane back home. Then...” He hung his head.

“Then what?” my mother said gently.

“Beth's lawyer contacted me. Beth wanted permission for her second husband to adopt Bonnie. And I...” He shook his head. “I gave it,” he said. “I let her go, Patricia. I let it all go—my five minutes of marriage and of being a father. I pretended that none of it had ever happened.”

“Ted...”

“I'm so ashamed. It was three years before I picked up the phone to call Beth again and ask how Bonnie was. By then the number I had for her was out of service. I flew out to where she lived, but she had moved. Quit her job too. One of her coworkers told me that she'd broken up with her second husband and left town. She didn't tell anyone where she was going. I asked around some more. I talked to dozens of people. But I couldn't find anyone who knew—or who'd tell me—anything. So I let it go again. Up until a few months ago, I thought I could let it go for good. I thought I could just forget about it.”

“I still don't understand why you didn't tell me,” my mother said.

Ted looked at her, his eyes glistening. “Are you kidding? A guy like me? Look at me. I'm not great-looking, I'm as blind as a bat without my glasses, I'm almost completely bald. How would you have reacted if, in addition to all that, I'd told you that my wife had dumped me after the shortest marriage on record and that my only child hates me?”

“Ted, you are the nicest, sweetest, most considerate and dependable man that I have ever met...”

He looked gratefully at her. “I should have told you, Patricia. But when I first met you...I was trying to make a
good
impression, not come across as a pathetic divorced dad whose daughter never wants to see him again. And after what you'd been through—” Both of them turned and looked at me—afraid, I think, to criticize my father in front of me. I sighed. I love my dad, no matter what my mom thinks of him, I couldn't imagine anything that my mom or Ted could say that would change that. “I wanted you to like me.”

My mother smiled gently and squeezed his hand. “I do like you.”

“After that...” He shrugged. “I couldn't think of a good time or a good way to bring it up. What was I supposed to say?
Oh, by the way, there's something I've been meaning to tell you...
”

“I'm glad you told me now,” my mother said. “But what made you decide to try to find her after all these years?”

Ted nodded at me. “Robyn's partly responsible.”

“
Me?
” I said. “What did
I
do?”

“We get along pretty well, don't we?”

I nodded.

“That made me think that maybe I'd been wrong to give up with Bonnie, that maybe I should have kept on trying. That maybe I could be a good father.”

“Ted, you'd be a wonderful father,” my mother said.

“You're the other reason I decided to look for her, Patricia. After I asked you to marry me...” My mother stiffened slightly. Ted kept hold of her hand and smiled at her. “I know you don't feel ready yet. I know you may never feel ready.”

“I never said that, Ted.”

He looked into her eyes. “But I knew I couldn't marry you unless I was honest about my past. And I knew that I couldn't be honest about it unless I was prepared to confront it, unless I tried to do the right thing—even if it turned out to be too little, too late.” He sighed. “But mostly it had to do with me. Maybe my daughter hates me, I don't know. Probably everything she's ever heard about me has been negative. But I'm her dad, and I at least want the chance to talk to her and apologize to her for the way I acted. I tried everything I could think of to track her down—telephone directories, the Internet—but I didn't get anywhere. No Bonnie or Beth Gold. No Bonnie or Beth Fricker—or Duguid.”

“Duguid?” my mother said.

“The man she married was named James Duguid,” Ted said. “I couldn't locate him, either. So I decided that I needed someone who knew what he was doing. Someone with...expertise.”

“So you hired Mac?”

“I asked around, and his name kept coming up. He's regarded very highly.”

“Has he found her?” I said.

“No. But he's been looking. And he seems confident.” He turned to my mother. “I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner, Patricia, and I'm sorry that I was so defensive last night when you saw Mac at my place. I guess I was hoping that I could find Bonnie and see how things went before I told you.”

My mother was silent for a few moments. Finally she sighed. “I can't believe I'm saying this,” she said, “but if anyone can find her, Mac can. And if that's what you want, then that's what I want.”

Relief flooded Ted's face.

“Can we have supper now?” I said. My stomach was growling.

Ted tilted his head back and sniffed the air. “Do I smell lemon chicken?”

My mother smiled.

. . .

I called Morgan right after supper.

“You're supposed to be my best friend,” I said.

“
Supposed
to be?” Morgan said.

“Best friends don't keep secrets from each other, Morgan.”

There were a few moments of silence, followed by, “I
am
your best friend, and I'm not keeping anything from you.”

Right.

“Spring break,” I said.

There was another pause.

“There's a difference between a secret and a surprise,” she said at last. “Ben asked Billy and me if we'd like to spend a week at his place up north. But he said he wanted to surprise you.”

“Well, he sure did.”

“You don't sound pleasantly surprised. Don't you want to go?”

“I'm not sure.”

“What's not to be sure about? You like Ben, don't you?”

“Yes, I guess.”

“You guess?”

“He's nice,” I said.

“He's totally hot. And he has serious money.”

“He's going too fast, Morgan. He wants me to spend the summer with him building a school somewhere in South America.”

“It sounds like he likes you a lot,” Morgan said. “Robyn, he's nice—you just said so yourself. He'd do anything for you. And he'd never hurt you. What's the problem?”

I knew she thought there shouldn't be one. But something about it just didn't feel right to me.

“Y

ou have to come downtown with me,” Morgan said after school on Wednesday. “I need someone to share the pain. It's my mom's birthday this weekend, and I have to get her a present. At Christmas I practically went crazy trying to figure out what to buy her, and now this.”

“Why don't you just ask her what she wants?” I said.

Morgan rolled her eyes. “You think I don't? Personally, I think if someone asks you what to get you for your birthday, you should tell them. It makes life a lot easier and saves you the hassle of having to stand in line to exchange their gift for something you really want. But my mother? Every year I ask, and every year she says the same thing: “Surprise me.” Just once I wish she'd surprise
me
and at least give me a hint. You have to come with. Two heads are better than one.”

“I can't,” I said.

“Why not?” she demanded. Then, slowly, a smile spread across her face. “You're meeting Ben, right?”

Ben had called me on Sunday, as promised. He hadn't mentioned spring break or the summer. He just wanted to talk and to see how I was doing. He'd called again on Monday. And last night. But wrong Morgan was still off.

“I'm going to the auditions. Ms. Denholm made me assistant director of the play.”

“
You're
assistant director?” She made it sound as if I'd just been named next in line for the British throne. “How did
that
happen? What do you know about directing? What do you even know about drama?”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“I'm sorry,” she said. She looked contrite, even if she didn't sound it. “It's just that you've never been involved in a school play before.”

“To be honest,” I said, “I was surprised when she asked me. I told her that I don't know anything about directing—”

“My point exactly,” Morgan said.

“But she said school is a place where you learn. She also said she'd heard good things about me from Ms. March.”

“Ah,” Morgan said. “
I
get it.”

“Get what?”

“Why she picked you. Ms. March
adores
you because she has a mad crush on your father.”

“
What?
Morgan, Ms. March is married. She's on
maternity
leave.”

“And she was completely bowled over by the famous Mac Hunter last term when he came to school to ask about Trisha Carnegie. You said so yourself.”

What I had actually said was that Ms. March had asked me to stay behind one day and had peppered me with questions about my father. She told me she was thinking of writing a mystery novel while she was on maternity leave. She wanted to know if I thought my dad would answer some questions about his time as a police officer and a private investigator. I was sure he would. If there's one thing my dad loves, it's regaling people with stories about himself.

“Whatever,” I said. “Ms. Denholm asked me if I'd do it, and I said yeah. I have to go to the auditions this afternoon.”

“She picked Billy to be set director,” Morgan said. She seemed even less pleased by that appointment.

“And you?”

“Me? I'm just a drone. I'm supposed to do what Billy tells me.”

“That'll be a nice change,” I said.

. . .

I was on my way down to the auditorium for the auditions when I passed by Ms. Denholm's classroom. The door was open. She stood on the far side of the room, looking intently out the window. There was something odd about the way she was doing it. Instead of standing in front of the window, she had positioned herself sideways between two windows, as if she were trying to make herself invisible to anyone down below. I hesitated. Her personal life was really none of my business. I was just about to continue to the auditorium when she turned around and gasped.

“Robyn,” she said breathlessly. “You startled me.” She began to move away from the window but couldn't seem to resist glancing back over her shoulder.

“Is everything okay, Ms. Denholm?” I said.

“Of course.” She glanced at her watch. “We'd better get going.” She turned to the window again, and I don't think I imagined the worried look on her face. I thought about that headless doll nestled among those blood-red roses.

There were two thick binders and two clipboards on her desk. She handed one binder to me. “This is your copy of the play,” she said. “I photocopied it and left lots of space to take notes.” Next she handed me a clipboard and a pen. “These are the students who will be auditioning for parts,” she said. “I'd like you to write down any comments you have as you listen to them. I'll do the same. Then I'll have two sets of notes and two opinions to consider when I make the casting decisions.”

“What kind of comments do you want me to write?”

“Whatever you want—whether you think the person should get the part, what you liked and what you didn't like about their audition.” She smiled at me. “Don't worry, Robyn. It's not a test. I just want to know what you think.”

She picked up the second binder and clipboard and whisked out the door. I scrambled after her. We went down the stairs and across the atrium, where Ms. Denholm flung open the doors to the main-floor auditorium.

There were a couple of dozen students inside. Some of them—boys, mostly—were horsing around on the stage, but they stopped when they saw Ms. Denholm. Others were sitting or standing near the stage, mouthing or whispering the lines they had memorized for their audition. Ms. Rachlis was on the stage too, talking to Billy. Billy was in charge of getting the sets done. As art teacher, Ms. Rachlis was there to advise him.

Ms. Denholm led the way to the front of the auditorium. Everyone settled down to listen as she explained what would happen. She would call out a name. That person would go up on stage and say which role he or she wanted to try out for. Then that person would do the audition piece for the role. If Ms. Denholm thought the person might also be good in another role, she would ask him or her to read some dialogue for that role as well. The cast list would be posted as soon as possible.