Unbreak My Heart (35 page)

She wouldn't have been able to do this before, wouldn't have let herself be so vulnerable to anyone. She'd have been too afraid.

But it was different with Stephen. He was different than any man she'd ever met. He knew her, understood her. He would fight for her and protect her and, she thought, lend her some of his considerable strength, should she need it.

She trusted him, she realized. To be here for her. To hold onto her and show her that physically and emotionally, she wasn't alone anymore.

She'd faced the demons of her past. The truth hurt, and she hated what she'd found out, but she'd survived it, conquered it. She could learn to live with it, to put it all behind her. She had Stephen, a wonderful, charming, kindhearted, gorgeous man by her side, and she had a goal, a purpose, one that energized her and excited her. Megan's House. She was going to turn all her efforts into making it a reality.

She was aching, exhausted and all cried out, feeling like she'd climbed a mountain or come through a raging storm. She felt stronger than ever, whole.

"I'm glad I came back," she told him. "For the first time, I'm glad I'm here."

"Me, too, Allie." He kissed her softly, sweetly. "Me, too."

* * *

Tucker Barnes confirmed everything Allie overheard. Apparently, Tucker Barnes and her mother had fallen in love long ago. They had grown up together and were to be married, but Tucker had gotten drafted and gone to Vietnam. He had come home on leave one summer when his mother had died, and when he had gone back, he unknowingly left Allie's mother pregnant with Megan.

"I got hurt over there." Tucker said that afternoon, rubbing a hand to his right knee. "It looked like I was going to lose my leg, and I couldn't ask Janet to live like that, with me hardly able to work. So I wrote her, told her I'd changed my mind about wanting to get married. And by the time I made it back home, she was married and had Megan."

"You knew all along that Megan was yours?" Allie asked.

"When I found out her birthday, I knew. Your father knew, too. Janet never lied to him. Your father married her promising to love my little girl like she was his own. I never would have let him raise Megan, otherwise. But your father never forgave any of us. All those years, Janet tried so hard to make it up to him, but there was no makin' it up."

"I think he tried," Allie said. "I think they both tried. It just wasn't enough. And I'm sorry Megan never knew you."

"I would have helped her," he said sincerely. "When John turned his back on her, I would've been proud to call her mine. I would have helped Janet, too, if she'd come to me. But I was seein' somebody else by then. I didn't love her, not back then. I didn't think I'd ever love anybody the way I loved your mother. But a man gets lonely. At the time, well, I guess Janet didn't know how it was between Martha 'n' me—"

"Martha?" Allie asked. "From the drugstore?"

Tucker nodded.

"So that's why she was so startled to see me," Allie said.

"Yeah. After Megan died... Well, I was a mess. I ended up telling her just about everything. And the God's honest truth is that Martha was probably the best thing that ever happened to me." He looked embarrassed admitting to such a private thing. "So... your mother? She was happy? Once she took you away from here?"

Allie chose her words carefully, seeing little reason to hurt him further. She told him they had lived in Connecticut, that there had been no other man in her mother's life, that she never quite got over losing Megan. She offered him some of her mother's things, including some photographs of her mother and Megan. He offered again to help her in any way he could. Allie spent a few minutes telling him her hopes for the runaway shelter, for which he not only promised his support but offered to strong-arm, if necessary, several of his friends in various aspects of construction into helping also.

Tucker thanked her and was at the front door ready to leave when he said, "The boy who was here before. I heard in town he's a runaway."

"Yes, that's right."

"You know, when I saw that boy I had the strangest idea. He's the spittin' image of your mother, just like you and Megan. I thought for a while he belonged to Janet, too. That she'd found someone else after the two of you left." Tucker shrugged. "I guess I just wanted to think there was another little part of her left in this world."

Allie was puzzled. "You think Casey looks like me? And my mother?"

"Oh, yeah. I thought I was seeing things the first time I laid eyes on him. Just like I thought I was seeing your mother all over again when I saw you."

"I never noticed," Allie said. "About Casey, I mean. People tell me I look like my mother, but I never saw the resemblance there, either."

"It's true. I see Megan in that boy, too. I even wondered about that. Megan was pregnant when she left, and I thought... It's crazy, but I thought the boy might be my grandson. That he might be Megan's son."

Allie gaped at him, dizzy for a second. She'd been so shaken by all that they'd learned in the past twenty-four hours, that she hadn't been able to think straight. But Megan
was
pregnant when she left. Richard Whittaker's reaction confirmed that. So did what she'd overheard from her parents and now from Tucker Barnes. But the autopsy... Greg checked the autopsy report. Megan wasn't pregnant at the time she died. She hadn't given birth recently, either. And Tucker thought Casey might be Megan's son? How could that be?

In a daze, Allie said good-bye to Tucker and stood on the doorstep, wild thoughts running through her head. She tried to picture Casey's face, Megan's, even Richard Whittaker's.

She was reaching, she knew. But all she had was an autopsy report telling her that Megan hadn't been pregnant. Not when she died or prior to her death. But reports could be wrong. People made mistakes.

Casey was here, after all. What if he'd come to this house for a reason? What if somehow he was her sister's son?

Her heart kicked into high gear. She had lost so many people. She was a woman without blood ties to anyone in this world. To find her sister's child, after all these years... To have him in her life...

God,
she wanted it to be true.

* * *

Stephen faced down the sullen-looking teenager sitting across from him in the attic and said, "Want to try again?"

"Huh?" Casey said.

"Your story? Want to make up another one for me? Or do you think we might try the truth this time?"

"I don't know." Casey shrugged. "Want to tell me if you're my father?"

Stephen hesitated, thinking this was not his responsibility. It was something for Casey's mother to deal with, whoever the hell she was. And in the back of his head was the nagging possibility... If this was somehow Megan's son, Casey's father was likely a rapist. Stephen's own brother.

How did you tell a mixed-up, already hurt kid that the father he was so desperate to find was a rapist?

Stephen wouldn't. If the price for protecting Casey from that was letting him believe Stephen was his father, Stephen was willing. Hell, if this was Megan's son, he owed it to the kid and to Megan to help Casey in any way he could.

"Well? Daddy?" Casey asked.

"We'll have to let your mother settle this, Casey. After all, she's the only one who'd know for sure."

"I told you. She's dead."

"Well, that's funny," Stephen said. "Because the last I heard—which was about two minutes ago—your mother was on a plane coming back from Rome to wring your sorry neck."

"Oh. Well... maybe she's not dead."

"Maybe she's not dead?
That's all you've got to say for yourself?"

"I don't owe you anything," Casey said. "I don't even like you. I've got things I'm trying to figure out, and all you've done is try to keep me from doing that. So I don't see that you have any right to expect anything from me."

"I told you the truth earlier when I said I don't have any children—"

"Not good enough—"

"You want me to deny that I ever slept with your mother? How can I do that? I don't even know who your mother is. All I know is that you lied to me when you said she was dead."

"I didn't want you to go lookin' for her. I thought if I told you she was dead, you'd leave her alone."

"And why didn't you want me looking for your mom?"

"Because she'd come and get me, and I don't want her to do that until I figure everything out. Then you brought up that stuff about her adopting me, and I..." Casey had tears in his eyes. "I never thought about that. I guess she looks a little bit like Allie and like the photos of Allie's sister, but still... She lied to me about everything. I guess she could have lied about how she got me, too."

"I don't know anything about you being adopted," Stephen said.

"Okay. But if she is my mom, and she is Megan Bennett, then she hated it here so much she wanted these people to think she was dead. Something really awful must have happened to her here. I didn't want anybody trying to find her and bring her back here, if she didn't want to come back."

"Well, she is coming. To get you," Stephen said. "I bet she would have been here two weeks ago if you hadn't been lying to her, too."

Casey looked a little sheepish at that.

"You did that to your own mother. You somehow managed to convince her you were off on a school trip and slipped away to Kentucky instead."

He shrugged. "Wasn't that hard."

But the kid's look said otherwise. His look said he was proud of getting away with it for as long as he had. The kid was obviously very intelligent. He was determined and had absolutely no fear.

"I tried to find out what I could without coming," he said. "I—"

"You wrote the letter," Stephen said. God, he should have figured that out long before now. "From Jason Getty. You wanted to know if Megan Bennett really died in that accident. If anyone thought she might be alive."

"Yeah."

"Who's Jason Getty?"

"A friend of mine's father. I mean, I've never really met him, but we're friends. We talk in E-mail, and I wanted to write to my grandmother, but I didn't want to tell her my name or my address. I didn't want anybody to be able to find my mom through me, just in case something really bad happened to her back here. So I wrote the letter to my friend, and he mailed it using his address and his father's name. He gets home first, so he always gets the mail. I didn't think it would be any trouble, but then that private investigator came around asking all those questions.... It scared me."

"But not enough to keep you from coming here?"

"No."

Stephen frowned at him. "How'd you manage that?"

"I'm in this youth orchestra, and we won some big contest, and the prize was a chance to compete in a music festival in Italy last week. It's supposed to be some really
big
deal. My mom wanted to go, but she got this new job, and she had a trip scheduled for the same time. So I was supposed to go on my trip, and she was going to France, and we were going to get together in Rome for a few days before heading back."

"Okay. What else?"

"Her plane took off an hour before mine. So we went to the airport together, and I told her good-bye, and she left me at the gate. I figured all I had to do was convince her I was on the school trip, and I could have a couple of weeks to come here and find out about my dad."

"You just decided to do this?" Stephen said.

"She wouldn't tell me anything," he said angrily. "She said my father died before I was born, and that we didn't have any other relatives, and none of that was true."

"How do you know it isn't true, Casey?"

"I heard her talkin' about it to a friend of hers one night, when she was real upset. She said she'd been lying about her whole life for too long to stop now." Casey looked mad again. "So, the way I see it, I had to come here. I've got rights, too, you know. Just 'cause I'm a kid, doesn't mean I don't have rights."

"I don't think your rights extend to scaring your mother half to death and traveling across three states by yourself. But tell me the rest."

"After I said good-bye to my mom at the airport, I had a friend of mine call the orchestra director right before the plane took off and pretend to be my uncle. He told her I'd wrecked my dirt bike the night before and broken my arm. So they left without me. Mom was already gone, and I came here."

"She didn't call you while you were gone?"

"She called. My best friend—he and I were supposed to be roommates on the trip. He covered for me, told her I was out and stuff. And I called her a couple of times, before I ran out of money. Mostly, when she's away, we keep in touch by E-mail, anyway. Mom took her laptop, and I took mine. I just kept sending her E-mail and made up stuff about the trip. Jordan—he's my best friend—he sent me E-mail, too, so I knew what was going on, what to tell Mom."

"Looks like you thought of everything," Stephen admitted.

"It would have worked great except my mom bought me a nonrefundable plane ticket to Italy. I was planning on cashing it in and using the money for my trip here, but the lady at the ticket counter wouldn't give me my money back. So I ran a little short."

"And nearly starved and had to camp out in this old house."

"The man at the motel wouldn't rent me a room." Casey looked disgusted. "I told him I was eighteen, and I had my mom's credit card, but he wanted to see my driver's license. I couldn't believe it. People don't rent motel rooms to kids?"

"I don't think so. Life just isn't fair, is it?"

"No way," Casey said.

"So, why did you come here? What was it about your mother that connected her to this place?"

"She gets the newspaper from here. Always has. The Lexington paper, too. I couldn't figure out why. I asked her about it a few times, and she said she always wanted to live in a place like this. But she seemed upset that I even asked.... One day when she was gone, I looked through the locked drawer in her desk. She had a bunch of newspaper clippings. Obituaries. Announcements. Stuff like that. About John and Janet Bennett. And their daughter, Megan. There were pictures, too, with the stories. And I thought the girl in those newspaper pictures was my mom, which meant John and Janet Bennett were my grandparents, and Allie's my aunt."