Part 50 (1/2)

Beast stayed right with her, as if he knew he was to keep her safe. Or perhaps he, too, wanted companions.h.i.+p. Perhaps he even sensed her restlessness. And sadness.

Tomorrow, she would bury the mother she never really knew. And she couldn't even go home to get ready. Not without being in fear for her life.

She finally grabbed a book and sat down. For about two seconds. Then she was up again, staring out the window.

It was growing dark when she saw Gage's car drive up, another behind him. Gage got out and went over to the other car. The driver got out and she stared at him.

Recognized him. Dominic Cross. He was legendary in New Orleans.

The hard-driving director of a shelter for runaways and a pa.s.sionate advocate for young people at risk.

She had even met him several times, and she'd been intrigued by his craggy face. He must be in his mid-fifties, and his hair was short. If he was the intense-looking thin boy in the photo, he had gained weight. He had a powerful body now, and his face looked as if he'd been a fighter. Like Gage, his nose was crooked, and she doubted whether he'd broken it on a football field. Like everyone else, she knew he had once been in prison. It was a large part of every story in the shelter.

Her heart beat erratically. Could he have been the father of her half sister? It seemed impossible.

She went to the door and opened it before they reached it.

Gage gave her a victory signal from just behind Dominic.

So Dominic Cross had been her mother's lover all those years ago. She couldn't imagine a more unlikely one. And then she remembered the photo again. The laughter in her mother's face, the happy smile on her lips. The possessive way the young man had his arm around her. There had been an intimacy conveyed in that pose.

She stuck out her hand. ”Meredith Rawson. I've met you before at the courthouse.”

He took her hand and held it a moment. ”Gage told me about your search.”

Gage showed them to the living room. He stood, watching. ”I think a drink is in order here.”

”A beer,” Dom said.

Meredith nodded.

Gage disappeared into the kitchen.

”I didn't know about the baby,” Dom said. ”I was arrested--bail was set very high--and I heard her father had sent her to a relative in Europe. I never knew about a child.”

She heard the pain in his voice. ”I think few people did.”

”What did she tell you?”

”Very little. She knew she was dying. I think she wanted to give me something. Perhaps even you.”

”She kept me from my daughter all these years,” he said roughly. His hands trembled slightly.

”I don't know why. I don't even know how,” Meredith said. ”I wish I did. I wish I could tell you more.” She realized that her own sense of loss in not knowing her sister must be magnified a hundred times in him. He had lost a daughter.

”What exactly did she say?”

Meredith tried to remember. ”First she said 'You have a sister.' Then that she had been seventeen. Pregnant. Her parents were furious. I think she used the word 'mortified.' That 'Daddy' thought it would ruin his career. She asked me to find her. She said she was leaving her trust fund to me. And to her.”

She remembered the shock she'd felt, the words that had beggared understanding. They were still vivid in her mind. ”I asked her, 'How?' and she said, 'Memphis. I was sent to Memphis.' Then she asked me to promise again to find her. I did and asked whether my father knew. She didn't answer. She simply said ...”

”What?” Dominic demanded. ”What did she say?”

”She apologized and said she was sorry for not being a good mother. She said she 'didn't have anything left after ...' Then she lapsed into a coma. She never regained consciousness.”

A muscle worked in his face. ”That's everything?”

”Yes.”

”Nothing about me? About the father?” It was more a plea than a question.

”I'm sorry,” she said gently. ”I wish I could help more.”

He seemed to collapse within. She ached for him. Heartbreak was in every gesture. Heartbreak and anger.

Gage returned with three beers, distributed them and took one of the chairs. He looked from her to Dominic and back again.

”I can go away.”

Meredith shook her head, then looked at Dom.

”Stay,” he said. ”You're a part of this.”

Gage visibly relaxed.

Dominic turned his gaze back to her. ”Tell me everything that's happened. Gage told me some but I would like you to fill it out.”

She'd wanted to ask him about her mother. Not only wanted to. Needed to. Yet he had the greater right. He'd lost a daughter as well as the girl he'd obviously loved.

”Did you go and see her?” she asked suddenly.

He nodded.

”The nurse told me she'd seen someone in the room when she went out to the desk for a moment.”

”I'd read she was in the hospital when your father was killed.” His face hardened. She saw the effort it took to control his fury. ”I wanted to see her.”

”There was only a sh.e.l.l left,” she said.

He nodded.

”Lulu Starnes had a photo of her. Gage probably told you about it. I never saw her smile like that. She and my father ... well I never saw an affectionate gesture between them. It was almost as if a wall had been constructed between them.”

”I'm sorry to hear that,” he said after a long moment. ”I really am. I loved her. I didn't want to see her unhappy.”

Meredith reached out and touched him. ”I am so sorry.”