A Forever Masterpiece (The Masterpiece Trilogy Book 3) (27 page)

"Go. Get what we need," Becca pleaded. "I agree with Jesse. I don't want to meet her unless it's true. I don't want to get any hopes up."

"Okay, then let's do that."

"Jesse's coming here? Now?"

"I should have asked. Sorry-"

"No, it's fine. I just wanted to know."

"Yeah. He wants to talk more, and he has a letter and some photo albums. I guess he wants to prepare you a little more about her life before everything becomes final with the results. I can call him back and ask for this later, if you aren't up for it."

"I'll be okay," she promised. "Just a lot to think about at once."

"Picture this," Hunter said gently, trailing a finger along her cheek. "Things might be falling into place. Maybe, just maybe, the worst is over."

Becca fiddled with her engagement ring, twisting it in circles around her finger. "Possibly, but there's still those stupid texts. And Sylvia. We still don't know what she wanted in the first place."

Chapter Twenty-One

"So you're an artist," Jesse commented to Becca a half hour later. "Wow. I love these!"

Hunter watched the two of them, hoping this whole thing would pan out for the better. He'd been slightly unsure about inviting Jesse over, but they had to get past the awkwardness somehow. Now that Jesse's secret was out, he actually seemed more relaxed, instead of the reserved way he'd been before.

"It's something I picked up after the accident," Becca responded. "My way of coping, I guess. I couldn't talk or walk, and my surroundings changed so much."

"What were the extent of your injuries? Looking at you now, I'd never know you couldn't do either."

"Traumatic brain injury."

"They didn't think she'd make it." Hunter spoke up. "Becca was in a coma for a few months. I think if we'd been found sooner, the extent of her injuries wouldn't have been so bad."

Jesse stared at him. "Yeah, you said something like that before at one of the meetings."

Becca laughed. "Hunter loves to talk about me. He gets to bragging sometimes."

Hunter sensed her nervousness. The house was tense. It wasn't like they could all sit around and talk as if they'd known each other forever. Not with Jesse around.

"I have a new piece I want to show you- both of you." Becca turned to Hunter with a smile on her face. "Be right back," she said, as she ran upstairs.

Jesse stared after her. "While I'm still fairly certain she is my sister, I have these nervous doubts in the back of my mind. I want this to be real. I've spent almost thirty years with a lot of guilt and uncertainty."

"In a way, I understand. I carry a lot of those feelings too, but for different reasons," Hunter said quietly. "Becca's been struggling with her lack of knowledge about her biological family since we found out she wasn't a Lange. It's only been months, but not having any leads before really hit her hard."

"I wish I'd approached sooner. I just didn't know how, you know? I should have, once I found out you were looking for the truth." Jesse's tone was apologetic, full of pain and regret.

Hunter nodded. "Yeah, you should have," he said with plenty of harshness. Okay, so there were still some anger issues to be dealt with. In due time.

"I think we should all stop playing the should have game so much," Becca said as she descended from the second floor, carrying a canvas in her hand. She stared at Jesse. "I want to give you the benefit of the doubt, but I can't. Time will tell where this leads." Then she faced Hunter. "He could be my brother. A clue to my identity and my past."

"Bec, I'm not going to try to keep him away or anything-" Why did she get on him like this? Hunter tried to figure her out.

"I'm just making myself clear. Let's not fight. This is a day I was sure may never come. 'Could have' thoughts take us years back." She stood before him now.

"Okay. Fair enough." Dread rose in his gut. Becca wanted this to be real so much that she sailed past the point of caution without realizing it. And he got that, to an extent. When he went to see Joe in Rhode Island, he did the same thing. He'd been all ready to confront him, but once he was surrounded by memories, that had been the last thing on his mind. A reconnection came first. It wasn't until Joe's explanation in the hospital that he had his doubts. Still, someone had to think with their head and not their heart. It didn't seem like it would be Becca. "What have you got there?" He tried to peek around to see what she had on the canvas.

Her eyes lit up. "Remember Thanksgiving when I took pictures of snowflakes? It was a technique I learned. Well, this is my painted result." Becca turned the canvas around, proudly displaying to the two of them her latest masterpiece.

She'd painted a dark sky over a city, with snowflakes of all shapes and sizes falling. A perfect landscape. The flakes were very detailed and they shimmered against the dark colors in the background. This was more like her typical work. Thoughtful, catchy, but also unique. Were her dark painting days over?

"I love this." Hunter continued to stare at it. "I want to see the snowflake pictures, too."

"You don't sell these anywhere?" Jesse asked. "You've got great detail, even in the smallest things, but they don't take away from the other focal points, either."

"Actually, I'm in the process of possibly selling in a gallery," Becca replied shyly.

"Take this one to him," Hunter prodded.

"You think so?" She looked up at him.

He leaned over for a kiss. "Absolutely."

"Mom loved to paint." Jesse moved back to the couch to sit. "Wonder if you would have found the artistic creation if- Whoa. Sorry. I know you said not to do the could have/what if game."

Becca handed her canvas to Hunter and rushed to sit beside Jesse. "I suppose there's always going to be exceptions."

"Do you want to see photos and read the letter?" His tone held a lot of hope and hesitation. No one had felt confident enough to want to go through those things yet, let alone ask about them.

"I do." Becca's eyes filled with tears.

This was an emotional moment, and Hunter felt so out of place in it. Should he stay? Let them have some time? He hated how awkward this made him feel.

Maybe he should give Joe a call. The last time they'd spoken was the day after Thanksgiving, after he'd accused his old friend of some things. Fully trustworthy or not, a pang of nostalgia wrapped around his heart for the past. Then he should get together with Alan again.

He approached Becca and Jesse. "I'm going to make a phone call real quick. Love you." He bent for a quick kiss from Becca, and a concerned look flashed across her face.

Joe didn't answer when he called, so Hunter left a message. "I'm missing you tonight, old friend. I'm sorry for the way things ended on Thanksgiving. Call me as soon as you can. There's a lot to fill you in on."

Ariana,

I don't know if you'll ever read this letter, but it helps me a little to write it. I'm about to ask your oldest brother to do something he should never have to do, but I need to keep my babies safe, and he's the only one old enough to understand the seriousness of what I must ask him to do. You're just a couple months old, but you don't stand a chance at a happy, normal life now, because of the trouble your father landed us in. I'm afraid. So afraid! This is so strange, writing this as you lie in your bassinet beside me. Everett says he knows someone he can trust who will take you somewhere safe. I don't think you'll ever find your way back to me, and somehow, I have to live with that. My best option is to protect all of my children, starting with you, my sweet baby girl.

The day you were born, I counted all ten of your toes and all ten of your fingers. Perfect little tiny body parts. You were the perfect baby, even considering the circumstances of your birth. You were actually early, because of what your father did to us. Once again, your brother Everett protected you and me both. Too bad no one seemed to believe your father tried to end our lives. I thought after everything they found out, he'd be put away, but no. He's still out there, and he doesn't even know of your existence. It must stay that way. I don't want him to ever find you.

I can't believe I'm writing this letter as if you could read it and understand, but I don't know what else to do. I don't have a lot of people in this town who can help me or believe what I say any more.

I wish I knew I'd get to watch you eat your first piece of cake on your first birthday. I did with every other child. Those were the days, the good ones, before everything changed and fell apart. I'm debating whether I want to send this letter with you, but it might be too tempting for whoever takes you into their life to read. I don't want them to see this, only you. I can't chance this being traced back and your father finding out.

I thought I had everything planned out that I wanted to write- but how do I tell the future, adult version of my baby girl that her father is a murderer? He used to be one of the good guys- or so it seemed. You're better off not knowing, but that isn't really my decision to make, is it? I didn't know how serious your father's trouble's were until it was too late.

I have to get you ready now. I wish I knew another way. Mommy loves you.

Becca set the letter down on the table and blinked away tears. Her heart hurt with the contents, with the painful emotions brought on from reading that letter.

"She never did send it with me. The only note I had was read by Charles Beckman." Jesse folded his hands together, blinking away his own tears.

Her head was full of conflicting thoughts. The Langes were good people, even considering what they did. They didn't have a family history of murder, severe depression, and losing their mind after the worst kind of event imaginable. Ariana Rosalie Laughlin came from a family full of devastation because of one man's lifestyle choices.

Could that happen to her? She'd had a few months of not feeling like herself, and Becca wanted so badly to feel normal that she ignored the real pain inside. Lately, little subtle and non-subtle reminders were thrown at her that she needed to deal with her feelings. "I wonder if I'm like him," she whispered, not realizing at first that she'd said it out loud.

"What are you talking about?" Jesse studied her. "Like who?"

"He k-killed people. I-" She couldn't get the words out.

"Becca?" His voice rose. "Hunter! Help, please!"

Hunter ran in from the other room. "What happened? What's going on?" He stared between the two before kneeling in front of Becca. "Angel, talk to me." He took her hands in his.

"I let her read the letter. Now she's ... I don't know. Upset. Talking about how she wonders if she's like him. I think she's referring to Dad."

Hunter reached for the letter.

"No! You don't want to read that. Don't!" Becca pleaded, wondering if this changed things for the two of them, now possibly knowing where she came from and how bad her family history was.

He handed the letter to Jesse, then took Becca's hands again. "Look at me," he begged quietly.

She did. Beautiful, loving eyes stared back at her.

"Nothing will change. Nothing in that letter will make me think any different of you. No matter who you are or aren't, I love the person with the biggest, kindest heart. I know you're going to have a lot of thoughts and things to work through, but you aren't alone. I promise you that. I'm going to pick up the letter now, so I can understand, and then we're going to talk about it, okay?" Hunter raised their clasped hands right over her heart. His eyes bore into hers. "Please answer me."

"O-Okay." She breathed in heavily and exhaled slowly. Still holding one of her hands in his, Hunter picked up the letter with his free hand. Becca closed her eyes, not wanting to look at either of them while he read it. Then she opened them. Hunter dropped the letter on the table.

"Becca, you're nothing like him. There are so many differences."

"Someone please tell me what's going on!" Jesse sounded terrified.

"When we went to visit my old house in Maryland, one night Becca and a friend were out by the pool area because they couldn't sleep, and a man attacked them with a gun. Becca wrangled it away, but not before a shot rang out, killing him," Hunter explained, pulling Becca close. "The night I followed you, I mentioned an incident. That was it."

Jesse let out a curse. "I agree with Hunter. There's a huge difference. You aren't anything like that man. I'm sorry. If I'd known, I wouldn't have..."

"Don't!" Becca shouted. "It's me. I'm the one not handling feelings well. I've had so much to deal with in the last few months, and I think it's all finally wearing me down. I never even meant to say it out loud!"

"But you did say it out loud." Hunter rubbed his thumb gently across her jaw. "And while I don't like that you feel this way, at least I know about it. We can work through this."

She wished she hadn't said it. Now everyone was going to hover even more.

Friday night, Becca and Hunter met up with Brock again, a handful of the canvases he wanted in tow. They sat around the table and chairs in the beautiful gallery. Though this was an exciting opportunity, Becca couldn't keep her mind one hundred percent on the event at hand. She thought about Jesse, the letter, and the past. Even though she shouldn't have, Becca spent some time looking up information on the man who could very well be her father. She feared the stranger, and feared what it meant for her future. A murderer father and a mother with so much grief it sent her into a depression. These were things that Becca had experienced similarities to in her recent years.

Tomorrow, Hunter, Todd, Jed, and Jesse were heading for Maryland. This time around, Becca had no plans to go. As soon as they returned from the gallery, Jed would be waiting to collect a sample from her to begin the DNA test process. Any time next week, they would have an answer.

And true to her word, she set up appointments to talk to someone about working through all of these bombshells. The other night's outburst proved she wasn't okay with all of this.