Kaleidoscope (39 page)

“That's no longer enough for you, is it? You had to bring this on our heads. Can you begin to imagine what this would do to my career if it got out? What would happen to my bank? To my political connections? My relatives? Can you imagine what your own children would think if they knew their grandfather murdered their grandmother. My God …” He sat down again, boggled, at the thought. “I can't even begin to imagine it.”

“Neither can I,” Alexandra said in a small voice. “But I don't see why it should get out. No one is going
to publicize this meeting. The children don't even know why I'm going. They just think that Grandma invited us, and we're going to New York. I'm going to spend one weekend in Connecticut, ‘with friends,’ while the girls and my mother stay in New York.”

“I don't understand why you want them with you. It makes no sense.” But-it did to her … and to Margaret.

“Maybe I need them for emotional support.” And then she took a big step, one she hadn't imagined a moment earlier. “You're welcome to come along. It's a little frightening going back thirty years to see people you don't know, but must have once loved.”

“I can't even begin to imagine. And no, I will not join you. In fact, Alexandra …” He stood up and looked at her sadly. As far as he could see, their lives had been shattered, in his eyes, beyond repair. “I implore you not to go. I don't have any idea what, if anything, can be salvaged from our marriage, but it serves no purpose to go and see these people. They're beneath you. You must not go back there….” And then, in a whisper, “Please don't.”

But this time, she could not oblige him. After fourteen years of devoted obedience to Henri de Morigny, she could not do more. She had to go to New York, for her own sake, and maybe even for that of her children. But she had to go, and face these women, reach out and touch them, maybe even love them, or not, and put to bed some old ghosts she hadn't even known existed. “I'm sorry, Henri … I have to … I hope you can understand that. It's terribly important to me. And none of this has to hurt our marriage. I'm doing something I need to do … for me … not to hurt you.” She went to him then and gently tried to put her
arms around him, but he wouldn't let her. He treated her like a stranger, which in his mind, she was now.

“I don't even know who you are anymore.”

“Does my family tree make so much difference?” But she knew the answer to that, before she asked the question, and he shook his head sadly, and walked out of the room, as she blew her nose resolutely, and walked down the hall to pack for her daughters. No matter what happened to her marriage, there was no question in her mind. She had to go to New York. She
had
to. She was going.

Chapter 28

It was only three days before the scheduled meeting, when John Chapman went back to the network, flashed all his passes, and went upstairs to her office. He smiled at her secretary, and looked as though he belonged there, as he asked if Hilary was in her office.

“She's leaving in a few minutes …” She was about to ask him who he was, but he slipped past her and she shrugged. She couldn't keep track of everyone who went in to see Miss Walker. They were legion, and he looked all right. In fact, he looked a lot better than that. She smiled to herself, wondering if this was someone Hilary was involved with. No one ever knew anything about Hilary's private life. And as the door closed silently behind him, he stood in Hilary's office, and she looked up, startled.

“Yes?” She thought it was a delivery of some kind, a script, or urgent instructions. She was used to new faces popping in and out of her office, but not this one. And he stood staring at her quietly, as though he knew her well. It was an odd feeling as he approached her, and she was suddenly frightened as she reached for the phone to call for help. But as he smiled at her,
she felt foolish. He looked intelligent and coherent and handsome, but she still couldn't figure out who in hell he was or what he was doing there as he spoke to her in a deep, gentle voice.

“Miss Walker?” But he didn't need to ask the question. He knew exactly who she was, possibly even better than she herself did. “I'm sorry to barge in on you like this. I have to speak to you for a moment.” She stood up behind her desk, as though to take control of the situation as he approached her. The green eyes were as cold as ice, and her voice was curt.

“I'm on my way out. You'll have to see me tomorrow. What department are you from?”

It was a tough question and he wasn't sure what to answer. He didn't want her to call security and have him thrown out. Instead, he said something totally outrageous. “I'm here because of Megan and Alexandra …” He waited to see the effect, and like a deep knife wound, or a gunshot, at first there was no bleeding. Her eyes were still steady green ice. “… They want to see you.”

“Who are you?” This time her hand was shaking as she reached for the phone, and he beat her to it, and held it in its cradle.

“Please … just give me five minutes. I won't hurt you. It's a long story, but I'll make it as quick as I can.” And suddenly she knew that he was the man who had called her, and he knew that she remembered.

“I don't want to see them.”

“They want to see you. Both of them. Alexandra is coming all the way from France … Megan from Kentucky….” He was stalling and she was showing signs of pain in her eyes … incredible sorrow …

“That old son of a bitch sent you, didn't he? Why
now?” She stood to her full height and watched him, abandoning her grip on the phone.

“He's dying.”

“Good.”

“Maybe he wants to repent for his sins. He wants to bring the three of you together, this weekend, at his house in Connecticut. He has spent months finding you …”

“Bullshit.” She cut him off. “I know better. I went to him over twenty years ago, and he had no idea and no interest where anyone was. Who found us? You did?” He nodded, not sure if she would hate him or not. He was just stirring up more pain for her. And she had long since put the past to rest. She had given up on finding her sisters after the last time she saw Arthur. After ten years, the dream had died. And now after more than twenty, she didn't want to revive it. She didn't need them anymore. She had cut everything out of her life that might remind her of them. There were no men, no children, no love life of any kind. There was work, soothing work, and lots of it, and the people she trampled on the way up. She didn't have to feel guilty or sorry. She was headed in one direction. And she was all by herself. “It's too late, whoever you are.”

“Chapman. John Chapman.”

“Well, tell him I'm not interested. He's twenty years too late … make that thirty.” She looked unspeakably bitter as she sat down. In some ways, he noticed, she looked younger than she was, and in others she looked older. She had eyes that were older and sadder than time.

“And what do I tell your sisters?”

“Tell them … Tell them …” Her voice faltered
and she looked up at him sadly. “Tell them I loved them then but … it's too late for me now.” He shook his head and sat down across the desk from her, praying that he could touch something still living in her heart, if anything had survived the endless pain she'd endured in her childhood.

“It's not too late, Hilary … it can't be … you were everything to them then….” Arthur had said so. He had once described to John how she cared for the other two girls, and just talking about it had made him cry. “You can't turn your back on them now.”

She looked into his eyes, wondering who this man was, how he had found her, and how he knew so much. “They don't need me anymore, Chapman. They're grown up now. What are they? Secretaries? Housewives?” It was the best fate she could hope for them, as John Chapman smiled.

“One's a baroness in France, with two children, and the other's a doctor in Kentucky. They're both interesting women. I think you'd like them.” But that was beside the point, even though she was curious about them.

“Who's the doctor?” It was difficult to imagine either of those little girls as a doctor.

“Megan. She's terrific. And so is Alexandra. She's warm and compassionate and kind.”

“She was, even as a baby.” Her voice was a whisper, and then dropping her face into her hands, she shook her head. “The thought of finding them kept me alive through ten years of hell. I stole ten thousand dollars from my aunt, and I was going to come to New York to find them.” She laughed into her hands, and Chapman could see that there were tears on her desk. “And then he told me he hadn't kept track of them … he
had no idea where they were. … I couldn't find them either.” She looked up at John with empty, broken eyes. “What's the point now, except to cause each other pain with the memories of what happened?”

“You're the only one who has those, Hilary. The others have nothing. Alexandra remembers you, and Megan knows nothing at all. All you have now is each other. What happened to your parents is no longer important. Just the three of you … you can't turn your back on that now.”

“That old bastard destroyed us. Why should I let him soothe his conscience by getting us back together now? My life won't change if I don't see them. That's all over. They're gone. Just … like my parents … like the past.”

“Your parents are gone forever … but your sisters aren't. They're real and alive, and they want to know you. Even if you go and you hate them; at least you can tell yourself you tried.” But she shook her head slowly and stood up again, her eyes shooting emerald fire at him.

“I won't do it. Tell Patterson how much I hate him … no … you couldn't even imagine how much I hate him.”

“Why? I know he didn't keep the three of you together, but was there more?” He had wanted to ask her that since he first read her file.

“It doesn't matter anymore. He knows what he did to us. Let him live with it. For me … it's over … I have my life … my work … I don't need more than that.”

“It's a hell of an empty life, Hilary. I know, because that's all I have. Who do you talk to at night in the silence? Who holds your hand when you're sick or
tired or scared? I have an ex-wife and my parents and two brothers. Who do you have? Can you afford to turn your back on those two women?”

“Get out of my office.” She walked to the door and pulled it open. She had heard enough, and she couldn't take any more. But he took a piece of paper out of his pocket. On it were the instructions of how to get to Arthur's place in Connecticut on the first of September, the phone number, the address, and he looked into her eyes as he laid it on her desk and then walked to the door.

“I've lived your life, Hilary Walker, for months now. I've cried for you. I've been to Charlestown, to Jacksonville, I've talked to the neighbor who found you near death on her doorstep, I've been to your foster homes. I know how badly he hurt you … I know what a rotten deal you got,” and there were tears in his eyes as he looked down at her and spoke, “but please God, please don't do this … don't turn your back on them now. They need you, and you need them … Hilary … please … go to the meeting. I'll be there to help you. I'll do anything I can.” She was looking up at him in amazement, wondering how he had known all that. “Just be there … please …” And with that he squeezed her arm gently, and left her office, as she stood there, staring after him, all the old pain of the past revived in her, along with a new confusion. She didn't want to go and see them … she didn't want to remember Axie's bright red curls and Megan's little cries in the night. They were gone now. Gone forever. And she couldn't go back anymore. Not even for John Chapman.

Chapter 29

“You're really going?” Henri stood looking at her across their bedroom. In Cap-Ferrat they shared one bedroom, or they had, until Alexandra had confessed everything to him. He had moved into the guest room that night. And the gesture needed no explanation.

“I am.” She looked serious and firm. The girls were dressed and ready. Their bags were downstairs, and Margaret was meeting them at the airport in Nice. They had managed to book a direct flight to New York without going back to Paris.

“You won't reconsider?”

She shook her head slowly. “I'm sorry, darling, I can't.” She walked toward him in the hope that he would let her touch him, but when she reached his side, he took a step back from her, and it cut her to the quick when he did it.

“Please don't,” he said quietly. “Have a good trip then.”

“I'll be back no later than the tenth.” He nodded. “And I'll be at the Pierre in New York, if you need me. I'll call you.”

“That won't be necessary. I'll be very busy.” He
turned away and walked out onto the terrace, and with a last look at his back, she left and went downstairs. She didn't see him watching her as they drove away, or the tears in his eyes as he stared out at the sea and thought about her. He knew he loved her a great deal and now he felt as though he had lost her. It was incredible to him … all that had happened … he just didn't understand it. How they could have let it happen … in a way, he realized, she was as much the victim of circumstance as he. But to him it was so much more important, and now she was off on this wild-goose chase to meet two unknown sisters. He only wished he could have stopped her, but it was obvious that he couldn't.

Margaret had insisted they take first class on the flight, and the girls were enchanted as they ordered Shirley Temples, and blew at each other through the little red straws.

“Girls, please!” Alexandra admonished, still thinking of her husband, and Margaret told her to let them have some fun. And then as the two little girls walked down the aisles to see if they could find any children to play with, Margaret asked her how Henri had taken the news. Alexandra had told her only briefly several days before that she had told him the entire truth before leaving.

“He didn't say so in so many words,” Alexandra said solemnly to her mother, “but I think it's over. I'm sure I'll come home to find he's contacted his attorneys.”

“But you didn't have to tell him, either. You could have just told him I was dragging you to New York.”

“He knew it was something else, Maman. I had to
tell him something, so I told him the truth.” And despite the price to pay, she didn't regret it. At least she had a clear conscience.