Hidden Legacy

“Is there a type?” he asked. “Might she have thought of it as a way out?”

“Out of what, damn it!” Alyssa exploded. “I think I’d like you to leave.”

“I don’t blame you.” There was a grim understanding in his voice. “In my own defense, please remember that I’m carrying around my own burden of shock and bitterness. Julian held fast to his secrets, too. Only his impending death has fully opened up the past.”

She had to concentrate. “You believe this story about a child?” she ventured.

“You’d better believe it, too,” he said, his voice oddly harsh. “Julian called in a private investigator. You would know that the Freedom of Information Act changed things overnight. Julian could never quite accept Elizabeth’s story. He now knows the child lived.”

Alyssa shut her eyes, appalled. “And no doubt his whereabouts. Are you going to share this big secret with me?”

“Certainly, but not today.” He stood up, pushing in his chair. “I can see the anguish on your face. We’ll talk again later.”

“I don’t think so,” she said coldly, rising to join him.

“I do!” He spoke as though it was a foregone conclusion. “I can’t leave here without the truth. I explained that to Elizabeth. Now I’m telling you. I look on it as a duty to my great-uncle, a good man, a dying man.”

“And you’re expecting to get this supposed truth out of me?” She laughed as if he’d made a bizarre joke. “I don’t know anything.”

“There must be letters, papers, documents,” he suggested. “Some sort of written confirmation. It would be a first step.”

“It’s a wonder you haven’t gone in search of them,” she snapped. “You would’ve had the run of the house before I arrived.”

Anger was apparent beneath the calm. “I doubt anyone but you could get away with talking to me like that. I’d been hoping we could work this out together, Alyssa. Time is running out for Julian.”

She released a breath. “If you know the identity of Zizi’s child, why don’t you just go and speak to him?”

“Her,” he corrected.

She looked at him sharply.

“Elizabeth had a daughter, not a son. DNA testing would confirm the identity of the biological father if certain people were prepared to cooperate. No one can be forced. As I said, the whole story was news to me until very recently. Julian had always clung to the idea that the child was his, not Langford’s. There was apparently some incident that made him think so.”

“Good God!” She was swamped by feelings of utter unreality. “I don’t know what to make of all this. I’d hate to have to live with the thought that Zizi kept such secrets from us. I’m certain my mother knows nothing. She’d be horrified. So would my grandmother.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure!” She made an effort to calm down. “My mother wouldn’t keep something like that to herself. As far as we all knew, Zizi had no all-important man in her life.” Even as she said it, she realized it sounded absolutely ludicrous. Zizi would have been a beautiful vibrant young woman. She was bound to have had some sort of sex life, even if things went drastically wrong.

“That’s unbelievable and you know it,” he said. “Elizabeth may have elected to live alone after Langford was lost at sea, but Julian told me she was brimming over with life when she was young. She was the honeypot for the bees. Men fell for her in droves, and why not? She was very beautiful and very gifted.”

“And she lied to us all?” Bombarded with information, she couldn’t figure it out. “Why? Zizi wouldn’t have been abandoned by her family. They loved her. Come to that, I have no proof that you’re who you say you are. I don’t know whether to see you as friend or foe. You could be a journalist poking your nose into an old story. You could be part of some art conspiracy. Maybe you know that I’ve wanted to arrange a showing of Zizi’s paintings. I’m positive it would be an enormous success even without publicity stunts. People play so many devious games.”

“No games,” he said, shaking his head. “You’re welcome to check me out. My license is in the car.”

“I’ll come out with you,” she said, walking toward the kitchen door. “What do I owe you for the groceries?”

“Nothing. Just a friendly gesture.”

“Except we’re not friends nor are we likely to be. I’d prefer to pay you.”

“As you wish. The bill’s in my wallet.”

“Where exactly are you living?” She turned to confront him, hating him for making so many allegations. She was being asked to take in so much information yet given no time for the information to settle. She couldn’t pretend she wasn’t also drawn to him. Was the attraction real, or were her defenses down? Never for a moment had she pictured anything like this.

“I’ve rented the old Gambaro farm,” he said.

She nodded curtly. “I know it. How long have you rented it for?”

“I had to take it at the agent’s three-month minimum.”

“Well, you can’t squeeze blood from a stone,” she told him, moving out to the hallway. “I’ll be of absolutely no help to you. You might as well turn around and go back to Sydney.”

“I’m staying,” he said. “I had a break coming and I’m taking it. This is a glorious part of the world. But there’s a dying old man in Sydney who needs a few answers before he goes. When you’ve had time to process all this information you claim you don’t know, you may feel inclined to help.”

She shook her head grimly. “Not at this point.” Not ever!

They had reached the entrance hall before he spoke again. “Elizabeth told me you worked pro bono for a women’s refuge. That makes you a compassionate person. Unless Elizabeth was totally paranoid about her past, in all probability she kept letters and papers that would confirm the truth. She wouldn’t have had time to arrange a bonfire. She didn’t know she was going to die, after all.”

Would the grieving ever pass? “And what if these mystery documents open up a Pandora’s box? Have you thought of that?” Her lips were trembling. “Families stand to get desperately hurt. What good is the truth when there could be a huge scandal? I don’t think the Langfords would thank you.”

He took a deep breath, keeping his hands rigidly by his side. “Some things demand clarification,” he said. “Julian only wants to know if Elizabeth’s child is his, a child she led him to believe died soon after birth. If this person is shown to be his daughter, she’s going to inherit a great deal of money.”

She looked at him with scorn. “And how should she take that, like a rain of diamonds out of the sky? What’s Julian after, exactly? Does he want to set the record straight once and for all? Does he want revenge? And more to the point, what do you get out of this?” she challenged. “You, the favorite great-nephew? Won’t you come out of it second-best? Wouldn’t it benefit you to simply go away? Concoct some story for your dear Uncle Julian? What if this mystery daughter would rather not know? After all, she must’ve been put up for adoption. Zizi didn’t keep her. This daughter, if she exists, has lived her life thinking she was one person, now your uncle wants to tell her she’s someone completely different? Can’t you see that this could turn out to be a total mess? The safest course might be to keep quiet.” She felt tears well in her eyes again.

“I’m sorry, Alyssa.” He moved quickly to the front door, in case he did something crazy, like sweep her into his arms. He had never in his life felt such desire for a woman. “Life isn’t simple,” he mused. “If you were adopted, wouldn’t you want to find out who your biological parents were?”

“I’m actually familiar with two cases when the people involved were devastated to discover that the parents who’d reared them weren’t their biological parents at all. Both took the truth very, very badly. Better to live in your comfort zone than know the brutal truth.”

“I would need to know,” he said somberly.

She was terribly afraid she would, as well. “Coming here was a bad idea of yours.”

“Elizabeth didn’t think so.”

“Only she isn’t around to back that up.” She frowned at him with accusing eyes.

He smiled. “Why not try finding whatever documents Elizabeth might have put away? Apart from that, she had many paintings stored here. Maybe there are some portraits. Who knows? I’m sure you haven’t seen them all.”

“Perhaps not.” She had never felt free to delve into Zizi’s large body of work. Zizi had showed her only what she meant to show her, she now realized.

“Will you tell me if you find anything?” he asked.

She shook her head. “I don’t want to see you again.”

“Why don’t you look at me while you say that?”

It wasn’t a challenge. It was more an overt acknowledgment of their mutual attraction.