“What is it?” Jack asked behindher.
“Look at this picture.” She blew the rest of the dust off and handed it tohim.
“An old family member?”
“No. I never met this woman.” Or had she? When she was so young she couldn’t remember? She shuddered, overwhelmed by the strange sensation drilling a hole in her and refused to leave. “She looks too much like me not to be family.”
He held the picture against the lamp hanging over the table, and squinted his eyes. “What are you trying tosay?”
“Can’t you notice her coloring and her eyes? We look a lot alike.”
“Lola…” With a slight shake of his head, he gave her the picture.
“She could be my mom, Jack.”
He shot her an apologetic smile, concern flashing in his eyes. “I thought you didn’t think about it anymore.”
“I was always curious, but something always held me back from wanting to know more. I guess it never mattered before.”
“You should cling tothat.”
“After Daddy died, and with Margo being so far away… I’ve started to wonder about my birth parents. Why they had to let me go. If putting me up for adoption was a sacrifice or their best choice.”
“Does it matter?” he asked, his voice as gentle as a lullaby. Of course, there was a chance all he wanted was to get her home so Pepper would shut up and let him sleep.
Didn’t matter. Nothing would quiet her racing thoughts. “Maybe I just wanted someone to blame because I’m not always able to finish things. Maybe it’s genetic.” The lightness in her tone didn’t hide the question she’d asked herself far too often. Daddy had failed at the end, when he’d been irresponsible. But he’d managed to get married, adopt a baby, and build a successful life in Los Angeles for a long time. He’d committed to things, with passion, giving his all despite how some of them turned out. What about me? The familiar beat of fear vibrated withinher.
“Some things are best left unknown.” He offered her a light pat on her hand, the clumsy touch searing herskin.
Not the right time.The mental message she conveyed to her body parts failed, which only left her one alternative—dig deep, and ditch any opportunity for more. “Didn’t you ever get curious to know about what your mom might have been up to—where she’d gone after sheleft?”
Withdrawing his hand from her, he hesitated. The neutral expression faded from his face. A deep frown marked his forehead.
Can’t go back now. “I know she’s not dead,” she said. “Consuelo accidentally let it slip. I’m sorry.”
The main vein on his neck pulsed, his eyes turned into two dark blue beads of hate. “She’s dead tome.”
“Yes but didn’t you ever wonder—”
He knocked on the table, making the photo frame shake. “Of course I wondered. What do you think? I grew up with an old man, who had his own health problems to worry about. But the bottom line is she left me. She walked away when I was a toddler.” No amount of loathing hid the pain in his voice. “I had to be a lunatic to fantasize abouther.”
She curled her fingers into a ball. Should she reach out to him? “And she never contacted you again?”
He snorted. “In my adult life, when she found out I made the big bucks. To ask for money.”
“Didn’t you ever talk toher?”
“What about? She packed up and left like I was some sort of inconvenience.”
Just like I did. Guilt knotted her throat. Maybe she broke his heart twice as bad because she hadn’t been the first woman to reject him. She curled and uncurled her fingers, unsure if she should offer him a hug. She took one step toward him, but he shook his head, and stretched to his full height. He didn’t need soothing, and if she tried, she’d probably drive himaway.
She plopped on the chair. Her gaze strayed to the picture again, and she couldn’t shake her aching curiosity. An intuition she never trusted before shone a light upon her, and suddenly, she realized the lady from the picture might be able to give her the answers she needed. Someway somehow, she had to findher.
