Richard Patterson - Fall from Grace

It came out sounding wrong, not as he intended. Carla regarded him gravely. “You really do look awful.”

“And feel worse,” he admitted. “How long have you known that I wasn’t Ben’s son?”

Briefly, she looked down, then met his eyes with new directness. “For months now.”

Adam shook his head in disbelief. “And yet you had the grace not to tell me. Even though we were enemies.”

“It wasn’t my place,” she answered in a level tone. “And you were never quite my enemy. It was a little more complex between us, I thought.”

This was true, Adam realized. “Still, you could have warned me off any time you wanted to. All you needed was to tell the truth.”

“And tamper with your life?” Carla asked with quiet compassion. “It was clear that you loved your family, despite all you’d gone through. I couldn’t know how revealing the truth might change that. Once I realized that you knew nothing, it seemed best to keep Ben’s secret. At least for as long as I could.

“But there’s something else I can say now. Whatever her reasons, the affair between Clarice and his brother caused Ben terrible anguish. That’s why I never considered his marriage sacred ground.” She paused again. “At least that’s my excuse.”

“No help for it now,” Adam said wearily. “I came here to resolve the future.” He paused, searching for the proper words. “There needs to be an end to all this sadness. If I can guarantee you three million dollars, would you take it? That would spare you a will contest, and help both of you quite a lot.”

A moment’s surprise appeared in Carla’s eyes, and then she gazed down at the deck with veiled lids. “More than ‘a lot,’” she finally answered. “My lawyer won’t like this, I’m sure. But if your mother can accept that, so will I. I don’t have the heart for any more of this.” She gave him an ironic smile. “As if I’m being so beneficent. I grew up without a dime, made millions as an actress, and blew it all because of my own failings. Now I can give my son the security I lost. That’s what Clarice must have thought before you were born.”

The comparison-and Carla’s honesty-gave Adam pause. “Maybe so,” he replied. “But she was also in love with someone else.”

“Then accepting this money is easier for me, isn’t it?” Carla looked into his eyes. “You persuaded her, I know. But why?”

Adam managed a shrug. “It’s simple, really. As I recalculate my genealogy, you’re carrying my cousin.”

For another moment, Carla gazed at him, then patted her stomach. “Actually, I thought I felt him move this morning. A mother’s imagination, probably. But at least I’m not sick anymore.”

Adam shoved his hands in his pockets, quiet for a time. “I’m not sure how to say this without sounding stupid. But you’re a far better person than I took you for.”

Another smile surfaced in her eyes. “I suppose I could return your backhanded compliment. But you’re exactly who I took you for, though you did your damnedest to conceal that.” Carla paused, then said in a reticent tone, “You’re leaving soon, I know. But once you’re back, you can come to see us if you’d like.”

Adam searched her face, trying to read what he saw there. “Perhaps I will,” he told her. “After all, every boy can use a man who cares for him. No matter who.”

“Then we’ll look forward to it.” She hesitated, then added, “Be safe, Adam. Despite everything, Ben worried for you. Now I do, too.”

Adam fell silent, unsure of what else he wished to say. Then he felt the weight of what he could never tell her: that his father had killed the father of her child. “I’ll be fine,” he promised. “Take care, Carla.”

Turning from the doubt he saw in her eyes, he left without looking back, still followed by the shadow of Benjamin Blaine.

Alone, Adam walked in the Menemsha hills, too exhausted to absorb what he had heard, too shattered by the truth to seek refuge in his mother’s home. Again and again, he was beset by images of the last few days and hours, questioning his choices, yet he was unable to imagine what else he could have done. Then he grasped the moment that, more than any other, would trouble his conscience until he acted.

Before he could rest, there was one more person he had to see.

He met Jenny on the pier at Edgartown. For a time they sat together, silent, gazing at the sunlit water, the sailboats at mooring, the great houses surrounding the harbor.

“I came to tell you something important,” he finally said. “I know you had nothing to do with his death. I’m sorry for ever suggesting that you might have.”

Jenny turned to him, a deep sadness in her eyes. “It was because of what I did with him. The gift that keeps on giving.”

“No more, Jen. That was another life.”

Jenny drew a breath. “But we can never go back, can we?”

This simple question, Adam found, deepened his sadness. “No,” he answered. “We’re different people now.”

Jenny looked down, as though trying to decipher what that meant. “There’s something else,” Adam told her. “My mom and Carla Pacelli are settling his estate. Which means that your bequest is safe.” His tone was quiet but insistent. “Keep it, Jen. If not for him, for me. You’ve got all that talent. Take it as far as you can.” He took her hand. “I’ve also been thinking about your manuscript, and wondering if you should turn the page. My father’s posthumous reputation means nothing to me. But for your own sake, maybe you need to let him go.”

Jenny searched his face. “You still haven’t told Clarice, have you?”

“And never will. It would be no kindness to anyone.”

Slowly, Jenny nodded. “And you? What will you do now?”

“Go back to scenic Afghanistan, where simple farmers tend their poppies.” Seeing her anxiety, he added, “Only six months more, and then they’ll send me somewhere else. Wherever that is, I’ll keep in touch.”

Tears welled in Jenny’s eyes. “Will you?”

“I still care about you,” Adam assured her. “I always will. Whatever his motives in bringing me back, Ben helped me rediscover that. I wanted you to know that, too.”

She forced herself to smile. “But do I have to let you go?”

Gently, Adam kissed her. “Never. I’ll always need to know how you are.”

It was true. But in that moment Adam realized that the woman he was drawn to, more by instinct than by reason, was no longer Jenny Leigh.

When Adam arrived home, no one was there.

Tiredly, he climbed the stairs, his thoughts jumbled, certain only that he had reached the end of his string. It was safe to sleep, he realized; this was not Afghanistan. Stripping to his shorts, he took a trazodone and fell into a darkness that, for once, was dreamless.

A knock on the door awakened him. He sat up, disoriented, unsure of where he was until he looked out the window. It must be morning, he realized; the sunlight was gentle, and dew glistened on the grass. And Benjamin Blaine was not his father.

“Adam,” his brother called. “Are you all right?”

They could be boys, Adam thought in his confusion, Teddy come to get him for an early morning sail. At once, the pieces of his new reality fell into place.

“Just tired,” he answered, and went to open the door.

Teddy looked at him, and then comprehension stole into his eyes. “You must have heard about Jack.”

“I have. A lot to take in, isn’t it?”

His brother closed the door behind him. Quietly, he asked, “Do you really think it was an accident?”

Adam shrugged, then wiped the sleep from his eyes and sat on the edge of his bed. “To me, the important thing is that you’re off the hook. So I guess I don’t much care. One way or the other, our father was a dead man. All Jack did is advance the date.”