Finding Family. GINA WILKINS
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Ethan nodded, looking as though he both understood and approved of Mark’s response. “I’d have felt the same way. You’ve got the option now of choosing how to proceed from here—but at least you have the facts.”
“You’re giving me the choice about whether to ever tell the rest of the family about me?”
Ethan hesitated—and then shook his head. “I’m afraid I can’t do that. My, er, our parents have as much right to know the truth as you did. They may be strangers to you now, but you are their son, and they’ve spent thirty years grieving for you. They deserve to know the truth, even if it’s going to be tough for them to hear.”
Rachel couldn’t imagine what it would be like for them. To suddenly discover that the baby boy they’d lost was now a grown man? That they had missed his entire childhood? That someone they had trusted had deliberately stolen those years from them?
She imagined that in some tiny way, it would be easier for them to believe he had died all those years ago, though primarily there would be joy that he had survived.
“I’m going to tell them,” Ethan repeated. “But I’ll consider your request to wait until after we get the DNA results. I can see your point about that giving us more verification of the story. Still, I don’t like keeping it from them for that long.”
“I think it would be best. If there’s even the slightest chance that you’re wrong, it would be cruel to tell them and then have to take it all back.”
“I’m not wrong. But I’ll wait—for a while. After that, it’s up to you, I suppose, where we go from there. I hope you’ll want to meet them, give them a chance to get to know you, but that’s really your decision. I can’t make you do anything.”
“I’ll meet them,” Mark promised. “If the DNA comes back positive. But—”
“But you aren’t exactly looking forward to it.” Again, Ethan seemed to understand perfectly. “Can’t say I blame you. I tend to go out of my way to avoid emotional encounters with other people.”
Mark managed a smile. “Somehow that doesn’t surprise me.”
“You aren’t the only one who’s dreading telling the Brannons what really happened that day,” Aislinn said, her expression grim now. “Ethan and I are going to announce our engagement—and then I’m going to have to tell them that it was my mother who helped Carmen kidnap you that afternoon.”
Chapter Three
“Your mother?” Rachel blurted before she could stop herself.
Aislinn grimaced. “I thought Mark had told you the whole story.”
“He said Carmen had an accomplice—someone who had been told she was helping a woman take her child out of an abusive situation.”
And then Rachel remembered what else Mark had told her about that woman. “He said she was his patient at the long-term care facility. And that she—”
“She died before Ethan and I arrived in Atlanta, leaving a letter telling the whole story,” Aislinn finished evenly. “I can’t begin to understand exactly how she ended up in Mark’s care, though I think she somehow arranged that on her own. I don’t know how it happened that my best friend married Mark’s brother, bringing me into their lives and leading Ethan here. I can only assume that some higher power intervened to bring justice to a family that had suffered entirely too much.”
“I’m very sorry about your loss.”
“Thank you. But I didn’t actually know her,” Aislinn said with a rather sad little shrug. “She left me with my grandfather and my great-aunt when I was only six months old. My mother was a restless spirit with a lot of emotional baggage. She had special gifts of her own, but she never learned to live comfortably with them. She spent many years engaging in self-destructive behavior and making poor judgment calls, such as helping Carmen smuggle Mark out of North Carolina. She ended up dying alone in the nursing home, a wealthy widow with multiple sclerosis and a guilty conscience.”
And Rachel had thought her family was complicated. “This is all very strange.”
“Tell me about it,” Mark muttered.
“Maybe we should spend some time getting to know each other,” Aislinn suggested, apparently trying to lighten the mood for the remainder of the meal. “Mark, you said you’re decorating your house?”
He nodded, taking advantage of the opportunity to change the subject. “I just moved in a couple of weeks ago and I didn’t bring much with me from my old apartment. I hired Rachel to help me furnish and decorate, make the place look nice and comfortable.”
“That sounds like fun.”
“Not to Ethan,” Rachel speculated, studying his expression.
Ethan gave her a wry smile. “I’ve got to admit decorating doesn’t really interest me. I buy furniture that’s comfortable and functional and I arrange it in a way that’s most practical for me. Aislinn, now, likes that sort of thing. She’s a professional cake designer.”
Intrigued, Rachel asked Aislinn several questions about her business, and Aislinn responded in kind, so that they were soon talking like old friends. Rachel was even able to forget about Aislinn’s “gifts” for a little while, and enjoyed visiting with a woman with whom she had quite a few things in common. Ethan and Mark listened, neither adding much to the conversation.
She didn’t know how much help she had given Mark this evening. She’d been more of an intrigued spectator than a supporter, despite their brief under-the-table bonding.
They were almost finished with their desserts when Aislinn glanced at Rachel’s purse. “Your phone’s ringing again.”
Lifting her eyebrows, Rachel looked down at the purse. “But I turned off the ringer.”
Ethan shook his head in resignation. “If she says it’s ringing, you can bet it is.”
Pulling out the phone, Rachel checked the screen. “You’re right, it is. I don’t suppose you can tell me who’s calling?”
Hearing the hint of a challenge, Aislinn smiled faintly. “Not this time. I don’t think it’s an emergency, though.”
“Not to me, it isn’t.” Knowing Robbie would disagree, for that was who was trying to reach her, probably with another woeful tale of how understaffed he was at his restaurant that evening, Rachel slipped the phone back into her purse. “Funny how it always seems to be an emergency to whoever’s calling me.”
Aislinn searched her face, and Rachel had the uncomfortable feeling that the other woman, whether psychic or simply intuitive, saw entirely too much. But all she said was, “Some people get so busy taking care of everyone else that they leave no time to see to their own needs.”
Because that comment was all too applicable to her life, Rachel lifted her coffee cup to avoid having to respond.
Mark parked in the