Honestly Love You (Russells/Chad)-Chap. 12
by caroline crane
 

Eve stared warily at T.C. over the rim of her coffee cup, but her husband spent the morning stubbornly refusing to meet her gaze. In fact, he'd been so distracted since he'd woken up in the early morning sobbing that she'd begun to wonder if she should press him to tell her what was wrong. She'd seen the raw pain in his eyes before he shut down completely, and she knew the kind of misery that left scars so deep that you couldn't even give them a voice. All she could do with her own shameful secrets was push them further and further into the back of her mind, until she'd convinced even herself that she never loved the man that fathered her first child, that she'd been glad instead of heartbroken when he married another woman. She told herself nearly every day that she made the right decision when she took Alistair's money and carved out a better life for herself than she could have hoped for on her own. And why not? She deserved it, after all Alistair and Julian put her through. He wasn't even there when their baby died, when she held his lifeless body and wept for the life he'd never know.

She shook her head to chase away the despair gripping at her and tried to focus on the day ahead of her; there were rounds in the ER, then she had a patient she wanted to call and check on, and of course an afternoon full of dry meetings with members of the hospital board. Running through her mundane daily schedule helped to take her mind off those events 20 long years ago, but it didn't do anything to dispell the anguish of reliving the death of her son, or finding out that Julian had cast them both aside as easily as he changed his clothes. It didn't change the fact that she owed every small bit of happiness she'd found with T.C. to Alistair Crane's blood money, or the fact that she'd nearly sold her own child for a chance at a better future.

T.C. cleared his throat and stood up, snapping her out of her revelry. "I've gotta go, I'll be late. See you tonight." He leaned down and planted a chaste kiss on her cheek, but the gesture seemed hollow to her, as though he was just going through the motions of the morning while his mind was still lost in the nightmare that had jolted them both awake before dawn.

"T.C..." she began, her hand on his arm as she tried to find a way to reach him without asking him directly what was going on in his head.

"Just let it go, baby," he whispered, finally meeting her eyes as he backed away from her. "I'll see you later."

She crossed her arms over her chest as her own defenses immediately went up, but she nodded and let him walk out of the kitchen anyway. As much as she needed him never to ask her about her past, she was surprised at how hurt she felt when he shut her out of his. Is this any way to share a life together? she found herself wondering as she cleared away the breakfast dishes. She sighed as she reminded herself that it was the only way for them to be together. For her, it was the only way she could survive.

~

T.C. pulled the back door closed and stepped out into the cold morning air. He wasn't even sure where he was going, he'd told Eve that he had an early practice with the basketball team but it had been a lie. She knew the team never practiced on Saturday and yet she let him lie to her, not wanting to pry into the reason for his breakdown or the nightmare that had caused it. He began to walk faster through the softly falling snow, his head down as he walked blindly toward some unknown destination. The cold air filled his lungs and instantly made them ache but he didn't even notice the pain as he left their quiet neighborhood behind and began walking up the hill toward the wealthy section of Harmony.

Before long he was standing in front of the Crane mansion, staring up the long driveway and wondering how he'd managed to wind up here. You know why, a voice in the back of his head told him. You came here because of her, because of your last night together. Sharp tears began to sting his eyes but he pressed on, walking past the circular drive and disappearing into the woods next to the house. The path he'd once traveled so often was overgrown with brambles now, and in the fresh snow he had some trouble finding it, but finally he made his way through the thicket and began to half-walk, half-run down the snow-covered path. Hot tears blurred his vision but he kept going, his memory of the path still vivid even after 20 years of growth and change. And suddenly there it was, rising out of a clearing in the middle of pines. It was a tiny little structure, barely even what you'd call a proper cabin. The wood was gray with age and the roof was covered in moss and falling in in places -- it must have been untouched since the last time they met here.

T.C. took a few tentative steps toward the front door, then he stopped and shook his head. "What am I doing?" he muttered into the silence of the trees. In all the years he'd lived with the painful memories of her life and tragic death he'd never once been compelled to come here, to risk everything he and Eve had built together for one glimpse at the secret meeting place that once housed his entire world for a few stolen moments here and there. Then again, he hadn't let himself relive the last night he saw her since he heard that she died. He couldn't go back there, he couldn't remember how afraid she'd been that night, or remind himself that he hadn't helped her. There must have been something he could have done; he could have forced her to run away with him, or just followed his instincts and killed that bastard Alistair when he had the chance. Instead he'd respected her wishes and done nothing, and in the end it had cost her her life. Until last night, when it had all come rushing back in an all-too vivid dream, and he'd finally been forced to confront the fact that he let her die.

Finally curiosity got the better of him and he crossed to the door of the cabin, pushing it open carefully. It was dark inside despite the bright morning light, and he stood just inside as he allowed his eyes to adjust to the light. The room slowly began to come into focus and he realized with surprise that the original furniture was still there. He'd expected Alistair to had removed everything, but then again he'd expected Alistair to have torn the whole building down when he finally found out about them. If she'd been right and Alistair knew that she was seeing him, then he also had to know that they'd been meeting all those months right under his nose.

He circled the room slowly, noting with a twinge of regret that the curtains she'd hung so carefully had begun to fray and disintegrate with age. The heavy wooden clock still sat on the mantle where she'd left it, but it was thick with dust and it had stopped running long ago. He ran a gloved finger over the wood as he recalled how much it had meant to her. "It was a gift to my father from my mother," she'd said, a sweet smile lighting up her face as she told the story of how much they loved one another. He couldn't help wondering how such a naive, childlike woman ended up married to a monster like Alistair Crane, but then again she'd always managed to see the good in everyone. Even me, he thought bitterly as he reminded himself of how he'd let her down.

A familiar ache began to close around his heart as his eyes fell on the chair where she'd sat as she told him that her husband knew about them, where she'd broken his heart by telling him that she couldn't see him anymore. He could almost see her sitting there, her blue eyes brimming with tears and her cheeks flushed as he gripped her hands and begged her to come away with him, to leave Alistair behind and start over somewhere where no one knew them. But she'd been right when she said that they couldn't run far enough or fast enough to escape, that there was no way Alistair would let his daughter go, and there was no way Meredith could leave without her.

He watched the scene play out in front of him as though it had just happened, helpless to stop the agonizing memories from coming back. He'd kissed her then, more out of a desperate need to hold onto her than out of any kind of passion. But she'd responded with passion, with a burning need that he felt all the way to his core. He'd swept her up and carried her into the tiny bedroom, making love to her slowly and for the last time. When it was over she'd kissed him softly and a few tears fell on his bare chest as she said goodbye again. He'd tried to hold her there, to keep her with him just a little longer, but she'd twisted out of his grip and run out of the cabin, leaving him staring after her. At the time he thought he'd see her again, that couldn't be goodbye. She was just scared, that bastard husband of hers had scared her and they needed to be more careful. But then he heard that she'd gone away, and as the days turned into weeks he finally came to terms with the fact that she wasn't coming back no matter how much he wished for it. Then came the news of her death and an entire year spent wandering aimlessly through life, going through the motions of school and work but never feeling anything, not sorrow or pain or even anger. He was completely numb, and he wouldn't snap out of it until the day he turned a corner and smacked into Eve, her arms full of med school textbooks and a distracted expression on her face. That was the day he came back to life, and he never forgot how much he owed her for that. She was the second woman who had saved his life, and he wasn't ever going to fail her like he'd failed the only other woman that was foolish enough to love him.

~

Hank pulled open the door of the Harmony Gazette and held it while Beth stepped inside the building, glancing around at the cheerful but shabby front office and the bored-looking receptionist. She was flipping through a fashion magazine as they walked toward her desk, not bothering to glance up as they stopped in front of her.

"Hi," Hank finally said. The girl sighed and glanced up, her magazine still open in front of her.

"Can I help you?"

"I hope so," Hank said. "I'm looking for someone, a reporter by the name of Gary Lawlor."

"Why you looking for him?" the girl asked, glancing at Beth suspiciously before she turned back to Hank.

"He wrote an article about 20 years ago about a car accident, and I think he might have some information that I can use to help a client of mine find his birth parents."

"Yeah, well, he's not here."

Hank felt his jaw tightening as he forced himself to relax. After all, throttling the obstinate girl was not going to help him get the information he was after. "Do you know where I can find him?"

"He retired a few years back," she said, her voice betraying the fact that she found the entire exchange extremely dull. "Last I heard he was still living up near Orono."

"Thanks," Hank managed to mutter before he took Beth's hand and dragged her out of the building.

"So now what do we do?" she asked, stifling a laugh at his obvious irritation. Why he'd ever agreed to play private eye for Ethan Crane was beyond her, but she had to admit that in 24 hours he'd made more headway on Chad's case than anyone else had.

"Now we call information," he said as he fished 35 cents out of his pocket, "and we find out if there are any listings for a Gary Lawlor in Orono. I hope you're up for a little road trip."

"Sure," she answered cheerfully. "I've got all day."

Hank flashed her his most charming smile and shook his head. "You know, you're being an awfully good sport about this whole Girl Friday thing. I wasn't really serious when I said that."

She just shrugged and returned his smile. "I know, but I want to help Chad. And the company's not so bad either."

He laughed as he dropped the change into a payphone outside the newspaper office. "Yes, I'd like a listing for a Gary Lawlor in Orono." He waited a moment before scribbling something down on the back of a receipt and hanging up the phone. "Let's hope this is the guy," he said as he fished some more change out of his pocket and dialed the phone again.

"Hello, Mr. Lawlor?" There was a brief silence as Hank listened to the person on the other end of the phone. "My name is Hank Bennett, sir. I'm a private detective looking for the birth parents of one of my clients, and I think you might have some information that might help me. It involves a story you wrote 20 years ago about a single-car accident north of Harmony."

Hank paused again and listened, glancing quickly at Beth while the man on the other end talked. She was biting her lower lip and concentrating hard on him while he talked, and he found himself wondering suddenly if she was staring at him because she was interested in the conversation or if there was some other reason. Suddenly the voice on the other end stopped talking and he forced himself back to the topic at hand. "I'd like to speak to you today, sir, if you have time. I can be there in about an hour. Great, see you then. Thanks."

He hung up the phone and turned toward Beth, meeting her expectant gaze.

"Well, what did he say? Does he remember the accident?"

"Yeah, strangely enough he does. For something that happened 20 years ago it seems kind of weird that he'd remember it right away."

"Do you think that means he can help us?"

"I have no idea," Hank admitted as he held his car door for her. "Something tells me that nothing about this case is going to make a whole lot of sense." He shook his head as he rounded the car to the driver's side, saying a quick prayer that Gary Lawlor had some answers to the questions that were forming in his mind.