Honestly Love You (PASH: Russells/Chad)-Chap. 13
by caroline crane
 

Hank pulled up in front of a run-down apartment complex on the outskirts of Orono and turned off the engine. "I guess this is it," he said, as much to himself as to Beth. They hadn't spoken much on the way to Gary Lawlor's place, both of them too anxious and excited to hold much of a conversation. Instead they'd fallen into one of the comfortable silences that existed between them, where it was enough for each of them to be aware of the other person's presence. Hank turned to her and smiled reassuringly. "Ready?"

"As I'll ever be," she answered as she got out of the car and followed him up a set of concrete steps to the front door. He found the bell for apartment 2B and rang.

"Come on up," a voice called over the intercom, and Hank pulled the door open and held it for Beth. They climbed a narrow staircase to the second floor, both of them taking in the dingy, yellowing wallpaper and the worn low-pile carpet beneath their feet. Hank stopped in front of 2B, his hand freezing in mid-air as the door swung open before he could knock.

"Mr. Bennett?" the man in the doorway asked. He was easily in his seventies, his skin covered in liver spots and the hand he extended wrinkled and thin. Still, he was a tall and solid-looking man despite his years, and his voice resonated with a strength and self-confidence that Hank couldn't help but admire.

"Call me Hank, Mr. Lawlor. This is my friend, Beth Wallace."

Gary looked Beth up and down appreciatively over the rims of his reading glasses. "Been a long time since I've seen such a beautiful woman. Come in, come in, having you to look at is reason enough to take a trip down memory lane."

Beth blushed and glanced at Hank, but his face was lit up in an amused grin. She followed him past the older man and into a modest but extraordinarily neat apartment. The television was tuned to a talk show but the volume was off, and there was a newspaper spread over the table next to his recliner. Beth followed Hank to the couch and sat next to him, her eyes roaming over the pictures on the walls as Gary hurried to the kitchen to fetch them some coffee. The walls were covered in family photographs, all of them in the same cheap metal frames. She recognized their host in many of them, sometimes he was in an army uniform, his face still boyish but unmistakably him. In others he had his arm around the tiny waist of a pretty blonde, their matching smiles lighting up the frame.

He walked back into the room and handed them each a cup of coffee before he followed Beth's gaze to his photos. "There's a lot of history on that wall," he remarked as he settled into his chair. "Some of those pictures date back to the second World War."

"Is that your wife?" Beth heard herself ask without thinking. "She's beautiful."

He smiled and shook his head, only his eyes betraying his regret. "No, that's Isabelle, my sister. She died a few years back. I never married, I'm afraid. The life of a freelance writer is exciting and often glamorous, but it was never a good way to bring up a family. Now, what is it you wanted to talk about? Oh, yes, that poor child that was found in that car all those years ago."

"That's right, sir," Hank said, leaning forward as he warmed up to his investigation. "It would have been 1980, a baby was found in a car accident and taken to Mercy Hospital in Fairmont. I read your article in the Harmony Gazette and I searched for a follow-up story on the kid, but there was never another mention of him in the paper. Did anyone ever come forward to claim him?"

"I wish I could be some help," Gary said as he picked up his own coffee cup and took a sip. "But I'm afraid I don't know much more than you. Just what was in the article. I went back to check on the kid myself, maybe write a follow-up, but all I could gather at the hospital was that the kid was gone. No one knew a name or even who had come to claim him, it seemed as though he just vanished."

"Did you ever see the baby, sir?"

"Please, son, call me Gary," the older man said. "I may be old, but I don't like to be reminded of it. I saw the baby only briefly, and he was wrapped in a blanket and about 20 feet away from me. I never got a decent look at him up close. I did see the pictures, though. I used to work with a first-rate freelance shutterbug, he got some pictures at the hospital after they cleaned the kid up, I think they used the shots to try and track down the kid's parents."

"This may seem like a strange question, sir...Gary," Hank corrected himself, "but what race was the baby?"

"That was the weird thing," Gary answered, leaning forward and dropping his voice as though someone might overhear. "The car was expensive - we're talking a brand new Lincoln - and the driver was white. But the kid was black. Not too many black babies being chauffeured around in a Lincoln by a white chauffeur, not even in 1980. Never did find out who the driver was, either."

"What happened to him? There was never another mention of him in the paper either."

"Died suddenly. In his sleep, I think. The cops looked for his people for awhile, but no one ever came forward. Not long after that the baby was gone, and everyone pretty much forgot about it. My photographer pal kept digging for awhile, but if he found anything he never mentioned it to me. After that he took off for a job in the south somewhere and I didn't see him much after that."

"What was the name of your friend? I'd like to speak to him if I could."

"Perkins," Gary answered. "Orville Perkins. But I don't know if you'll find him, no one's heard from him in years. For all I know, he's dead."

~

Julian stood at the window of his study and watched Sheridan cross the expansive lawn from the stables to the main house. He'd watched while she and Whitney entered the stables nearly two hours ago, and he was still watching as Sheridan left the stables alone. Tipping back the last of his brandy, he straightened his jacket and turned away from the window, leaving his study and starting down the hall toward the sitting room.

When he arrived in the sitting room it was deserted, despite the fact that Ivy was generally lurking about at this hour of the morning. It was just as well, however, he had no interest in explaining his actions to her any more than she cared to share her secrets with him. Julian crossed to the French doors that led to the patio and let himself out of the house as quietly as possible, glancing over his shoulder to make sure no one saw him. As soon as he was outside he realized it was freezing - winter had come to Harmony, and soon the snow would begin to fall. Part of Julian welcomed the chilly air and the blankets of white snow that would make everything fresh and new again, it reminded him of winter rides with his mother when he was young, and happier times when he would curl up in front of a roaring fire with Eve...as soon as her name popped into his head he pushed it away mercilessly.

"I have no wish to relive that unpleasantness," he muttered under his breath. He'd been telling himself that same thing more and more lately, but then again seeing Eve's oldest on his property brought back all kinds of memories he'd thought were long buried.

He took a deep breath, straightened his jacket again, and started across the lawn toward the stables. Soon the smell of hay and sweet clover mixed with manure and horse dander filled his nostrils and he was suddenly overcome with memories of a thousand rides with his mother. Perhaps if she hadn't died...but then again, Alistair seemed determined that she'd outlived her usefulness, and whatever Alistair wanted, he got. The cancer was simply a convenient coincidence. Julian was sure that if she'd lived she would have either gone mad from neglect or died of a broken heart. Katherine had never been strong like Ivy or defiant like Meredith; she'd truly hoped to build a life with her husband, arranged marriage or no. But Alistair had other plans, and none of them included a fragile, gentle creature like his mother.

Julian stepped inside the warm shelter of the stables, shaking off the cold and rubbing his hands together as his eyes adjusted to the light inside. Finally he was able to focus in the soft light and his eyes wandered over the stalls. He couldn't remember the last time he'd set foot in this place, let alone actually ridden. He'd taken the girls once or twice when they were young; some no doubt brandy-induced whim had convinced him that it would be a good idea to spend time with his daughters, as though he might have a chance at a normal relationship with any of his children. But that dream had died along with his oldest son, and soon enough his daughters were in boarding school, and before long even his youngest, Damian, had left the house. After the children were gone a gloom had settled over the mansion and his farce of a marriage that he only forgot once he'd poured enough brandy down his throat to burn his stomach and blur his vision.

Yet there she was, oblivious to his presence in the stables, the first sign of innocent, untainted life he'd seen in years. Even Pilar's lovely daughter had an air of treachery about her - he'd been seeped in his father's world so long that he recognized the slightest sign of deviousness or scheming in a person. She was beautiful and bathed in innocence, but the lovely Theresa knew how to play the game. She'd learned early how to get what she wanted, and Julian couldn't help but respect her a little for that.

But Whitney - he'd never even spoken to her, but she had such an air about her, of innocence, of fragile beauty mixed with a fierce natural strength that reminded him so much of her mother. It was almost as if the Eve he'd met and fallen in love with 20 years ago was standing in front of him again, whispering softly to the only thing he had left of his mother.

He cleared his throat so he wouldn't frighten her out of her wits as he stopped next to her, reaching out and touching the horse's nose gingerly. "I see you've taken quite a liking to my mare," he said, a familiar sardonic tone creeping into his voice.

"Mr. Crane, I didn't realize you were here," Whitney said, blushing a little as he addressed her for the first time. She'd never been very graceful under pressure, and something about Julian Crane frightened her. "Sheridan said you wouldn't mind, but if you do..."

"No, no, it's good for the old nag to get some exercise," Julian answered, still staring at the horse. "I suppose Sheridan told you that she's descended from a long line of champions. Her sire was my mother's personal show horse. She won many a ribbon astride him."

"Sheridan didn't mention that," Whitney whispered, her voice so low that he had to lean in to hear her. "She just said that you'd named Lav...Katherine's Dream for your mother."

"Ah, yes, Sheridan has a distressing habit of putting her own sentimental mark on everything she comes in contact with," Julian said, wrinkling his nose a little at the mention of Sheridan's nickname for his horse. "Katherine was my mother, that much is true."

"It's a beautiful name," Whitney said, relaxing a little as she focused on the horse, her soft white muzzle nuzzling Whitney's hand in search of more clover. "She's a wonderful horse."

"She damn well ought to be, for as much as she costs," Julian muttered. "This is quite an expensive hobby my sister and daughters insist upon."

"Don't you ride anymore, Mr. Crane?" Whitney asked, suddenly turning and looking at him. Whenever she'd seen him in the past, at the hospital or the country club, he'd always seemed unapproachable and forbidding. But as she listened to him chatting idly about his stables and his mother's memory something about his tone struck her, as though there was more to the man standing next to her than the ruthless tyrant and womanizer she'd heard so many rumors about. He couldn't be all bad, she reasoned. After all, Ethan was a decent person most of the time, and he'd been raised under Julian's roof.

"I'm afraid my business obligations don't leave me time for such pleasures," Julian hedged. He could feel her eyes on him, studying his face and his eyes as he surveyed the horse that had once meant so much to him. For a reason he couldn't quite put his finger on it was suddenly important to him that Whitney Russell not think of him as some inhumane monster the way the rest of the town seemed to regard him. Perhaps it had something to do with her mother, or at least the memories he had of the Eve he'd known and loved. The woman that had raised two daughters to be so afraid of the world and all its wonders was someone he didn't pretend to know anymore.

"In fact, I'm on my way out of town this afternoon on business," he added, hoping to chase away any stray memories of Eve by focusing on Crane Enterprises. "Feel free to ride Katherine's Dream whenever you like. You're welcome to the stables, Miss Russell."

"Thank you, Mr. Crane," Whitney breathed, her eyes growing a little wider as she realized that he knew who she was. Sheridan must have told him, she reasoned, but something about the way he looked at her just before he turned to go made her wonder if there wasn't something more to his offer of hospitality. The faintest trace of a smile crossed his lips and then he was gone, walking back to the main house and leaving Whitney alone to finish brushing Katherine's Dream and wonder about her mysterious owner.

~

Sheridan gripped Luis' hand loosely in hers and stared into his deep brown eyes. She could get lost in them for days on end, she realized as his lips curled into a smile. "What are you smiling at?" she asked quietly as he leaned forward and planted a chaste kiss on her lips.

"You've been staring at me for five minutes, I was just wondering if you were ever going to tell me what you're thinking about."

"I was just admiring your eyes," she admitted, smiling sheepishly at him. "And I was thinking about Julian."

"You were staring at me and thinking about your brother? I'm not sure how to take that," Luis teased. He took a deep breath and forced himself not to tense at the mention of her brother. Becoming involved with a Crane had been an uphill battle, but he was working hard on not letting his opinion of her family interfere with their relationship.

"Very funny. I was just thinking that Julian's leaving on his business trip this afternoon, and Ivy has some hospital board event, so tonight would be a good time to take a look around the house and see what we can find."

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Luis asked, leaning forward and looking into her big blue eyes. "I don't want you to feel like you have to for my sake."

"Luis, we've been over this a thousand times," Sheridan said, pulling him up off the couch behind her. "You're never going to be completely comfortable with my last name until you know the truth, and I'm never going to be completely comfortable with us until you are. So good or bad, I want to find out about my family's role in your father's disappearance as much as you do. Now come on or we'll risk running into Ivy. She won't be gone for that long."

"You really think Ivy would care that we were snooping around the mansion?" Luis asked as he helped her slip into her jacket and followed her out of her cottage. "She doesn't really seem the loyal type, at least not where Julian's concerned.""

"You'd be surprised," Sheridan said as he grabbed her hand and entwined their fingers together. "Ivy's a wonderful person and a devoted mother. True, she's not Julian's biggest fan, but it can't be easy being married to him. Still, she'd do whatever she had to to protect Ethan and her other children. If that means protecting the Crane family secrets, whatever they are, then yes, I think she'd care."

"You're the expert," he said, flashing his signature grin as they reached the front door of the mansion. A wave of relief and gratitude flooded over him that she was willing to do this for them, but at the same time he couldn't help worrying that whatever they uncovered inside the mansion's walls would threaten to tear them apart. He took a deep breath and pushed his doubts to the back of his mind as he squared his shoulders and followed her into the mansion.