37

CHAUTAUQUA INSTITUTION

Tuesday morning Will was outside watching the sun come up when he heard a familiar engine noise. Minutes later his Land Rover rolled into view and made its way up the drive. His father was at the wheel.

Will edged to his feet and waited.

Bill exited the driver’s side and closed the door. He gazed at the house for a minute, as if poised on the brink of a decision.

Will walked out partway to meet him. His father surprised him, covering the ground between them swiftly and nearly crushing him in a bear hug. When they drew apart, both men’s eyes were damp.

“You’re a good father, Will. Don’t make the same mistakes I did. If I could change anything, I would have been there for your mother. For you. Your sister.” His voice broke. “For Sean too.”

“But Dad, you were—”

“Not enough, son. Not enough.”

Will hesitated, then asked, “Did you know? Did you guess?”

“I wondered,” he murmured. “We struggled to have you. It took so long to conceive a second child. It didn’t happen despite our efforts and the best doctors. Then, suddenly, Ava was pregnant again. I’d been gone almost a month to India after I left Camp David. After I returned, we—”

Will held up his hand. “I get it, Dad.”

“I thought we had turned a new leaf in our marriage. Now I know she was pregnant and so desperate for me not to know the truth that she covered it up.”

His red-rimmed eyes met Will’s with intensity. “Sean was born eight months later. I was in London. I hadn’t expected the birth for another month. In those days husbands didn’t go to doctor appointments with their wives. At least I didn’t. I just listened to her talk about her follow-up reports after she’d been there. Then, a month before the baby’s due date, she called me on the way to the hospital to tell me she was going into labor. I took the next flight home from London.”

Will didn’t interrupt. He knew his dad had to tell the story.

“I arrived a few hours after she gave birth. Sean was over seven pounds and looked very healthy, not like a preemie. I never met the doctor. He had already come and gone. I was so happy to be holding my second son that I didn’t question it then. I only remember being surprised that he looked so different from you.” He shrugged. “I guess I expected a carbon copy. Crazy, huh?”

“Not so crazy. We expected the same thing when Patricia was born—that she’d resemble Andrew, only with girl parts.”

“Will,” his father whispered, “why did it have to be Thomas?”

Will had no answer. But he also knew his dad wasn’t really asking him the question.

“I still don’t know all the details. Maybe I don’t want to know. Did it just happen? Was it a planned rendezvous? Did she want a baby that badly she was willing to go to any length? I don’t have those answers. I fled because I couldn’t hear any more. I couldn’t take it. My best friend and my wife. I needed to be away to wrestle with the betrayal, to come to terms with it. To decide what I must do now.”

Will had to ask. “Have you decided?”

“Yes.”

Will shivered as if a sharp wind had accosted him. “And?”

His father sighed. “I can’t change the past, and I have struggled with that. No, struggled isn’t a strong enough word. There is no word strong enough to describe the pain.” He inhaled deeply. “I can, however, be present in the now. I can shape the future to the best of my ability.” Swiveling toward the door of the family home, he declared, “Now I need to talk with my wife.”

As he strode with determination toward the front porch, Ava opened the door. She stood in her white robe and grasped the door frame. Her body trembled.

Bill rushed up the steps and swept her into his arms. As he held her, the blood-red and gold colors of the Chautauqua rising sun lightened and brightened.

Will sagged in relief.

Bill Worthington was home to stay. His parents would weather this ultimate storm together, no longer hampered by the lie that had lurked under the surface for nearly four decades.

For now, even with Sean missing, that was enough.

NEW YORK CITY

Sarah sat in her office, gripping her Visconti The Forbidden City fountain pen as she hovered over a stack of papers. The pen was her favorite. Sean had bid on it at a Sotheby’s auction and presented it to her on her birthday two years ago.

Now looking at it was a painful reminder that something was terribly wrong with Sean. No one in her family was talking, and the lack of communication was driving her crazy. She’d left several messages for her dad over the weekend, and he hadn’t responded. Ditto for her mother. From her dad, she expected it—sometimes he, like Sean and Will, got caught up in business and didn’t reply for days. But her mother? That was downright weird.

Will had kept her in the loop, but the more she thought about it, the more suspicious she became. Leave it to Will to sound like he was saying something when he was being enigmatic.

He’s stalling, she realized. But why? Her attorney instincts kicked in. She scrolled through Will’s texts. She stopped on the one that seemed the most mysterious.

Dad and Mom have a lot to discuss and work out.

What’s to work out? Sean’s missing. Nothing changes those facts.

She frowned. Lately a lot of things didn’t make sense—Will turning down the Senate bid, her mother’s weepiness, her brother disappearing. Then there was Carson lurking in the shadows at Will’s Senate launch, making a deal with the president, then jumping into the fray with the media. The pieces jumbled together in Sarah’s brain. The answer was there somewhere, if she could only sort it out.

Sarah tapped her pen on her desk as she phoned Drew to see if he had any new information about Sean.

He didn’t. His advice was sage and cryptic, as always. “Some things will be revealed if you wait.”

If there was one thing Sarah Worthington wasn’t good at, it was delayed gratification. “Yeah, yeah, I know.” She blew out an exasperated breath. “It doesn’t make the waiting any easier.”

Drew chuckled. “No, but it makes you stronger.”