Ben pulled his car into a spot near the Annapolis waterfront and cut the engine. Traffic had been...horrendous. There was really no other word to use. How did people commute into DC from here? There was no way the lure of waterfront living was worth that kind of insanity day after day. And it was Thursday. It wasn’t like this was the weekend, with everyone and their cousin flocking to the water for the weekend. He grunted and shook his head. Took all kinds.

He eased out from behind the wheel and stretched his leg. His knee was stiff, but, amazingly, not sore. Thank you, Jesus. Maybe it was healing after all. PT this morning with Sara had been awkward. Even after having been her patient on Tuesday, it was clear their conversation on the phone made her feel cornered. Which was not what he was going for. Probably needed to figure out a way to apologize. Of course, if this was the friend zone in Rebecca’s book, he was probably better off recognizing she was a lost cause and moving on. ‘Cause she barely returned any of his email, let alone his attempts to talk to her. At least she’d agreed to use Paige’s restaurant for the open house catering. That was something.

A brief stroll down the block and Ben stopped in front of the Irish pub Jackson’s friend, David, had given him directions to. It was a strange place to meet a computer consultant, but this whole business was strange. Who changed their name as an adult unless they got married? And why the secrecy? Assuming that was really what Rebecca had done. But if she had, how much of what he thought he knew about her was a lie?

Ben stepped through the door. The place was busy. A few empty tables were dotted throughout the dim room. Decorations consisted primarily of wood—wood booths, wood floors, wood beams in the ceiling. Ambiance oozed around him as the quiet strains of a folksy love song reached his ears.

“Can I help you?”

Ben smiled at the frazzled looking server carrying a tray overloaded with plates heaped with food as well as drinks that were nearly sloshing over their rims. “I’m meeting Colin O’Bryan?”

“Sure. He’s in the middle of his set right now, just grab a table and someone will be by to get an order soon. I’ll let him know you’re here.”

She zipped off before Ben could formulate the questions that zinged around in his brain. He spotted an empty booth in the corner and angled that way. What had she meant by a set? He inhaled and his mouth watered. Plucking the menu from between the salt and pepper shakers shaped like a Leprechaun and a rainbow, he skimmed the offerings. Fish and chips. That had to be what he smelled. The shakers brought a smile to his lips. Rebecca would love them. Or at least, the Rebecca he thought he knew would. Did she really like kitschy salt and pepper sets, or was it one more fabrication? The same server stopped at his table, took his order, and assured him Colin would be with him in a few minutes.

The music ended. A smattering of applause had Ben looking around. Was it not a recording? There wasn’t an obvious stage for a live musician. Maybe the doorway in the middle of the wall led to another room, rather than the kitchen as he’d assumed. Moments later, a tall man strode into the room, heading straight for Ben’s booth.

“Hi. You’re Ben Taylor?”

Ben blinked. He hadn’t given his name. Though David had probably passed everything along. He extended his hand. “I am. You’re Colin?”

Colin grinned, gripped Ben’s hand, and sat. “Yep. Thanks for making the drive. The pub keeps me busy enough, even on the days we’re closed, that getting into DC is a challenge. And I try to keep Sundays free to spend with my fiancée.”

Ben frowned. “I guess I’m confused. You work here? David said you were a computer expert?”

Colin chuckled. “The quick summary is that I was the co-founder of a software company several years ago. I got bought out, became a musician, met my Rachel, moved here and purchased a pub. But I do computer consulting on the side as I have time and interest. The little I have from David about what you’re looking for shouldn’t take too long and it’s kind of like a mystery, so it’s intriguing.”

“You’re a musician and you own a pub. This pub. That was you on the guitar?” Ben paused while the server set his well-portioned plate in front of him along with a glass of soda. His thoughts struggled to keep up with the conversation. “David said unraveling the truth was outside his skill set...but you don’t think it’ll take long?”

Colin shrugged. “David’s a great coder, but he’s not a researcher at heart. Maybe I should’ve said it wouldn’t take me long to either get your answers or determine that I wouldn’t be able to. Though the little digging I did after I got David’s email makes me think I’m more likely to turn up the truth than not.”

Ben cut into the flaky fried fish and leaned back as savory steam rose into his face. If it tasted anything like it smelled, this was likely to be his best meal all week. “Why’s that?”

“I’ve already dug up the fact that Rebecca Fischer isn’t the name she was given at birth. So finding and sorting out her name change should be a pretty straight forward task, particularly since you suspect her initial last name was MacDonald. It gives me a place to look. And it was much easier to determine that Eleanor MacDonald’s maiden name was Fischer. So that lends some credence to the idea that you’re on the right track. And this is a more recent photo than the magazine used.” Colin swiped his phone a few times before turning it around for Ben to see.

The face smiling back at him was absolutely Rebecca’s mother. She was even wearing the same blouse she’d worn to lunch. “Well. That’s her. And since Rebecca said it was her mom, I can’t see any reason why I wouldn’t...”

“What?”

Ben gave a half-laugh. “She asked me if I follow celebrities at all. I’m guessing she was trying to figure out if I’d recognize the MacDonalds. If her dad had come along, I might have. But her mom keeps a lower profile.”

Colin tucked his phone back into his pocket. “Do you want me to keep digging?”

Did he? It seemed pretty clear-cut. What would digging give him besides concrete proof? And did that matter? “Nah. I think you’ve gotten enough proof that I know the answer. If she’s not going to tell me the truth...I guess I have to figure out what it means for us, or the possibility of us.”

“Sorry. Relationships can be tough.”

“That they can. I appreciate the time you took to poke around.”

“Happy to do it. I’m just sorry I made you come all this way when I apparently could’ve sent an email. I thought I’d need to get more info from you.”

Ben shrugged. “I’m getting some pretty excellent fish and chips out of the deal, so it’s hard to complain.”

“I’ll let the cook know. He’s new and nervous. Rachel’s uncle runs a pub in Ireland and he and Rachel’s aunt were out for a visit last week. I think Patrick taught the guy a few tricks of the trade—his cooking’s gotten a lot better—but now he’s looking over his shoulder in case Patrick hops out from behind the counter.”

Ben chuckled.

“I’ll let you get back to your dinner, then. And if you talk to David, tell him he needs to come up and meet Rachel before the wedding.”

“Sure. He’s really my roommate’s friend, but I can pass it along.”

With a nod and a wave, Colin stood. He stopped to chat with various patrons at the tables as he walked past them. Before long, music once again drifted through the space. The guy had talent, there was no denying that. But what made someone give up what sounded like a lucrative software company to be a musician? Then again, what made someone cling to the memory of a summer romance even when the evidence was mounting that it had all been a sham?

“What are you going to do?” Jackson stretched his legs out and crossed his ankles.

“I’m not sure. On the one hand, reading about Becky MacDonald, it’s like I’m reading about a completely different person. Someone I’ve never met. I just have a hard time seeing the woman I know—even the young woman I knew at camp—doing half of the things her father talks about. And that’s the other thing, if you read carefully, other than sneaking out of the house one time, Dr. MacDonald never explicitly says she did these things.”

Jackson frowned. “Then why do people still warn kids with horror stories about Bad-Girl-Becky? Why the sidebar in that magazine?”

“That’s the question. Or one of them, at least. And, I’ll be honest, I only picked up on it because I was looking for proof that he wasn’t talking about Rebecca. The implications are there, and very clear. So if you’re not focusing on the words, you’d just assume he was talking about his daughter.”

“That’s...horrible.” Jackson reached for the glass of iced tea sitting on the coffee table. “What kind of father does that?”

Ben shrugged. “Dunno. Maybe he had reasons that sounded good in his head. I know I’ve done things that, looking back, have me shaking my head. I imagine parenting only makes that happen more often. Not that that’s an excuse. What he did was...awful. And it does make her name change a little more understandable. When you look through the articles that were published when her dad was doing a lot of speaking...they were brutal to her.”

“Okay. But why not be honest about it once you know someone isn’t going to lump you into that camp? Why the secrecy?”

Why indeed? From talking to Sara, Ben figured she knew the truth. Probably the other girl they’d been hanging with—what was her name? They seemed pretty close knit. So why would Rebecca tell her girlfriends, but not him? “I wish I knew.”

Ben parked in the tiny lot in front of the mission and eyed the building. It was a standard brick, been-here-forever relic of the shabbier parts of D.C. Though it was apparent they tried to keep it looking as good as possible, the building showed its age. Or perhaps it showed simply that the external appearance wasn’t the focus of what they did here. Tall stalks of...it had to be corn...speared up along one side of an enormous garden. Other plants were growing closer to the ground and a handful of people moved between the rows with watering cans and flat baskets for harvesting. He’d have to mention the garden to Jackson, it was just the kind of thing he’d enjoy passing along to Paige.

Ben checked his watch and climbed out of the car. He was meeting Jerry, and hopefully Rebecca, to finalize the invitations and get a feel for the layout of the building. Maybe it would give him a chance to be back on some kind of friendly footing with Rebecca, too. He hadn’t seen her beyond tiny glimpses during the week. And he missed her. It was like losing her all over again.

The door swung open as Ben reached for the handle. He stepped back, muttering an apology as a tall teen pushed past, his eyes glistening with tears, despite the low riding jeans, sports jersey, and ball cap that pegged him as one of the more macho crowd.

“D’Andre, wait.” Rebecca ran down the hall and Ben grabbed the door, holding it for her as she chased after the youth. Tears ran unfettered down her cheeks. Ben swallowed, fighting the urge to catch her arm and find out what was wrong. “D’Andre!”

The boy stopped at the edge of the parking lot, shoulders hunched and arms crossed, the posture more defeated than belligerent. Rebecca caught up and slipped an arm around his shoulders as she said something Ben couldn’t hear. After a moment, the boy turned and buried his face in Rebecca’s shoulder. She wrapped her arms around him and patted his back, her own tears increasing.

Ben hesitated. Should he stay? Offer to...do what? Help somehow. But how? Or should he go in and pretend he hadn’t seen whatever this was? He ran a hand through his hair. If he didn’t know about her past, Ben wouldn’t question his response. He’d just go try to help. So that was the right answer. Regardless of what he’d discovered, a long, sleepless night had confirmed that he wanted her to be part of his life. No matter what name she used. He didn’t believe the stories attributed to her. Wouldn’t. There had been too much sincerity in their conversations at camp for it to have all been a lie.

Rebecca and D’Andre turned and headed back toward the mission. Ben grabbed the door and held it open. D’Andre broke free from Rebecca’s arm and hurried down the hall.

“Is there a way I can help?”

“Ben? What are you...the meeting. Right.” Rebecca sniffled and wiped her eyes. “It’s been a rough day. Come on inside and I’ll tell you about it.”

Fighting the urge to pull her into his arms, he followed her down the hall. The faces he glimpsed in offices were subdued. When they emerged into a large multi-purpose room, groups of people were huddled together, talking in hushed voices and crying.

Rebecca went to a counter that ran down the far wall and poured hot water into a mug. “Tea or cocoa?”

“Tea is fine. What happened?” All sorts of scenarios ran through Ben’s mind as Rebecca dropped a tea bag into the mug and then made a second, identical beverage.

Wrapping her hands around the mug, Rebecca glanced around. “We have a volunteer working here, Kira. She hadn’t been here long, but you couldn’t not love her. The light of Jesus shone through her more than anyone I’ve ever met.”

Ben’s stomach sank. This wasn’t going to end well. He set his tea down on the counter.

“She...she’s got leukemia. The treatments aren’t working this time and today she collapsed. They’ve taken her to the hospital but...it’s not looking good. She probably won’t make it through the weekend.” A fat tear rolled down Rebecca’s cheek.

Ben reached up and wiped it away with his thumb before opening his arms. Rebecca stepped into his embrace, silent sobs shaking her body. He rubbed her back and laid his cheek on her hair. “I’m sorry. That’s hard.”

Rebecca sniffled.

“Should I come back another day? I can just take care of the invitations. This is so much more important.”

She shook her head and stepped back. “No. No, you’re here. Being busy will help me. Probably help Jerry, too. Grab your tea and let’s go see what he wants to do.”