Elleny whistled a few bars of a melody she’d heard somewhere. She didn’t know when, didn’t really care. It was just a tune that blended with her mood, and she let it dance on her lips as she prepared to close the shop.
Pausing a moment, she stared out the window, changed the whistle to a low, pleasant hum and absently touched the painted shamrocks on the glass. Then, snapping her thoughts from dreamy meanderings, she flipped the sign on the door to Closed.
She walked to the counter, straightening a book here and there as she passed, wondering how a store like this would prosper in Boston, wondering what the school system was like in that part of the country. With the effortless movements of long habit, she tallied the day’s receipts and placed them, along with the cash, in a zippered bank bag.
When the bell over the sill tinkled a merry welcome, Elleny looked up with the wish that she’d remembered to lock the door. But at the sight of Phillip standing just inside the entrance, she was glad she’d forgotten.
A reminiscent warmth suffused her body as she watched him close the door and come toward her. He looked wonderful. She simply couldn’t think of a better description and saw no reason to try. He was wearing blue jeans and a crew-neck sweater that was visible only in a strip of dark red wool beneath the unbuttoned edges of his coat. Elleny paid scant attention to detail, concentrating instead on the hesitant smile tucked in at the corner of his mouth.
“Phillip.” A breathy whisper parted her lips in helpless invitation. Until that moment she hadn’t realized how much she’d longed to see him, to touch him again and relive the magic. And now he was here. A shy pleasure wrapped around her heart.
“Are you through for the day?” He stopped beside the cash register and leaned forward, letting the counter act as chaperon as he brushed a gentle hello against her cheek.
It wasn’t exactly the greeting she would have liked, but she sensed a curious uncertainty in him and decided to allay whatever doubts he might be entertaining. “Not yet,” she said softly. “Do you want to help?”
“That all depends. What do I have to do?”
“Not much. Lock the door. Carry the receipts to the back room. Seduce me and then walk me home.” The look he gave her stained her cheeks with warmth, but she met his gaze steadily and as provocatively as she could. “Think you can handle all that?”
His dark eyes acquired a sudden wicked gleam. “I don’t know,” he said in a voice that defined provocative. “I may not be up to the task just yet.”
Her face became a slow flame of surprise. “Phillip!”
“Elleny!” He grinned his enjoyment of her discomfiture and cupped her chin in his hands. “You amaze me. One minute you’re teasing me with suggestive remarks and the next you’re blushing because I tease you back. And to think that at first I thought you were just quiet, shy and enchantingly innocent.”
“But now you know better.” She placed her hands over his and smiled, willing her heated face to cool.
He shook his head. “Not better, just differently. Now I think you’re quiet, shy, enchantingly innocent and sexy as hell.”
“I think you’re all talk and no action.”
“Is that so? Well, let’s see what you say after I’ve locked the door.”
Her mouth formed a soft, loving curve. “I’ll say yes.”
He leaned across the counter to take the playful surrender from her lips, and with the initial touch, the first sensation of melting warmth against her mouth, the magic returned. Elleny responded, giving her thoughts over to emotion and letting love guide her hands to his shoulders and then into the thickness of his hair.
She wanted him, wanted to know again the wondrous feelings he could evoke. Her tongue offered a caressing proposal along the inner curve of his lips, and Phillip accepted with titillating strokes of his tongue. He held her and rubbed slow, mesmerizing circles on her shoulders, his thumbs straying to investigate the throbbing pulse on either side of her throat.
The counter pushed against her rib cage with annoying intrusion, and she drew back, just a little, to ease the pressure. A low groan of protest rippled from him, and he eliminated the barrier by moving around the counter, although Elleny wasn’t fully cognizant of how he did so. She was only aware that now his arms were around her, pulling her to him, aligning the symmetry of their bodies, one to the other. She was aware of the deepening intensity of his kiss, and she was blissfully aware of how much she loved him. And it was good.
Good to be close to Phillip. Good to respond. To touch. To kiss. To share her feelings and the sweet promise of intimacy. Her heart trembled with the recurring pleasure. There was so much to learn about this man, it was difficult to restrain her impatience. The need to know him – physically, emotionally, intellectually – was urging her to hurry the embrace, to discover the secrets of pleasing him.
But how could she hurry such a tenderly captivating kiss? She couldn’t. She could only savor the moment, the taste of desire that clung to his lips, the scent of March winds that lingered in his hair.
He traced a sensitive path up her spine, and delicate shivers splayed across her nerve endings. When he strayed from her lips to cover her cheek in soft, barely-there kisses, Elleny tilted her chin to encourage more of the same. Phillip took full advantage of this new opportunity to explore the pulse point just below her ear. A sentient anticipation awakened within her and rippled to every part of her body like the tide at full flow.
“I love you.” Her whisper was husky and warm with feeling, but Phillip felt the beginning of a chill. He ignored it, unable to make himself release her by even a fraction. No woman had ever fit so comfortably in his arms.Or responded to his touch with such seductive desire. Perhaps it was simply that no one had ever before loved him with such beautiful innocence.
Tightening his hold, he returned to claim her lips with renewed passion, but though she was responsive, his heart protested the embrace. Elleny trusted him, and to make love to her now – no matter how badly he wanted to do so – would only compound his deception. It was time to be honest with her, although he had no idea where to begin. With tremendous reluctance, he drew the kiss to a gentle end.
Phillip drank in the sight of her face flushed with his caresses, her lashes shading a dusky crescent on her cheeks. Tenderness welled in his throat, and he would rather do almost anything else than say words that he knew would hurt her. His fingertips touched her lips in a fleeting wish. She smiled. Her lashes drifted up to reveal the pure emotion in her brown eyes, and for a second his resolve weakened. “I love you, Elleny.”
“But you didn’t lock the door.”
“No.” He continued to hold her gaze as he sought to say what had to be said. “We need to talk, Elleny. And much as I like the idea of being locked in with you, I’m afraid your bookstore is not the right setting for this discussion.”
Her palms slid from his shoulders to burrow inside the warmth of his coat. “Do you remember last night?” She broke off to laugh with quiescent amusement. “And I sincerely hope you won’t deny it because I know you haven’t forgotten. But last night I said that one of us had lousy timing. Well, I’ve decided it’s you, Phillip. You don’t really want to talk now, do you?”
She was flirting with him in the special way of new lovers, and impulsively he started to pull her close in response. But he halted the movement and forced his hands to cup her shoulders in a careful, firm grip. “Elleny, I’m sorry, but I.... We need to talk.”
The laughter in her eyes gave way to concern, but her fingertips curved against his chest reassuringly. “All right. Just let me finish closing up for the night.”
She stepped away from him and took the bank bag from the counter before lifting her gaze to his again. This time the hint of apprehension was clearly discernible. Phillip wished with all his heart that he could banish it, but of course he couldn’t. Not without another lie.
“I have to drop this deposit by the bank,” she said hesitantly. “We can talk on the walk over, if you want.”
“I have my car. We can drive.” He smiled in an effort to erase the tension, whether his own or hers, he wasn’t sure. Whichever, it seemed to work because Elleny returned his effort and then walked through the curtained doorway to the room beyond.
Jamming his hands into his coat pockets, Phillip wandered to the windows and stared out at the street. He drew a deep breath and tried to focus words into a coherent pattern that would explain to Elleny how and why he had deceived her.
“I’m ready.”
He turned as she entered the room. She was tugging awkwardly at her jacket with one hand and holding her purse and bank bag in the other. He moved to assist her and allowed his fingers to rest against her nape for a long, connective moment. Then, with a soundless sigh, he opened the front door, and she preceded him outside.
The drive to the bank was short and silent, but as Phillip turned the car toward home, he broached the discussion that was spinning endless circles in his head. “Elleny, I have to talk to you about Mark.”
Her eyes flew to his in unabashed surprise, as if she had been expecting something else. For the distance of at least half a block, he felt her appraisal, and then she dropped her gaze pensively to the clasped hands in her lap.
“I thought you understood. Mark has been a part of my past for a long time now. My marriage, the way I felt about him, has nothing to do with the way I feel about you. Except to remind me of my good fortune in falling in love not once, but twice in my lifetime, with two very different, but equally wonderful men.”
Phillip clenched his jaw as her comparison shot his calm facade square in the heart. The last thing he wanted or needed at this moment was to be placed on a clay pedestal with wonderful Mark Damon.
“No,” he stated without compunction or thought for the best choice of words, “This has nothing to do with the way we feel about each other. It’s about the way you felt, the way you still feel, about Mark. Believe me, he was not the man you believe he was.”
Her confusion spanned the distance of the car seat to get a stranglehold on his throat. He hadn’t meant to blurt it out that way, had intended to work his way into an explanation.
“I don’t understand.” She faltered, not even knowing what to ask.
A burning sensation churned in his stomach, and his hands formed hard fists on the steering wheel. “I’m sorry, Elleny. I shouldn’t have said it so bluntly.”
“You shouldn’t have said it at all.” Brown eyes accused him with unjustified guilt, and the irritation stirred within him again.
“It’s true, Elleny, whether you want to believe it or not. Jesse and probably half the town knows, but no one admits it. No one seems to want to face facts.”
“What facts?”
His gaze turned to her then, neglecting the task of driving, offering a comfort she didn’t yet require. “Mark was an artist, Elleny, but not in the way you think. His talent was in forging paintings, not in creating them.”
Her shock was an audible intake of breath and a cool lifting of her chin. “You’re mistaken. I’ve seen his work. I’ve heard the comments and read the reviews of critics. I don’t know where you got such a ridiculous idea, but – ”
“You’ve seen what you thought was his work,” Phillip interrupted. “He fooled a lot of people, Elleny. Many of them professionals, so you have no reason to feel badly.”
“Feel badly?” Her voice rose in distress. “How am I supposed to feel when you accuse my husband of….”
“Your late husband.”
“My late husband,” she grated. “…of committing a crime. Mark was proud of his work. He would never, never have done anything to threaten his career.” She shook her head defiantly. “You’re wrong. It doesn’t make sense.”
“Doesn’t it, Elleny?” Phillip turned the car onto the driveway and guided it to a stop beside the house. He turned to her, placing his arm along the back of the seat in a confident gesture. Inwardly he was a tangled knot of apprehension. “Doesn’t it coincide with all the unanswered questions you have about him? You said yourself that he was unpredictable and moody, wild at times.”
“Those are your words, Phillip, not mine. Even if I said anything like that, it was in a totally different context.” She braced her shoulder against the car door and made a valiant effort to decipher just one thought from the jumble in her mind.
“All right. I won’t quibble over descriptive terms.” He held up his hand, palm out, obviously unconvinced, but unwilling to argue the point. “It doesn’t matter anyway. I know this is a shock, Elleny.”
“It matters very much! And if we’re going to quibble over words, try substituting betrayal for shock and you’ll come closer to how I feel right now. How could you, Phillip? How could you say, or even think, such a thing? Mark was your friend. You must have known him well enough to realize he wouldn’t do anything so deceitful.”
Phillip clenched his hands into fists and then slowly, finger by finger, relaxed the tension. “I didn’t know Mark at all, Elleny, I never even met him.”
“But you told me….” Her protest trailed into oblivion as she saw the answer in his face.
“I had to tell you something. Believe me, if I’d known any other way….” He glanced at the tension showing white at his knuckles. Then his eyes, dark with apology, returned to hers. “I didn’t have a choice, Elleny. It was a necessary lie.”
She absorbed his statement slowly as the warm color drained from her face. Phillip had lied. Lied. Lied. The thought gained momentum and went whirling, round and round and round until she felt dizzy and sick. How could he? And why? She opened her mouth to confirm what her heart hesitated to accept. “You lied to me?”
Her whisper wrenched his expression to lines of regret. “Yes.”
She found the door handle through a growing mist of anger and jerked it to open the door. Phillip grabbed for her arm, but she freed it with one steady, straightforward look.
“Elleny, just listen. There is an explanation.”
“I doubt it, Phillip. I truly doubt it.” She stepped from the car and vented her emotion with a fierce push against the door. It slammed shut with a loud, metallic clank that effectively ended the discussion.
Phillip, however, had no intention of letting it end. As Elleny approached the kitchen door, he was close at her heels. Catching her just as her hand closed over the latch, he took her elbow and spun her to face him.
“We have to talk about this, Elleny. It isn’t going to go away.”
“I don’t want to talk to you. You’d only lie to me again.” She stared hard into his face and knew the depths of anger that ran so perilously close to loving. She fought to walk the tightrope of emotion without falling on either side. “Just leave me alone. I can’t even think right now. Maybe later I’ll know what questions to ask. Maybe I’ll have decided how much I can believe of what you tell me.”
His eyes darkened to ebony, his mouth tightened to match her anger. “What I told you about Mark is true, Elleny. You can hate me for being the one to tell you, but that won’t alter the facts. Mark is the one who lied to you. Mark is the reason I lied to you.”
“I don’t believe that.”
Phillip stiffened as if she’d landed a blow to his mid-section. “You might at least give me the benefit of the doubt.”
“I’ve been doing that all along. Why should I give you another opportunity to prove I was wrong?”
The air snapped and crackled with the strain of too much emotion. Her brown eyes battled his for endless, agonizing seconds before he spoke.
“When you’re ready to listen, you can let me know.” Phillip spun on his heel and walked away from her.
She hesitated, still angry, yet feeling an inexplicable need to mend the hurt. Impatiently, she shrugged it aside, but her eyes followed him and would not be dissuaded.
She hated him.
She loved him.
She wanted to listen to him.
She never wanted to talk to him again.
Back and forth her confusion circled, never settling, never defining exactly how she felt. She wanted to hear his explanation, knew she had no choice but to listen.... But not now. Not until she could sort through what he’d told her already. Not until she’d had a chance to deal with the realization that Phillip had deliberately, intentionally lied to her, that he was not, could not be the man she’d believed him to be.
No, she couldn’t listen to his explanation until she’d had a chance to think.
At the moment she wasn’t prepared to accept anything he might say.
The latch beneath her hand turned, the door opened, and she pivoted to face her son’s bright smile. “Hi, Mom. What ‘cha doing?”
“Hello, Hotshot.” Her hand ruffled his hair, her gaze drifted to the angry set of Phillip’s shoulders. A.J. tugged at her sleeve, demanding attention she was too distracted to give.
“Come on, Mom.” He took her hand and pulled insistently. “Come see what I made at school.”
With a sigh that somehow worked into a smile she knew was unworthy of the name, she followed her son inside and closed the door.
Time, she thought. She simply needed a little time.
* * * *
The evening passed in a blur of routine. Elleny went through the motions, doing the same tasks she did every evening. Eventually the methodical process of habit restored her powers of reason, and she began to assimilate not only what Phillip had said to her but how she felt about it.
And she didn’t feel good. She had gleaned a wide range of emotions during that brief discussion but far too few facts. Piecing together a puzzle without all the parts was impossible.
Still, by the time she had bathed A.J. and tucked him into bed, her mind had sorted the questions and channeled her anger into a quieter, more lethal calm.
Phillip had said there was an explanation. Now she was ready to hear it. She was ready to find out who Phillip really was and why he had upset her world.
Determination carried her from the house to the foot of the stairs below his studio. She stopped there, a victim of memory and the sudden, crushing ache of fear. Until that moment she had felt only anger, concentrated only on his betrayal. But now she was afraid. Deeply, intensely afraid of losing a future she’d just begun to savor and a past that was the foundation of her present.
Phillip could take it all away.
Maybe he already had.
She placed one foot on the bottom step and looked up, trying to recover her courage. The door opened and Phillip stood in the doorway, his body becoming a bulky shadow, indistinct in the light of the room behind him.
“Elleny?” He moved onto the landing, and she could distinguish the color of his dark red sweater, the lean fit of his jeans. She couldn’t see his expression, but she sensed his restlessness, felt his hesitancy as if it were her own.
“Here,” she answered, and moved up the stairs toward him.
“I was watching for you.”
She stopped on the step below the landing. “Were you so sure I would come?”
“I was sure you wouldn’t make a final judgment without hearing all the facts.”
It was an awkward beginning, she thought, but at least it was a start. “So, tell me the facts, Phillip. And I mean everything.”
He rubbed his jaw in unmistakable reluctance, glanced into the studio, glanced at her. “Why don’t we go inside?”
Elleny didn’t budge. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
“Damn it, Elleny! Don’t make this more difficult….” He clamped off the rest of the sentence, turned, and strode into the studio.
She followed slowly, acknowledging his point, reminding herself to remain on the offensive and away from the personal. After closing the door, she leaned against it and resolutely kept her gaze from straying to the bed.
“You’re not an artist.” She made the statement with a confidence born of all the nagging little suspicions that had bothered her from their first meeting and had been confirmed by his accusations about Mark. Then she braced her palms flat against the wood behind her and waited for him to deny it.
He stood in the middle of the room, feet apart, hands on hips, facing her with a gentle expression that was curiously at odds with his defiant stance. “No. The best painting I’ve ever done is the outside trim on my house in Massachusetts.”
She didn’t smile. Nor did he expect her to. “I’m an insurance investigator, Elleny. I’m co-owner of Smith-Kessler, a private firm specializing in insurance fraud and claims that require extensive investigations. I was hired to find a painting by an artist named van Warner. Ever heard of him?”
Her forehead creased with thought, but she wasn’t trying to remember the name.
The full weight of realization closed around her like a suffocating darkness. Phillip wasn’t who she’d believed him to be. He’d just admitted it. And still she shook her head in rebuttal, wanting to pretend it wasn’t true.
“It doesn’t matter, I suppose. I had hoped that Mark might have mentioned the name.” Phillip watched Elleny’s pale composure and wished the next few minutes were behind him. “Mark stole the original painting and substituted a copy he’d forged. It was a good forgery that went undetected for over a year, but eventually the theft was discovered and the search began. It continued unsuccessfully for a couple of years before the case file was turned over to me.”
“And that’s when you appeared on my doorstep to lie your way into my life.” Cold shivers ran the length of her spine, and she was grateful for the support of the door behind her. “Why was it necessary to set up such an elaborate cover, Phillip? Did you really need to pose as an artist, an old friend of Mark’s, a great admirer of Jesse’s work ... my lover?”
He took a protesting step toward her, but she discouraged him with an icy smile. “You told me that first Sunday afternoon you were committed to seeing this through. I thought you meant a commitment to your talent, of course. But how could I have known any differently?”
“And if you had, Elleny? What then? Would you have let me conduct an investigation?” He raked his fingers through his hair in exasperation. “You know you wouldn’t have given me the time of day, much less the opportunity to find the van Warner.”
“And expose Mark as a notorious criminal in the process? No, Phillip, I wouldn’t have given you even one of the opportunities you’ve had. And you did take advantage, didn’t you? You courted me with such convincing sincerity that I actually believed I was in love with you. I even thought you showed a true affection for my son. Mark’s son.” The tilt of her chin was dignified, but the betraying quiver of her lips gave her away. “You’re quite an actor, Phillip. If you hadn’t told me, I never would have guessed you were only interested in a stolen painting.”
Phillip had alternating impulses to shake some sense into her head and to convince her of his sincerity with hushing kisses. He responded to neither, knowing she needed to be angry with him until she could accept the truth and turn her anger toward Mark, where it belonged. He crossed his arms over his chest and waited. Silence came and lingered like a winter chill. He knew the precise second her challenge faltered.
“If you’re waiting for me to deny your indictment, Elleny, you’re going to be disappointed. I did come here with the full intention of deceiving you, but I didn’t mean to get personally involved. If I’d had any idea that falling in love with you was one of the hazards, there isn’t a chance in the world I would have taken this case. I do love you, Elleny, totally against my better judgment.”
“Is that supposed to make everything all right? Are you trying to make me feel better, is that it?”
“I am trying – God knows why – to explain to you the circumstances that brought and kept me here in Cedar Springs.” He moved closer to her, determined now to have his say. “Mark stole that painting, Elleny, and he hid it somewhere in this town. I haven’t found it yet, but I will. With your help or without it and regardless of how I feel about you, I’m going to prove Mark’s guilt. He lied to you. He deceived you. If he hadn’t, I wouldn’t be here.”
Elleny bit her lip and stared at Phillip. He was forcing her to weigh what she knew of Mark against what she knew of Phillip. One man who could not defend himself against a man who did an excellent job of defending his actions. It wasn’t fair. Why had he put her in this position? Why did she have to choose whether to believe memories formed a lifetime before or the statements of a flesh-and-blood man? A man she’d thought she loved.
“All right,” she said. “Let’s suppose for a minute what you say is true. Why would Mark forge a painting and then substitute it for the original? And if he did steal the painting, how do you know he didn’t sell it?”
“He couldn’t have sold that particular painting without leaving some sort of a trail. It was too well documented. It would have surfaced somewhere, sometime in the search. Besides, he had to have taken it during the year before he died, and that didn’t leave him a lot of time to get rid of it.” Phillip held her gaze, not allowing her the privilege of hearing only what she chose, but insisting that she hear and accept every word.
“As for his motivations,” Phillip continued, “I can only make an educated guess. Mark’s first gallery showing occurred at least a couple of years before you met him, and it wasn’t a success. Probably he got the showing more because of Jesse’s reputation than his own ability, but nonetheless that exhibit was panned by Bernerd Thayer, a noted critic and the owner of an impressive collection of artwork. The review was worse than discouraging—didn’t Mark ever mention Thayer’s name to you?”
“Not that I can remember.” How could she remember when she was fighting a host of memories that decried this distorted image of the man she’d known and loved as husband?
“I think Mark stole the van Warner just so he could substitute the forgery, a painting that in his own mind proved he was not the non-talent Thayer claimed he was.”
“But what about the other paintings Mark did? The ones that sold? That got wonderful reviews?”
“They were stolen, too, Elleny.” Phillip paused before adding another layer to the ugly truth she faced. “From Jesse.”
What little color she had left in her cheeks faded. “No.” Her whisper didn’t even warm her lips in passing. “No, he wouldn’t…. He couldn’t have done that.”
“Look at the paintings for yourself, Elleny. Take a long look at the canvas in your store. It’s good, but it’s not special. It’s not even very unusual. Compare it to the style, the sheer magic in the painting that hangs in your front room. Both canvases bare Mark’s signature, but he painted only one of them. And only one of them has the shamrock. Take a look at that, Elleny. A good, hard look.”
“I don’t believe it. Mark would never have stolen from his own father. Jesse wouldn’t have allowed it.” She choked as the doubt seared into her mind with burning possibility. But it couldn’t be true. She had loved Mark. She couldn’t have misjudged him so badly. Yet the doubt wouldn’t go away. It doubled in size and pressed her back against the door.
“Jesse couldn’t have stopped it without a scandal, Elleny. He protected himself and Mark in the only way he knew. Why else would he have bought back all those paintings? Why else would he sit in that mausoleum day after day, bitter and disillusioned, except to keep Mark’s secrets?”
That seemed all too possible. Jesse would have done whatever was necessary, sacrificed anything, to protect the Damon name. For A.J., if for no other reason.
“Are you willing to give me the benefit of the doubt now?” Phillip asked softly. “Can you admit that just maybe I’ve told you the truth? And if you still won’t believe me, then why don’t you ask Jesse?”
Elleny put a hand to her forehead, shielding herself from further questions. Didn’t Phillip understand what he was doing to her? Couldn’t he see? She couldn’t admit anything to him without reevaluating all the treasured memories of the past. “I refuse to upset Jesse with your ridiculous speculations. You can’t prove anything, Phillip. When it comes right down to it, you’re only guessing.”
Startled surprise flickered across his face and was replaced by cool irritation. “It’s more than a guess, Elleny. Stop pretending that your marriage was perfect and face the hard, cold facts of reality.”
Anger returned in a slow, scalding tide. “You have no right to say that, Phillip. The cold, hard reality is that my marriage was good. Not perfect, but good.”
“It was based on lies! Lies, Elleny. You loved a man who never existed.”
“That seems a little self-righteous coming from you, Phillip. I thought I loved you, but as it turns out, you don’t exist either.”
“I never deceived you about anything important, Elleny. Any lie I told you was a part of my job, simply a cover and the only way I could hope to discover the van Warner.”
“Well, you’ll forgive me if I find it difficult to distinguish between lies.” She straightened and pulled away from the support of the door. “Under the circumstances I think you should find another place to stay. And since you’re leaving anyway, don’t waste any time in getting out of my life.”
“Fine.” His hand closed over her arm with a ferocity he fought hard to control. “And since I’m leaving anyway, why don’t you make things simple and tell me where Mark hid that painting?”
“If I knew, do you honestly think I’d tell you?”
His smile was humorless as he released his hold on her. “You don’t know or you wouldn’t be so damned loyal to the memory of a man who betrayed your trust. But you’ll defend him to the last, won’t you, Elleny? All right. Go on believing what you choose. When I find the van Warner, you’ll realize that you were wrong, and I’ll have the satisfaction of knowing – even if you won’t admit it – that you should have trusted me.”
“I did trust you, Phillip.” She turned, opened the door, and faced a black night of emptiness. “Take that thought to bed with you.”
Elleny stepped onto the landing and closed the door on his reply. He wouldn’t follow her; she felt certain of that. Why would he even try? There wasn’t anything else to say. Or do. Until he found the painting – if such a painting really did exist. And if it did and he should find it, what would happen?
A trembling panic stirred in the pit of her stomach. Public exposure? Criminal charges? Legalities? Disgrace? And what would that do to A.J. and to his future? She couldn’t begin to guess what the ramifications might be. She couldn’t even comprehend the idea that Mark was guilty. It scared her. It angered her.
Ask Jesse, Phillip had said. Ask Jesse. Ask Jesse. Elleny ran down the stairs, trying to escape the memory, the option Phillip had offered. If you don’t believe me, ask Jesse.
She stopped on the bottom step and grasped the railing tightly with her hand. The only way she could ask Jess was to admit the possibility of Phillip’s truthfulness. If she accepted any part of what he’d told her, she had to accept it all. Not only that Mark had deceived her, but that Jesse had known about it and had deliberately kept it from her.
She didn’t want to believe that. She didn’t want to believe any of it, but now that Phillip had placed the idea before her, she had no choice except to consider it.
That in itself made her angry, and yet she recognized the sense of betrayal at the core of her emotion. It wasn’t that she and Jesse had ever been close, but surely he had realized her vulnerability to the consequences of Mark’s actions. If he’d been caught....
Elleny shuddered with the thought. How would she have protected herself and her son? In that situation ignorance would not have been bliss but utter foolishness. Why hadn’t Jesse told her? But then why hadn’t he stopped it? Why had he covered for Mark, allowed the crime to multiply into another and another?
Would she do such a thing for A.J.? Would she protect him although it meant violating every moral standard? It was not a question she could answer with absolute certainty. How could she judge Jesse? Right or wrong, he had paid a high price to protect the Damons. All of them – Mark, A.J., her, and himself.
With that thought Elleny was grudgingly aware of the sympathy insinuating itself into her anger and making room in her heart for compassion. What would happen to Jesse if the truth he had sacrificed so much to conceal became public knowledge? She didn’t think he would be able to bear it.
Maybe none of it was true. Maybe Phillip was the only one who had lied.
But if he hadn’t?
Well, she would face that when the time came. For now, she had to face the long hours ahead.
Hours in which she would have to define truth and love and loyalties.
Hours in which she would try to piece together a heart that suddenly had no past and no future.