The Inn At Ocean's Edge Part 18

Claire's mother began to shred the tissue in her hands. "What does that have to do with us? Who are you?"

"This is Kate Mason." Claire went to Kate's side and took her arm. Heat radiated off Kate's skin, and up close, Claire could see how sick she was. "I'll listen to what you have to say, Kate. You can tell me about it over breakfast, and I'll help if I can."

Kate shook off Claire's grip. "I'm not going anywhere." She faced Claire's mother. "Your husband is my biological father."

When her mother swayed at the news, Claire leaped to catch her. Her mom glared at her husband. "Oh, Harry!" Her voice shook. She looked again at Kate. "You're Mary Mason's daughter, aren't you?"

Kate straightened. "You've met my mother?"

"She was my first housekeeper when we were newlyweds. She left to care for her sick brother." She went to the sofa by the fireplace and practically fell back onto it. "Or so I was told." Leaning forward, she put her face in her hands and moaned. "I can't believe this." She looked up and shot her husband a glare.

Claire sat beside her and put her arm around her mother's shoulders, but she shook off the embrace. Claire staggered when her mother pushed her, but Kate caught her arm and steadied her. Her mother had never acted so out of control before. Claire didn't know how to calm her. Maybe only Dad could.

Her mother lifted her head and glared at her husband, who took a step toward her. "When I confronted you about Mary, you made me think I was crazy, jealous for no reason. And all this time . . ." Her face went red, then white. "She was from this area, so you set her up here and continued to see her, didn't you? I remember the frequent visits you used to make. And you just had to have Claire's birthday party here. Everything that's happened is because you couldn't keep your pants zipped. How could you, Harry?"

The last sentence was a wail that made the hotel employees and guests turn and look toward the small group cl.u.s.tered in front of the fireplace. Claire's mother grabbed a metal basket of decorative b.a.l.l.s placed on the table fronting the sofa, then seized the top one, a heavy ceramic red one, and threw it at her husband. It struck him in the chest and bounced to the polished hardwood floor.

He stood blinking stupidly at his wife until another round missile zoomed toward him. He ducked the blue ball. "Lisa, stop it. You're causing a scene."

A security officer headed their way, and the other guests gawked and whispered. Claire's mother didn't seem to notice as she continued to pelt her husband. The noise the b.a.l.l.s made when they struck the hardwood floors reverberated around the lobby's tall ceilings. Tears streamed down her face, and her mouth contorted in a silent scream.

Ducking and zigzagging, Claire's dad managed to cross the ten feet separating them. When he reached his wife, she threw the empty basket at his head. His eyes wide and disbelieving, he touched his forehead and looked at his b.l.o.o.d.y fingers.

"I hate you," she panted. She rushed past the gaping guests and hotel employees.

Claire started to go after her, but her father put his hand on her arm. "Let me." He didn't look at her or Kate as he caught up with his wife near the elevator.

Claire closed her eyes and sighed. Everything was broken in a million pieces.

TWENTY-EIGHT.

As soon as he entered the hotel, Luke turned toward the raised voices and picked up on the agitation in Claire's voice immediately. He quickly stepped past the bellman's desk. Everyone in the lobby craned their necks toward the two women near the fireplace. He was sure causing a scene was the last thing Claire would want, so whatever had happened had to be extreme.

Claire and the other young woman both had their hands balled into fists at their sides as they watched Harry Dellamare lead his wife into the elevator. The woman with Claire looked out of place with her faded jeans and tennis shoes under the gleaming crystal chandelier. Her dull hair was poorly dyed.

Claire bent down to retrieve a silver basket on the floor and put it on the table. She turned and saw him, and her gaze latched on to him as if he were her lifeline. "Luke."

She looked so beautiful and fresh in her pink sundress that he never would have guessed there was a problem if not for the circles under her eyes. She held out her hand, and he moved to take it. Her fingers were cold and shaking. "What's wrong?"

He knew she'd be upset from the revelations last night, but from her demeanor, he suspected something else had happened. Maybe the DNA had come back with incontrovertible truth. She drew closer as if to take strength from his presence. No one seemed to be eager to answer his question. The other young woman was biting her lip and s.h.i.+fting from foot to foot, but her defiant expression never changed. She couldn't seem to look away from Claire either.

He pressed Claire's hand with as much comfort as he could muster and waited for someone to answer him. "Do you need to sit down? You're pale."

She nodded, and dodging decorative b.a.l.l.s, he led her to the tan sofa by the fireplace. The other woman hadn't moved from her spot. If she kept twisting that lock of hair, she was going to pull it right out of her head. She slowly followed and sank onto a chair opposite the sofa.

"Tell me," he said once Claire was seated.

She licked her lips. "So much has happened that I don't know where to begin. Someone broke into my room last night and tried to smother me."

"What? Did he hurt you?" What if he'd come here this morning to flas.h.i.+ng lights and a coroner carrying her out? "Did they catch him?"

She shook her head. "But he took the painting I did of the man I saw kill Jenny. And my notes of everything I remembered."

"Did you call the sheriff?"

"Yes, he's come and gone. Then there was this news about Kate this morning."

"What news?"

She didn't answer Luke, but the shaking in her hands eased as she looked across at Kate. "You're really a Dellamare, Kate, not me. That's going to take awhile for me to absorb."

What was Claire talking about? Luke took a moment to study Kate. She didn't look well with her sallow skin and the dark circles under her eyes. "I don't understand."

"This is Kate Mason. Kate is D-Dad's daughter. A secret family we knew nothing about. She informed us all this morning." Claire gestured at the b.a.l.l.s around the room. "Mom threw stuff at him when she found out." Claire bit down on her trembling lower lip.

Kate finally quit twisting her hair. Her hands dropped to her lap. "I'm sorry, but I was desperate." She tipped her chin up. "And I think maybe you're all playing me. You just don't want to help me."

Claire straightened and pulled her hand away from Luke's. "What did you mean you're sick? If you need a kidney or something, I'm not going to be a match. I have no idea who I am, but it's clear I'm not a Dellamare." She bent down and picked up two decorative b.a.l.l.s on the floor around her feet. They clattered as she put them back in the silver basket on the table.

Kate choked back a sob. "You are my sister. I don't know what kind of game you're all playing, but it's cruel. All I ever wanted was to be part of your life. How do you think it made me feel to know Mom and I had to be hidden away like something to be ashamed of?"

She leaned closer and jabbed an unpolished finger in their direction. "But I have news for you. I'm not trash under your feet. I'm smart, and I have a lot of common sense. I'm not going to hide in the shadows and pretend I'm not real. Not for you or anyone else."

Kate turned and stalked toward the door as Luke put it all together. He jumped up and went after her, catching her by the arm just inside the big gla.s.s doors. "Please, I don't think Claire wants you to go. This is all so overwhelming for you both. Stay and talk. Tell her what you need."

Kate shook off his hand and bolted through the door. He watched her jog across the street and get into a Volkswagen.

He rejoined Claire on the sofa. "I can track Kate down and see what I can find out about her."

"I accused her of trying to meet me to get money out of Dad. I feel badly about that now. I think she really does believe we're sisters."

"You don't believe it?"

Her blue eyes were woebegone. "I'm not a Dellamare, Luke. I don't know who I am."

He picked up her hand and cradled it in both of his palms. "Someone knows who you are, Claire. And we'll find out."

She pulled her hand away and stood. "I think my grandmother knows more than she's saying. And I'm going to find out what it is." Looking down at him, she laid her palm against his cheek. "I need to do this alone."

He nodded. "I'll be here when you're done."

He wanted to believe the change in her circ.u.mstances might mean something could develop between them, but she was likely to run from this place and never look back.

Her grandparents' suite was much like Claire's own with black leather furniture on a plush cream rug. She practically fell into the room when Grandma opened the door. She had been here long enough that the place held the scent of her Tabu perfume and the scent of raspberry tea.

"Why, child, you're as white as a sheet. Did that man come back?" Her grandmother still wore her pale-blue negligee and fitted slippers. "Sit down." She guided Claire to the sofa.

Claire collapsed as the strength ran out of her legs. She leaned forward and buried her face in her hands. She choked back sobs. Her chest felt tight, as though she couldn't get any air.

Her grandmother thrust a cool gla.s.s in her hand. "Here, drink some water."

Claire obeyed, and the cool water eased some of the panic clamoring to get out. She raised her gaze to her grandmother's face and found sad knowledge in those wise eyes. "You knew about Dad's other family, didn't you?"

Her grandmother nodded. "He told you?"

Claire set the gla.s.s down on the coffee table next to the sofa. "Kate told me."

"Your sister."

Grandmother doesn't know. She shook her head. "Kate thought I was, but she hadn't heard the news."

"What news?" Her grandmother's voice trembled.

"I'm not Claire Dellamare. A little girl's bones were found on Luke's property, near where they found his mother's remains. There was a locket with the initials CD found with the bones. And there were sc.r.a.ps of a pink lace dress. Dental records confirm the remains as those of Claire Dellamare." She jumped to her feet. "Who am I, Grandma? I don't know."

She rushed toward the door to the balcony. Air, she had to have air. And the ocean breeze on her skin would calm her. Fighting the door, she relaxed when her grandmother's wrinkled hand clutched her arm.

"Sit down, honey. Be calm. Nothing will change my love for you. You're safe here. Wanted." Her grandmother's voice grew husky.

Claire turned to her grandmother. "Why didn't you tell me? Why did you let me find out this way?"

Tears flooded those wise eyes. "I promised your father I wouldn't. He's still my son-in-law, though he's been a rascal, and I wanted to protect Lisa. I'm sorry, Claire. I should have told you."

"And Kate. That poor girl is sick and thought finding her family would help her." Claire finally succeeded in unlocking the door. "But how could she find help when all we have holding us together are lies?"

As she fled down the carpeted hall, her grandmother called after her, but she didn't stop. She had to find Luke and get out on the water. Maybe there she could hear G.o.d's voice and find peace.

TWENTY-NINE.

The salt-laden sea breeze in her face, Claire could almost forget the events of the last twenty-four hours. Almost. Her nerves still jittered as if she were waiting for the next blow to fall. She leaned on the railing at the bow of Luke's boat and lifted her face to the blue sky overhead. "Thanks for bringing me out. I couldn't take one more thing today, and I needed the ocean."

Luke cut the engine. "I think you're a mermaid."

The sudden stillness let her hear the call of the terns swooping out along the edge of a small island with their distinctive kip and kee'ar sounds. The boat bobbed in the waves as its forward momentum slowed. She watched a particularly aggressive tern scoop up a wriggling fish and carry it back to its nest. The rhythm of life on the sea. Eat or be eaten. Right now she felt like that fish, squirming and flailing to escape a certain fate. In this case, she feared her fate was to never know who she was.

Could it all be a mistake? She clung to that hope, but uncertainty bobbed like flotsam in her gut.

Luke tossed the anchor overboard, then joined her at the bow. "You're very pensive. It's a lot to take in."

She closed her eyes and inhaled the scent of the sea. "I want to forget all about it for now. That's why I asked you to bring me out on the water. Out here, I'm myself. Whoever that is." When she opened her eyes, she found him staring at her with a tender expression that made her look away.

"G.o.d has given you everything you need to weather this storm."

She managed a nod. "My head knows you're right, but my heart still trembles like a baby bird fallen from the nest." The birds still swooped and cawed. "So I keep thinking about how G.o.d says not a sparrow falls that he does not know about. This didn't come as a surprise to him. What's that psalm? 'He knit me together in my mother's womb.' Whoever that mother may turn out to be."

The pain of even considering she might have another mother took her breath away. How would she cope with that if it happened? She shook her head, then looked out over the waves churning foam as they spent themselves on the rocky sh.o.r.eline of the little island. "Do you think we can find any orca pods out here?"

"I've seen one or two hanging around this island." He reached down to grab an odd-looking contraption and tossed it over the side, then tied the other end of the rope to the railing.

"What's that?"

"A hydrophone. I can listen to the sounds under water, and we might pick up some matriline dialect if they're down there. Our little orca is about ready to rejoin his family."

"I wish it were that easy for me." The cold metal railing bit into her palms, and she forced herself to ease her grip. "If I could find out who had me for that year, it might answer all our questions. It might even tell me who I am."

"You don't doubt the results of the dental ID anymore? I think you should be at least a little skeptical until we get the DNA back. You and Kate resemble one another so I think it's likely you're Claire Dellamare. I don't know whose bones we discovered, but I don't think you should jump to any a.s.sumptions."

"Blue eyes and dimples are hardly unique. She just saw what she wanted to see. I did some research online and found out that dental records have been used for two hundred years. It's pretty foolproof." The warmth from his body seeped against her side, and she wished she had the courage to turn and throw herself into his arms. If he kissed her, maybe she could forget all she was dealing with. She held herself erect and in control. A Dellamare never lost control.

She stopped her thoughts before they could go any further. She probably wasn't a Dellamare anyway. And maybe loss of control wasn't such a bad thing. It might help her learn something about herself.

She inhaled and turned to face him. She searched his gaze. Those dark, dark eyes held her transfixed. Why did he have to be so handsome? He looked like a male model on the cover of a pirate romance novel, all rippling muscles and strong jaw. It wasn't just his startling good looks that drew her, but something much deeper. When she looked into his eyes, she felt like a piece of herself was looking back. It unnerved her.

Her fingers were buried in the soft cotton of his s.h.i.+rt, and she'd moved closer. He didn't smile, and a muscle in his jaw jumped as he reached for her with a groan and pulled her close enough to bury his face in her hair. The fragrance of his spicy cologne enticed her to bury her face in his s.h.i.+rt, to press her lips against the skin at the warm base of his throat. His pulse jumped in that soft spot, and she let her lips linger there.

She should say something and pull back, but she couldn't do it. He was silent, too, and she was lost in a place where time didn't exist, where all that mattered was the touch of his hand at her waist and the sound of his ragged breathing in her ear.

His fingers touched her chin and tipped up her head. His gaze seemed to ask permission, and she gave it with a tremulous smile. He bent his head, and his lips brushed hers. She inhaled the sweet scent of his breath and reached up to lay her hand across the rough stubble of his cheek. She should close her eyes, but she wanted to savor the taste of him as she looked into the seascape she loved so much. He was as much a part of the ocean as she was.

He deepened the kiss, and she wrapped her arms around his neck. His firm lips coaxed a response from her, and she let down her guard, kissing him back with everything in her. All the pent-up loneliness, all the betrayal and hurt. His kiss soothed it all.

He pulled away and cupped her face in his hands. "I've known you only a week, but it feels like forever." He must have seen the fear in her eyes because he rubbed his thumb across her cheek. "I will never hurt you, honey. Never."

His lips came down on hers again, and she closed her eyes this time, tasting him fully, wanting him like she'd never wanted anything before in her life.

How she could come to care like this so quickly, she didn't know. But she never wanted him to let go of her.

Luke sat with his arm settled around Claire as they leaned against the back of the bench seat on the starboard side of his boat. They'd gone back to Folly Shoals to get the little orca, and they'd brought him back to join his family.

A pod of orcas played about ten feet away, and from their vocabulary, he was certain this was his little orca's pod. "There they are." Reaching over the side of the boat, he cut the net around the little one. The calf lay motionless for a moment. Luke dropped the hydrophone over the side, and whistles and clicks began to sputter through the speakers. "They're calling him!"

Dorsal fins swam nearer, and the calf flipped his fluke. He leaped in the water, then his small fin joined three others about twenty feet off the starboard side of the boat.