My insides chill. I stare at her, pulse screaming through my veins to run.
“When I first opened the door, I thought you really were one of the Brenden’s friends. But…” Her eyes skim my face sending an eruption of goosebumps down my back. “No one has eyes like yours. And your face—no wonder Rufus Solomon immortalized you. Pictures don’t do you justice.”
I avert my gaze, feeling the rush of bile gurgling in my throat. At the same time I feel so cold, I start shivering.
She leans forward on the couch, like she senses my fear. “I’m not going to hurt you.” Maybe she sees me shaking. It doesn’t matter, her performance isn’t real. I don’t believe her.
“I only want to create the legacy my father deserves. His colleagues scoffed at his discovery of immortality. They refused to give him the credit owed to him. Even after keeping those cells alive for thirty-four years! He never got over that. And that damned Rufus Solomon—I bet he saved his own skin before trying to save Papa. Imagine! The world could have done without a wretch like him, but my Papa? Oiu. He wasn’t a quack and I’m going to make sure the world knows it. His legacy is you—a multibillion-dollar dream for anyone who wants to live forever.”
I stand and start toward the door. Behind me, I hear the rustling of fabric, footsteps. I reach for the doorknob. “Tell me what happened that night. Why didn’t Papa survive?”
My throat locks, bombarded, memories gush into my head.
The door opens and Brenden is there, blocking the way out. His eyes widen with surprise seeing me. Relief oozes through my body at the sight of him. Judy comes to a halt beside me.
“Is that your cab?” he asks.
I open my mouth but all I can think is to flee. I push past him and run.
“Don’t let her go!” Judy screams. “Stop her, Brenden.”
I’m halfway down the brick walk when Brenden takes hold of my right arm. He swings me around. My knees shake, and the quaking rambles through my limbs, filling my body with luscious desire until I collapse against him.
Concern knots his features. Judy lopes behind him and stops at his side.
Brenden glares at her. “What did you do to her?” he shouts.
“I didn’t do anything!”
I’m caressed by his scent, weakened by his strength, lured into total submission. His arms slip beneath me and he carries me into the house. My head screams silently, no! But my voice is buried beneath craving.
Yes. Like this.
Brenden gently lays me on the couch Judy had been sitting on. He sits next to me. “What happened?” he asks.
“She came here looking for you.” Judy marches over, her face red with anger. “That’s where you went, isn’t it? You went to find her.”
“What are you talking about?” he snaps. “We need some privacy. Leave.”
“I’m not going anywhere. I’ve spent a fortune trying to find her. She’s mine, and you’re not ruining this for me.”
Brenden jerks to his feet. “What the hell is wrong with you?” He puts himself close to Judy, sending her head cocking back. “Get out.”
Judy scowls. “This is my house!”
He lunges her direction and she scurries out of the room.
Brenden flashes to my side, one hand anchored on the back of the couch, the other on the cushion, framing me in. “What happened?”
“I came here…for you.” My voice is hoarse, twisted with panic and yearning.
His lips curve up a little. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left you alone at the airport. I should have—”
“No, stop.” I reach out to touch him, but withdraw. I’m still reeling from contact, and I need to be coherent. Brenden’s brows knit at the reaction. “Please don’t be mad. I have things to tell you. And I have to be lucid.”
“What? You’re saying that when I touch you you’re not lucid?”
“I know it sounds outrageous but it’s true, and it’s part of what I have to tell you.”
“Okay, so tell me.”
I glance over his shoulder at the hall where Judy disappeared. This is not what I imagined would happen when I told Brenden the truth. I haven’t allowed myself to rehearse what I’d say to him. Delivery is eighty percent of the performance; the other twenty is the dialogue. But this isn’t a scene. This is Jonathan’s son, and Jonathan sent him to you. He deserves the truth. Truth is one hundred percent of what’s important.
“Please listen with an open heart.”
He looks at me as if I’m losing my mind, but at the same time bracing himself for what I am going to say next. “Okay.”
“The night your father rescued Grace from the fire, she was having an experimental treatment. Rufus had found a doctor—Dr. Alexis Lemarchal—and he’d paid the doctor off to give her an infusion of his newest discovery. No one, not even Grace, knew what was going to happen. Jonathan didn’t know anything except that Rufus had something monumental planned. By the time the fire started, she’d already had the treatment.”
Brenden waits for more. It’s hard to gauge what these words are doing to him. His face remains intent, but without defining expression.
“The treatment was a youth serum meant to keep her young. Forever.”
“Youth serum?” Brenden snorts. “You’re messing with me, right?”
“No.”
I see thoughts race in Brenden’s eyes but I’m not sure if he really comprehends my explanation. If I say more, will he believe me? His quizzical gaze studies me for what feels like endless moments. “If there was an eternal youth serum, the whole world would know about it.”
“Except it was experimental, and the doctor died in the fire. He never got a chance to tell the world.” I stay still, allowing him time to examine, weigh and decide. “Please consider everything that’s happened with what I’ve told you. I know it sounds unbelievable. I’m asking you to slow down and think about why Jonathan sent you to me—to give me that box. But he neglected to tell you about what had happened the night of the fire. I don’t know why he chose not to tell you. Do you think you would have listened or believed me if I’d told you the moment I met you? I couldn’t. I didn’t know you. How could I trust you? I know it sounds impossible, but this is the truth. The doctor gave me that treatment. Your father helped me escape. And…the three of us have kept this secret.”
I’ve never wanted anyone to believe anything with more urgency. I draw closer to him, watching for his reaction to my nearness. Wariness tightens his face.
“Please. Think about it,” I add.
His eyes seem more receptive to seeing me—really seeing me—and a healing contentment salves my worries. “My real identity is not something I’ve told anyone about—ever. ”
I feel like each moment that I fill with more details, the eyes of his understanding open wider. “I’m…I’m sorry you’re finding out this way.”
His gaze sweeps me from head to toe. My body warms in the wake of his visual appraisal. “I’ve got to get my head around this.”
I nod. “Of course.”
“A lot of what’s happened makes sense.” He sits back, creating distance and his gaze stays steadily on mine. His hand reaches for my face, but he stops inches from my cheek – warmth from his fingertips pulsing into my flesh. “Does this have anything to do with why I can’t touch you?”
Will this truth be too much for him? “The treatment had side effects,” I start, cautiously. There’s no style to this performance. I can’t hide behind illusion and don’t want to. I just hope my timing is right. “If I’m near anyone I’m… attracted to, I…” Say the words. The truth. “I’m overcome.”
“With…what?”
Chapter Twenty-Six
~Brenden~
“Desire.” The word hums from her lips.
Of all the explanations I expect, this is not it.
“Every sensation is heightened. Magnified.” She turns her face away, as if ashamed or embarrassed. “It’s like my hormones flood me.”
A light
thrill tickles my insides. “Sounds pretty sweet to me.”
“You have no idea how difficult it is.” Her gaze meets mine, cheeks flushing a crimson shade. “I’m knocked off my feet every time we touch—I collapsed in your arms.”
“Is that what that was about?” I study her face: a beauty made immortal, and inside the goddess lives a vulnerable girl. I want to protect her. Take care of her. Love her. These needs gnaw through every other concern for living and existing that I have.
I lean close, half expecting her to move away from me. She doesn’t. “I liked it,” I say. Her smile assures me I’m okay being closer to her. “How did you find out about this side effect, anyway?”
She contemplates my question, glancing away as if reticent about telling me. “I had…interests in boys, of course, even with my unusual circumstances. I met an American soldier when Oscar and I were living overseas.”
I’m blown away, left speechless by what those beautiful eyes have seen. I want to know everything.
“Isn’t this cozy?” Judy’s voice shatters the moment. She’s keeping a safe distance by standing in the hall “You two?” Her finger wags back and forth from Grace to me. “Like father like son,” she says, darts in her eyes. “You know that your father was in love with her.”
My mouth opens but my head is disjointed processing that the girl sitting next to me is Grace Doll.
“I never encouraged Jonathan,” Grace says. “We were friends.”
“Still an actress after all this time. The world will be thrilled to have you back.”
“You’re not going to tell anyone about this.” I stand.
“I’ve already arranged for a press conference. Once my private detective found you in Utah, I started preparations.”
It was Judy who’d hired someone to follow me? Shock silences me.
“I knew it was only a matter of time before you led me to her.” Judy holds up her cell phone. “Grace was ‘gracious’ enough to let me take her picture and it’s on its way to every media outlet I’m in contact with.”
Grace’s eyes widen.
I lunge across the room and try to snatch the phone but Judy tucks it into the pocket of her hideous housedress. I’m enraged that I was deceived by Judy, my father’s wife, my step-mother. “Nobody’s going to give a bat’s ass what you say. How do you even know about her?” I demand.
“My father is the doctor who administered the treatment. Dr. Alexis Lemarchal.”
“Your maiden name is Bernard.” I know little about Judy, except that she came to the U.S. to pursue a career in show business sometime in the early sixties. She’d had no trace of an accent—except when she swore.
“Stage name,” Judy pipes. “Papa implied Grace was alive in his notes. Why do you think I came to America? Married your father? It wasn’t because I was in love with him—though I was enough of an actress to make him think I was.”
My arm flies out ready to backhand her but suddenly Grace in front of me. “Brenden!” Her eyes plead for me to stop.
“Go ahead, hit me,” Judy taunts. “I’ll make sure you have a record for abuse. At least you have the balls—your father was the most disappointing excuse for a man I’ve ever seen. ”
I lunge, but I feel Grace’s body begin to tremble when she pushes herself against me to stop me in my tracks.
“She’s lying,” Grace whispers against my chest. Her arms wrap tight around me, fists clinging to my shirt. “Don’t listen.”
“The woman in your arms is the only woman Jon ever loved,” Judy barks. “He never loved your mother. He never loved me. And he never loved you.”
My heart tears. Judy’s not telling me something I didn’t already know deep down. Her words just confirm what I’ve thought all along.
Grace’s gaze lifts to mine. “In his way he loved you.”
But my memories of moments with Dad are few and ambiguous—like a dream—I’ll never really know if they were real or my child-like wishes.
Judy laughs. “C’est magnifique! How does it feel, Brenden, to have the actress honing her skills on you? Just like she did with your father?”
“Brenden.” Grace’s plea cuts through the pain, the disappointment. “We should go.”
Judy lifts her shoulder. “Leave if you like, but once I announce to the world that my father’s treatment worked and Grace Doll is living proof, her life will belong to me and Papa.”
I round Grace and storm Judy, causing her to trip backwards until she falls over her own feet and crashes to the floor. She grimaces. “Stop! I’ll press charges.”
“Cancel the press conference,” I demand between clenched teeth.
“You couldn’t pay me enough.”
“I always knew you were a gold digger.”
“I didn’t need your father’s money,” Judy spits out. “I had my own. Every extra cent your father made went to her. Feel special?”
“Shut up.” I grab her by the front of her housedress and lift her to her feet. She shrieks. “You were an extra. A background player.” My fists twist the fabric tight, and her eyes flash with fear.
With a hard shove, I release her. Face white, she stumbles to the wall and holds herself upright.
“Brenden.” Grace urges me through the front door.“Please.”
Crickets chirp in the damp encroaching night. “I hate her,” I seethe. “She needs to die a twisted, sick death.” I storm down the path toward the van. The sight of Judy’s ugly gnomes peering out of the bushes in Dad’s yard enrages me. I pick one up and hurl it toward the street. One by one I send the ugly creatures to their demise, each crashing into pavement. Breath heaves in and out of my lungs. I feel a little better once they’re all destroyed, but I’m so furious, still unsure of what I’ve been told and what I know to be real and true.
Grace and I stare at each other.
The idling cab waits on the street. After a few long moments, she crosses the grass to the yellow car. For a second I panic, thinking she’s leaving. I run to the cab. She opens the back door and I slam it shut with my right hand. “Don’t go.”
“I’m only getting my bags.”
Relief has never penetrated more deeply. I open the door, grab the black bags. She pays the driver and he takes off.
“Will you take me to Rufus?” she asks.
“What about what Judy said? Isn’t that more pressing?”
She takes a deep breath and glances at the house. Her brows crease as if she’s already feeling the ramifications of what Judy plans to do.
I step closer. “I brought all of this into your life. I’m…sorry.”
Her eyes move from the house to me. “I’m relieved.”
“It’ll be a mess. Judy’s right, your life will never be yours again. After everything you and Dad and Oscar have done to remain anonymous I can’t let that happen.”
“It’s not your fault, Brenden. It’s mine.”
“How is it your fault? A psycho maniac changed your life forever. You’re a victim.”
“I can’t let anyone own me. Ever. I want Rufus out of my life for good.”
“But the media will own you once they find out. They’ll hound you. You think Solomon is bad? You’ll never have a moment’s peace.”
“I haven’t had real peace,” she says. “Hiding—it’s all been an act. Facing this is what I need to do. That will bring real peace.”
I’m in awe of her power, her willingness to accept what I see as a horrendous fate in comparison to the careful life she has led. I shake my head. “This is all too crazy.”
“Yes,” she says, quietly.
I’m sure we haven’t seen the real crazy yet.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
~Grace~
The raspy buzz of Brenden’s VW van relaxes me, even with the past hour flashing through my head. Like a scene gone awry, and yet it happened. Someone other than Oscar and Brenden knows that I’m alive. A sense of urgency roars through my blood, but I’m not afraid. Only anxious and ready to do what needs
to be done.
Music scratches from a radio in the dashboard. I’ve never been fond of current music trends—except for the 60s when I listened to the Beetles, and a foray into the 80s when music became addictive with palatable pop. Whatever this is playing now sounds like devils being burned alive. Brenden, noticing that I’m looking at the radio, reaches over and turns it off.
“Sorry, no satellite. This was Dad’s car. He gave it to me for my sixteenth birthday.”
“Did he?” I smile. “He bought me a Bug back in ‘67. A red one. I loved that car.” Brenden’s quiet for a moment and I realize what he must be thinking. “Brenden, Rufus controlled everything. All of the money I made—it was impossible for me to get any of it. Jonathan helped me out, God bless him.”
“So, he helped you from day one?”
“Yes. Rufus had a safe at the Dollhouse. He’d never told me the combination—but I knew it could only be one of a few options, and, the night of the treatment, he excused the house staff so no one would witness what was going to happen. When Dr. Lemarchal arrived, Rufus was downstairs talking to him, so I took the chance. I tried different combinations, and Grace Doll opened it. Rufus stored my jewelry there, so, I knew even if he didn’t have a lot of cash in it I’d be able to sell the gems.
“I opened the safe and, low and behold, not only did I find my jewels, but Solomon had stacks of gold bars, bonds, a reel of film of me, and some photos—“ Up until that night I’d never seen the photos Poppi had taken the day Rufus had raped me on set in front of Jonathan. “I’m sure he had stowed the pictures to use against me someday. I put everything into my travel bags and threw them out the second story window to an area where I’d told Oscar and Jonathan to find them.”
“Another reason Solomon figured you were alive? I’m guessing the fire didn’t destroy the safe.”
“I don’t know, Jonathan never said a word about details of the police and fire reports and I had no interest in reading about it. Jonathan spent the best years of his life protecting me.”