5. Secrets

SECRETS

MADDY

I feel as if someone punched me in the gut. It's all over. They will identify Paul as being Andrew's son, and that awful man in New York City will try to take him away from me — just as he had tried to do nine years ago.

"What's wrong?" Dr. Lane queries. "You look as if someone just stole your last hope."

I pull myself together. Maybe they won't make the connection. No one has yet commented on how much Paul looks like the other Lane children. The resemblance should be a dead giveaway, but I'm glad that no one has said anything to that effect to me. I paste a smile on my face and say, "I'm not sure anyone realizes how much of an invasion of privacy this is."

"Well," Dr. Lane says. "Most of the kids are family, so I don't suppose they thought of it as being invasive. Paul was included just so he wouldn't feel left out."

I feel my smile turn into a rictus. Just for once, I would have been happy for my son to be left out. I make my jaws relax into something resembling what I hope is a pleasant expression.

"What an interesting project," I say. "Oh, look, we're starting to get a line again."

That gets Dr. Lane's attention. He immediately turns to the next person in line.

With the doctor suitably distracted, I greet the person in front of me. He has a nasty grease burn on the back of his right hand and arm. "Goodness," I say. "What happened?"

He grinned at me. "I took my eye off the deep-fat fryer. Saw a pretty girl walking by. I slid cold dough into hot grease and it spattered me real good."

I laugh. It is a little forced, but comes under the, "fake it until you make it", heading. It loosens up a few of the icy tendrils of fear that are gripping my heart. Laughter is good medicine. Sadly, it is probably just a temporary palliative.

"So I guess you'll keep your eye on the task at hand from now on?" I say.

He grins, and gives me a wink while I spritz down his hand and arm with a cooling burn gel. "I might remember in the ordinary way, but this girl was something extraordinary. Short, freckled, a great bush of red hair, with the sassiest bottom in ten counties. She was hurrying after that guy who was just here with all those kids."

"I think you are describing my sister-in-law," Andrew calls over. "You don't want to tangle with her husband. Anyway, she's only got eyes for him."

And how did he know that? Did he regret digging up his long, lost brother to fulfill the marriage contract? Irrationally, I feel a pang of jealousy. Suddenly, I want him to recognize me, to remember that amazing week we had shared.

"Another reason to keep your eyes and your hands on the job," I tell the man.

"I guess so," he says, gazing over at Dr. Lane. "There was this tall man with her. But surely he wouldn't be related to the doc over there."

"Half-brother," Dr. Lane says lightly. "Same dad, different moms. Long story."

The man blinks twice. "Oh, right," he says. "Blended family. Gotcha. Reckon I could go back to work, doc?" He addresses this last to me.

"I'm the head nurse and admin, he's the doctor," I say. "But I don't see why you can't. Just keep your eyes on what you're doing, not on the scenery."

He gives me a toothy grin and shoots me a finger pistol. "You got it, doc." Then he hustles off to get back to making deep-fried, delicious, unhealthy food.

Dr. Lane and I exchange speaking glances behind the man's back. We are clearly on the same wavelength here.

Why does he not recognize me? What will he say when the DNA tests reveal him as Paul's father? I am torn between wanting to dash across the tent, grab him by the front of his scrubs, and shake him until he acknowledges me, and hoping that he will shrug it off, and go back to ignoring me and my child.

He looks across the tent, and gives me that marvelous dimpled grin peculiar to all the Lane men. I go weak in the knees, and wonder again why he doesn't remember me. Have I changed that much?

I try to keep my mind on the job, but it keeps wandering. I can't help admiring Dr. Lane's lean, athletic body. The shapeless scrubs do little to disguise his narrow hips and wide shoulders. He isn't as heavily muscled as his brother, Richard Lane, the former football player. But he is trim and moves with the grace that goes with athletic training.

At the same time, wondering what is happening with my son's DNA sample fills me with a sort of sick dread. What if that horrible old man finds us? Could he find grounds to take my son from me?

I'm an excellent mother – I've worked hard at it. Since I did not name his father, I have sole custody of Paul. I've given up so much to keep us hidden. It was a risk to even have my school transcripts transferred to the university, but nursing school was out of the question without them. I want to see my son. I want Dr. Lane to recognize me. I want…

I just want all these people to go home for the evening so I can, too.

If anything, the crowd gets bigger and the line longer. I'm beginning to wonder if we will be here forever. This must be hell. Glued to an endless line of people with minor injuries and illnesses, while wondering where my son is and if he is all right.

Before I can give in completely to despair, a replacement team of nurses shows up. One of them, a perky little blond with permed curls, calls out in an impossibly girlish soprano, "Hi! We're on loan from Spindizzy Main Hospital. I bet you are ready for some dinner and time to sleep."

I just stare at her for a moment. I've never heard of permed angels, but she might fill the bill.

Her companion, a motherly woman, says, "Assuming that you aren't too eager to work a second shift . . ."

Her crisp, Bostonian accent helps restore my sanity. These were real people, not mirages born of my afternoon internal funk. "Yes," I say, "I'm more than ready for a break. How about you, Dr. Lane?"

"Absolutely," he says. "My stomach has been gnawing at my backbone for the last hour."

"There's a buffet in the big cook shack cottage on the other side of the orchard," the blond woman says. "I'm Jessie, by the way, and that mother hen beside me is Enid. She says this will be a cakewalk."

I laugh. "It's been busy, but mostly it's been minor stuff. All the same, I'm ready for a meal, and to see my son."

"You just toddle right along," Enid says. "Follow the happy face lanterns on the other side of the childcare cottage. You can't miss it. I think the kids are already down there. Oh," she says almost as an afterthought. "I have these tests. Charles just caught us before we left the clinic so we were able to bring them."

I swallow hard. I have an urge to dash the DNA testing boxes onto the ground and stomp them to bits. I must have stared at them for long enough that Andrew felt he needed to sweep in.

"Thanks for bringing those over," he says briskly, taking the bag that she is holding out and walking with it into the other room. I swallow again and clasp my hands together. I've noticed they are shaking.

"Okay, I'm leaving all those tests in Richard's capable hands," Andrew says as he comes back into the room. "Come on. Let's go take a break."

Dr. Lane and I waste no time heading off toward the edge of the fairgrounds. We have no problem at all finding the path of "happy lanterns". They light the path through the orchard, and Japanese paper lanterns hang from lines strung on poles to either side of the walkway. Happy faces are drawn on each of them. These must have been the children's afternoon project.

When we arrive at the designated "cook shack", children are lining up along a huge buffet that is laden with real food, not picnic or fairground treats. I look along the line of children and realize I don't see Isabel, Paul, Cece, or Julia. Bathroom, perhaps?

"Where are the rest of the children?" I ask the nearest worker.

"The rest?" she looks at me, puzzled. "These are the only ones I know about."

Rylie appears at my elbow. "Family meeting," she says quietly. "Come quickly."

We follow her into a meeting room where grim-faced adults are sitting around a table containing a telephone and an envelope. They all look at these objects as if they were snakes, coiled to strike.

"What is going on?" I explode.

"Kidnapping," Charles says grimly. He has an arm around Kate, whose face is pale, and marked with tear streaks. Her baby is cradled in her arms. "Cece, Isabel and Paul wandered off to the edge of the orchard by themselves. Julia and Austin are out with the dogs and more than half of the security team, trying to track them. So far, all they've found is that." He nods toward the two objects on the table.

I reach for the letter, but Rylie grabs my hand. "Fingerprints," she says. "A team is on the way from Moor Security home office."

"Not the police?" I ask. "Shouldn't we report the children missing?"

Charles shakes his head. "Not yet. I have reason to believe that our local forces have been infiltrated by gang members. Evidence has gone missing from police headquarters, and a couple of people who should have been put away for life are out walking the streets as a result. Austin's team is better, anyway. If they can't find them . . ." He turns his head, and his arm tightens around Kate.

Kate begins crying. "I knew I shouldn't take a nap. Dreadful things always happen when you aren't paying attention."

I take a deep breath, and say in my best emergency room nurse voice, "May I please read the letter?"

Silence falls on the room. Rylie picks the paper up with salad tongs, and drags it to the edge of the table where I can read what is written on it.