Daughter of Light

  Thinking about her desertion of her family caused me to think about my own. How alike were we? Did we both realize that we were too different from our own families to remain with them? How could a mother be so different from her children? But wasn’t I different from mine?

  As if she could feel me being too serious, Julia shook my hand so I would snap out of it and return to the new world of excitement that had entered the house along with me.

  “Stop worrying!” she cried as we bounded up the stairs. “Mrs. Wakefield will work wonders with the preparations, and my father will call in every favor ever owed him to make things smooth and wonderful.”

  She paused for a breath at the top of the stairway.

  “It will truly be one of the best weddings in Quincy in modern times. Great-auntie Amelia will rank it along with the wedding of whatever governor or president ever married in New England.”

  “I don’t want to be up on any stage,” I said softly. “We just want to get married.”

  “Don’t be silly. I’m not going to just want to get married, and neither should you. You’re going to be a Dolan, and if you believe Great-auntie Amelia, you are a member of American royalty.”

  I thought about what she was saying. My picture would be in newspaper social columns, maybe even in magazines. I never had any doubt that Daddy and my sisters eventually would find me. Perhaps this would discourage them from trying to get me back or caring about me any longer.

  Who gets married holding her breath?

  Lorelei Patio, that’s who, I thought.

  Julia tugged me forward into her room and to her computer.

  “We’ll search the Internet for wedding dresses until we find the one you want,” she said, and put a chair next to hers. Then she just hugged me and began the search.

  She was right. There was no time to be too philosophical or too serious. Bells were ringing, rice was raining down, and cans were clinking behind our car. Those were the images I should be seeing and nothing else.

  18

  The whirlwind I thought I was caught in before was a slow boat to China compared with what went on now. Even if I had wanted to dwell on my past and my concerns about myself, I rarely had time for it. Between my work and the many small decisions to make about the wedding and ordering that had to be done on a priority basis, there was hardly time to do much else. Liam and I had many discussions with Mrs. Wakefield about the way the ceremony and the reception were to be set up on the estate grounds, down to the color of the tents. I found her to be a very efficient person who was not as controlling as Mrs. Fennel but equally confident in her ideas and decisions. Liam was respectful but always watching to see if I was in any way annoyed. Little did he know how used I was to someone like her. I did, however, begin to believe that she sincerely approved of me.

  My most enjoyable times were with Julia, right from that first night when we hurried up to her room to huddle together and look at possible wedding gowns on the Internet. At times, I thought she was more excited about it all than I was, and I had the feeling that she might have often felt wistful, fearing that her wedding might never happen. Right from the start, I had sensed an underlying current of gloom running beneath the seemingly stable and secure, wealthy Dolan family. All of that, I was sure, flowed from Liam and Julia’s mother’s desertion.

  “I’ve always wanted a younger sister,” she told me that night. “You can’t imagine what it’s been like living in a house with two men and Mrs. Wakefield. Don’t misunderstand me. I love her, and she loves us, but sometimes, most of the time,” she said, leaning toward me to lower her voice as if someone was listening right outside her door, “I can’t imagine her as a young woman in love. Her parents brought her up very strictly, and it wasn’t because they were overly religious people, either. Her older brother was killed in a car accident. He was the driver, and he was miles over the blood alcohol limit. Two other young people were killed, too, one being the girl he was with. They hit another vehicle head-on. The couple in it survived, but their ten-year-old boy died. I don’t know how many times she’s told Liam that story over the years, making it sound more and more gruesome as he grew older. I guess I can’t blame her, but it hasn’t exactly made for bubbles and lights whenever either of us had a social affair to attend.”

  She paused like someone stuck in a memory for a moment and then shuddered and forced a smile.

  “Anyway, forget all that. We should talk only about happy, exciting things.”

  She turned back to the computer and started to pull up wedding gowns on the Internet, but then she stopped again and turned back to me.

  “How did you do it? How did you get Liam to fall in love with you so fast?” She blushed and lowered her eyes. “I’ll confide in you the way I would confide in a sister. I’m trying to get Clifford to fall head over heels in love with me. I know I love him.”

  “Did you tell him that?”

  “Oh, no.”

  “I don’t know that there is any secret way to get someone to fall in love with you,” I said. “I know it doesn’t sound very scientific, but there has to be something mysterious and at the same time obvious to both. I think it takes a great deal of trust to tell someone you love him. It’s the most revealing thing of all. You’ve totally exposed yourself, and I imagine being rejected after that is devastating.”

  She stared at me and then tilted her head a little when she smiled. “Why do I feel that you’re way older than I am?”

  Her question reminded me of my discussion with Michele Levy, Mr. Dolan’s pregnant secretary, the first time I had met her. I gave Julia a similar answer. “It’s not time that ages you; it’s the experiences you have.”

  She nodded. “Yes, I keep forgetting what a miserable family life you’ve had. That’s because you don’t wear it on your sleeve like I do, I’m sure. At least, you don’t when you’re with me and obviously when you’re at work and with Liam. My great-auntie Amelia says you’re never a sourpuss, either.

  “I don’t know how you do it,” she continued. “Every time I see a mother with her child at the hospital, see how devoted and concerned she is, I feel a pang of envy and then a surge of bitterness. Of course, Liam can’t remember her as well. He was only four, but I remember my mother, vaguely. It’s still enough to invade my dreams and thoughts with visions of her face, memories of her voice, flashing pictures, if you know what I mean. Mrs. Wakefield has been wonderful and devoted, but no one replaces a mother, not really. Oh, I’m sorry,” she cried, shaking herself as if to get some insects off her back and shoulders. “I keep pulling us back into the dark.”

  “It’s all right. I’m flattered that you don’t mind confiding your feelings in me.”

  “Well, you’re going to be my sister-in-law, actually more like my sister. Right?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you’ve never had a sister, either, so you’ve probably felt most of the same things I’ve felt growing up.”

  “Probably,” I said. My eyes shifted. Images of Ava, Brianna, and my little sister Marla came rushing back at me.

  Julia sensed something, sensed that I was holding back. “There’s so much about you that I have to learn, but I have to win your trust and confidence first. I will,” she vowed. “I’ll be your best friend in the world, so that you won’t hesitate to tell me intimate things about yourself and your past. And don’t think just because I’m Liam’s sister that I would always take his side in any argument,” she added emphatically.

  “Okay,” I said, smiling. Get her off me as a topic, I told myself. “As far as you and Clifford go, I don’t know him well enough, of course, but maybe he’s hesitant to show his feelings because you are. If you care that much for him, take a chance, trust him, and tell him,” I said. “Or at least hint at it strongly enough so that he won’t feel foolish or afraid to tell you his honest feelings for you.”

  She nodded. “I will. You ought to be writing an advice column for lovers in need or something.” She started to turn back to
the computer and paused again. “I really don’t care,” she said. “I mean, I wouldn’t condemn you or Liam ever for it, but did he tell my father the truth? You’re getting married this quickly because you both want to and not because you’re pregnant?”

  I knew how to convince her beyond any doubt and at the same time make her feel as if she was my sister already. “We haven’t even had intercourse yet, Julia.”

  Her eyes widened. “My brother . . . showed that kind of restraint?”

  “Maybe it’s an old-fashioned idea, but I thought it was important, especially with someone like Liam, who, shall we say, suffers from a reputation.”

  She laughed. “I understand exactly. Back to this dress,” she declared, and we drew closer to look at the choices.

  That night, we shared her king-size canopy bed, giggling and talking late into the wee hours, as Daddy might say. There had never been any of this sisterly feeling between myself and Ava or Marla. Brianna was too old even to get to know. Marla was too young. Most of the time, Ava was so into herself. I was sure she saw me as a distraction when I was younger and tried to talk girl talk with her. When I was older, I could feel the sense of competition, a competition that went far beyond normal sibling rivalry. It was too intense and at times almost violent. I didn’t know who was more critical and demanding of me, Ava or Mrs. Fennel. If Ava gave me any sort of compliment, it was that I was doing something she had taught me well and only because she had taught me. Everything that I did well, even what I did for Daddy back then, was always because of her influence, her advice and instruction.

  “Daddy expects me to help shape you,” she would say, as if I were a lump of clay.

  However, I never lost the feeling that she was worried that I was moving too quickly into her shoes. I supposed any sister would resent how much attention her younger sister enjoyed from her father, but there had been no higher goal than pleasing Daddy. I learned that it wasn’t simply to win his love, of course. It was the way for us all to survive. That was something abhorrent to me eventually. I hadn’t changed my mind. It still was today, and I hoped it would be forever.

  There were moments during the night when I came close to telling Julia more than I thought I should. She was so forthcoming about her earlier romances, her sex life, her needs and dreams, that I felt guilty lying beside her on my bed of falsehoods and deceptions. I was bound to make mistakes, to cause confusions and raise doubts as time went by. Most important of all was my insecurity about what I was physically capable of. Could Liam and I have a child together? Would it be wise for me to have Julia arrange some sort of physical exam?

  Put it off until it’s a must, I told myself. Don’t rush the future, or you’ll end it.

  Julia fell asleep before I did. She kept apologizing for keeping me up with what she called nonsense teeny-bopper talk about music and fashions, colors and foods, and the different quirks about men that annoyed her. How could I tell her that for me it was like turning to a television channel I had never seen or even known existed? I encouraged her to keep talking until she finally confessed that she was exhausted, leaned over to kiss me good night, and fell asleep almost immediately while I lay there looking up into the darkness, listening for something, anything, that would warn me that what I was trying to do was impossible and would bring harm to these people whom I wanted to be my new family.

  I put away those fears and carried on. It was the busiest few weeks since I had come to Quincy. I didn’t make a single dinner at the Winston House, but I could feel the excitement building in Mrs. Winston and Mrs. McGruder. Whenever I was home, they wanted a detailed report on what we had done that day concerning the wedding and our future plans.

  Liam was serious about our honeymoon in Capri and made arrangements for us to stay at the Casa Morgano immediately. He brought me brochures and pictures of the island. We even watched a short video about it. I couldn’t help but agree with him and be excited. Aside from my flight, I had never taken a trip with anyone but Daddy. Suddenly, I did feel as if the world was opening to me.

  Three weeks after we had told his family we were engaged, Mr. Dolan had it in the Quincy society pages. My biography was kept generic and vague. I was simply one of his newer employees who had come from California. No mention was made of my family. He had influence with the paper and the writer, so nothing was questioned further. He was always looking out for me, protecting me, as if I were already a part of his family. I knew that didn’t mean that questions wouldn’t come up. I had to prepare how I would respond.

  And then that problem ended, but not the way I would have wanted.

  One day at work, Mr. Dolan called for me to come into his office.

  “Close the door,” he said as soon as I had entered.

  My heart began to race. The look on his face was more serious than ever. Once in a while during the past weeks, I would pause to wonder if Mr. Dolan, perhaps at Mrs. Wakefield’s request, had decided to hire a private detective to track my past. Maybe some of his friends at the golf club or other business associates had warned him about so-called gold diggers. I was sure he would testify that I was too wonderful to fall into that category, and he might even go into how much I had changed Liam for the better. I could imagine him saying something like “Even if she is, she’s worth it.”

  But then again, he might have concluded that it was his responsibility to protect his son. How could I blame him for it? I was sure that Liam would get very upset about it if he found out his father was spying on me. That might have been the only reason Mr. Dolan hadn’t done anything of the sort, as far as I knew. He wouldn’t want to ruin his renewed wonderful relationship with his son.

  Until now, my personality, my work ethic, and my relationship with Mrs. Winston and Mrs. McGruder had surely pushed back any unpleasant suspicions, but how long could I carry on? Maybe no longer. Perhaps that was why he called me into his office, I thought as I took the seat in front of Mr. Dolan’s desk. I was prepared to learn that this was the beginning of the end.

  He sat forward, his hands folded. I thought he looked even more nervous than I felt. What was happening?

  “I just got off the phone with your father,” he said.

  It was as if some monster had torn open my chest and scooped out my heart. I felt cavernous, drained of blood and organs. I was like a corpse in an autopsy, every little secret part of me exposed and displayed. Was I still breathing? It didn’t feel like it. Did he really say “your father”?

  “I don’t understand,” I said.

  He nodded and was silent a moment, a moment that seemed like hours to me. “People say the world has grown so small. News in one corner can be picked up in another instantly, and with the Internet . . . well, it doesn’t surprise me.”

  I shook my head. “What doesn’t surprise you?”

  “That your father out in California would have someone mention to him that he saw your name on a social news blog and then describe your upcoming wedding.”

  “Is that what he told you?”

  “Yes.”

  “What does he want? Why did he call you?”

  “He wants to pay for your wedding,” Mr. Dolan said. “Father of the bride and all that.”

  “But he’s . . . he hasn’t been my father. That’s why I left home.”

  “He knows that. This is his way of making amends. I didn’t say yes,” he added quickly. “I told him I would be talking with you.” He paused and then smiled. “Look, I’m a father. I know I haven’t been a perfect father. I can’t help but empathize and—”

  “This is different. He’s different.”

  “I know that’s how you see it, how you have seen it, but time has passed. The reality of your being out of his life has settled in. He has obviously had the time to consider what has happened. He doesn’t expect that you will reconcile overnight or even after weeks and months, maybe, but he would like to go more than halfway to make it up to you. He was actually pleading by the end of the call,” Mr. Dolan added.

>   I looked up sharply. Daddy pleading? That would never happen. Why couldn’t Mr. Dolan see through the subterfuge? I had thought he was smarter than most men. Daddy was manipulating him as easily as he could manipulate anyone. Now how did I look in Mr. Dolan’s eyes? I was sitting before him, suddenly the bad one, the one who wouldn’t forgive, recalcitrant, bitter and stubborn, maybe even spoiled. How could I be that way? What had happened to all the sensitivity I’d shown? I could hear those thoughts and see them coming at me. How do I do this? How do I respond without saying too much?

  “Why don’t you sleep on it?” Mr. Dolan said, seeing my reaction. “You’re on your way toward making a whole new life for yourself. We’re here for you, and we are powerful and formidable people,” he added with pride. “You have nothing to worry about.”

  I nearly laughed aloud. It took all of my self-control not to do it. You, I thought, powerful and formidable against my father? It was so ridiculous a concept that I had to look down, close my eyes, and hold my breath.

  “You won’t go back to him. This is your home,” Mr. Dolan continued, trying the reasonable approach. “You’ll treat him like any other guest if that’s what you want him to be.”

  I looked up quickly. “Guest? So, you’re saying not only does he want to pay for the wedding but he also wants to attend?”

  Mr. Dolan shrugged. “Look at it another way. He could have been totally uninterested, hated you, or tried to forget you, but that part of him that’s good wants to see what every father surely wants to see, his daughter married and moving on to a life of her own. He wants to give away the bride. I know I’d be heartbroken if I wasn’t at Julia’s wedding to give her away. Think it over,” he said again as he stood. “I have to go see Charley in the appliance center. Be back in a while. You can talk it over with anyone tonight. I’m sure Julia will be a good ear if you don’t want to talk to Liam about it just yet.”