The Spiral Path

  "That kind of good has been well proven already." He really did have a wonderful understanding of moviemaking, that mysterious blend of story, character, and medium. Watching from one corner of her eye, she said, "I keep thinking what great partners we could be--making movies together like Marcus and Naomi Gordon."

  She felt him subtly withdraw. "I don't know if I want to be involved in any aspect of moviemaking again."

  "Not even acting?"

  He smiled without humor. "At the moment, acting has no appeal whatsoever. I rather like the idea of living on my investments and playing househusband."

  Rainey rested her head on his shoulder. She had trouble imagining that Kenzie could be happy without using his tremendous talent and energy. She'd pray that when he finished rearranging his mind, he'd be ready for new challenges.

  Rainey was dozing in her recliner when Val called. "Hi, girlfriend," Val said. "Good time or bad?"

  "It's a fine time. The movie's basically done, and we all think it's pretty damned good. The sound guy flew out so Kenzie and I could loop dialogue for places where it wasn't clear. Any minute now, Marcus Gordon will be arriving from Los Angeles with a film version for us to go over one last time." Rainey suppressed a yawn. "After he leaves, I'm going to sleep for a week, minimum. How are you doing? I can't wait for you to see the final version of the movie!"

  "I'm fine." Val hesitated. "I'm calling at the request of Mooney, your private detective. He asked me to break some news you might find a little ... surprising."

  "He's located a possible father worse than a drug dealer?" Rainey said lightly. "Imagination boggles. Did Clementine manage to find herself a space alien?" Outside the house, she heard the sound of the SUV pulling up. Kenzie returning with Marcus from the airport.

  "No space aliens. On a hunch, Mooney kept digging to learn more about the studio executive alleged to be one of your mother's flings. He learned that the affair was more serious than preliminary reports had indicated. The dates are perfect for this guy to be your father, and apparently she wasn't sleeping with anyone else at that time."

  Rainey had thought she was beyond caring much about the results of her investigation, but she pushed the recliner upright. "Mooney thinks he's identified the bastard?"

  "Yes, and the candidate is alive and well." Val took a deep breath. "Rainey, it's Marcus Gordon."

  "Marcus?" Rainey froze. That couldn't possibly be true. His marriage to Naomi was famously devoted.

  And yet--he'd always been around. The friend of the family who'd put Rainey on the plane to Baltimore after Clementine's death. The producer who'd given her opportunities, including the amazing chance to direct her first movie with almost no restrictions.

  And he had the same kind of small-boned build she did. She felt so dizzy that for a moment she wondered if she was going to pass out.

  Marcus Gordon entered the living room, Kenzie behind him. Marcus smiled broadly and headed toward her for a hug.

  How many times had he hugged her over the years? And what the hell had been in his mind when he did? Confusion turned to ice. "I'll call you later, Val. Kenzie and Marcus have just walked in, and there's work to be done."

  "Stay calm, Rainey," Val said with a rush. "Give him a chance to talk."

  "Don't worry, he'll talk." Carefully Rainey returned the handset to its cradle and stood, raising her hand to keep Marcus away. "I've just received some remarkably interesting information. Are you my father?"

  Marcus turned dead white under his California tan. "I ... might be."

  "I suggest you sit down and explain." Rainey watched with gimlet eyes, like a cat ready to pounce on a mouse that showed signs of fleeing.

  But he didn't flee. He dropped onto the sofa, looking ten years older than when he'd come through the door. "Naomi and I were going through a bad spell. When I contacted Clementine about starring in a movie I was putting together--well, one thing led to another. She was so lovely. So full of life. I ... I might have left Naomi for her, but Clementine refused to consider marriage. She said she'd been a lot of things, but never a home wrecker, and besides, she didn't want to marry me. I was a nice change of pace, but no more than that." Pain showed in his eyes for an instant.

  Rainey stood over him, arms crossed belligerently. "What about when you found out she was pregnant?"

  "I asked if I was the father, and she just laughed and said of course not." He raised his gaze, expression stark. "I went almost crazy wondering after you were born. Sometimes I thought you looked a little like me, other times I was sure you didn't. By this time, Naomi and I had worked things out, so I never pressed the issue with Clementine. I settled for keeping an eye on you when I could, just in case.

  "In other words, she made it easy for you not to take responsibility, and you were happy to go along with that. How very convenient. A DNA test should prove the relationship or lack thereof pretty quickly."

  Marcus turned even whiter, but didn't look away. "If that's what you want. You have every right to be angry. I'm so sorry, Rainey. If it's any comfort, I've tortured myself plenty over the years. When I look at what you've accomplished, I'm so proud to think my blood might be in your veins. But if you are mine, I've failed you." His mouth twisted. "As Naomi says, there's no guilt like Jewish guilt, and I've carried that about you for over thirty years."

  Rainey's hands clenched into fists. "How do you think Naomi will feel to learn that you cheated on her, and maybe fathered a child with another woman?"

  Marcus flinched. "She might throw me out. She's entitled."

  Before Rainey could say more, Kenzie's arm came around her, warm support in a would turned upside down. "You don't need a DNA test. Compare your hands. Look at the overall shape, the fingers, the nails."

  Startled, Rainey spread her hands in front of her, then looked at Marcus as he did the same. Kenzie was right, allowing for the difference in age and gender, their hands were very nearly identical, right up to the slight inward bend of the little fingers. She lifted her gaze and examined Marcus's small-boned build, the shape of his skull. Here was the genetic missing link, the traits she hadn't inherited from Clementine.

  He was studying her with equal intensity, and in his eyes she saw the same certainty she felt. "So it's true," she said unevenly.

  Kenzie's arm tightened around her shoulders and he drew her out into the hall for a private talk. "Before blowing up a long-term marriage, step back and take a few deep breaths, Rainey. Clementine was the one who insisted on keeping your father's identity a secret, and it sounds as if she did that at least partly to save Marcus and Naomi from splitting up, which would have damaged both them and their children."

  "I wanted a father so much," she whispered, her voice raw.

  "You've got one now. Think about what you want from Marcus before you say something disastrous. I think he's a much better choice for a parent than the drug dealer."

  She focused on Kenzie's concerned face, remembering that he of all people could understand. "How would you feel if you found out that your father was someone you'd known your whole life? Someone like Charles Winfield."

  "I'd be shocked speechless, and probably as angry as you are at first. Then I'd be glad. I wish to hell Charles had been my father."

  But he would never find out the truth of his parentage. Reminding herself that she was lucky by comparison, she returned to the living room, Kenzie's hand on her shoulder. Marcus was staring out the window, his face haggard. He turned as she entered the room. "I wanted to be your father, Rainey, but I didn't think I had the right."

  Her anger began to fade. She'd had a fantasy of a father who would always be there for his little girl, giving the unconditional love and support she'd craved. But she was a grown woman now. When she needed a reliable man, she had Kenzie. There was no point in blaming Marcus for failing her when Clementine had never given him a chance. And no point in hurting Naomi and the rest of Marcus's family over an ancient indiscretion. "I wish Clementine had told you, or somebody, the truth, but I
like the idea that she was being noble rather than merely careless."

  "She didn't have you from carelessness." Marcus shook his head ruefully. "I've sometimes wondered if Clementine slept with me because I came from healthy peasant stock and would give her baby good genes. She wanted you very much, Rainey."

  She might as well believe that was true, since it felt better than to believe she was the product of casual adultery. Deciding to get all the hard questions out of the way at once, she asked, "When you cast me in my first lead role, and when you got financing for The Centurion against the odds--how much of that was because you thought I might be your daughter, and how much was it on merit?"

  "It was both," he said seriously. "I did give you special consideration, but I never would have made a bad business decision that would cost investors millions if you weren't up to the job."

  Marcus had known exactly the right answer to give without getting into trouble. Her father was a smart man. It was an odd, exhilarating thought. Marcus Gordon was her father. Dear God, she had three half-brothers! She'd met and liked them, too. Wistfully she realized they couldn't be told the truth, because they'd be bound to resent their father's infidelity. But she knew.

  She pressed her fingers against her forehead, fighting a desire to cry. Pregnancy definitely turned her into a watering pot. "This is going to take getting used to, but ... I think I'm glad."

  His face lit up like a sunrise. "I know that I am."

  A gentle push from Kenzie, and suddenly she was in Marcus's arms, crying. She'd always wanted a father.

  Better late than never.

  * * *

  CHAPTER 41

  Indian Blanket. Kenzie sat back on his heels to admire his latest transplant. According to the desert handbook he'd bought, it would have a splashy red flower with yellow edges during its late spring blooming season.

  Though he didn't know a damned thing about gardening, he'd discovered that he quite enjoyed it. For weeks he'd been landscaping around the labyrinth, moving in tough native plants with the goal of making the area look natural, only better.

  Since it was time for lunch, he stood and poured water around the base of the transplant. Was there time to walk the labyrinth before going down to the house? No, he didn't like being rushed.

  After his first harrowing attempt, it had been a week before he'd had the nerve to walk the spiral path again. Luckily he'd never again had such an intense reaction. Overall he found it calming, and sometimes even uplifting.

  He was almost to the house when Rainey raced out the back door, her ankle-length skirt swirling around her legs. She'd caught up on her rest since signing off on the movie, and it agreed with her. The pregnancy didn't show yet, but she assured him that any minute she was going to start ballooning. Despite his anxiety about impending fatherhood, he found the process interesting, and he and Rainey had never been closer.

  Her eyes were gleaming wickedly when she bounced into his embrace. "Have I got a deal for you!" Grabbing his hand, she towed him toward the house. "As soon as you finish lunch, we're going to Santa Fe."

  "Why do you want to go there?" He had no trouble visiting a small town like Chama, but he wasn't sure he was ready for Santa Fe.

  "Remember Dame Judith Hawick?"

  "Of course I remember Dame Judith." He washed his hands at the kitchen sink. "Is she visiting Santa Fe and we're going to meet her for dinner?" That he would enjoy.

  "Sort of. She's a guest director at the Santa Fe Shakespeare Forum this fall, and she's putting on Much Ado about Nothing. Tonight is her opening."

  He frowned, not liking the idea of being in a large crowd. "I've seen the play, thank you very much. If we're meeting her for dinner, another night would surely be better than on her opening."

  "Oh, this isn't about seeing the play." Rainey darted him a glance that clearly said she was up to something. "It's about you playing Benedick to my Beatrice."

  "What!" He stared at her. "Rainey, you've convinced me. Pregnancy makes women insane."

  "Not this time. The production was all set to go, until most of the cast went out for a late supper after last night's dress rehearsal. Dame Judith says this is clear proof that a good dress rehearsal is a disastrous omen." Rainey steered him to the table and sat him down in front of a chicken Caesar salad.

  Ignoring the food, he asked, "I presume there is a point to this?"

  "Today half the players, including her leads and their understudies, are down with food poisoning, way too sick to set foot on a stage." Rainey sat opposite him and started on her salad. "Dame Judith can cobble together most of a cast. She's going to dress in drag and play Leonato herself. But she desperately needs two good leads. She'd heard we were in New Mexico, so she tracked us down through Marcus and called me."

  "If that many people are sick, they should cancel the performance."

  "The show must go on," she said piously.

  "Rubbish. Sometimes the show shouldn't go on, and this is one of those times."

  Her expression turned serious. "This is really important to Dame Judith, Kenzie. It's her first time directing in this country, and she's frantic for it to go well. She almost cried with relief when I said we could fill in." Rainey's changeable eyes were pleading. "I owe her one for acting in The Centurion at a price I could afford. That's my obligation, not yours, but you know the part, and you're available. Please--will you do it?"

  Mouth dry, he said, "I haven't done live theater in over ten years."

  "You don't have to be great, just competent. The audience will be so blown away at having Kenzie Scott fill in that they'll be very forgiving."

  "Shakespeare is usually presented in an edited form, and we don't have her script."

  "Dame Judith e-mailed it to me. It's printing out now. You can drive while we run lines, and I tell you where the variations are. Plus, if we leave in the next half hour, we should reach Santa Fe in time for a fast run-through with the rest of the cast."

  She'd thought of everything. He closed his eyes, struggling with fear. "I don't think I can do this, Rainey. I'm not at all sure I'll ever be able to face a camera again, and live theater is a hundred times more terrifying."

  Her hand came over his where it rested on the tabletop. "I know this will be hard for you, but even though you feel stripped to the bone and vulnerable, no one but me knows about your past," she said quietly. "This is a good chance for you to decide if you want to continue acting, Kenzie. The stakes are a lot lower than on a big-budget movie, and you'll be helping Dame Judith out at the same time."

  He'd loved live theater when he was at RADA, but that was a long time ago. Now the thought of standing in front of hundreds of staring eyes made him want to lock himself into Cibola and never come out. But Rainey was right, dammit. He needed to find out if he was still an actor. More than that, he owed Dame Judith for standing up for him after Nigel Stone's ambush. "I can't really say no, can I?"

  "Not really." Her smile was tremulous. "I'm scared, too, Kenzie, but I think we can do this."

  "Your faith exceeds mine." He regarded the salad. Appetite had vanished, but it was going to be a long, long day. He picked up a fork and began to eat.

  Dame Judith greeted them with extravagant hugs. "Thank the heavens you're here! Today has been a nightmare." She frowned at Kenzie. "Would you consider shaving off the beard?"

  "No, I would not," he said firmly. The heavier his disguise, the happier he'd be.

  "I suppose there's no reason why Benedick shouldn't have a beard." Taking each of them by one arm, Dame Judith marched them to the back of the theater. "First we'll let the wardrobe mistress have at you, since she'll need time for alterations. It shouldn't be hard to costume Rainey, but some improvising will be required for you, Kenzie. My regular Benedick was rather smaller."

  The controlled chaos that always marked an opening night was multiplied by the food poisoning disaster. Cast and stage crew members, most very young, buzzed in all directions. Adding two Hollywood stars to the mix brought the
brew near the explosion point. On the whole, Kenzie was glad for the confusion. It distracted him from his own rampaging nerves.

  After the wardrobe mistress swiftly devised costumes for Kenzie and Rainey, they walked through the play. It was less a rehearsal than an attempt to work out blocking and stage business. The newly recruited friar kept tripping over the hem of his robe, while the very young Hero's deathlike swoon after being repudiated at the altar led her to fall off the stage, luckily landing on a well-upholstered musician.

  The third time the stately but inexperienced Don Pedro, Prince of Arragon, ran into another performer, Dame Judith caught the man's gaze and said in a blood-chilling tone, "The basic rule is remember your lines and don't fall over the furniture. Do you think you can manage that tonight?" Blushing beet-red, Don Pedro promised to do better--and promptly backed up into a large wine jug, which fell over with a hollow boom.

  When the run-through ended, Dame Judith said with a sigh, "If Shakespeare weren't dead, this production would put him in his tomb."

  Rainey said encouragingly, "A bad final rehearsal is a good omen for the actual good performance."

  "Except when it isn't," Dame Judith said dourly. "I've booked the two of you a room at a charming bed-and-breakfast around the corner, but there isn't time for you to go there to rest before the performance. Since space is rather tight, would you mind sharing the largest dressing room?"

  "Not at all," Rainey said. "Just point us in the right direction."

  A junior assistant stage manager took them to the dressing room, which was reasonably furnished and had a shower. When they were alone, Rainey flopped full-length on the sofa. "You were right--my hormones have made me mad," she said dramatically. "We'll be lucky to leave Santa Fe alive."

  He sat at the end of the sofa and draped her legs over his lap. After removing her shoes, he began massaging her feet. As she moaned with pleasure, he said, "Do you have the energy to make it through the play tonight?"

  "I'll be fine." She grinned. "Actually, I'm having a wonderful time. It's been years since my playhouse days and I'm frightened half out of my wits, but there are no real consequences for failure. I can do terribly and still get credit for being a good sport."