Caught in the Act (The Davenports) (31 page)

Patricia studied her daughter, and Cat could see all the things she was thinking herself. This week could be a life changer. For all of them. “I’ll come back and see it with you,” she told Annabelle. “Maybe I can meet your father that day myself.”

“I don’t know why you wouldn’t just go with white,” Brody’s mother argued.

They were both on his cleared-off deck, standing side by side, looking down at the slats. He was trying to figure out which color to paint it. “Because white is boring. It’s what I’ve always had.”

“White matches. Plus, the deck doesn’t need painting. Why the sudden determination that it has to be done today?”

Because he was trying not to think about what he wasn’t doing instead. Cat and his daughter were in Portland at that very minute, and he hadn’t gone.

And he was trying to figure out how to tell his mother that he had a child.

That she had a granddaughter.

“It needs painting,” he argued instead of spilling the truth. She made a face at him.

“This is about Cat, isn’t it? What happened between you two? You’ve been hard to be around for days.”

What happened was, he’d told Cat he loved her, and she’d dropped the bomb that they had a daughter. “We’re over. That’s what happened.”

“Did you make her cry?”

She was talking about the photos from Wednesday night. “I did not make her cry.”

“Then tell me what happened.”

“It’s simple. We weren’t meant to be.” He walked to the other side of the deck, studying it as he went, as if by seeing it from a different angle, the best color choice would suddenly be made clear. But what he was thinking about was Annabelle. When he stopped moving, he pulled his phone from his pocket.

He had a picture on there. The one Cat had sent to him Thursday morning. He hadn’t acknowledged receiving it, but had it been a printed copy, it would have been worn thin by the number of times he’d pulled it out over the last few days.

“What’s going on?” His mom followed him across the deck. “You know that’s crap. I’ve never seen two people more meant to be.”

He brought up his pictures and loaded the one of his daughter.

“Brody?” his mom prodded when he remained silent.

His answer was to hand over his phone. Then he stood there, arms crossed, as fear threatened to cut off his oxygen.

He hadn’t told his mother about Annabelle because he knew he was wrong for not being in Portland today. He desperately wanted to see her. To meet his child. But Cat had crushed him. He’d planned to suggest forever Wednesday night. He’d fallen for her kids, he was head over heels for her, and he’d thought they were on the cusp of where they should have been nineteen years ago.

Only, she’d surprised him. And he couldn’t forgive her for that.

Thus, he was here. About to paint his deck that didn’t need painting. And not meeting his daughter. Who had his eyes.

“Brody,” his mom whispered at his side. She touched one finger to Annabelle’s face. “Who is this?”

“Her name is Annabelle,” he said. The words barely made it out of his throat.

His mother closed her eyes. She stood there unspeaking, and unmoving, for several minutes, and he watched a thin stream of tears leak from beneath her eyelids. He did not want to make his mother cry. Yet one more thing to be mad at Cat about.

“The phone calls,” his mother finally said. She lifted damp eyelashes. “That’s why she called so many months later?”

He suspected so.

“Oh my God, Brody. I didn’t give you the message.”

“It is not your fault, Mother. And we don’t even know for sure that’s why she called.”

“But why else would she?” She stared at the photo once again. “The poor child, she had to be what, seven, eight months pregnant?”

He swallowed. “From my calculations, it would have been seven.”

“Where was she? How did they keep this secret?”

“She was hidden away in California. The woman who took care of her adopted the baby. Apparently she’s a close friend of Emma Davenport’s.”

His mother didn’t take her eyes off the picture. She didn’t even seem to care that Cat’s mother had done this. Or maybe she simply wasn’t surprised.

“She looks like you,” she said.

She did. Except for the blonde hair. That was all Cat.

“She never told me,” he pointed out. “She and her mother did this, made this decision themselves, and I never heard a word. That wasn’t right.”

More tears trickled over his mother’s cheeks. “She was there alone. About to give her baby away. Probably scared out of her mind.”

“Mom, stop. You can’t feel guilty over this. You had no idea.”

“But you need to think about these things.”

“Why?” All he could see that he needed to think about was the fact that Emma and Cat Davenport had conspired to keep his child from him.

“Because nothing is ever black or white, Brody.” She looked up at him, and he saw years of wisdom in her eyes. “Yes, she didn’t tell you. That was wrong. On many levels. But she leads a unique life. And a sixteen-year-old, no matter who he or she is, is going to make mistakes. Are you going to tell me you’re pleased with everything you did at sixteen?”

He glared at her.

“I know what you could have done,” she said, and he sensed from her sarcastic tone that he was not going to like what came next. “Maybe you should have showed up on Arthur’s doorstep with a baby on your hip. That might have gone over better.”

“Really?” he asked. “You’re going to go there?”

She shook her head. “I’m sorry. That was cruel. I shouldn’t be cruel to my son, I know. But I’m asking an important question here.”

“I don’t hear a question.”

“What would you have done if she had told you?”

He’d asked himself that a hundred times today.

“Did you want to raise a child? How would that have happened? Give up college? Work all the time to support yourself and a kid, while also taking college courses?”

“I could have.” His tone was belligerent. “At least I’d have had the choice.”

“Sure, you could have. Cat could have, too. I’m not doubting that from either of you. And I would have helped you as much as possible. But you weren’t ready for that. You went off, all hot-headed the next summer, drove four states to confront a man who didn’t want to be around you, in a car that barely made it down there. And you thought it was a good idea not to tell anyone you were going.”

“I survived it. I made it back. I’m here now, aren’t I?”

“But what if you’d had a baby? What if you hadn’t survived it? It could have easily gone another way.”

“If I’d had a baby, I clearly wouldn’t have run off like I did.”

“Are you sure?”

“Mom. Cat should have told me about the pregnancy. I should have had options.”

“Yes.” His mother nodded. “I agree. That was a huge mistake. But look at this child.” She held the phone up for him to see. “Would you have been able to give her everything she needed? At sixteen?”

He stared at his daughter. He’d asked himself that, too. “That’s not the issue right now,” he growled out.

“So what is the issue? Whether you’ll forgive Cat or not?”

“I won’t,” he said. “I can’t.”

“Okay, then what next? Fly to California and try to meet your daughter? What if she doesn’t want to meet you?”

His jaw clenched.

“What?” his mother asked carefully.

“Cat’s meeting with her in Portland right now. She asked me to be there. Annabelle wanted to meet me, too.”

“And you didn’t go?” she yelled. “What’s wrong with you?”

“I don’t want to talk to her.”

“To Annabelle?”

“To Cat.”

“But isn’t this meeting about Annabelle?”

He fumed.

“Brody.” Her tone implied she wasn’t impressed. “You’re smarter than this.”

“You’re not being helpful.”

“Because you know I’m right.”

“Yeah.” He threw his hands in the air. “I know you’re right. I should be there. What if this is it? She might be gone and I’ve lost my chance.”

“Then you’ll make another one. But hopefully you won’t be so stupid about it the next time.”

He growled under his breath. “I love the support, Mom.”

“That’s what I’m here for. Now let’s talk about the fact that this young lady has my name.”

“I know.” He actually smiled at that. He’d yelled at Cat about it, but once he’d calmed down he’d realized how special it was. How much he loved being able to give that to his mother. “How awesome is that?”

The phone beeped in her hand, and she looked up, her lips pursed. “It’s a text from Cat.”

He took the phone from his mother.

Just met Annabelle. She’s amazing. She’d still like to meet you. We’re going away for the rest of the weekend, but please work some time in for Monday.

He looked at his mom. “She wants to meet me Monday.”

“Don’t make me hurt you, Brody. You say yes immediately.”

At the college? Can you give her directions? There’s no need for you to come.

He may have changed his mind about meeting his daughter, but he hadn’t changed it about Cat.

“I have a daughter, Mom.” Joy filled him then. It had tried to several times over the last few days, but he’d kept it tamped down. He couldn’t do that any longer. He had a daughter, and he would be meeting her on Monday.

The sliding door opened to his house, and he and his mother both looked over. Thomas stood there, a strange expression on his face. He’d been with Brody the whole week, and though Brody felt as if they’d given it a good try, conversations mostly remained stiff. Of course, Thomas
had
spent the largest portion of his time while there either on the phone working or out of the house mugging for the cameras.

But still, at least they were trying. It was kind of progress.

“Something wrong?” Brody asked.

Thomas glanced at Brody’s phone for a second before holding up a newspaper. Anger blanketed his features. “Someone leaked a picture. Proof that I knew you before.”

Which did not go with the picture Thomas had been painting all week.

Brody wanted to feel bad for him. It was his brother, after all. Instead, he thought about what he’d told Cat a week ago concerning her family. Thomas had also made his bed. Maybe it was time he lay in it.

That did not get Emma Davenport off the hook for leaking it, though.

But again, Brody couldn’t muster the energy to care. He took the paper from Thomas. It was a national paper, and it had a very prominent headline.

Harrisons knew about illegitimate son.

Nope. That would not go over well at all. He scanned the story. Then he studied the picture that went along with it, shocked to realize he recognized it. And that he knew exactly who it had come from. It hadn’t been Emma Davenport.

Devan had stuck this very picture to their refrigerator the night after the fund-raiser that had ended their relationship. It was of him, Thomas, and Arthur Harrison.

His brother had been caught red-handed.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

M
R.
H
OLLISTER.
” A
MY
’
S
high-pitched voice caught Brody from somewhere around his waist. He looked down to find her sweet face smiling up at him. She’d lost a tooth since he’d seen her at the park last week.

Which made him wonder what his own daughter would have looked like at the same age.

“Yes, Amy.” He schooled his face. It was the last Monday of class, and he would miss these kids, but it had been a rough few weeks. He would be glad when it was over. He was also looking forward to getting out to the college. He would meet Annabelle today.

“Where’s the special lady?”

He forced himself not to clench his teeth. “She’s not here, Amy.”

“She’s only at the park?”

“Yes.” And in Portland with his daughter. And away for the weekend.

Over the last two days, Brody had found himself becoming increasingly jealous over the time Cat was getting with their daughter. Even though it was his own fault he wasn’t a part of it.

“Mr. Hollister.” It was Amy. Again. He really would be glad for this class to be over. “Yes, Amy?”

One small arm protruded toward the door. “Miss Louisa is here.”

He glanced over to find Miss Louisa indeed standing in the doorway. Only, she wasn’t wearing her usual charming smile.

She was trying. But she was falling very flat.

Brody glanced at Thomas, who was at the museum with him for the second Monday in a row. Thomas was in the back of the room, preening for the parents of the kids. It was a madhouse there today. It had been a madhouse since Thomas had rolled into town.

Even more so since he’d been trying to cover his tracks about knowing Brody in the past.

Brody should have sent him packing already. After all, their efforts at being brothers had failed, and he didn’t care anything about helping Thomas cover his ass now that the truth was out. But there
had
been a few good moments between them over the last couple of days. They’d grilled out on his deck the night before. They’d laughed together. Thomas had even asked about Brody’s relationship with Cat.

Brody hadn’t told him what was going on with her, of course. He wasn’t an idiot.

But he did appreciate the attempt at discussing something other than politics.

He looked back at the door, and Louisa subtly nudged her head, pulling Brody over to her.

“What’s wrong?” he asked when he reached her side.

Lines pulled the sides of her mouth down. “You should be watching the news, Dr. Hollister.”

“Why?”

“You’re on it.”

Which wasn’t exactly a new thing. But the seriousness in Louisa’s expression made him pause.

“They’re saying . . .” She stalled, and her eyes shifted away from his.

“What are they saying?” Brody asked carefully.

After a breath, Louisa brought her gaze back to his. It burned into him. Gone was the fun the woman showed for every patron who walked into the building. In its place was worry. She leaned in and whispered, “There’s a girl. She has your eyes.”

Anger exploded in him.

The Davenports had leaked news of his daughter before he’d even gotten the chance to meet her? They had no shame. It was only one more reason to stay the hell away from Cat. He’d known they couldn’t be together. He would never tolerate her lifestyle.

“I’ll watch the kids,” Louisa added. “The television is on in the break room. You’ll have some privacy there.”

Without another word, Brody headed to the back room while Louisa slipped past him to replace him at the front of his class. Then he stood there taking it in. Cat and her kids had been photographed running into the Davenport house . . . with Annabelle. In the top corner was the same picture he had on his phone, along with the shot of him and Cat as teenagers.

There was no mistaking her parentage.

Anger ate at him. He didn’t want her to have to deal with this. She was just a kid. The sound of footsteps grew closer to the room, and he glanced back, only then realizing he’d sunk to one of the chairs around the small table. Thomas came into the room. He took in Brody before shifting his gaze to the small screen on the wall. He didn’t say anything, only watched with fascination.

“This is such bullshit,” Brody choked out. ”That’s my daughter they’re plastering all over the news.”

Thomas nodded. “I can see that.”

Brody hadn’t told anyone but his mother about Annabelle, but Thomas didn’t seem all that surprised to learn of her. But then, maybe Thomas was used to it. He did have Arthur for a father. It made Brody wonder if he had more brothers out there. More illegitimate Harrisons.

If so, he didn’t want to meet them. One was enough.

“They’ve gone too far.”

Thomas nodded in agreement, but he wasn’t paying attention to Brody, he was watching the news. Additionally, the hardness of his jaw turned a nasty shade of smug. The sight gave Brody pause. Then it made him ill, as an entirely different scenario entered his mind. One he did not want to believe.

He grabbed the remote and turned up the volume.

The story wasn’t just about Annabelle’s existence. They were harping on the fact that Emma Davenport had been the driving factor behind keeping it quiet. They mentioned Annabelle’s adoptive mother, then showed a picture of Patricia Weathers and Emma in college together. They were blasting Emma.

This had not come from the Davenports.

Brody turned once again to look at his brother, knowing that he finally had his answer as to whether Thomas was exactly like his father. He most definitely was.

“You did this.” The calmness of Brody’s voice was worrisome, even to himself. Maybe Louisa should call the cops before he got thrown in jail for killing Thomas with his bare hands.

Thomas didn’t reply. He just kept watching the TV.

Brody stood, his chair tipping over backward. He clicked off the television and got in Thomas’s face. Then he put a finger to the man’s chest. “You fucking did this,” Brody growled. “
Knowing
she was my daughter.”

“You have to understand,” Thomas began. He sounded exactly like Arthur. “I took a big hit this weekend. Emma Davenport hid this child. From you, from the world. It was news. It had to come out.”

“Maybe hiding her from the world had been the best thing for her.” At least Annabelle hadn’t had to grow up in the public light.

“Please. Emma Davenport was looking out for herself. This wasn’t about the girl. She even told Cat the girl was dead.”

How did Thomas even know that?

“The girl’s name is Annabelle.” Brody’s words were low. His brother had just used his daughter. Brody had never wanted to hurt someone so badly in his life. “And you need to leave.”

Thomas’s brows went up. “Are you kidding me? This doesn’t hurt you. This is about them.”

“
You
hurt me, asshole.”

“I didn’t do anything to you. I’ve been here, trying to be your brother. If anything, that’s helped you.”

What a pig. And suddenly the clouds cleared. Thomas hadn’t been here for Brody, which Brody had suspected all along. He hadn’t even been here to show his greatness as a brother—though it had been a side benefit until he’d been caught. No. Thomas Harrison had been here purely to dig up dirt.

“You came here to keep an eye on the Davenports,” Brody accused. “You haven’t tried to build a thing with me. It’s all been about the potential votes. And you used me to get them.”

Thomas took a step back as Brody came toward him. “You might as well get used to the way things run,” Thomas threw back at him. “You’re a Harrison now. And I’m your brother. This is your life.”

“I’m a Hollister,” Brody spat out. He noticed the crowd of parents watching from the hallway, but didn’t let that stop him. He turned back to Thomas. “And you will never be my brother. We’re done.” He pointed to the door. “Do not ever show up at my house again.”

Brody closed the book on medieval history that he’d been reading and shoved it out of his way. He’d been in his office for the last hour but had been unable to concentrate on anything except the fact that he would be meeting Annabelle that day.

And the fact that every time he checked the news stations, his daughter had been on them.

He picked up the remote and tried again. It took a few minutes, but yes, there she was. Blonde head ducked to avoid the cameras, rushing into the Davenport house in front of Cat.

All thanks to his brother.

Brody had escorted Thomas back to his house that morning, remaining at the front door until he’d left. Then he’d stood in the middle of his kitchen and fumed. He didn’t know Annabelle yet, hadn’t even met her, and already he was protective. He’d wanted to get in his car and drive over to Cat’s.

And the real kicker was, it hadn’t purely been Annabelle he’d wanted to protect.

Thus, he’d gotten even angrier.

Cat had looked fine in the footage that had been captured. And clearly she’d made it back into her home. Her kids were with her; they’d made it back in, too. But all of them had been running. As if the blasted paparazzi had been chasing them. It made his blood pressure soar. And it pissed him off that he cared.

A soft rap sounded on his door, and he looked sharply around. It was still too early for Annabelle, only . . .

She stood in his doorway.

He rose, and they stared across the small space at each other. He wasn’t angry now. He was terrified. When his eyeballs began to burn from not blinking, he broke contact and cleared his throat.

“Annabelle.” He stepped out from behind his desk.

She was so beautiful.

And she looked like Cat. She was built the same, had the same silky hair, and he could see a similar tilt of her chin that Cat got when she was unsure about something. It put a lump in his throat and he suddenly imagined Cat at sixteen. Scared, alone, having just given birth, and handing over her daughter.

Cat was too giving a woman for that not to have destroyed her.

“Come in,” he said. He put Cat out of mind as he motioned with his hands. “Please.”

Annabelle nodded and stepped into the room. Her eyes were immediately drawn to the shelves lining his wall, and he wished he’d learned a thing or two from Cat. He should have cleaned up his books. Put some order to things. His daughter would think he was a slob.

“This is awesome,” she finally said. She moved to the shelves and pulled down one of his favorites. A manual on sixteenth-century European politics.

“You like history?” he asked.

A crooked smile flitted across her mouth. “I plan to get a doctorate.”

Her words excited his heart. She was a part of him. She had his likes.

When she faced him again, she kept the book in her hands, and he could see the intelligence behind her eyes. Patricia Weathers had done okay for his daughter. That was a huge relief of a worry he hadn’t even known he’d had.

“So you’re my dad,” she deduced.

He held his hands out to his sides. “Looks like.”

“It’s the eyes.”

“What?”

“My eyes. They look like your eyes. I got Cat’s hair and short stature, and your eyes. I’d always wondered. My adoptive mother is a six-foot brunette. We are clearly not blood related.”

He didn’t know anything about her mother, but her other words stuck in his head. She had wondered about him. Wow. He would have wondered about her, too. If he’d known she existed.

Which immediately brought him back to anger toward Cat.

Annabelle put the book down on a chair and reached for another. The first one fell to the floor. She didn’t seem to notice. This made Brody smile.

“
Ohmygod.
I’ve been looking for this book for years.” She picked up a rare illustrated study of the Mississippi Valley. He’d found it on one of his and his mom’s antiquing expeditions a few years back.

“You collect books?” he asked. He was still standing in the middle of his office, as if unsure what to do next. Because he was unsure.

“Only history books. I found this in the Library of Congress when my mom took me there in junior high. I’ve been looking for my own copy since.”