Prospect Street (35 page)

“What did you owe me? I'll answer that. The truth, right from the beginning!”

She had finally raised her voice. He could see now how furious she really was. He felt ashamed, but he still wanted her to understand.

“What would you have said if I'd told you at that first in
troduction? I can see it now. Hi, I'm Pavel Quinn, only that's not my real name. It's Dubrov, and I'm the son of the man who the world believes kidnapped your sister.”

“I would have said it's a small world, but of course, it isn't. You were standing in front of my house not because watching two men move a piano is interesting, but because the
house
was interesting to you. Interesting enough that you've explored every inch of it under the guise of helping me decide what renovations to do.”

“Faith, I came to Washington to see what I could find out about my father. I discovered very little. In the meantime, I fell in love with the city, got involved with Scavenger.” He turned up his palms in supplication. “I stayed. When the time came to buy a place, I bought one in Georgetown. Not because my father worked here—at least, I don't think so. Because I fell in love with Georgetown, too. And sometimes I would walk along Prospect Street, yes. Did I think I'd see my father's ghost? Did I think someone would stop me and say, ‘Oh, by the way, you look a lot like a man I used to know named Dominik Dubrov. He was accused of kidnapping a congressman's baby, but I know differently. Would you like to hear the story?'”

“
Did
you think that?”

“I'm not that obsessed. After my investigation turned up nothing I reconciled myself to not discovering the truth. Then one day I saw a moving truck in front of your house.”

“And the rest is history.”

“Not quite.” He rose and joined her beside the fireplace. The room seemed cold, and he wished he had built a fire on the grate. “I never planned to have a relationship with you, Faith. At first I was intrigued you were moving into the house. It was a twist of fate, and I appreciated it. I thought I might find out something about our mutual past, but almost immediately I discovered you knew even less than I did.”

“So why didn't you tell me then?”

“Because I was afraid if I did I would never be welcome in your house again. And I didn't want you to shut me out. I de
cided to wait and see. I thought the right time would present itself.”

“You mean after you had a chance to snoop some more? Maybe after an introduction to my parents? Was meeting my mother exciting for you, Pavel? Seeing the flesh-and-blood mother of the kidnapped baby?”

“That's beneath you.”

“But lying about your identity wasn't beneath you? Getting close to me for reasons you didn't reveal wasn't beneath you?”

“I've been Pavel Quinn since I was three years old. That's who I am. I didn't lie about that.”

“You're splitting hairs, and I'm going to leave now.” She hiked her purse over her shoulder. “Please don't come around anymore, Pavel.”

He knew he owed her more than rhetoric. “Faith, I was afraid to tell you. The deeper we went together, the more afraid I was.” He put his hand on her arm. He could feel her tense. “I didn't care about meeting your parents, and I knew there was nothing to learn from you. I could have told you then, gotten it out in the open and gone on about my business.”

“But?”

He was repeating himself, and he knew it, but he didn't know how to fix this. “I liked you. I cared about the kids, and I didn't want you to think things were all about the past. I felt…” He ran out of words. The ones that came to mind were unfamiliar, and now they would be unwelcome to her.

“Pavel or Pasha or whatever your name is, here's God's simple truth. I just left a man who lied to me about who he really was. And now I've gone to bed with another. I must be the world's worst judge of men, don't you think?”

“David lied because he couldn't face the truth about himself. I lied because I didn't want
you
to face it. Not yet, anyway.”

“On moving day you had a five-minute window of opportunity to tell me who you were. It closed, and it's been boarded up ever since. I learn slowly. I may be reality impaired, but I do learn.”

He knew she was going to leave, and he knew he couldn't stop her. Now the only thing he could affect were the words she heard in her head on the walk home.

“You're important to me, and you were growing more important every day. I didn't tell you who my father was because I didn't want to lose you. It's that simple. I was looking for a way to tell you the truth.”

She started toward the doorway, her head high, her back still rigid. In the hallway, she turned for a parting shot. “You did lose me, Pavel. But consider yourself lucky. A woman who's such a rotten judge of character is a bad bargain. Go to Filomena by yourself tonight and celebrate your good fortune.”

B
y the following week, Faith could tell herself she was lucky. One miserable week during which she questioned every part of herself. By week's end she had managed to substitute philosophy for shame. Considering how long it had taken her to discover the truth about David, she had discovered the truth about Pavel in record time. No serious damage had been done. Her heart was still intact, if a little worse for wear. She had not compromised any state secrets.

She had only lost a friend and lover. Again.

Welcome to the sisterhood.

“I don't see why I have to go.”

What was left of the Bronson family was getting ready for a trip to Great Falls for Joe's birthday celebration—or supposed to be getting ready. In her bedroom, Faith looked up from choosing shoes to gaze at her pouting daughter. “You have to go because he's your grandfather.”

“But I have a test tomorrow, and I have to study or you'll ground me again. I want to be free over Thanksgiving.”

“You studied this afternoon, didn't you?”

“Not enough.”

“You knew we were going to your grandparents' for this birthday party. If you didn't study enough, that was bad planning, wasn't it?”

“I thought you'd be reasonable!”

Faith didn't feel reasonable. She felt discouraged and lonely. She felt like something was missing in her life. “Go change, Remy. We're leaving in fifteen minutes, and you're not wearing that to Great Falls.”

“Why not?” Remy's black T-shirt ended two inches above her navel; her capri pants started two inches below. All she needed was a ring dangling from her belly button, an adornment that so far they had avoided.

“Because it's November,” Faith said. “Because the temperature dropped below fifty this afternoon and it's cold outside. Because your grandparents don't want to see as much of you as you want to show them. And neither do I.”

“You're hopeless.”

Faith slipped on one shoe, then the other. “So very true. But not helpless. You aren't going to Great Falls looking like that, and if you don't get ready in a heartbeat, you aren't going anywhere for the next millennium. Get my drift?”

Remy stared at her. The threat was so unlike Faith that for a moment Faith, too, wondered if she had been momentarily possessed.

“You're nothing but talk.” Remy got her bearings again and started down the hallway. “Talk, talk, talk.” Her door slammed.

Faith sat down again and rested her head in her hands. She was edgy and easily annoyed, and her children deserved better. But darned if she would apologize.

In half an hour they were on their way to Virginia. Remy had changed into an acceptable skirt and sweater, and Alex was wearing a pale blue sports shirt and the only pants he owned that weren't made of denim. Faith's parents would approve of the clothing, if not of any of the things that made them children. For Alex and Remy's sake, Faith hoped the birthday celebration would be mercifully quick.

“We're the only ones who are going to be there?” Alex asked as they neared the turnoff to Great Falls.

“As far as I know. We'll eat dinner, have cake and ice cream, give your grandfather his birthday briefcase and leave. You've got school tomorrow.”

“Thank God!” Remy said.

“My science teacher liked my proposal for the science fair.”

Faith almost missed Alex's remark, but the last few words snagged her attention. “Science fair?”

“Uh-huh. You know, I told you all about it last week.”

She didn't remember. Not one word, but then, she had spent the past week trying to block out the world. “Refresh my memory.”

“I'm going to write a computer program that predicts animal behavior, using Lefty as my subject. See, I watch him for fifteen minutes every day for a week. Different times each day. I count stuff like how many times he gets on his exercise wheel, how many times he drinks water—”

“How many times he craps,” Remy said.

Alex ignored her. “Then I enter the data in the program I'm writing. When I run it, the program will predict how many times he does those things in a day, broken up into time periods.”

“That's just adding and averaging,” Remy said. “Anybody can do that in their heads.”

“No, it's not. Because the answer is going to be broken down and dependent on certain variables. I want to be able to predict as accurately as possible, to see if rats really behave the same way over time. See, I'm going to try some different stimuli. Do one chart for his behavior when there's a light on, one for when it's dark—”

“That's stupid. If it's dark, you won't be able to count.”

“Remy!” Faith turned back to Alex. “This sounds ambitious. Do you know enough about programming to be able to figure out all the computer stuff?”

“Pavel can help if I don't.”

She hadn't told her children about Pavel, and the time had come. “I don't think he's going to be coming around,” she said, trying to keep her voice light. “We've decided not to see each other anymore.”

“How come?” Alex said. It was an indictment, not a question. “That's not fair. He's my friend, too.”

“He likes you a lot, and this has nothing to do with you or anything you've done. It's a grown-up thing.”

“Wow, a real live lovers' quarrel.” Remy's tone was scorching.

“The day you start really getting your kicks from other people's suffering, Remy, will be a black day in your life. Don't let it happen.” Faith nearly missed the turnoff, but she saw it at the last minute. She took it too fast, skidding until she had slowed enough to regain control.

Remy squealed. “Great, Mom, get us killed over this, why don't you?”

Faith waited until she was steady again. She lowered her voice. “Alex, your dad can help you with the programming part. He's not as knowledgeable as Pavel, but he knows enough for this, I'm sure.”

“Yeah.” Alex sounded disgruntled. He wasn't unhappy because he had to ask David for help. He would just miss Pavel. The two were soul mates.

“It sounds like a wonderful project,” she said.

“Yeah. I'm going to use graphics and everything.” He sounded discouraged.

She wished the evening were over.

 

The previous week, Faith had stopped by the Senate office building to make a vague apology to her father. His expression hadn't changed. He'd nodded, and that was that. He asked about the children's health, and she answered politely. The rip in the fabric of their family was mended.

Since then, as a sign of renewed favor, Joe's secretary had called her twice. Once to see if she wanted a ticket to a Kennedy Center gala, and once to see if she would help hostess a Christ
mas party for children from Richmond's inner city. She had turned down the ticket but agreed to play hostess, since the planning was nearly finished.

By the time she parked, gathered up Joe's gift and followed the children down the sidewalk, she was steeling herself to endure this party, too. Holiday celebrations in the Huston family were notable affairs. The food was delicious; the house was always beautifully decorated. If a cake was called for, it always came from the area's finest bakery.

But an underlying current of disenchantment spoiled all the picture-perfect trimmings. Faith hadn't known how much fun birthdays could be until the girls in her freshman college dorm threw her an impromptu surprise party and she discovered that laughter and gluttony and irreverence were the stuff birthdays were really made of.

“This is where you always tell me to chew with my mouth closed.” Alex pointed to the bottom step. He pointed to the next one. “And this is where you tell me not to pick up cake with my fingers.”

“You'll thank me one day when you're president and the king of England comes to dine.”

Marley opened the door, and as Faith ushered the children ahead of her, Marley gave them each a rough-and-tumble hug.

“What's the temperature reading?” Faith asked when it was her turn.

“The senator's chilly as a mountain stream. Storm coming.”

Faith thought that sounded about normal for a holiday. “What's for dinner? Your wonderful jerk chicken?”

Marley started toward the back of the house. “Country ham, black-eyed peas, corn bread, turnip greens, sweet potatoes.”

“Shades of his heart attack. Is that what he asked for this year?” Faith came to a halt in the hallway, an idea dawning. “Marley, is a reporter coming?”

“Photographer. Coming up from the south to take happy family photos and find out what your daddy thinks about the sorry state of this country.”

“When did this happen?”

“While ago, seems, but no one told your mama.”

Faith was sure of that, because if Lydia had known, she would have called Faith to warn her and make sure the children were “presentable.”

“Where's my mother?”

“In her room, changing clothes.”

She didn't ask where her father was. From long experience she knew he was locked away in his home office and couldn't be disturbed until the food was on the table. “That's where I'll be if you need me.”

In Lydia's wing she rapped softly. Something crashed behind the door, and her mother muttered incoherently before she shouted, “Come in.”

Faith poked her head in first, scanning to be sure she was safe. “What did you drop?”

“A lamp. A stupid, stupid lamp. I brushed it with my arm.”

“Break it?”

“I don't think so.” Lydia motioned her inside. “Did you just get here?”

“Just in time to hear we're having a photographer immortalize our little celebration.”

“You know your father. He never lets a little thing like family togetherness get in the way of ambition.”

Faith was surprised. The unhappiness in her childhood home had never been vocalized. She hadn't witnessed fights. Arguments had been dispensed of in a few well-chosen sentences, and neither of her parents had criticized the other out loud.

“It's a good thing I made sure the children were nicely dressed,” Faith said.

“You were well taught.” Lydia fastened an earring. “The photographer is coming from Lynchburg, so he'll be a while. I'm sorry to put you through this. I suspect you have better things to do and better people to do them with.”

Her mother meant Pavel. Faith lowered herself to the bed. “As a matter of fact, I don't.”

“Mr. Quinn's out of town?”

“Mother, I found out something about Pavel that makes a relationship with him impossible.”

In the act of fastening the second earring, Lydia swiveled. “Faith, if you tell me
that
man is gay, I'm not going to believe you.”

Faith had weighed this conversation carefully. She had no real reason to tell Lydia who Pavel was, but she wanted to see her mother's reaction. Maybe she was poking and prodding needlessly, or, worse, sadistically, she wasn't sure. But she wanted answers.

“Pavel Quinn isn't really Pavel Quinn,” she said carefully. “Quinn was his mother's maiden name.”

“You're saying the man's illegitimate?” Lydia frowned. “Does that matter to you? You surprise me.”

“I'm not saying that. His parents were married, Mother. His father's name was Dominik Dubrov.”

Lydia paled. She lowered her hands, the earring forgotten. “Dominik's son?”

“Did you know he had a son?”

“A little boy. Pasha.”

Faith was surprised, both that Lydia knew this and had remembered it so well. She supposed the circumstances surrounding Hope's kidnapping had been burned into her mother's brain, but it still seemed odd.

“Pasha was just a nickname. His mother changed his last name so no one would know who he was.”

“It worked.” Lydia sank into the chair at her dressing table. “This must have been a shock.”

“
You
seem shocked.”

“It's just—” Lydia looked up. “I… It was all so long ago, but it continues to rise up and slap me in the face.”

“I know Dominik Dubrov did quite a bit of work for you, Mother. But you must have been friends or you wouldn't have known his son's name.”

“It's a row house, Faith, a narrow, cramped row house. We
ran into each other in every room and hallway. And we consulted constantly about the renovations.”

Lydia began to work on the earring again, but she couldn't get it in place. “Dominik seemed like a nice enough man. I asked about his wife and son, like any polite employer. The boy was sick so much.” She paused. “You wouldn't know it, looking at the man.”

“Dominik was in and out of the house a lot, wasn't he? The article claimed he had a key.”

“Of course he had a key. He worked when I wasn't there more often than when I was. What did Pavel say when you confronted him?”

“He said he was looking for the right time to tell me. He was afraid I'd suspect he ingratiated himself to get more information about the kidnapping.”

“What does he want to know, for heaven's sake? His father was never charged.”

“Maybe he wants to know why his father hung himself.”

Lydia was silent for so long that Faith got to her feet and started for the door. “I'll go see what Remy and Alex are doing. With luck I can keep them quiet until the party begins.”

“Faith?”

Faith turned. “Yes?”

“After Hope was taken, I suspected everybody. I lay awake at night and made up scenarios. This one had taken her to get even with Joe for some slight. That one had taken her because she was infertile and couldn't have children of her own. I nearly drove myself crazy with my imaginings. But I was never able to imagine Dominik doing it. He was a gentle man, honorable to the bone. His son should know that.”

“His son will have to find that out from someone else.”