The Shadow Wife

Joelle nodded, glancing quickly through the thin chart. Twenty-four-year-old Caucasian woman. Katarina Parsons. She didn’t bother trying to read Bart’s nearly illegible notes. She’d get the story soon enough.

She pushed open the door of the treatment room to find the young woman sitting on the edge of the examining table, arms folded across her chest, a look of boredom on her bruised face. The blasé expression masked fear, Joelle was almost certain. She’d seen the act before.

She held out her hand to the woman. “Hi, Katarina,” she said. “I’m Joelle D’Angelo, one of the social workers in the hospital.”

The woman shook her hand limply. “Why are they making me see you?” she asked.

“Well—” Joelle leaned against the counter “—when someone comes in looking as though there’s a possibility that she might have been beaten up, we want to make sure she’ll be safe when she leaves the E.R.,” she said.

“I told that doctor I wasn’t beat up,” Katarina said. “I fell down some cement stairs.” She pronounced cement “see-ment.”

Joelle smiled at her. “I like your accent,” she said. “Where are you from?”

“Virginia.”

“Oh.” Joelle took a seat on the wheeled stool. “Near Washington?”

“No. Southwest Virginia. Right near North Carolina.”

“I bet it’s pretty there,” Joelle said. “What brought you out here?”

“My boyfriend.”

“Oh. Did he live here, or…?”

“No, he lived in Virginia,” Katarina said. “But his brother was in Monterey, and he wanted to come out here, too. He thought he could find a job, but he hasn’t yet.” She shifted her slender weight on the examining table.

“Do you want to sit in that chair?” Joelle pointed toward the one chair in the room. “I know how uncomfortable it is sitting on those examining tables. I’ve been doing a lot of that myself lately.” She patted her belly with a smile.

“I don’t want to sit anywhere in here,” Katarina said. “I just want to leave.”

Joelle nodded toward the chair. “Just take a seat there,” she said. “It won’t be so hard on your back.”

Muttering under her breath, Katarina slipped off the examining table and sat down in the chair, arms folded protectively across her chest once more.

She was so easy, Joelle thought. So malleable and so scared. Joelle was confident she’d be able to get the truth out of her in no time.

“Where did you get hurt?” she asked.

“I told you, on the cement stairs at his brother’s apartment.”

“No, I mean, where on your body. I see you have some stitches on your cheek, and your other cheek is pretty swollen. Your arm was broken, right?”

“I been through all of this with that doctor,” Katarina said.

Joelle leaned toward her. “Katarina, it may be that you did fall down the stairs,” she said. “But if that’s not what happened, there’s help for you. There’s a place you can go where you’ll be safe. You just moved here—I know you probably don’t know many people, but you don’t have to feel alone in this.”

The tears welling up in Katarina’s eyes told her she was on the right track.

“You’re not the only woman this has happened to,” Joelle said. “You have a lot of company, unfortunately, but the good thing about that is that we have resources in place to—”

Katarina’s head suddenly jerked to attention, her eyes on the door to the treatment room. Joelle heard the voices outside the room, one calm and female, the other loud, angry and male.

“That’s Jess,” Katarina said in a whisper.

“Your boyfriend?”

She nodded, her gaze still on the small window of the door. “He’ll kill me for coming here, but I knew my arm was broke.”

Joelle stood up and reached for the phone on the wall. “I’ll call security,” she said, keeping her voice calm as she dialed the number, despite the fact that the man’s shouts were growing louder, more enraged. “Probably someone already has,” she said, waiting for the number to ring. “You don’t need to wor—”

The door flew open and a large man stormed into the treatment room, knocking the phone out of Joelle’s hand as he passed her. Her hands moved instinctively to protect her belly.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” the man asked Katarina, who literally cowered on the chair in the corner of the room. The man’s blond hair jutted out from his head in no discernable style, and his eyes had a wild look that made Joelle think he was on something.

“I told them I fell down the stairs,” Katarina said.

“Jess,” Joelle said as calmly as she was able to, “Katarina and I are nearly finished talking. Please wait outside and we’ll be out in a few—”

“What are you, a social worker?” Jess turned to face her. “Jesus, Kat, what have you been telling them? She’s clumsy, that’s all,” he said to Joelle. “Clumsy bitch.” He started toward Katarina again, his hands reaching for the small woman’s shoulders.

Before she had time to think, Joelle moved forward and grabbed his arm.

“Stay away from her,” she said.

He jerked free of her grasp, as though her hands were nothing more than a fly on his arm, and headed for Katarina again.

There were more voices outside the treatment-room door, and Joelle hoped that security had arrived, but it was Liam who came into the room. He opened the door wide as he entered, and Joelle saw Katarina’s chance to escape.

“Katarina, get out!” she said, hoping the young woman could use Liam’s intrusion to slip from the room.

“You don’t go nowhere!” Jess bellowed at the terrified woman. He turned to face Joelle, and she was suddenly looking into the piercing green eyes of a madman.

“And you shut up, you fucking bitch!” Lifting his foot high, he pressed the sole of his boot against Joelle’s belly and plowed her into the wall.

Pain shot through her middle, as though everything inside her, everything that was there to hold her baby in place, was being torn apart. She felt her body slide down the wall until she was crumpled on the floor. She doubled over from the pain, and the world in the treatment room instantly became blurred and surreal. She watched as Liam grabbed Jess by the shoulder, drew back his own arm and punched the wild man in the face, not once, but again and again, until it was hard to know which man was truly out of control. Blood squirted from Jess’s nose and seeped into the spaces between his teeth as Liam—gentle Liam—pounded the man with his fists. Joelle leaned back against the wall and shut her eyes, afraid she was going to be sick. When she looked up again, two security guards were in the room, and Liam was bending over her, crouching down, his arms a wall of protection around her.

She grabbed the fabric of his shirt in her hand.

“The baby,” she said hoarsely.

She felt him reach between them, his hand slipping beneath her shirt to rest, warm and soothing, on the rounded panel of her maternity slacks, and she let her forehead fall against his shoulder.

“You’ll be all right,” he said into her ear. “You’ve got to be all right.”

37

San Francisco, 1967

SHE COULD HEAR VOICES. AT FIRST THEY WERE LITTLE MORE THAN a low hum, as if she were listening to a conversation taking place on the other side of a flimsy wall. But gradually, she recognized them. Alan’s voice. And Gabriel’s.

She tried to open her eyes, but the effort seemed too great. She was able, though, to make a sound. Half hum, half grunt. The sound reverberated in her own ears. And the voices stopped.

“Did you hear that?” That was Gabe’s voice. She tried to smile, to reach out for him, but she knew she was succeeding at neither.

“Lisbeth?” Alan’s voice was little more than a whisper.

“Mmm,” she said again.

“Oh, thank God,” Gabriel said, and she felt him—yes, it was definitely him—take her hand. “Lizzie,” he said.

“Shh!” Alan’s voice was sharp.

“We’d better make sure no one comes in,” Gabriel said.

“I’ll stand by the door,” Alan said. She felt something brush her cheek, then Alan’s lips against her forehead. “Welcome back, Lisbeth,” he whispered.

“Gabe?”

“I’m right here, baby.”

His hand touched the side of her face, and she could smell his aftershave.

“I’m…” She felt herself frowning. Where was she? Not in her bed at home. Thoughts swam through her head, but she couldn’t pin any of them down. “Head hurts,” she said.

“Yes. You had a very bad concussion.”

“I don’t remember.” She tried to open her eyes again, managing to lift one of the lids a bit, but closing it quickly against the light in the room.

“Turn out the light, Alan,” Gabriel said, and he let go of her hand for a moment. She heard him at the window, lowering the blinds, perhaps. Then he was back, holding her hand once more. “Try it again,” he said. “Open your eyes. It’s darker in here now.”

She did. First her left eye, which popped open as if on a spring, then the right. The room was dim, but she could see Gabriel’s face close to hers. She reached up to touch his cheek. It was wet.

“Liz, I’m so glad to see you,” he said, turning his face to kiss her palm. “You had us really scared.”

“What happened?” she asked.

“You were in a car accident,” he said.

“I don’t remember.” Her mind felt thick with confusion. “When? Where was I going?”

“It happened nearly a month ago,” he said.

What? “A month…?”

“Yes. You and Carlynn were in your car. You were in Big Sur, do you remember?” His words were slow and measured, as though he had practiced saying them many times.

She had the flimsiest, dreamlike sort of memory of being in the car with Carlynn, driving in the fog. “Not a month ago,” she said.

“Yes, hon,” he said. “You’ve been unconscious all this time. I’m so relieved to see you finally waking up.”

Her head was pounding, and she raised her hand to her temple, where her fingers touched some sort of material—fabric or gauze—instead of her hair. “What’s on my head?” she asked.

“You suffered several different injuries,” he said. “You had the concussion, as I mentioned. Your leg was broken in a few places. And you had some internal bleeding. They did a couple of surgeries on you. You lost a lot of blood, and they gave you transfusions. But your body is healing. And every day, the physical therapist comes in and moves your arms and your legs to keep your muscles toned.”

“Shanti Joy.” The name came back to her suddenly.

“What?” Gabriel asked.

“The baby at the commune.” Alan’s voice came from across the room. “What about it?”

“Carlynn wanted to go back to the commune to see Penny and the baby one last time,” Lisbeth said. “And there was fog. Oh! Car coming at us.” She felt her body flinch, and she drew her hand away from Gabriel’s.

“That’s right, but you’re not there now, Liz.” Gabe took her hand again. “You’re safe. Here with me. You and Carlynn were driving in the fog on those narrow roads at Big Sur. A car was coming toward you, in the wrong lane, and Carlynn swerved to avoid it and went over the side of the cliff. You were unbelievably lucky to get out of there in as good shape as you did.”

Where, she thought suddenly, was Carlynn? Alan was here in this room with her. And Gabe. But she hadn’t seen Carlynn or heard her voice. She felt her heartbeat quicken in her chest.

“What about Carlynn?” she asked. “Is she all right?”

Gabriel hesitated a moment before shaking his head. “Baby, I’m sorry,” he said, his eyes watching her carefully. “She didn’t make it.”

“What do you mean?” She felt panicky. “You don’t mean she…”

Gabriel nodded. “She was killed in the accident,” he said. “I’m so sorry, Liz.”

“No!” Lisbeth let go of his hand to pound his chest with both fists. “Please, please, please! Gabriel!” She tried to turn her head to see Alan where he was standing by the door, but pain shot from her neck to her temple, and she could not see him. “Alan!” she screamed.

“Shh!” Alan moved toward her quickly. He took her fists and held them, coiled and knotted, in his own hands.

“She can’t be dead,” Lisbeth said. “She can’t be. Please tell me she’s okay, Alan. Please.”

“She died very, very quickly,” Alan said, and she knew, more from the tears in his eyes than from his words, that her sister was gone. “She was…” He stumbled, glancing at Gabriel, looking for the words. “She was pressed between the steering wheel and the seat. The police said she never knew what hit her. She didn’t suf—”

There were voices outside her room, and Alan quickly turned his head toward the door. He looked at Gabriel.

“I think the nurse is coming,” he said.

“Head her off,” Gabe said, and Alan dropped Lisbeth’s hands and strode to the door. She heard it open and fall shut with a soft thud.

“Lisbeth,” Gabriel said, “if the nurse should come in, Alan and I will be calling you Carlynn.”

“What?”

“I’ll explain, but just so you know. Please. It’s important. Pretend to be Carlynn.”

“No!” She tried hard to sit up, but her head was too heavy to lift from the pillow. “Why?” she asked.

“Shh,” Gabriel said. “Settle down. Please don’t talk so loud. I’ll try to explain. I know this is too much for you to handle right now. To absorb. But just listen, please, baby. Just listen to me.”

“I want my sister,” she said, still unable to grasp the realization that she would never be able to see Carlynn again. “Oh, Gabe, what will I do without her?”

“I know you want her back,” Gabriel said. “We all do. But will you listen to me? Please?” He glanced toward the door to her room. She knew her thinking was murky, but she was certain Gabriel was more anxious than she’d ever seen him before.

“I’m listening,” she said.

“You and Carlynn were in your bug, but Carlynn was driving, right?”

She shut her eyes, thinking. “I was, but then we switched,” she said. “It was foggy and I…my legs were shaking…it was so hard to see. She thought she could drive better in the fog than I could.”

“Right. So when you went over the cliff, and the rescuers got to you, they found your purse, with your ID, and none for Carlynn, and so they figured it was you in the driver’s seat. They told us you had died and that it was Carlynn who had been badly injured.”

She frowned again, trying to follow him. “Didn’t you…couldn’t you and Alan tell the difference when you saw me?”

“No, we couldn’t. We never saw Carlynn…after the accident. And you were so bandaged up, your face was cut and bruised—”

She lifted her hands to her face, touching the skin gingerly with her fingertips. “Do I look different?” she asked.

“No, honey. Your face is very nearly healed, and you look like yourself. And, of course, you also look like Carlynn.”

She realized suddenly what he was telling her. “You thought I had died?” she asked.

He nodded. “The worst day of my life, Liz.” His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat. “And the day we realized it was you lying here and not Carlynn was the worst day for Alan.”

“Oh my God.” She was still having difficulty absorbing it all. “How long did everyone think I was Carlynn?” she asked.

“Two weeks,” Gabriel said. “We…I don’t know if I should tell you all of this.”

“Tell me.”

“We had a memorial service for you and everything.”

She didn’t know what to say. Her emotions were so jumbled together that she didn’t know whether to feel joy or sorrow, sympathy or anger.

“And we didn’t have one for Carlynn,” Gabriel finished.

“We’ll have to have one for her now,” Lisbeth said. “As soon as I’m well enough to get out of this—”

“No,” Gabriel interrupted her. “That’s what I have to talk to you about. Some things happened while you were unconscious those first couple of weeks. There were newspaper articles. Magazine articles. All saying how ‘the famous healer,’ Carlynn Shire, had lost her sister in an accident, people praying for your—for her—recovery. And your mother sat with you, day and night, and—”

“Because she thought I was Carlynn.”

Gabriel licked his lips, nodding. “I don’t know how she would have reacted if she’d known it was you. Maybe she would have come around, Liz. I just don’t know. But she did believe, as we all did, that you were Carlynn. She said, though, that she felt guilty for the way she’d treated you—treated Lisbeth—and that she was going to make a huge—and I do mean huge—contribution to the center in your name.”

So confusing…so… Lisbeth shook her head, a small gesture that made her grit her teeth against the pain. “You mean…” She wasn’t even certain what question to ask.

“I mean that, if Carlynn recovered well enough so that the center could continue, your mother said that she would fund it. She’d pay salaries and rent.”

“So…” She was beginning to catch on. “If Carlynn is dead and I’m alive, Mother wouldn’t…”

“Alan would have to shut down the center,” Gabriel said. “It wouldn’t be a viable project without Carlynn and her reputation to keep it alive.”

“Her dream,” Lisbeth said, aching for her sister.

“Right. Her dream.”

“But…you can’t seriously think that I could—”

“There’s more,” Gabriel said. “One of your mother’s conditions is that the center be moved to Monterey. She wants to be closer to you, and she—”

“To Carlynn.”

“Yes, right. To Carlynn. And she wants Carlynn and Alan to live in the mansion. And I’ve avoided her as much as possible…or rather, she’s avoided me. Even if she’s gotten a few glimpses of me, here or at the funeral, she can’t see well enough to really know what I look like. So, Alan and I have a plan that will allow us…all of us…to live in the mansion together.”

“What?”

“Your mother has a bedroom downstairs now,” Gabriel said, speaking quickly. “She never goes upstairs anymore because of her arthritis. So you and Alan and I will live upstairs. I’ll be introduced to your mother as the new CEO. We’ll use my middle name—”

“Quinn.”

“Right, and she’ll never be any the wiser. We’ll say I’m new to the area and in need of someplace to live. You and Alan will tell her that you want me to live there at the mansion so that the three of us can do center work even at home. Your mother will like that. And with the money she’s contributing, I’ll be able to afford to leave my job here—at SF General—and work full-time for the center.”

Lisbeth closed her eyes. “This is so crazy,” she said.

“I know it sounds that way, Liz. If I just woke up after a month and heard all of this, I’d think so, too. But Alan and I have lived with the idea for a couple of weeks now, and—”

“I can’t do it, Gabe,” she said. “There’s no way I can be Carlynn.”

“Think through the alternative, baby. If you tell the world that you’re really—”

“How did you find out that it was me lying here and not Carlynn?” she interrupted him.

Gabriel leaned away from her. “Oh, Lizzie,” he said, “it was awful.”

“How?”

“The police brought over your rings and Carlynn’s rings. They were labeled in plastic bags. And your rings were in the bag labeled with Carlynn’s name, and vice versa. The cops gave the bags to Alan first, and he tried to tell them they’d made a mistake. Then it dawned on him, poor guy. Can you imagine? We still weren’t sure, so he and I came up here, and…well, we looked at your…you know how you have that little heart-shaped mole on your breast?”

Lisbeth closed her eyes. “So that’s how you found out I was alive, and Alan found out he’d lost his wife.” She turned her head to the side, crying again. “Oh, Carly.”

Gabriel smoothed his hand over her hair, and she could feel the tension in his fingers.

“You can have her life, Liz. Not her husband, though.”

She heard the hint of a smile in his voice and turned to look at him. He was smiling at her. They were not feeling the same thing right now. Gabe had already moved past the grief that was weighing her down. “Alan would be your husband in public, of course,” Gabriel said, “but you would be mine when we’re alone. Then, in all other ways, you can have Carlynn’s life. The mansion at Cypress Point will one day be yours. And you can live there forever. With me. Money will never, ever be a problem for any of us or for the center.”

Cypress Point, Lisbeth thought. She could live there, share it with Gabe.

“What would Carlynn want me to do?” she asked.

“What do you think?” Gabriel asked her.

“She’d want me to have everything she did,” she said, knowing that was the truth. “But not this way.”

“Is there another way?” Gabriel asked.

“It’s insane, though,” she said. “I can’t heal anyone. I’m not a doctor.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Gabriel said. “Alan and I will work out the details. We just need the world—and your mother—to think that Carlynn Shire is still alive. We can always say that the accident somehow altered your healing ability. It doesn’t matter. The center is really about research,” he said. “And we can change the shape of that research. We can attract other known healers to the center, and they can become subjects for study.”

The door opened, and a nurse walked in followed by Alan, who looked nothing short of panic-stricken at being unable to keep the woman out of the room a moment longer. The air vibrated with tension as the nurse took Lisbeth’s blood pressure and pulse and slipped the thermometer beneath her tongue.

“Do you know where you are?” she asked Lisbeth once she’d removed the thermometer.

“The hospital,” Lisbeth said.

“And do you know what year it is?”

Lisbeth had to think for a moment. “Nineteen sixty-seven?” she asked, not completely certain.

“Very good,” the nurse said. “And you know these gentlemen? Which one is your hubby?”

Lisbeth swallowed hard. Carly, Carly, Carly. What do you want me to do? She glanced at Gabriel, then turned her face toward Alan.

“That one,” she said.

38

LIAM WOULD HAVE STAYED WITH JOELLE WHILE THEY EXAMINED her, but he was being treated in another curtained-off cubicle of the E.R. himself. He’d broken the index finger on his right hand, and Bart was now injecting something into his jaw to numb it, so that he could stitch the jagged cut Liam had no memory of receiving.

He’d never hit another human being in his entire life. Not even as a kid. But, it had felt so natural to him. So right. He wanted to beat that bastard to a pulp. The image of him kicking Joelle into the wall was embedded in his mind forever.

He knew where she was. Three cubicles down from him. For a while, he could hear her crying. The police had been questioning him at that time, and he’d asked them to let him go to her, but they said she was being well cared for.

“And you’re bleeding all over the place, besides,” one of the cops had added.

“Do you know how Joelle is?” he asked Bart now, as the doctor sat down next to him and began working on the laceration on his jaw.

“They’ve taken her to the Women’s Wing,” he said.

That’s why he was no longer hearing her cry, Liam thought. “Is she okay?” he asked.

“She’s in premature labor.”

“Oh, no,” he said. “She’s only…what…thirty weeks?”

“Stop talking, Liam,” Bart said. “I think that’s what I heard. Thirty weeks. It’s going to be rough if she has that baby now.”

It was happening again: another pregnancy, another child of his, being born into tragedy. And he cared—he truly did—about that baby. But just then, he cared far more what happened to Joelle.

“Is Joelle okay, though?” he asked again. “I mean…besides the labor?”

“She has a couple of cracked ribs, I think,” Bart said, leaning back from his work. “And if you keep talking, Liam, this will take all day.”

After Bart had finished stitching his jaw, Liam threw away the bloody shirt and pants he’d had on and borrowed a pair of blue scrubs to wear for the rest of the day. He left the E.R. and headed toward the Women’s Wing, but stopped off in the men’s room to see what had been done to his face. His image in the mirror shocked him. The cut on his chin was bandaged, as was his splinted aching finger, but there were bruises on his face that he could not remember receiving. He’d told the police he’d done all the hitting, yet that was obviously not the case, and he imagined the cops probably had a good laugh at his expense after they’d finished questioning him. Suddenly, he was very tired. He leaned against the tiled wall in the restroom and closed his eyes.

Joelle had to be terrified, he thought. She knew too much about what could go wrong with a pregnancy. Just like Mara did.

He felt a little sick to his stomach as he walked out of the men’s room and down the corridor. He would visit Joelle as her fellow social worker, her friend, the guy who’d also been involved in the altercation that caused her injury. No one would think anything of it.

He found Serena Marquez at the nurses’ station in the Women’s Wing.

“How’s Joelle?” he asked.

“Oh my God,” Serena said, when she saw him. “I heard you beat up the guy that kicked Joelle. It looks like it was the other way around.”

“How’s Joelle?” he repeated, not in any mood for banter.

“Rebecca’s trying to stop her labor,” Serena said.

“Can she?” he asked. “I mean, how is it going?”

“Don’t know yet,” Serena said. “But her membranes have ruptured, so that’s not great.”

“Can I see her?” he asked.

Serena looked at the clock. “Give her about twenty minutes or so,” she said. “Rebecca’s examining her. She’s starting her on some betamethasone and antibiotics.”

“What’s the beta…whatever for?”

“To mature the baby’s lungs in case her labor can’t be stopped. Without it—and even with it—a thirty-weeker could have some pretty serious problems.” She picked up a chart and started to leave the nurses’ station. “She’s in room twenty,” she said over her shoulder.

He sat down at the counter and reached for the phone. Pulling the phone book from the shelf under the counter, he looked up the number for the Shire Mind and Body Center and dialed it. A young-sounding woman answered the phone.

“Hello,” he said. “I need to get in touch with Carlynn Shire and I don’t have her home number. Can you tell me how I can reach her? It’s urgent.”

“What is this regarding?” the woman asked.

“It’s about a friend of hers. Joelle D’Angelo. She’s in labor, and I wanted to see if Carlynn could come over here, to Silas Memorial, to be with her.”

“I’ll get that message to her.”

“Right away?” he asked.

“I’ll call her, and if she’s there, she’ll get it. If not, I can’t say when.”

“Try to find her, please. And ask her to call me. Liam Sommers.” He gave her the hospital number. “Have her ask the operator to page me.”

His pager buzzed exactly twenty minutes later, when he was getting up his courage to walk down the hall to room twenty. He picked up the phone.

“It’s Carlynn, Liam,” she said. “I received your message and got a ride to the hospital. I’m in the lobby. Is Joelle all right?”

“I’ll be right over,” he said. “We can talk there.”

She was sitting in the lobby near the windows, balancing her hands on the top of her cane. He sat down in the chair next to hers.

“Thanks for coming,” he said.

“What happened?” she asked. “And what on earth happened to you?”

“Joelle was interviewing a battered woman in the emergency room, and the woman’s boyfriend broke into the room and kicked her in the stomach.”

Carlynn’s hand flew to her mouth. “Oh, no,” she said. “Is she all right?”

He shook his head. “She has some cracked ribs and she’s in premature labor,” he said.

“Oh, that’s not good,” Carlynn said. “Not this early. And your face? Your finger?”

“I punched the daylights out of the guy who kicked her,” he said. “And I’m paying for it now.” He held up his throbbing hand.

“Good for you!” Carlynn looked pleased with him. “What’s the prognosis on Joelle, do you know?”

“They’re trying to stop the labor,” he said. “I thought it might help her to have you with her.”

“Why not you?” she asked.

“I’m not a healer.”

Carlynn looked down at her hands where they rested on the top of her cane. “I believe that, right now, you can probably do more for her than I could.”

He felt annoyed. She was always trying to push the two of them together as though Mara didn’t exist. “Do you understand my dilemma, Carlynn?” he asked.

“I understand that you and Joelle are willing to sacrifice your own happiness for someone who doesn’t need you to make those sacrifices,” Carlynn said, and he recoiled from her suddenly forceful tone. “And I’m willing to bet,” she continued, “that if Mara could talk, from all you and Joelle have told me about her, she wouldn’t want you to make them, either. She’d want Joelle to take care of you and Sam the way only a woman who adores you both can do.”

“I thought you were supposedly trying to heal Mara,” he said. “Or have you just been playing with Joelle? Playing with both of us?”

“I’ve been working very hard,” Carlynn said. “But you’re right. It hasn’t been Mara that I’ve been attempting to heal. She doesn’t need my help, Liam, I’ve known that from the start. It’s you and Joelle who need healing. Look at Mara. She’s always smiling. Have you ever seen her appear to be suffering?”

He didn’t respond. They both knew the answer to her question.

He stared out the window, collecting his thoughts. “If I give in to my feelings for Joelle,” he said, “it feels like I’m betraying my wife.”

“You’re not abandoning Mara, dear.” Carlynn’s tone softened. “You and Joelle can’t possibly hurt her by loving each other, and you don’t need to be divorced for you and Joelle to be married in your hearts. The happier you are, the more strength you’ll have to give to Mara. And to your little boy. I believe you have a responsibility to your child…to your children…to live a full and happy life.”

“Children.” He repeated the word more to himself than to her.

“Right now,” Carlynn leaned forward, her arms folded on the table, “you have a choice. You can go be with Mara, who feels very, very little, and who will be smiling whether you’re there or not. Or you can go and be with Joelle, who still feels everything—fear and love and worry—and who is feeling all those things right now as she prays to hold on to your child. You decide who needs you more.”

“Will you go see her?” he asked.

“Yes, of course I will. But I can’t take your place, Liam. Not at her side, and not in her heart.”

He left the lobby, but he didn’t go near the Women’s Wing for fear that someone would corner him to tell him that Joelle was asking for him. There was someplace else he needed to go first.

Mara was sleeping when he went into her room at the nursing home. He closed the door behind him, wanting privacy with his wife.

“Mara?”

Lowering the railing on her bed, he sat next to her as she opened her eyes. She smiled at him, let out her squeal, and he leaned forward to kiss her.

“I need to talk with you, honey,” he said. He reached across her body for her right hand, the hand that would feel his presence. “I’m struggling, Mara,” he said. “I love you. I’d give anything to make you whole again. You’ve been so wonderful for me. You’ve given me so much joy.” He ran his free hand over her too-long hair. “And a beautiful son,” he said. “The years we spent together were truly the best years of my life. But they’re over now, and I need to let go of them.” He smiled sadly. “You’ve already done that, in your own way, haven’t you?”

She was staring at him, her eyes huge and riveting, but her smile had not changed.

“I’ve fallen in love with Joelle, Mara,” he said. “We have one really huge thing in common, and that’s you. We both love you. We both want to take care of you. And I want you to know that I’ll always be here for you. I’ll never stop visiting you, no matter what else happens in my life.”

He ran his thumb over the back of her hand. “But I’m having a hard time letting go of you,” he said. “I don’t want to feel as though I’m betraying you. I love you so much.” He looked hard into her eyes. “I wish you could give me a sign, somehow. Squeeze my hand. Blink your eyes. Let me know it’s okay for me to move on.”

He studied her, and she smiled at him with the same vacuous smile that meant nothing other than the corners of her mouth were upturned. It was the only sign she was able to give him, and the only sign he needed.

Letting go of her hand, he brushed a strand of her hair back from her face. “Thanks, honey,” he said. Then he leaned forward to kiss her goodbye.

39

“ONE THING YOU’VE GOT GOING FOR YOU,” LYDIA, THE NURSE who was taking care of Joelle, said as she unwrapped the blood pressure cuff from her arm, “is good blood pressure.”

Joelle nodded from the bed in one of the antenatal rooms, but didn’t open her eyes. If she opened her eyes, the room would start spinning again.

Carlynn was at her side, holding her hand, and she was grateful for the stabilizing force of that gentle grip.

“It’s 7:00 p.m.,” Lydia said. “Am I correct in assuming you don’t want anything to eat?”

Joelle nodded again, but this time with a smile. “You’re correct,” she said. “I don’t think I’ll want anything to eat ever again.”

The magnesium sulfate made her feel hot and sick, as she knew it would, but she welcomed the drug into her veins because it gave her baby a chance to stay inside her longer. The monitor strapped to her belly let her know the baby was still all right; she could hear the comforting sound of the heartbeat, the whooshing reminding her of the underwater sound of whales or dolphins trying to find their way home.

“You don’t have to stay here,” she said to Carlynn without opening her eyes. “I’m pretty boring.”

“I’m not here for the entertainment,” Carlynn said, and Joelle managed another smile.

She was trying hard to stay calm. That seemed important, somehow, as though her calmness could prevent her cervix from dilating one more centimeter. Three or four centimeters would be “the point of no return” in a woman experiencing premature labor, Rebecca had said. She would be delivering her baby, then, ten weeks early, and she couldn’t allow that to happen. They’d given her a first shot of betamethasone, just in case, but that would take time to have any effect on her baby’s lungs.

She should call her parents, but she didn’t want them to worry or to come down to Monterey just to watch her lie in bed with a monitor strapped to her belly. If it looked as though she was going to have to deliver, then she’d have someone call them, but not before.

Even though she knew every nurse in the unit, and each of them had come in to see how she was doing, she still felt lonely. And no one—not her parents, not the nurses, not even Carlynn sitting next to her—could take the place of the person she was longing for.

Joelle could hear Lydia moving around the room, and she imagined the nurse was checking her monitor and the IV bottle. Suddenly she heard a voice at the door.

“May I come in?”

Liam. Her eyes flew open, and the room gave a quick spin before settling down again. Liam was poking his head in the open door, and she felt tears burn her eyes, she was so happy to see him there.

“Sure,” Lydia said, heading for the door. “Buzz me if you need me, Joelle.”

Liam walked into the room, and Carlynn let go of her hand and stood up.

“Since Liam’s here, I’m going to take a break and get a cup of tea, dear, all right?” Carlynn asked her.

“Of course, Carlynn,” she said. “Thanks for being here.”

Liam held the door open for Carlynn, then walked around the bed to sit in the chair she had vacated.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hi.” She squinted, trying to get a better look at him in the dim light of the room. “Oh, God, Liam, your face.”

“You should see the other guy.”

She tried to read the expression on his wounded face. His smile was small, maybe tender, maybe sheepish. She wasn’t sure.

“Are you in tons of pain?” she asked.

“I bet not as much as you are,” he said. “They’ve really got you hooked up here.”

“Hear her heartbeat?” she asked. They had talked so little about this baby that she was almost afraid to draw attention to the sound filling the room.

“She sounds healthy and strong,” he said.

“God, I hope so.”

“You’re not feeling at all well, are you,” he said. It was not a question, and she knew she must look as terrible as she felt.

“The mag sulfate,” she said. “It’s making me sick.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, and she wondered if he was apologizing out of sympathy over her nausea or for something more than that. “You look stiff, like you’re afraid to move,” he said.

He was right. She could feel the intentional rigidity in her body.

“I’m afraid that if I move, I’ll throw up,” she said.

“The basin’s right next to your head.”

She made a face. “I don’t want to throw up in front of you.”

He smiled at that. “I’ve been cleaning up baby upchuck and changing nasty diapers for more than a year now,” he said. “I think I can handle it. So if you need to, you go right ahead.”

“Thanks.” She felt almost instantly better having been given that permission, and she felt her body begin to relax.

“Can you explain to me what’s going on?” he asked.

She told him about the two centimeters dilation, about the mag sulfate, the betamethasone and the baby’s fragile lungs. “If she’s born now, and she makes it, she could have severe problems,” she said. “Cerebral palsy. Respiratory problems. Brain damage.” She expected him to flee from the room at that last one, but he stayed in his seat.

“Is there a chance she could be born now and be all right?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said. “With a lot of luck and good medical care in the NICU.”

Liam sighed. “I seem to jinx my women when it comes to delivering babies.”

The sentiment itself meant nothing to her, but the fact that he’d included her in “his women” meant everything.

“It’s hardly your fault that that guy kicked me.” She shook her head.

“I asked you to take the case.”

“You didn’t know.” She shifted her weight carefully in the bed, trying to ease the pain of her cracked ribs. “Did you call Carlynn to come?”

He nodded. “Is that all right?”

“Of course. Thank you. It can’t hurt to have an official healer here, though I’m still not sure I’m a believer.”

“Me neither.” He touched the bandage on his jaw with his fingers, wincing a little. “You know what I do believe in, though?” he asked.

“What?”

“You and me,” he said. “With this baby or without her.” He nodded toward her belly. “Somehow, Jo, you and I are going to make this work.”

She felt her eyes fill again with tears. What had happened to Liam? What sort of epiphany had he experienced in the last couple of hours? She didn’t dare ask him; she would just enjoy it.

“That would be wonderful, Liam,” she said.

“I called Sheila and told her I’d be working late,” he said, looking at his watch. “But I think I’d better call her again and see if she can keep Sam all night.”

“You don’t need to do that,” she said. “I’ll probably just sleep tonight, and I may end up being in here for days. Maybe even weeks.”

“Well, you’ve got my company, at least for tonight,” he said. “I’d like to make up to you for giving you none of it over the past seven months. Unless you’d rather I didn’t stay.”

“I’d love you to stay,” she said. “But you may just be watching me sleep.”

“Fine,” he said, getting to his feet. “I’ll call Sheila.”

“What will you tell her?” she asked.

“The truth,” he said. He was standing now, his hands on the back of the chair. “She already knows the baby is mine.”

Joelle was shocked. “She does? How?”

“She guessed, and I told her she was right.”

“What did she say?”

“She beat me up with her purse.”

“Are you kidding?” She laughed.

“I wish.” He smiled and left the room.

She woke herself up with her own moaning, the sound coming from somewhere deep inside her. There was cramping low in her belly.

“What is it, Jo?” Liam asked.

She opened her eyes. The room was dark, except for the light pouring through the open door from the hallway, and for a moment Joelle wasn’t certain who was sitting next to her.

“Carlynn?” she asked.

“She went home, Jo,” Liam said. “Are you okay?”

“I think…” she said. “A contraction, I think. What time is it?”

“Two in the morning.”

She could see the paleness of his eyes in the light from the monitor. “You’d better get the nurse,” she said.

He was back in a moment with Lydia, who examined her, then stood up.

“You’re four, almost five centimeters dilated,” she said. “The mag sulfate didn’t work. I’m going to call Rebecca.”

She looked at Liam after Lydia left the room. “I’m afraid this is it,” she said.

He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it. “I’ll be with you,” he said.

“My mother was supposed to be my birth partner,” she said.

“Do you want me to call her?”

“She didn’t take any of the classes.”

“I’ve had all the classes, Jo,” he said. “I’m a pro.”

Another contraction gripped her belly, and she tightened her hold on his hand. When the pain had passed, she looked into his eyes. “I’m scared,” she said.

“I know,” he said. “Me, too.”

“I’ve been having these terrible nightmares lately,” she said. “That I get the headache.”

He pressed his lips to her hand. “You know that’s not going to happen.”

“What did Sheila say when you called her?”

“Essentially, nothing. I said that you were in labor, that if she could keep Sam, I would like to stay with you. And there was a long silence, and then she said, ‘Fine,’ and hung up.”

“Oh,” Joelle said. “That doesn’t sound good.”

“She could have said she wouldn’t keep him.”

“You can’t blame her. This must be terribly difficult for her.”

“I know.” He swallowed hard, and she saw the blue of his eyes darken for a moment. “Let’s not talk about it now, okay?” he asked. “Let’s just focus on you.”

Within thirty minutes, they had moved her to the birthing room, and, as though her body knew she was ready, her contractions started in earnest. The anesthesiologist, someone she didn’t know, came in to give her an epidural. It only numbed her right side, but that was enough to let her sleep, and when she awakened she was surrounded by people. Her legs were in the stirrups, Rebecca between them, and she recognized a neonatologist from the NICU standing to the side, at the ready. Liam was next to her, brushing her hair back from her forehead with his hand.

“You slept right through the hard part,” Rebecca said to her. “It’s time to push.”

What?

“What time is it?” she asked. There was an intense pressure low in her belly. “I thought I had an epidural.”

“It’s a little after six in the morning,” Liam said.

“You did have an epi,” Rebecca said. “It’s probably worn off by now, but it’s time to push, Joelle.”

Somehow, she’d slept through five centimeters’ worth of dilating. She felt the pressure again, and the urge to push was tremendous.

“I want to push!” she yelled, and several people laughed.

“Good!” Rebecca said. “We’ve been begging you to for the last ten minutes.”

She could feel everything as the baby slipped through the birth canal. It felt good, actually, the pushing, but she feared the whole process seemed so simple because her baby was very, very small.

“I’ve got her,” Rebecca said, instantly swiveling to hand the baby over to the neonatologist.

“Is she okay?” Joelle strained to see, but the neonatologist’s back was to her as he worked on her baby girl at the side of the room. She heard a whimper. “Was that the baby?”

“Want me to go see?” Liam asked her, and she nodded.

She watched Liam’s battered face as he talked to the neonatologist. He was asking questions, then looking down at the table where her baby lay. Much as she tried to read his face, his expression remained impassive.

In a moment, though, he was back at her side. “She’s tiny, Jo, but she looks good,” he said. “She weighs three pounds, and the doc seemed impressed by that. She’s not crying exactly, but she’s making noises—”

“I could hear them,” she said, still trying to look through the neonatologist’s back to see her baby.

“Her Apgars were six and eight,” Liam said. “He said that was good, considering.”

The neonatologist wheeled the incubator toward her. “Quick peek for Mom,” he said. “Then we’re off to the NICU.”

It was hard to see through the plastic. The baby was just a tiny little doll with arms and legs no bigger than twigs, and before Joelle had even had a chance to make out her daughter’s features, the incubator was whisked away.

“I want to get up,” she said, raising herself up on her elbows. She wanted to follow the incubator to the nursery.

Rebecca laughed again. “Soon, Joelle, for heaven’s sake. Let me finish up here.”

Less than an hour later, Liam pushed her down the corridor to the neonatal nursery in a wheelchair. She could have walked, but her nurse insisted on the chair, and she wasn’t about to argue. She didn’t care how she got there, as long as it was quickly. She left the chair in the hallway, though, wanting to walk into the nursery on her own steam.

The NICU was familiar territory to her, and she showed Liam how to scrub up at the sink and then dressed both of them in yellow paper gowns. Inside, Patty, one of the nurses she knew well, guided them over to the incubator, and Joelle sat down in the chair at the side of the plastic box.

“She’s bigger than I expected,” she said, smiling at the tiny infant, who had a ventilator tube coming from her mouth and too many leads to count taped to her little body.

“Bigger?” Liam asked in surprise.

“I’ve seen a lot of babies smaller than her in here,” she said.

Patty brought a chair for Liam, setting it on the opposite side of the incubator, then she came around to Joelle’s side and rested a hand on her shoulder.

“She looks good, Joelle,” she said. “You know the next couple of days will be critical, but you have every reason to hope for the best.”

Joelle smiled up at her, then returned her attention to her baby as the nurse walked away.

“Can we touch her?” Liam asked.

“I was just about to.” She reached through one of the portals on her side of the incubator, and Liam reached through his. Joelle smoothed her fingertips over her daughter’s tiny arm. It was like touching feathers. She watched Liam touch the little hand and the baby wrapped her tiny, perfect fingers around his fingertip.

“Have you thought of a name?” Liam asked. His voice sounded thick.

She didn’t answer right away. She had, actually, but it had been a fantasy name, one she could never use because it meant combining her name with Liam’s, and although he had been with her all night and all morning, she didn’t yet trust this change in him.

“You have, haven’t you?” He looked at her quizzically, and she knew her hesitancy had given her away.

“Yes, but I don’t think you’ll like it.”

“What is it?”

“Joli,” she said, looking across the incubator at him, and he broke into a grin.

“I was going to suggest that,” he said.

“Really?” She laughed.

“Did I hear you just name her?” Patty had been working behind Joelle, and now she moved closer to the incubator, pulling the little name card from the plastic holder in the front of the box and withdrawing a marker from her pocket.

Joelle grimaced at Liam. She hadn’t realized the nurse had been close enough to hear.

“We’re naming her Joli,” Liam said firmly. “J-O-L-I. It’s a combination of our names.”

Patty cocked her head at him quizzically. “Are you…?” Her eyes were wide, and she didn’t finish her sentence.

“That’s right,” Liam said with a smile. “I’m this baby’s father.”

40

CARLYNN RESTED HER HEAD AGAINST QUINN’S SHOULDER. THEY were in their bed at the mansion, and the night was so clear that she could see the stars through the window from where she lay. She’d returned from the hospital a couple of hours ago, exhausted after spending much of the evening visiting Joelle and her new baby. So far, things looked good for that little one. Carlynn had touched her through the portals of the incubator, but only to stroke her twiglike arm. She told Joelle that her touch was no more mystical than her own. And she told her much, much more.

“You’ve wanted to tell her everything from the start, haven’t you?” Quinn asked her now.

“Yes, and I’m not sure why,” Carlynn said. “I remember my sister saying she felt drawn to Joelle when she was an infant, and I felt drawn to her, too.” She tapped her fingers against Quinn’s bare chest. “Are you worried that I told her?” she asked.

Quinn chuckled, and she loved how the sound resonated through his body beneath her ear. “I’m an old man,” he said. “You know I stopped worrying years ago. Just don’t tell Alan that you told her.” He hesitated. “Did you tell her about Mary, too?”

“I had to,” Carlynn said. “When I told her the truth about us, she said she felt sorry for Alan, so I just had to tell her that Alan has had a wonderful soul mate and lover for the past fifteen years. I think that shocked her more than anything.” Carlynn smiled at the memory of Joelle’s response.

“I thought Mary was a housekeeper,” Joelle had said, stunned. “And I thought Quinn was a gardener.”

They were quiet for a moment. Carlynn watched the light of a plane move slowly across the dark sky until it disappeared behind the frame of the window. She had never felt so tired, and she knew her exhaustion marked a change in her body. She had so few nights left to sleep next to her husband.

“Do you regret our ruse?” Quinn surprised her with the question, and she lifted her head to look at him.

“In more than twenty years, you’ve never asked me that,” she said.

“I think I was afraid of the answer,” Quinn said, stroking her arm with his hand. “I knew you felt coerced in the beginning. Alan and I were operating out of grief and madness, I think, and you had no real choice but to go along with it.”

“Well, I sure regretted having to give up sailing,” she said with a laugh. That had been a true sacrifice for her. Everyone knew the real Carlynn never would have sailed.

“You’re making light of it—” Quinn squeezed her shoulders “—but I know that was a great loss for you.”

She sighed, resting her head on his shoulder again. “It’s hard for me to regret the ruse when I think about the center.”

“We’ve done a lot of good there,” Quinn agreed.

She and Alan and Quinn had won numerous awards over the years for their research into the phenomenon of healing.

“But Lisbeth died when Carlynn did, Quinn,” she said quietly, “and that was doubly excruciating for me. The new Carlynn, the person I became, the person I am now, is neither of those women, really. And I think you know that I was never completely comfortable with the deception.” She lifted her head to study his face again. “I didn’t want to die that way,” she said. “Feeling as though my life had been a lie. I had to truly heal someone before I died, make a difference in someone’s life. Does that make sense to you? I needed to finish what Carlynn started when she saved that baby’s life.”

“It makes perfect sense,” he said.

She thought of what else she regretted.

“At first,” she said, “it bothered me a great deal that we weren’t able to have a normal sort of marriage.”

“Me, too,” Quinn agreed. He was quiet for a moment. “But it’s been okay, hasn’t it?” There was an edge of worry in his voice.

“Much more than okay,” she agreed. “I think that’s why I wanted to help Joelle and Liam so badly. They reminded me of us.”

“How’s that?” Quinn sounded puzzled.

“They love each other, but they can only be married in their hearts,” she said. “Like you and me. Oh, we’re married, yes, but no one knows that but us. And over the years, I came to realize that no one else ever needed to know about that bond for it to be real.”

He lifted her chin with his hand to give her a kiss on the lips. “I love you, baby,” he said.

“I love you, too.”

“And I have an idea.”

“What’s that?” she asked.

“Tomorrow—” he smiled “—I’m taking you sailing.”

Epilogue

JOELLE KEPT HER GAZE GLUED TO THE SIDE OF THE ROAD IN FRONT of them as Liam drove slowly down Highway One. She was watching for the coastal redwood. She knew the sign that read “Cabrial” hadn’t been attached to the tree for years, but the tree was still there, at least as of a few years ago, the last time she’d made the trip south. She had no idea who, if anyone, still lived at the commune, and she only hoped, now that she had decided to make this trip, that the old dirt road leading in was passable.

The day was perfect. It was late December, and there was not a trace of fog along the coast. To their right, far in the distance, the ocean and sky met in a fine blue line.

“There’s the tree,” Joelle said suddenly. “I’m glad to see they didn’t kill it when they nailed up the sign.”

“I turn here?” Liam stopped the car at the entrance to the dirt road.

She looked down the road, which was little more than an overgrown path through the woods. “You think your car will make it?”

“I think we should give it a try,” Liam said, and he turned into the tunnel of green.

The dirt road did not look like anything from her memory. It was rutted with tire tracks, so it must have been used sometime since the last rain, but not by anyone who had taken the time to maintain it in reasonable condition. The trees seemed thicker, more enveloping than when she had been a child, and they scraped the side of the car as it bounced through the woods.

“Do you think anyone still lives out here?” Liam asked. “It doesn’t look like it by the state of this road.”

“I doubt there’s anyone here from the original commune,” she said. She knew that in the early eighties, political infighting had caused the splintering of what remained of the commune, and most, if not all, of the members left. If anyone was living in the cabins now, she hoped they wouldn’t mind her trespassing.

“This way.” She pointed toward the small clearing next to the large stone cabin that had served as their kitchen and dining hall.

Liam parked near the cabin steps. No other vehicles were in the clearing, and as they got out of the car, they were met with an almost eerie stillness. The air was cool, filled with the scent of earth and leaves.

“I think the place is deserted,” Joelle said, not disappointed. She walked onto the wide porch of the stone cabin and opened the unlocked door. The long tables were gone, and cobwebs formed lacy netting between the cabinets and the old wooden counter. “I don’t think anyone’s been here in a very long time,” she said.

“Show me where you lived,” Liam said, and she was pleased that he cared enough to ask.

“Let’s see if I can still find it,” she said, heading for the door.

They walked along the overgrown path leading away from the stone cabin until they reached the clearing where she thought they would find the Rainbow Cabin. She almost didn’t recognize the building at first. The cabin next door to Rainbow was no longer there, and without that landmark it took her a moment to realize the remaining cabin was, indeed, her old home. The small structure was doorless now, and two rusty hooks hung from the top of the doorjamb.

“That’s where the Rainbow sign hung.” Joelle pointed to the hooks as she walked inside, and Liam followed close behind her.

“I actually slept out here in the living room because the bedroom was too small for all three of us,” Joelle said. “I slept on a mattress on the floor for ten years.” She shook her head. “That seems so strange to me now.” She walked toward the minuscule bedroom. “This was my parents’ room—the room where I was born.”

Liam shook his head in wonder. “What a childhood you must have had.”

“Come on.” She took his hand. “Let’s find the schoolhouse. That’s where the cypress should be.”

They started walking north again, and it wasn’t long before she spotted the cabin that had housed her first five years of school.

“Yikes, look at it,” she said with a laugh.

The cabin was completely covered with green vines. In order to get the door open, she had to cut some of them with the shears they’d brought along.

“It’s so tiny,” Joelle said when she and Liam walked inside. The cabin was much smaller than her memory of it. Much smaller, but amazingly, it still possessed the cool, musty smell that had greeted her nearly every day when she was growing up. “How did we ever get all the kids in here?” she wondered aloud. There were no desks or chairs now, just empty space.

“Did you do some writing on this?” Liam pointed to the large black chalkboard, still attached to the wall at the front of the room.

“Oh, yeah,” she said. She’d written many sentences and worked out many math problems on that board. “I got a surprisingly good education here, Liam,” she said. “But enough of this. Let’s find the cypress.” She was anxious to see if the tree would still be there, if it had survived, maybe even flourished, on the bluffs of Big Sur.

Liam followed her outside again and around the west side of the schoolhouse. “The cypress is on top of a hill,” she remembered, stepping over the vines that covered the ground.

She spotted the rise of rubbly earth that she’d once considered a hill, and on top of it, a beautiful, bent and twisted Monterey cypress. “Oh my gosh!” she said. “That must be it, but it’s huge!”

“Well,” Liam said, “it’s as old as you are.”

“It’s so pretty,” she said. The cypress was no more than fifteen or sixteen feet tall, but its gnarled and twisted crown of green had to be at least that broad. The direction of the wind was evident in the way the branches reached toward the schoolhouse and away from the Pacific.

They helped each other climb up the small hill. Joelle held open a plastic bag, while Liam took the cuttings from the tree, following the instructions Quinn had given them to make sure they took a bit of the brown stem along with the leaves. “It’s not a good time of year to take a cutting from a cypress and expect it to take root,” Quinn had warned them, but Joelle had wanted to try, anyway, as long as they were here. Quinn had promised to work with the cuttings in the greenhouse at the mansion, doing his best to get them to root.

“Think we have enough?” Liam peered into the bag, and she nodded.

They exchanged a look, then, and she sighed.

“Well,” she said. “I guess we’d better do what we came here to do.”

Quietly, they walked back to the car, both of them sobered by what lay ahead of them. Joelle took the time to wrap the cuttings in wet paper towels and store them in the cooler in Liam’s trunk before taking her place again in the passenger seat.

Neither of them spoke as they bounced back along the rutted dirt road from the commune, but once Liam turned left onto Highway One, he glanced at her.

“How are you going to know the exact spot?” he asked.

“I don’t know if I will,” she admitted. “Carlynn told me the general area, though, and I think that will be good enough.”

She was thoughtful as Liam drove along the twisting highway. This was her first day away from Joli. The baby was still in the hospital, and Joelle spent most of her days with her, feeding her and rocking her now that she was out of the incubator. If all continued to go well, Joli would be coming home January first, the day she was supposed to have been born, and Joelle was anxious to have her daughter home with her, to slip into the routine of motherhood. She’d have three months off. Then Sheila would take care of both Joli and Sam, and Joelle was immensely grateful to Mara’s mother for allowing herself to become attached to her baby.

Joelle and Liam usually visited Mara together these days, although once a week or so, Joelle encouraged Liam to go by himself. She knew he still needed that time alone with his wife.

“I think that must be it,” Joelle said, leaning forward in the car, pointing ahead of them toward the hairpin turn in the distance.

“Man, I would not want to drive off a cliff from that height,” Liam said with a shudder.

“We’ll have to try to park somewhere and walk over to it,” Joelle said. “What about on that straight part of the road?”

“There?” Liam pointed ahead of them.

“Right.”

“We’ll still be taking up half the lane,” Liam said.

“But people will be able to see the car, at least,” she said. “It’ll be all right, don’t you think?”

“Let’s try it.” Liam slowed the car, then pulled as close to the low guardrail as was possible. “How’s this?” he asked.

“Perfect.”

They got out of the car, and Liam reached in the back seat for the simple metal canister. He lifted it into his arms, and Joelle fell in next to him as they walked in silence toward the hairpin turn.

Carlynn had asked Joelle to be the one to do this. Lying in her bed at the mansion, the hospice nurse adjusting the morphine in her IV, she’d explained as best she could the area where both she and her sister had, in many ways, lost their lives.

“Wouldn’t Alan or Quinn want to do it?” Joelle had asked her.

“Those old men would fall off the cliff, dear,” Carlynn had said. “I’m sure they’d be grateful if you and Liam would take care of it.”

This wasn’t going to be easy, though. They’d reached the very point of the hairpin turn, and Joelle stepped over the guardrail and held her arms out for the canister.

“Step back a bit,” Liam said, handing the container to her. “I’ll come out there, too.”

He joined her on the precipice. Crouching down, Joelle set the canister on the ground and lifted its lid. She didn’t look inside. Did not want to see Carlynn contained in there. Slowly, she stood up, the open canister in her arms.

“You all right?” Liam asked, and she knew he could see the tears in her eyes.

“Just anxious to set her free,” Joelle said. She raised the canister high out in front of her and tipped it. The breeze caught the ashes, sending them south, and Joelle watched some of them land in the chaparral, others sail on toward the sea.

She felt Liam’s hands on her shoulders, and leaned back against him. He put his arms around her, then pressed his cheek to her hair.

“What a life she had,” Joelle whispered.

“A true mix of joy and sorrow,” Liam said. “What amazes me is that, in spite of everything, she and Quinn were able to have a long and wonderful marriage.”

“They really did,” she agreed.

“We’ll last as long as they did.”

“How can you be so sure?” she asked.

“Because,” Liam said, squeezing his arms tightly across her chest, “we’ve been healed.”

Acknowledgments

What fun it’s been to research a book filled with the natural beauty of the California coastline, the struggles and hopes of compassionate people…and a little bit of magic. Michael Reynolds helped me understand what life is like on the Monterey Peninsula. Mike Woodbury and Karen (KK) Sears gave me virtual sailing lessons. Suzanne Schmidt, one of my dearest friends and an ob/gyn nurse practitioner, guided me through the medical aspects of my story. Fellow author Emilie Richards provided feedback on my story line with talent and wisdom.

I am also indebted to Richard Bingler, Liz Gardner, Tom Jackson, Craig MacBean, Patricia McLinn and Katherine Rutkowski for their various contributions to the story.

I’m grateful to my former agent, Ginger Barber, for her confidence in me, and to the editor who worked with me on this book, Amy Moore-Benson.

ISBN: 978-1-4268-7565-6

THE SHADOW WIFE

(Formerly published as CYPRESS POINT)

Copyright © 2002 by Diane Chamberlain

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