An Affair of Deceit (32 page)

What twisted little hearts we have.
Abigail sighed and plunked herself down next to her mother. The koi pond was at their feet, but the fish weren’t leaping for her mother as they usually did. There were also no blue jays or chickadees flittering around as they normally did, even in winter.

Abigail frowned and looked around. Her mother hadn’t refilled her bird feeders, and the baths were frozen over. There was no life in her garden now.

“What happens to the fish in winter?” Abigail asked.

“They go dormant. I heat the pond just enough to keep them alive until spring.”

“Ah.”

A cold wind swept through the backyard. Abigail shivered. Her mother didn’t flinch.

“Do you want to go inside?” her daughter asked.

“No, thank you. How is your young man doing?”

“He’s well, thanks.”

“That’s good.”

Abigail bounced a foot, anxious at her mother’s remoteness. They never communicated well, but Fei never failed to be cordial to a guest. There was no tea, no snacks, and no offer of a warm blanket. All of her mother’s irritatingly perfect habits of hospitality were absent. She seemed strangely unaware of the living things around her. Worse, she seemed to be unaware of herself.

“It’s freezing out here. Let me make us some tea.” Abigail stood and walked to the cupboard above the small sink, where her mother kept her electric kettle.

The metal jar, usually full of rich green tea, was empty.

“Are you out of tea, Mother?”

“Yes, I think so.”

Frowning, Abigail emptied the kettle and tucked it back in the cupboard with the empty tin. At a loss, she walked back to the bench and sat down heavily. She leaned against her mother slightly and felt her leaning back. For two women who never hugged, it was a considerable amount of contact.

Abigail reached for her mother’s hand. It was cold, almost frozen. She held it between hers.

“How are you?”

“I am fine, dear.”

“No. How are you, really?”

Her brow wrinkled. “I am fine. All is well.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“You never have.”

“True.” Abigail shrugged. “Things have changed.”

“No. Nothing has changed. Not for me.” A hint of heat rose from her mother’s body.

Good
. Abigail wanted her mother to show some sign of life. “You can’t believe that. You’ve been waiting for him to come home all these years, and now he never will.”

“You are right. He won’t come back. But I haven’t been waiting. I never expected him to come back.”

“Of course you did. You’ve been pining for him.”

“I do not pine for things. I do not want for things. I do not desire attachments to objects or people. Everything in this world, everything you see, changes without warning. To have attachments to the world only invites heartbreak.”

The words were a mantra, repeated so often that they’d lost their meaning.

“Nobody wants attachments,” Abigail said. “But that’s the world, and if you don’t want the world, then you don’t want to live.”

“That is the philosophy. I did not invent it. I just do my best to follow it.”

“You can be a Buddhist and still love the world, Mother.”

“I tried. I tried so hard.” Fei took a deep, ragged breath. “I have tried to walk the Eightfold Path. I tried to not hope for anything. I tried not to wish for his return. I tried not to dream of the three of us living together again as a family. But I did want it. How badly I wanted it!” Her nose trembled with the effort of holding back tears.

Abigail squeezed her mother’s cold hand. “I don’t think the Buddha wanted you to live without hope. I think the point of his philosophy is to live without pain. This isn’t what he had in mind.”

“You are right.” She nodded, blinking hard. “I thought it would work, but I have failed, somehow. Some part of me always wanted your father, despite how hard I tried not to.”

“It’s OK to be sad. It isn’t ideal, and it certainly isn’t fun. But it’s OK. We’ll get through it.”

A small smile lifted her mother’s eyes. “Perhaps.”

The moon gate creaked open and admitted two figures. Riley, and he guided a slim, older woman with close-cropped blonde hair and a wide smile.

“Are we too early?” he called from across the garden.

“No, it’s fine.” They’d agreed that he would bring his mother to visit this morning with the hope that the two women could reconnect.

Mother and son walked down the gravel path to the pavilion. Abigail’s mother stood and smiled politely, seemingly ready to receive guests. Then she gasped. “Lisa?”

Riley’s mother stopped dead in her tracks about ten feet away. Her hand flew to her mouth to silence a squeal. “Fei!”

Abigail’s mother clutched one of the pavilion’s wooden beams for support. “Is that really you?”

Riley’s mother ran the remaining distance to the wooden deck. They hugged like long-lost friends.

Riley’s eyes connected with Abigail’s. He smiled and walked to her side to give her a quick hug and kiss. It was his usual greeting, but it still made her knees shiver.

Their mothers continued to embrace, swaying, as tears ran freely down their faces. After a while they began to whisper to each other; Abigail couldn’t hear a word. It was several tearful minutes before they were composed enough to release each other. Still, they held hands like little girls about to cross a busy street.

Fei beamed, and her hand pulsed around Lisa’s. “Just look at our little babies. You played together as children, you know.”

Riley squeezed Abigail’s hand. “What are the chances that you and I would find each other again after all this time?”

“Better than you might imagine, dear James.” Fei cleared her throat. “I knew in my heart who you were from the moment I
saw you in my garden, all those months ago. You look exactly like your father did at your age. I’m sure Peter knew instantly, as well.”

“So that’s how he knew,” Riley murmured.

“Knew what?” Lisa asked.

Riley smiled sheepishly. “I didn’t tell you everything, Ma. Kral shot at me.”

“He
what
?” His mother’s jaw dropped in horror.

“He shot at me,” he repeated, “but Abigail’s father was there to push me out of the way. He took the bullet that was intended for me. He asked me to save Mrs. Mason and Abigail, and then he closed his eyes.”

“Oh, thank God for him.” Lisa looked at Fei with mingled apology and wonderment. “What a gift he gave us.”

“It’s no more than your Scott did for Abigail and me,” Fei said. “And now it’s over. All of it. It’s done.”

They breathed a collective sigh. A woodpecker knocked loudly on a nearby tree, and Abigail gazed out at the garden. The sun was rising; its angle bathed the pavilion in light. It warmed her face, and she pulled her chin out of her scarf.

She didn’t feel ashamed of her scars anymore. She was proud of what her father had died for. She smiled at Riley, who winked at her as he dropped his arm around his mother’s shoulders.

“There are some faces you never forget—and some children you never stop thinking about.” Fei smiled at Riley. “How did you come to share your father’s occupation? You didn’t even know what it truly was.”

“It isn’t as odd as it seems,” Lisa interjected. “You didn’t know your dad’s real employer, but you knew his character, and you shared his passion for the people and cultures of Asia. He was a heroic man, and you wanted to be just like him. You followed in his footsteps, even though you didn’t know what they were.”

Riley shook his head with a laugh. “I wanted to be a policeman all through elementary school. You kept telling me that it was a boring job, nothing more than riding around in a police car all day, writing traffic tickets.”

Lisa chuckled. “You still thought that sounded pretty cool.”

“Well, there would have been lights and sirens involved, so yeah. Pretty cool,” he said. “I always wondered why you never encouraged me to take on an occupation that I knew you respected. Whenever I’d talk about studying for the armed forces aptitude test or joining the police cadets, you’d find a reason for me not to. I assumed that you wanted to keep me as safe as possible, after losing Dad so suddenly.”

“I did.”

“After I figured that out, I stopped talking about pursuing a career in which I’d have to carry a weapon.”

“But you couldn’t help yourself; you still found your way into it.”

He shrugged. “In a roundabout way.”

“Just like your father.” Lisa walked to his side and pecked his cheek. “And I couldn’t be more proud of you.”

“You know, if you hadn’t pushed me away from law enforcement, I’d probably be on the Beltway in a cruiser right now. I might not have gotten my PhD. I might never have met Abigail.” He grabbed Abigail’s hand and gave her a playful wink. “Didn’t you think that we’d grow up and get married to each other one day?”

“Abigail used to crawl around after you like a puppy,” her mother admitted.

“Please, Mother,” Abigail admonished. “I highly doubt that. I remember nothing of him.”

Lisa waved her hand in a downward swipe. “You wouldn’t. But we do. Indulge our nostalgic hearts.”

“Well,” Riley said, a trace of a quiver in his voice, “I’ve been carrying something around with me for the past few weeks, and I can’t think of a more perfect time to hand it off.”

“What are you talking about?” Abigail asked.

Riley stood and stepped away from the bench. He knelt down.

Her body began to shake, like it knew what was happening even though her mind refused to process the information.

A handsome, trusted man was kneeling before her. He was reaching into his pocket. He was pulling out a small box.

“Now, maybe I should know better than to stand within kicking distance of you, but I’m going to take the risk, because I love you,” he said.

“I…love you too, Riley,” she answered, mildly embarrassed to admit it in front of their mothers, who were tightly holding hands. Both looked happy enough to burst.

They both knew that something was happening, and Abigail began to understand, too. But now she couldn’t breathe. Her pulse echoed in her head.

“Abigail Mason, I love you. You’ve kicked me in the crotch, broken my nose, and nearly died right in front of me, but I’ve never loved a woman more than I love you—sorry, Mom. I’m sure you understand.”

“Perfectly acceptable, Son.”

He flashed her a grin before he turned back to Abigail and opened the small black box he’d been holding.

She finally was able to breathe. Cushioned inside the black velvet interior of the box was a ring, a beautiful platinum-and-diamond ring that sparkled in the sunlight.

She pressed her hands to her mouth, unable to speak.

He smiled his wicked half-grin. “Will you marry me?”

A warm, intensely pleasurable feeling shuddered through her body, and she felt as though all the love in the world was waiting
at her feet. She wanted to grab it and hold it with both hands for as long as she could. Even if it hurt her, even if it killed her, she could never again shut her soul against love. She couldn’t, not after the sacrifices that had been made for life.

She had to live, not just exist. For the memory of their fathers, and for the joy of their mothers, Abigail had to
live
.

“Yes, James Riley. I’ll marry you.”

I
COULDN’T HAVE
written this novel without my husband’s unfaltering support and encouragement, as well as his sharp eye for detail as a beta reader. My dear friend and skilled editor Margaret Rose-Innes again offered invaluable insight that helped me make this a stronger book, as did my agent, Jill Marsal. Jill deserves my appreciation for persevering through several years of uncertainty to sell this book and its predecessor,
An Affair of Vengeance
, to the divine Kelli Martin at Montlake Romance (thanks for taking a chance on me, Kelli!). Kelli wisely partnered me with editor Monica Harris to work out the kinks that remained in the manuscript. A veritable legend in our industry, Monica helped me stitch up the many plot holes I’d left gaping and tighten character motivations, but devastatingly, she passed away before the project was finished. My most heartfelt and earnest condolences go out to her husband, children, and extended family.

Jessica and Nikki with Montlake Romance’s fantastic Author Team are there to answer every question I have, no matter how ridiculous or naïve it may be. Special thanks are due to the designers at CreateSpace who put together a fantastic cover and interior package for this novel. I extend my appreciation to the vast network of like-minded women (and a man or two!) who
populate the Romance Writers of America and its various chapters, particularly Maryland Romance Writers, Golden Network, Kiss of Death. My 2009 Golden Heart finalist sisters are a constant source of love and friendship. Go, Rubies, go!

Lastly, I thank Scott and Lisa, who probably forgot that I co-opted their names for use in this book, and who (in a very unexpected way) provided the inspiration for the characters of Abigail and Riley.

Photograph by Kate Bailey, 2012