Letter from a Stranger (48 page)

Richard said, “You’re Jewish too, you know. And so are we. And why does it matter anyway?”

“I am not Jewish,” Deborah screamed. “I’m not!”

“Yes, you are. And the reason you’re denying it is because you’re anti-Semitic. Your father, Peter Hardwicke, and his mother were anti-Semites and bigots. You inherited those horrendous characteristics from them. It’s bred in the bone.” Justine had been shouting in Deborah’s face, and now she walked away. She was shaking all over. She sat down in the chair, trying to contain her flaring emotions and especially her anger.

Richard exclaimed, “You are not only a pathological liar, you’re a cheat. We know what you did to Dad. We know about all those men. All those trips when we were growing up. You’re rotten to the core. I don’t want to see you ever again.”

“Actually, you’re pure evil,” Justine said, and stood up. “I have nothing more to say to you. I disown you as Richard has. I never want to set eyes on you again.”

Richard stood up. “I don’t know how you can live with yourself. You killed your mother with the lies you told us, your children. You might as well have taken a gun and just shot her. Thankfully, we’ve brought her back to life.”

In the most normal of voices, Deborah said, “That’s a beautiful sapphire ring, Justine. On your engagement finger. Are you engaged?”

Justine was flabbergasted by her mother’s extraordinary behavior. “Yes, I am engaged,” she replied in a cold voice. Picking up her handbag she walked to the door.

Richard followed her, convinced Deborah was a truly disturbed person.

Deborah rose. “So you’re getting married soon?”

Without turning around Justine said, “Yes I am, and he’s Jewish. Like me and you and Gran.”

“And me,” Richard added, and walked out with Justine, banging the door of the suite behind him.

In the elevator going down to the lobby Justine clutched her brother’s arm. “You don’t know how hard it was for me to keep my hands off her. I wanted to punch her in the face, and keep on punching her. I’ve never experienced anything like that in my life. I’m the least violent person, as you know.”

“I wanted to hit her myself. She enraged me. There’s something wrong with her, you know.”

“Yes, I believe there is.”

When they stepped out into the lobby, Richard said, “Where are you going now?”

“Into the bar. Michael’s waiting for me. Come on, Rich, he wants to buy us a drink. And I for one need it.”

“So do I. And thank God that ordeal is over.”

Michael stood up and waved when he saw them. They walked over and sat down at the table with him. “How did it go?” he asked.

Justine shook her head. “I thought I was going to beat her over the head. She infuriated me. And I’m sort of thrown by that reaction.”

Michael put his hand on her arm, smiled at her. “It’s all right to feel that. We all have similar reactions in situations that are trying. The important thing is, you didn’t do it. What do you want to drink? And you, Rich?”

Justine said, “A vodka on the rocks with a piece of lime.”

“I’ll have the same,” Richard said. And went on, “I had the same angry feelings, Michael. And I honestly think Deborah is sick in the head. She kept denying everything. She even denied she was Jewish.”

“Of course she did.” He beckoned to a waiter, ordered their drinks. They sat together for a while, discussing the encounter with Deborah.

At one moment Michael looked at Justine, and frowned. “I know you didn’t tell Gabri that you were going to confront your mother. Do you intend to do that now that it’s over?”

Justine was silent. She looked thoughtful.

Richard asked quietly, “What’s the point?” He touched Justine’s arm. “What do you think, Juju? Shall we tell her or keep it to ourselves?”

“Perhaps we shouldn’t mention it, Rich. Why tell her anything about this horrendous confrontation? She doesn’t need to know.”

“Correct,” Michael said. “When there is
no need to know,
keep a lid on it.”

*   *   *

A little later they left the Carlyle Hotel. Richard took a cab home. It was a lovely evening and Michael and Justine walked down Madison Avenue. At one moment she said to Michael, “I needed some fresh air after that horrible experience. And I still can’t believe I felt so violent.”

“Forget it, darling. Forget Deborah Nolan. Think about how wonderful Gabri is now because you found her, brought her back to New York. I know she loves Istanbul, but she is also attached to Indian Ridge. You’ve made her happy, and Anita, too. And you’ve certainly made me happy, Justine.”

For the first time that day she smiled as she looked into his face. “You’re such a beautiful man, a good man, a lovely man. And I’m relieved you’re mine, Michael Dalton.”

“Just keep on thinking that, saying it.” He paused, turned to her. “Do you think they did set us up? The grans, I mean?”

Justine looked at him, frowning, shaking her head. “I just don’t know, Michael. Perhaps they did.”

“Oh, what does it matter? It worked, didn’t it? We fell in love and we’re going to be together for the rest of our lives.”

“You bet we are,” she murmured, and took hold of his hand. “And the best is yet to come.”

Epilogue

THE LITCHFIELD HILLS, CONNECTICUT

July 2004

It was July Fourth and glorious. The perfect day for the perfect wedding with a perfect bride and groom. And Gabriele knew that this family photograph about to be taken was going to be perfect too.

She stood with Justine, a beautiful bride in white satin and lace, and with a handsome groom in an elegant morning suit, a white rose in his buttonhole. Next to Michael was his grandmother, Anita; his parents, Cornelia and Larry; his sister, Alicia. And standing on the other side were Richard, Joanne, Daisy, Simon, and Iffet. Who had come all the way from Istanbul to be another bridesmaid.

As she glanced at them all Gabriele’s heart swelled, overflowed with so much love she thought it would burst. She had never imagined a day like this could happen in her life. A day of happiness and contentment. There were no words which could fully express the feelings she was experiencing. To say she was happy was not enough. It was something beyond that.

Long ago she had lost her family. It had been wrenched from her by a vile regime. Ten years ago she had lost another family, this one ripped away by an angry and bigoted woman. She had believed she would never have another family ever again. But now she did. They stood here with her on this lawn at Indian Ridge, surrounded her, and she knew they loved her as much as she loved them.

Suddenly it was over. The photographer was finished with them. At least for the moment. And in a few seconds the reception would be in full swing. Justine said, “Gran, always wear blue, like Irina said you should. You’re beautiful today.”

“And so are you, Justine. Everything is perfect. Even the huppah is perfect, and you both looked so happy standing under it with the rabbi.”

Michael came to her, kissed her. “Just think, now we really are related. I can call you Gran, can’t I?”

She laughed. “Of course you can.” And then she turned to greet everyone as they came up to her, and Anita did the same, beaming with pleasure.

Justine took Michael’s hand in hers, smiling up at him. “The grans are marvelous. They’re holding court like elegant queens.”

“You must tell them that, they’ll love it.” Justine and Michael exchanged looks. Together they went over to Gabriele, drew her to one side.

Justine said, “Gran, we’ve something to ask you. We thought this might be the best time.”

“What is it?” Gabriele asked, looking from one to the other, wondering if something was wrong.

“We know you love Istanbul and your
yali,
but we hoped you would agree to spend some time at Indian Ridge. Perhaps in the summers,” Michael suggested. “When it’s so hot in Istanbul.”

She was silent for a moment. “I shall come every summer because this is where my family is. I lost two families in my lifetime. Now that I have my third I think I have to be … with you.”

“Third time lucky, Gran,” Justine said, her eyes suddenly moist. “Indian Ridge is your sanctuary.”

Gabriele looked from Justine to Michael, and she smiled. It was a lovely smile that filled her face with radiance. She said, “My family is my sanctuary.…” And she went on smiling for the rest of the day.

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BOOKS BY BARBARA TAYLOR BRADFORD

Series

THE EMMA HARTE SAGA

A Woman of Substance

Hold the Dream

To Be the Best

Emma’s Secret

Unexpected Blessings

Just Rewards

Breaking the Rules

THE RAVENSCAR TRILOGY

The Ravenscar Dynasty

The Heir

Being Elizabeth

OTHERS

Voice of the Heart

Act of Will

The Women in His Life

Remember

Angel

Everything to Gain

Dangerous to Know

Love in Another Town

Her Own Rules

A Secret Affair

Power of a Woman

A Sudden Change of Heart

Where You Belong

The Triumph of Katie Byrne

Three Weeks in Paris

Playing the Game

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

BARBARA TAYLOR BRADFORD was born and brought up in England and started her writing career as a journalist. She has written twenty-six international bestsellers. This is her twenty-seventh novel. In 2007 Queen Elizabeth awarded her the OBE (Order of the British Empire) for her literary achievements. She lives in New York with her husband, TV and film producer Robert Bradford. Visit
www.barbarataylorbradford.com
.