Dead Certain - Mariah Stewart [58]
“Now, Sean said your brother was here?”
“He was. He went back to Lyndon, where he lives. He’s got a chance to train down in Virginia at the National Academy.” Amanda heard the trace of pride in her voice. “I didn’t want him to miss the opportunity.”
“Of course not,” Greer agreed readily, though she wasn’t sure what the National Academy was, or why it was important that Amanda’s brother go now, but she let it pass. “So, you don’t have other family in the area?”
“No. Our parents divorced years ago. Mother and second family in California, Dad and second—and third—family in Minnesota.”
“Oh.” Greer appeared momentarily surprised. “You have half siblings? Stepsiblings?”
“Both, but they’re all much younger. We hardly know them.”
“A pity.” Greer sipped thoughtfully at her wine.
“Why?”
“If something’s more important than family—however far extended—I do not know what it is.”
“Are you and Sean from a large family?”
Something settled over Greer’s face. “Sean didn’t tell you?”
Amanda shook her head.
“Why am I not surprised?” Greer rolled her eyes skyward. “We lived with our grandmother until she died, then we were put up for adoption. Separately. I was placed with a wonderful couple. Just the loveliest people. I had the best upbringing possible. They’re retired now, living in Arizona and living life to the hilt.”
“And Sean?”
“He . . . had a harder time of things.” Her voice was level, matter-of-fact. “He was a tough cookie, even as a little kid. Too much of a handful, they all said. The county would send him out with a family, he’d last maybe a couple of months before they sent him back. Eventually, they just put him into foster care, and he bounced around for a while, until he was eighteen and could join the army.”
“Poor Sean.” Amanda frowned. She’d had no idea. “How did your parents die?”
“What?”
“Your parents. I’m assuming, since you said you were living with your grandmother and later adopted, that your parents had died?”
“I don’t know how our father died, or if he did, for that matter. He could still be alive, for all I know. I have no memory of him at all, nor does Sean. He was never in our lives, and apparently in our mother’s only from time to time, and then just long enough to get her pregnant before he took off again.”
“I’m so sorry. I had no idea. I wouldn’t have asked . . . Please, don’t feel as if you have to talk about it.”
Greer waved away Amanda’s protests. “And our mother . . . well, we’re still not certain what happened to her.” Her jaw settled into a hard line even as her voice softened.
“I don’t know what to say.” Amanda flushed with embarrassment, but Greer didn’t appear to notice. “I’m sorry.”
“It wasn’t your fault,” Greer stage-whispered, and forced a smile. “On the one hand, I figured you knew, if you were close to Sean, but on the other, knowing Sean, I should have known that he wouldn’t have talked about it.”
“Greer, Sean and I are . . . not close. He’s brought me here because he thinks I’m at risk at home alone.”
“I see. Oh, there’s the timer. Shall we eat out here? No, don’t get up, I’ll bring it. You just sit and relax.”
“Are you sure I can’t—”
“No, no. You just stay put.”
Amanda took another small sip of wine, mindful that it would take little more than a thimbleful to make her head spin, given the day’s events and the lack of food. She put the glass down on the table and looked around the room. On the table next to her chair was a small photo album. She picked it up and began idly thumbing through it.
“Oh, that’s our Kevin,” Greer said as she returned carrying a tray laden with two salad bowls and two plates, each holding a generous wedge of tomato pie.
“Your son?”
“Yes.” Greer set the tray on the wicker coffee table. “He was the joy of my life. I miss him like crazy, every day.”
Amanda was afraid to ask.
“Yes.” Greer recognized the look on the younger woman’s face. “We lost him last year.”
“He was sick?”
“Kevin had Down’s syndrome. He also had spina bifida. Poor