Don't Say a Word - Barbara Freethy [104]
She followed Alex into the bedroom, surprised when he pulled out an overnight bag from the closet and tossed it onto the bed. "What are you doing?" she asked.
"I'm leaving."
She was shocked. Those were the last words she'd expected him to say. "What do you mean?"
"I'm getting out of here. I don't need this," he said, running his hand through his hair. His eyes were wild, filled with reckless anger. "A good photographer doesn't get involved with his subjects. He stays on the right side of the lens," he added. "I never should have gotten involved with you."
"But you did get involved, and you can't leave. We're not finished. We don't know everything."
"I know more than enough. You can talk to my father on your own. I'm sure he can help you figure out the rest. Maybe he'll tell you more if I'm not there, if he doesn't have to protect me," he said with bitterness.
"I know you're hurt-"
"You don't know anything."
"Yes, I do," she argued. "Your father lied to you. My mother lied to me. I know how it feels to have the rug pulled out from under your feet."
"Your mother didn't pretend she was dead."
"She did to her own parents." She paused, letting that sink in. "Don't you think it's another odd coincidence that both of our parents chose to do that to the people they loved? Doesn't that make you wonder 262 exactly what they were involved in? It had to be big, Alex. These aren't tiny white lies, little secrets. Don't you want to know exactly what happened?"
He hesitated, a flicker of uncertainty flashing through his eyes; then he shook his head, his mouth drawing once again into a taut, resolute line. "1 don't care about any of it. My father left my life twenty-five years ago. I've gotten along fine without him and without knowing anything else. I can go another twenty-five years the same way."
"No, you can't."
"Watch me." He zipped up his bag and went to the closet to get his camera case.
Julia wished she could find the right words to stop him from leaving, but he seemed hell-bent on doing just that. "Is there anything I can say to make you change your mind?"
"No. You should stay with your father. Don't hang out on your own," he advised.
"What do you care? You'll be gone." She wanted him to reply, but he just continued packing. She walked out of the bedroom, into the living room, hoping with every step that he'd call her back. There was nothing but silence.
Julia took a cab to where she'd left her car, there decided to return home and figure out her next ster. She could drive back to St. Helena on her own, but it was late afternoon and the traffic would be back. Besides, she needed time to process everything they'd learned.
When she entered her apartment, she found Liz, dressed in blue jeans and a skimpy T-shirt, doing her own packing. She had two suitcases on Julia's bed and was quickly filling them up.
"What are you doing?" Julia asked, unable to believe she would have to play out the same scene again-this time with her sister.
"I'm moving out," Liz announced.
"Why?"
Liz paused and stared at her as if she couldn't believe the question. "Why do you think? I don't want to be a part of your search. It's obviously dangerous. Not that you care about risking my life."
"Of course I care, Liz."
"But it's not even about that. It's what you said earlier."
Julia felt a wave of guilt. "I'm sorry if I came down too hard on you. I just can't keep fighting you and everyone else at the same time."
"No, you were right. I've been drifting aimlessly for too long. I moved in here because I didn't know where else to go. And I wanted you to get married to Michael, so I'd have a wedding to plan, even if it wasn't my own. I urged you to talk to Dad about his drinking, so he wouldn't get mad at me. I even wanted Michael to let me help him with his new house, so I'd have something else to do besides work at a place where I ladle soup into bread bowls and wait tables."
Julia couldn't believe what she was hearing, but she didn't intend to argue. Instead she said, "It's understandable that you've been drifting, Liz. Mom