Don't Say a Word - Barbara Freethy [114]
It took a minute for his words to make sense. "I was supposed to die, too?"
His gaze didn't waver. "Yes."
She bit down on her bottom lip so hard, she tasted blood. "Why wasn't I there?"
"You had been taken from the house and hidden in the orphanage until we could get you out of the country. No one was supposed to know you were ever there."
"But I took a picture of her," Alex said sharply. "I made sure everyone knew she was there."
Charles looked at his son, his expression one of a deep, aching regret. "I'm sorry you got involved, Alex. I never should have taken you to the square that day. I shouldn't have brought you to Moscow at all. That was selfish of me."
Alex glanced away. "Let's focus on Julia."
Charles turned back to her. "What else do you want to know?"
"How did I get to the United States?" she asked.
"Sarah brought you out with fake papers. She was supposed to put you in an established home that was set up for you, but she didn't. On the trip over, she fell in love with you, and there were other extenuating circumstances."
"Like what?"
He drew in a breath before continuing. "Sarah always had wanted a child, but she'd had a bad pregnancy, ending in miscarriage, and she thought it was doubtful she'd ever have a baby of her own. That fact ate away at her, making her reckless, making her want to take chances. She thought you might be her only opportunity to have a daughter. And she rationalized that she could raise you as well as any other foster home. So why not her? She knew the agency wouldn't agree. They didn't want her connected to you in any way. It would compromise other activities Sarah and I had been involved in while we were in Moscow."
Julia was beginning to understand. "So my mother-Sarah… I have to stop calling her my mother, don't I?"
Charles shook his head. "She was your mother. She loved you so much. Don't doubt that."
"How can I not? Sarah faked her death, just as you did. She let her parents believe she was gone so that she could take me and disappear. She obviously had no moral boundaries. Her life was a lie. And so was mine."
"She faked her death to protect her parents."
"Did you cook up that reason together?" Alex asked scornfully. "Sounds like you were following the same script. Were you also having an affair? Mom certainly thought you were."
"No. Sarah and I were just friends-always. We met in college at Northwestern. We both had an interest in the world. Sarah wanted to go to Russia because her grandmother was Russian. She actually joined the agency before I did. She was the one who suggested I might be able to help with the cover of my photography. Originally I was just supposed to take pictures, but gradually I felt compelled to do more. I met people over there who wanted to be free, and I wanted to help them," Charles said with passion in his voice. 'I know you two can't understand. You've never seen what we saw. Back then, there was no freedom. People disappeared. They died on a whim. No one was held accountable."
"And you were going to make them accountable?" Alex demanded. "Who did you think you were? God?"
"No, I was just one person who wanted to make a difference."
"I thought you liked being a photographer. I thought that was your life, your sole ambition. You-told me it meant everything to you. Over and over again, you told me that," Alex said. "I grew up thinking it was the most honorable profession in the world, shedding light on the injustices in the world."
"It was honorable, and it still is. It just wasn't enough for me." Charles took a breath, his eyes offering up an apology. "I never thought my decisions would affect you or your mother. I thought I could keep my second line of work separate. I believed I could leave the danger on the other side of the ocean. I was wrong."
"What I don't understand," Julia said, drawing the men's attention back to her, "is why you and Sarah were in danger after the picture was published. What could be gained by going after either one of you then?"
"The people who killed your parents now knew you were alive.