Don't Say a Word - Barbara Freethy [32]
"I have things to do. I have a wedding to plan and a fianc? who needs me. And this is just ridiculous," she added, waving her hand in the air in frustration. "We can't find the negative. We can't find anything. And I know who I am. I don't need to do this."
"I thought you did. I thought you wanted the truth," he reminded her. But he could see the wheels spinning in her head and knew she was talking herself out of the whole idea.
"No, I don't. I'm just going to forget about it. I'm sorry I dragged you back into the past, Alex. Thanks for your help. But I'm done."
She grabbed her purse and was at the door before he could get to his feet. He thought about stopping her, but in the end he let her go, because she was running scared, and he couldn't blame her. Looking down at the envelope, he wondered if there was any possible way that his father and Julia's mother were somehow connected. If they were, it wasn't that far of a stretch to link Julia to the photograph. As he stared at the envelope, memories of a dark-haired woman meeting with his father in the square all those years ago flashed into his mind. Had that woman been Sarah?
The next day Julia attended Sunday morning Mass surrounded by DeMarcos. They took up almost three rows at St. Mark's Catholic Church. This was her family. This was her place in the world, she thought, as the priest spoke about community. It was almost as if he were speaking directly to her, telling her that the most important thing in the world was to cherish the people around her. The sermon only reinforced her decision to let the matter of the photograph go.
Seeing her mother's name written on that blank envelope in Alex's apartment had terrified her. She didn't even know if it was the same Sarah, but she had suddenly realized exactly what she was about to do-dismantle everything she knew about herself, her mother, and her past. She couldn't do it, so she'd run. Alex must have thought she was completely nuts. She wondered if he'd continue to look into the photo. He seemed to have his own reasons for wanting to know if the girl was her.
Well, it didn't matter. She was done. And that was that.
So why couldn't she stop thinking about it all?
It wasn't just the picture that kept returning to her I mind; it was Alex. She was intrigued by him, more than she should be. He'd told her only the beginning of his story, and she wanted to know the rest of it. She wanted to know more about his relationship with his mother and also with his father. She wanted to know what drove him now to roam the world in search of the perfect photograph, sometimes risking his life in the process.
But she wouldn't hear the rest of his story, because they had no reason to speak again.
Maybe it was better this way. She was engaged. Her attention was supposed to be solely on Michael. Even now, he was reaching for her hand, giving it a squeeze, as if he sensed she was drifting away from him and he wanted to pull her back. He was such a good man. She loved him. There was just a tiny, tiny part of her that wasn't sure she was in love with him the way she should be.
She stood up with the rest of the congregation as the Mass ended, waiting for the priest to walk down the aisle so they could file out of their pews. The solemn, reverent atmosphere immediately became more festive when the DeMarcos hit the sidewalk outside the church and began chatting about anything and everything as they walked the few blocks to her aunt Lucia's house, where they would share their traditional Sunday brunch.
Julia was happy not to have time for quiet or personal conversation. She knew she should tell Michael that she was giving up the search, but she wasn't quite ready to bring it all up, not with so many people around.
By the time they entered the house, Lucia's two-story home was already crowded with cousins, aunts,