Don't Say a Word - Barbara Freethy [58]
"This is awful. We're killing her," Julia whispered. "I don't know what to do."
"You can't stop now," Alex said. "You're in the middle of it, and she deserves to know the truth, too, don't you think?"
"Maybe she would have been happier not knowing. I'm ruining her life. Her daughter lied to her and never visited her or spoke to her in twenty-five years." Julia shook her head, not understanding how her mother could have done such a thing. The woman who had raised her had been kind, gentle, compassionate. How could she have turned her back on her family? Unless there was some misunderstanding… That had to be the reason. Sarah had obviously believed the Davidsons didn't want her. Why?
"I wish my grandfather was still alive," she said to Alex. "Maybe he knew more than he shared with his wife."
"Somebody knew something," Alex said. "If we ask enough questions, maybe we'll get to the truth."
"This is hard."
"Just stay focused on what we're trying to accomplish."
She eyed Alex thoughtfully. "Is that what you do when you're in a difficult situation-you simply put your heart on hold?"
"It's how I survive."
"I don't know if I'm made that way. I hate hurting people."
"In the long run you might be helping her. She may have lost her daughter again, but she's gained two granddaughters. That should be worth something."
She smiled at his attempt to make her feel better.
"That didn't work, but I appreciate the effort." She rose as Susan walked back into the room with a box of Kleenex. Her eyes were red and swollen now, and she appeared to have aged ten years since they'd arrived, but she wasn't crying anymore. That was something. "Are you all right?" Julia asked.
"I don't think so. But I want to hear the rest of your story."
"I'm glad," Julia said, offering her a thankful smile. "It means a lot to me."
"You're really my granddaughter?" There was a note of wonder in her voice, but no sign of anger or disappointment.
"I think so. Why don't we sit down. We can start at the beginning, wherever that is."
"Why don't we start with Sarah and her years at Northwestern," Alex suggested as Susan and Julia took seats on the couch.
Susan twisted a Kleenex between her fingers as she considered Alex's question. "Sarah was in Chicago a long time. After she got her bachelor's degree, she went to graduate school to get a master's degree. She wanted to work at the United Nations, something important like that. She always had big dreams of changing the world. She used to sit with my mother for hours, listening to her stories of life in the old country. I think that's where her passion for the language began. She would often call my mother on the phone just to practice her accent."
Julia's heart skipped a beat. She had the terrible feeling she knew what accent Sarah had been practicing. She looked to Alex and saw the same gleam in his eyes.
"What language did Sarah speak?" Alex asked.
"Didn't I say? I'm sorry. My mother was Russian. Sarah spoke fluent Russian."
Chapter 9
Julia couldn't stop the gasp that slipped through her lips. "Your mother was Russian?"
"Yes, my mother came over to this country right before the revolution. She never lost her accent or her desire to speak her native language. I'm afraid I didn't share that desire. It embarrassed me that my mother spoke a foreign language, but Sarah was different. My mother came to live with us when Sarah was a teenager. They loved each other very much. They had a special bond." Another tear drifted down her cheek. "My mother died when Sarah was twenty-four. It was a very difficult time for her. They were so close." She wiped her face with her tissue.
It was too much to take in, Julia thought. She had so many questions, she didn't know which one to ask first. She got up and paced around the living room, too restless to sit. She