The Lost - J. D. Robb [124]
“Forty-eight hours.” Aidan chewed the inside of her mouth, considering. “I’d hoped to be on a plane later today.”
“Of course,” Ross added, “should the tests prove negative, Cullen will keep his promise to send you home with a first-class air ticket and a generous settlement for your inconvenience.”
Aidan looked at the offer from every angle. She could leave now, and always wonder if Cullen’s Moira had been her grandmother. Or she could postpone her return for another two days, and know without a doubt.
Two more days in this lovely setting, and a generous check for her time spent.
She looked from Cullen to Ross. “I think it’s an excellent idea. And, as you said, it will eliminate any more doubts. You’ll make that call to the hospital now?”
Ross nodded.
“Then, if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to go to my room.”
Cullen stood. “Ross will walk you upstairs.”
“No.” There were entirely too many emotions bubbling at the surface already. She wasn’t up to dealing with the very different emotions Ross evoked each time he got close to her.
She backed away. “I’m used to taking care of myself. Just let me know when the technician arrives.”
Before Cullen or Ross could react, she walked quickly from the room and hurried up the stairs, eager to mull over all she’d heard.
Five
Aidan paced the length of the room and back, her thoughts in turmoil. It wasn’t so much that her mind refused to accept the story told by Cullen, but rather that he had managed to plant a seed of doubt.
What if his Moira were truly her grandmother Maureen? What if the child she bore hadn’t been Edward Martin’s, but in fact Cullen’s?
“Oh, Mama.” Aidan struggled to hold on to the image she’d carried of her sweet, stoic grandmother, pouring herself into the intricacies of her husband’s business, staving off bankruptcy by the sheer force of her will.
Everyone who had known Maureen Gibbons had been astonished by her strength. Throughout her marriage she had deferred always to Edward. It was he who chose their furniture, each new car, even her wardrobe. Though not in the same category as a tyrant, he had definitely played a dominant role in their marriage.
Had he been chosen, not by her, but by her father? Had their marriage been one of convenience only, to hide the shame she’d visited upon her parents? It would explain so much about that distant relationship. Aidan tried to recall if she’d ever seen a display of tenderness between her grandparents.
At a knock on the parlor door, she looked up. “Charity?”
The knock sounded again, followed by the door being opened.
Annoyed, Aidan walked to the adjoining bathroom and splashed cold water over her face before hurrying to the parlor.
“I’m sorry.” Seeing her look of dismay, Ross paused just inside the doorway. “I suggested that you be given more time to compose yourself, but Cullen refused to wait another minute. He’s beside himself and sent me to apologize for having upset you. He begs you to look at some of the things he’s been saving.”
“I can’t. I’m not ready . . .”
He held up a hand. “In all the years I’ve known Cullen Glin, I’ve never known him to beg. This means the world to him. You,” he said for emphasis, “and your opinion of him have begun to mean the world to him.”
“I’m not who he wants me to be.”
“So you’ve said. But you’ve heard his story.”
“And he’s heard mine. Just because he wants my grandmother to be the great love of his life doesn’t make it so.”
“He has documents . . .”
“So do I. A birth certificate, a marriage license . . .”
“Which could have been filled in with any name, especially by immigrants who desperately wanted to hide their identity. You know that’s so, Aidan.”
“My parents and grandparents lived ordinary lives.”
“So do thousands of people who want to blend in.”
“Stop.” She rubbed at her temples. “You make my ancestors sound like criminals.”
“They were good people who thought a baby conceived out of wedlock to be something shameful. They were trying to protect not only their own reputations, but also that of their daughter. You heard Cullen. They thought him unworthy