The President's Daughter - Mariah Stewart [67]
How could Jude now tell Dina that the brave young man who so proudly held her in those pictures had been only a kindhearted friend from the past? That the daddy a very young Dina had talked to in heaven when, as a child, she finished her evening prayers had been no more related to her than any one of their neighbors?
Wasn’t it Shakespeare who had said something about lies being tangled webs? And once you were in the web, Jude knew, struggling only made the threads pull tighter.
Well, she sighed, there was no point in struggling at this late date. She could no longer avoid the inevitable. Now all she had to do was figure out how—and when—to tell Dina the truth.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“Mom?” Dina called from the front door. “Are you here?”
“Out back, Dina.”
“I brought you some soup,” Dina announced as she tucked the container into the refrigerator. “Chicken soup.”
“What’s the occasion?” Jude came inside.
“Well, I thought with you being sick, you could use a little something. I won’t even try to pass it off as homemade, though. I picked it up at Elena’s on my way through town.”
“Oh, I see. You called me at the library and Mary told you that I had called in sick.” Jude nodded her head.
“No, Simon Keller told me.”
Jude froze. “Where did you see Simon Keller?”
“He came to see me today.” Dina grinned, the words fairly bubbling out. It was clear that she was more than a little pleased.
“Why?” Jude asked sharply.
“Why?” Dina’s eyes widened. “A great-looking man comes to see me, and my mother asks why? Thanks a lot, Mom.”
Jude still stood in the same spot inside the kitchen door.
“He came to ask me out to dinner on—” Dina stopped to study her mother’s stricken face. “Mom, are you all right?”
“Dina, don’t go out with him,” Jude said softly.
“What’s wrong with him?” Dina then asked, “What’s wrong with you?”
“Nothing,” Jude brushed her aside. “I guess I’m just thinking you don’t really know him. You know how I’ve always warned you about strangers.”
“And when I was nine and ten years old I needed to be warned. I’m almost thirty now. Do you think I still need you to remind me to be selective? To be careful? To not talk to strangers?”
Dina’s fisted hands rested on her hips.
“I’m sorry, Dina. . . .” Jude’s hand rose to her face. And suddenly Simon Keller was the least of her problems.
How do I tell her? She’ll turn from me, and never turn back. How could she ever forgive me for lying to her all these years? Why didn’t I tell her sooner?
Waylon whined at the front door. Jude turned her back on Dina and gathered the dog’s leash from the back door.
“I’ll take him, Mom,” Dina said softly. “You obviously don’t feel well.”
“I can—” Jude protested.
“So can I. Go curl up on the sofa with that book you started reading over the weekend. We’ll only be a few minutes.”
Dina snapped the leash on the basset’s collar and opened the door. “We’ll be right back.”
Jude watched from the living room window as Waylon stopped to sniff an early dandelion, and tried to screw up her courage to tell Dina everything she’d spent a lifetime keeping secret. Telling Dina the truth was going to change everything—the last thing Jude wanted at this stage of her life. There were plenty of other things that could happen to you once you hit your mid-fifties. Arthritis. Osteoporosis. Sagging jaw-lines and drooping body parts. You name it, the middle-aged woman was going to have to deal with it, in one form or another, sooner or later. Of course, the market was flooded with remedies, the health food stores stocked with herbal treatments, for many of the woes of aging. But there was no cure—natural or otherwise—for losing the love and trust of your child.
“Damn Simon Keller anyway,” Jude grumbled, “for bringing this to my doorstep.”
What difference would it make if she kept her secret for a little longer? What was the worst thing that could happen?
Most of the houses in the neighborhood were closed and dark. As she wandered toward