Jackson merely nodded, figuring it would be both tacky and mean-spirited of him to also mention that Neil had undoubtedly seen the fragile, often nervous Laura Gilmore as his entrée into the high society world of the wealthy, well connected Gilmore family. Not to mention the guarantee of a cushy, well paid job within the family business. Instead, he inquired, “So what became of old Nikki?”
Neil’s smile faded immediately. “Less than a month before I asked Laura to marry me, I get a call from Nikki out of the blue. Crazy bitch is laughing and calling me Daddy, congratulating me on our brand new baby daughter. I didn’t believe her, reminded her she’d promised she was going to have an abortion, and called her a conniving little liar. Next thing I know she’s emailing me photos of her holding a baby in her arms, swearing that the kid is mine and demanding that I pay her child support every month if I didn’t agree to come back to Vegas and marry her. I did the math in my head and figured that there was a better than even possibility I was the father, that at the very least the timing was right. But knowing Nikki there was no guarantee she hadn’t been screwing a dozen other guys at the same time, and I told her that there was no way she was sticking me with this without some sort of proof.” He paused, then exhaled sharply. “To get her off my back, I agreed to a paternity test, but while we were waiting for the results to come back Nikki emailed me more photos of the baby. And it was pretty obvious from looking at her that she was mine.”
“How so?” inquired Jackson quizzically.
“She looked just like pictures of both my mom and my sister when they were babies,” acknowledged Neil. “The reddish gold hair, big blue eyes, the nose and mouth. And, yeah, I know a lot of babies are born with blue eyes, but there’s something definitive about the shape. And, well, I never kept any of those photos, of course, couldn’t take the chance that Laura might see them one day. But from what I remember of them there would have also been a definite similarity to Hannah’s pictures taken around the same age.”
“So did the paternity test come back positive then?”
Neil nodded. “Yeah, though by then it was probably a moot point. But once the official results came in Nikki was on my case more than ever, calling me multiple times a day, demanding I do the right thing, threatening to rat me out to my employer if I didn’t do right by her and the baby. She still had no idea that I wasn’t who she thought I was, that I didn’t live in Denver, or that I wasn’t really Tom Banfield. And all that time I was trying not to panic, to not think about how badly she could fuck up my life if somehow Laura were to find out about this. Or worse, your father and brothers. So I wired her some money, as much as I could scrape up on short notice, hoping that would shut her up for awhile. But of course she blew through that in record time and kept demanding more. So this time I did what I should have done after ending things with her. I disconnected my phone, changed the number, made sure she had no way of getting in touch with me. She had never met any of my previous co-workers, had never been to my hotel room, and had no means to track me down. That - that was the last I ever heard from her. I have no idea what happened to Nikki or the baby, don’t know if either or both of them are still living in Las Vegas. I figured - hoped - that I’d never have to think about them again. But that was before Hannah got so sick, before I had to come to grips with the fact that this girl - my other daughter - could very well be our only chance of saving Hannah. And before you start lecturing me on what an irresponsible asshole I’ve been all these years to pretend my other child didn’t exist, I’ll spare you the effort. Because I’m all too well aware.”
Jackson shook his head in disgust. “Jesus, Neil. If I had been asked to imagine the most fucked-up, complicated, and downright impossible situation I don’t think I could have dreamed this one up.”
“I know,” replied Neil miserably. “I’ve had to keep all of this to myself for more than twenty years, Jack. Most of the time I never gave it a second thought, had convinced myself that it was all in the past and would just stayed buried for the rest of my life. But when Hannah got sick, and one treatment after another failed to cure her, I couldn’t stop thinking about my - my other daughter. Especially when everyone in the family was tested as a potential bone marrow donor and there were no matches. I wanted to say something then, to maybe bring up the idea to her doctors at least. I mean, they would have had to keep something like that a secret, wouldn’t they?”
Jackson glowered darkly at his brother-in-law. “No idea. But that does bring up my next question. Why the fuck did you have to drag me into this soap opera of yours? Huh? Why did I have to be the one you decided to bare your soul to after all these years? Because I sure as hell don’t appreciate being your confidante, Neil. Or having to keep secrets from the rest of the family. You’ve stuck me in a really shitty position here.”
“I know. And I’m sorry as hell, Jack, really I am. But I already told you - you’re the only one in the family I can trust with all this. The only one who won’t overreact and start calling divorce attorneys. And,” he added quietly, “the only one I can count on to help me track this girl down. More importantly, to see if my other daughter can save the one who’s dying. If she could end up being Hannah’s last hope to survive.”
Chapter Four
Berkeley, California
Jackson stood on the sidewalk outside of the funky, New-Agey looking coffee shop for long seconds, steeling himself yet again for what likely awaited him just beyond the doorway. To say that he wasn’t exactly looking forward to what was likely to be an emotional - if not downright ugly - scene was putting it mildly. And based on what the private investigator he’d hired to find Neil’s older daughter had uncovered, Jackson was more or less convinced that the young woman in question was most assuredly not going to be pleased to learn he was here on behalf of the father who’d abandoned her long ago.
After assuring Neil repeatedly that he would keep things discreet and under the radar, Jackson had contacted one of his numerous college buddies for assistance. Dean McDowell had gone to work for the FBI right after graduation, having followed three generations of his family into some form of law enforcement, and Jackson had crossed his fingers that his old college buddy might be able to refer him to a private investigator who could help locate Neil’s daughter. Jackson had stressed the need for utmost discretion, and Dean had more than come through for him, referring him to a retired FBI agent who had been not only discreet but almost shockingly thorough, quick, and efficient.
The report that the investigator had compiled had been more than a little troubling, if not disturbing, and Jackson had visibly shuddered at the thought of making face to face contact with the young woman who was the subject of the report. In reading over the detailed account of the difficult, at times tragic circumstances of her life, Jackson had to contain himself from throwing something against the wall, or, more specifically, throwing a well deserved punch at Neil’s jaw.
He’d forced an unwilling Neil to read over the entire report, and had taken at least a bit of satisfaction to notice the way his brother-in-law had paled and even winced when reading over the worst parts.