‘So you did have a family?’ he said, oblivious to the fact that he had one, too. A biological family. And that’s my fault. ‘I’m so happy to hear that. I was worried that you had no one.’
Because she’d allowed him to believe that. She drew a breath and slowly let it out. ‘I have a family. The Romeros, sure. But I also have another family.’
He frowned, confused. ‘How? Who? Are you married?’ He asked the last question with a kind of horror.
Which wasn’t too difficult to understand. His best friend had a thing for Mercy, and Gideon didn’t want Rafe to get hurt.
‘No, I’m not married. I’ve never had an actual relationship. Not one that’s lasted more than a few weeks.’ Which had made her attachment to Rafe so much scarier than it should have been. She’d fallen hard into ‘like’. It wouldn’t have taken much more time to fall into an even deeper, more binding emotion.
‘Then how do you have another family?’
‘I aged out of the system when I was eighteen,’ she said, noting Gideon’s surprise at her abrupt subject change.
‘I know. I tried to find you for a long time, but you’d vanished without a word and your old foster family had moved to another state.’
She smiled at the memory of the family who’d loved her. ‘The Callahans wanted to adopt me, but I wasn’t ready for a family, not then.’
‘Callahan,’ Gideon repeated. ‘You took their name.’
‘After I left, yes. We still keep in touch. They’re a good memory during a time when I had nothing good.’
Gideon’s face fell. ‘You had me.’ But then he sucked in a harsh breath and she could see the moment that he truly understood. The hurt on his face gave way to horror. ‘But you didn’t know why I’d run. You didn’t know the truth. You must have thought I’d left you to rot in Eden.’
She nodded, both relieved and devastated all at once. ‘Mama tried to tell me, the day she got me out. But I didn’t want to listen. I’d been indoctrinated with the lie that you’d murdered Edward McPhearson because you didn’t want to work, because you were lazy.’
‘Oh, Mercy,’ he breathed. ‘I’m so sorry.’
‘You have nothing to be sorry for. We were both victims of Eden.’
‘It was hard afterward?’ he asked tentatively. ‘After I left?’
‘Yes,’ she said simply. She wasn’t going to get into any of that right now. She had things that she needed to say first. ‘For Mama and for me. And I blamed you.’
‘I understand.’
Mercy shook her head. ‘No, you really don’t. I have something to tell you and I need to get it out, so just let me talk, okay?’
Gideon nodded, his concern unabated. But he remained silent, just as she’d asked.
‘I aged out at eighteen. I considered coming to find you, but . . . well, I didn’t want to. I knew where you were, of course. I’ve always known where you were.’ Her lips curved, just a little. ‘I followed your career, even though I thought I hated you at the time. And I both lived for and hated the days you’d call me – my birthday and Christmas, like clockwork. I knew I should let my anger go. My therapist told me that it was eating me from the inside out, but I couldn’t. My hate was the only thing that kept me going sometimes.’
Gideon’s eyes filled and he opened his mouth to speak, then snapped it shut.
He’s going to hate me. I know it. ‘Anyway, after my eighteenth birthday, I found our grandparents. Or one of them, anyway. Mama’s father had passed away a few years before, and her mother was in a hospice. Cancer.’ Abruptly on edge, Mercy rose and began to pace around Karl’s office. ‘She knew I was Mama’s daughter at first sight. Actually, for a minute she thought I was Mama.’
‘You look just like her,’ Gideon murmured, then clamped his lips closed again.
Mercy remembered the moment she’d laid eyes on her maternal grandmother, the absolute joy in the old woman’s eyes. Like Mercy had been the prodigal daughter, returning home. But mostly she remembered how the old woman had wept when she realized that her daughter was dead and that she’d missed all of Mercy’s life.
Mercy hadn’t felt a lot of sympathy for her. The woman had thrown her daughter out of their home for having two illegitimate children.
‘I know. Sometimes I’m happy that I look like her and sometimes I hate looking in the mirror at myself.’ She returned to her chair and sat, forcing herself to meet her brother’s worried eyes. ‘Mama’s mother changed her will. Left everything to the two of us. I’m the executor. I told her that I’d find you and tell you, but . . . I didn’t. Yours is still in trust.’ She closed her eyes. ‘I found a good financial advisor. Your share has grown a lot.’
She fell silent, unable to make the necessary words come.
Gideon exhaled heavily. ‘Is that what you’re worried about? That you didn’t tell me about the money? I don’t care about money, Mercy. I care about you.’
Tears burned and Mercy could no longer hold them back. They felt hot on her cold cheeks. ‘No, it’s not just the money. I took my share and went to New Orleans.’
Gideon was silent so long that she opened her eyes. He was staring at her, his cheeks wet with his own tears. ‘Why New Orleans? Were you trying to get away from me? To go as far away as you could?’
‘Yes and no. See, our grandmother had searched for us, but we were already in Eden by then.’
Gideon’s swallow was audible. ‘Why did she search for us?’
‘Because our father’s parents came looking for Mama. Looking for you. They didn’t know that I’d been born, too.’
Gideon started to speak then shook his head. ‘Go on. I’m listening.’
‘They went looking for her right after they found out that their son had fathered a child with a fourteen-year-old.’
‘That was Mama.’
‘No, another fourteen-year-old. He’d been in sales and traveled a lot, basically impregnating young girls all over the southern US. His parents – our grandparents – were appalled. One of the girls had him charged with statutory rape and he went to jail for a little while. His parents found out that there had been other girls.’ She shrugged. ‘Our father kept pictures of all of his families. Like trophies. His parents wanted to make sure their grandchildren were being taken care of. They had money.’
Gideon was very calm and that was very unnerving. ‘Had? Then they’re dead.’
‘Yes. They died several years before I got to New Orleans.’