The Betrayed (Echoes from the Past Book 7) Read online

  Rafael reached into the inner pocket of his newly cleaned and mended doublet and extracted the hamsa. It glittered in the moonlight, the opal staring back at him like a milky eye. Rafael closed his fingers around the amulet. Had it kept him safe and delivered him to this oasis, or had it been some other invisible force? Was he alive because of the captain, who had refused to give up and led him to safety? He said a quick prayer for Captain de Cuéllar and the success of his mission. The man could barely walk, but he wouldn’t be deterred, so strong was his desire to return home and resume his duties.

  “Hiding?” a soft voice asked just behind him. Startled, Rafael dropped the charm onto the stone walkway.

  The girl with the braid picked it up and studied it, her face creased with concentration. “What is that?” she asked. “I’ve never seen the like.”

  “It’s eh…nothing,” Rafael replied. “Can I have it back, please?”

  The girl reluctantly gave the amulet back to him and gazed up at the pale moon that was reflected in the still perfection of the lake. “This is my spot,” she said softly.

  “I’m sorry. I’ll go.”

  “Stay.”

  Rafael wasn’t sure what to do. This girl had seen and touched the hamsa, but she didn’t seem frightened or appalled. She likely had no idea what it meant, and he wasn’t going to be the one to explain it to her. She seemed melancholy as she stared out over the moonlit lake.

  “Are you all right?” Rafael asked.

  The girl nodded. “Just overcome with the beauty of the evening is all,” she replied, her voice a whisper on the wind.

  Rafael struggled to come up with something relevant to say, but nothing sprang to mind, so he remained silent.

  “The stars look like a swarm of fireflies, don’t they?” the girl observed. “Do ye have fireflies in Spain?”

  “Yes, we do. May I ask your name?” Rafael said shyly.

  “It’s Aisling. Aisling O’Rourke. And you are?”

  “Rafael de Silva, at your service. It’s a pleasure to meet you, señorita O’Rourke. Are you kin to Sir Brian?”

  “Aye,” Aisling replied, her mouth turning downward in a pout. “What was that ye just called me?”

  “Señorita. It means—” Rafael paused. He’d assumed the young woman was unmarried, but perhaps she wasn’t. Maybe that was why she hadn’t expected to find the ring in the pie, because she was already wed.

  “There ye are. Come back inside, Aisling,” the man he’d seen her with earlier demanded as he strode toward them. “What d’ye think ye’re doing, lass?”

  “I needed a breath of air,” Aisling replied. She seemed to shrink into herself as the man approached, as if she wished to be invisible. “Good evening to ye, Master de Silva,” she said, and turned toward the man.

  He glowered at Rafael but said nothing. Instead, he grabbed Aisling by the arm and half-dragged her toward the steps leading down into the yard. Rafael waited a few moments, then followed the couple. For some reason, the beauty around him suddenly felt counterfeit. He knew nothing about Aisling, nor did he have an inkling of who the man was, but the one thing he knew for certain was that he had no right to interfere. The ways of these people were foreign to him. Perhaps the man was her father, or her husband. He clearly had a claim to her.

  Rafael returned to his room, pleased to see that Julio was still at the feast. He stretched out on the bed, looked at the moon that shone through the narrow window, and thought of home.

  Chapter 24

  April 2015

  London, England

  Jo stopped in front of the house and gazed at the innocuous façade. Behind the black door lived the woman who’d haunted her dreams since she was a child, the woman who’d been the monster under the bed. Jo had never thought she’d get the chance to meet the one person who’d caused her more damage than anyone else in her life, but here she was, ready to face her demons.

  She hadn’t told Quinn she was coming to see Sylvia. This was something she needed to do on her own. It would either be the first step to healing or the beginning of a new phase that could be even more detrimental than the previous one. The person she’d hated since childhood had been nameless and faceless. But now she had a name and a face to go with the nightmare, as well as the painful knowledge that this woman had lived a happy life, completely unaffected by her past choices.

  Having worked up the courage, Jo finally rang the doorbell and listened to it reverberate through the house, a joyful peal that was so at odds with her mood. It took mere moments for the door to open. Sylvia stood stock still, studying the daughter she’d abandoned with a hunger that made Jo uncomfortable. She’d seen photos of Sylvia but seeing her in person was a wholly different experience. She was smaller than Jo had expected, less intimidating. Her hazel eyes, so like Quinn’s, were filled with apprehension, and her dark shoulder-length hair was peppered with gray. Sylvia wore a moss-green dress, accessorized with a tasteful scarf in shades of green, burgundy, and beige, and her low-heeled burgundy shoes matched her outfit to perfection.

  “Please, come in,” Sylvia said at last. “I don’t imagine you want to do this on the doorstep.”

  Jo followed Sylvia into the front room. Like the woman herself, it was understated and classy. Several framed photographs were displayed on a console table. There was a photo of Sylvia with a man who must have been her husband, one of Logan and Jude as children, and a recent portrait of Emma and Alex. There was also a picture of Quinn, looking thoughtful, her face slightly averted from the camera.

  “Would you like some tea or coffee?” Sylvia asked. She seemed nervous, and Jo was glad to have caused her discomfort. It’d be unfair if the woman remained unfazed by their meeting.

  “No, thank you. I just want to get this over with.”

  “This doesn’t need to be unpleasant,” Sylvia replied.

  “I can’t see how it can be anything but.” She realized she was being antagonistic but couldn’t help herself. All her carefully rehearsed sentiments flew out of her head, leaving only hurt and anger behind.

  Sylvia sat across from Jo and folded her hands in her lap. “Go ahead. Say what you’ve come to say. I’m ready.” She looked like a woman who was about to be executed and was resigned to her fate, which took some of the heat out of Jo’s words.

  “I will never forgive you for what you did.”

  “I don’t expect you to. But the fact that you’re here means you’re open to having a conversation.”

  “How could you do it?” Jo cried, unable to control herself any longer. “How could you leave me like that?”

  “Jo, I will tell you exactly what I told your sister when she put me on trial for my crimes. I was a seventeen-year-old girl who’d just given birth to twins. I was frightened and in pain. You were clearly very ill. I panicked. Would I do things differently if I got the chance to do them over again? Yes. Will I apologize for the choices I made when I was seventeen? No. I did what I thought was best at the time. Both you and Quinn were adopted by good families and were given a better life than I could have ever given you. You got the best medical care Leicester had to offer and won the heart of its star pediatric surgeon. If you subtract the emotional from the factual, you still come out way ahead.”

  “You abandoned me,” Jo retorted.

  “I was in no position to be a mother to you.”

  “Did you not feel the slightest bit of love toward me?” Jo asked. She sounded like a petulant toddler, but the question came out unbidden.

  Sylvia shook her head. “Jo, as you know by now, it wasn’t a planned or wanted pregnancy. The babies in my womb were interlopers, aliens. I saw you as a punishment for my mistakes, a judgment for my behavior. I didn’t even know who fathered you, nor could I admit to anyone, least of all my father, that I’d shagged three men within the space of a half hour. I was ashamed, I was scared, and I was desperate to make it all go away. I know you believe I’ve walked away from this without a scratch but abandoning you two left scars on my s
oul. I could never be truly honest with my husband, or my sons. I spent decades keeping secrets—secrets that ate away at me even when I thought they were long buried.”

  Jo stared at the woman who’d given birth to her. She wasn’t nearly as hateful or callous as Jo had expected her to be. True, she hadn’t offered an apology, but she’d gone out of her way to let Jo know that her decision hadn’t left her unscathed.

  “I’ve hated you all my life,” Jo said, grasping at the last threads of her anger.

  “Is it at all possible for you to stop?” Sylvia asked.

  “I don’t know. How do you stop hating someone?”

  “I suppose in much the same way you stop loving someone. Sometimes it’s a gradual process, and sometimes it happens overnight. You look at them, and the fierce emotion you felt toward them is gone. I think you hate me a little less than you did ten minutes ago,” Sylvia added with a shy smile.

  “I can see why Quinn decided to forgive you.”

  “She was angry too, for a long time. The way I see it, we have three options. We can have nothing to do with each other after this meeting. We can be casually civil to each other if we run into each other socially, as I’m sure we will, since we now have Quinn and your brothers in common. Or we can try to forge a friendship and see where it takes us.”

  “I’m not ready to be friends with you,” Jo replied. Sylvia hadn’t suggested anything Jo hadn’t considered herself, but she suddenly felt cornered and desperate to get out of this house. The things Sylvia had said resonated with her, not because she forgave her, but because they were so similar to some of the things Jo had said to herself, the reasoning she’d conjured up for giving a child away without destroying one’s conscience. Sylvia’s sentiments opened the door a tiny crack, allowing Jo to believe that perhaps there was still a chance things could be made right.

  “I understand, Jo, and I will respect whatever you decide. I am very happy to have met you, and I am glad you’re home safe after your ordeal.”

  “Thank you,” Jo mumbled as she stood to leave. She felt like she needed to add something more but wasn’t at all sure what to say. “I’ll see myself out.”

  She walked briskly toward the door and stepped out into the beautiful spring afternoon, taking a great gulp of air, as if she’d been suffocating. The curtains in the front window twitched, Sylvia’s silhouette momentarily shadowing the gauzy fabric. If Jo had been hoping for closure, she hadn’t got it. If anything, she felt more unsettled than ever.

  “Are you all right, love?” asked a middle-aged woman walking her dog past Sylvia’s house. She looked at Jo with compassion and reached into her bag for a pack of tissues. “Here.” She held out the pack and Jo accepted it gratefully.

  She hadn’t realized she was crying, but the woman’s kindness nearly undid her. Great sobs tore from her chest, tears blurring her vision and her hands shaking as she tried to blow her nose.

  “Would you like to come in for a cuppa?” the woman asked. “I live just there. Nigel’s already done his business, so we can go in.”

  “Thank you,” Jo replied. She’d collected herself somewhat and was embarrassed by her uncharacteristic outburst. “You’re very kind. I’m all right now.”

  “Well, if you’re sure. It’s no trouble.”

  “Really, I’m all right,” Jo assured her. She tried to return the packet of tissues to the woman, but she waved Jo’s hand away.

  “You keep them, love. I’ve got another pack in my bag. Perhaps you should ring someone,” she suggested. “You shouldn’t be on your own when you’re upset.”

  “I’m going to call my sister,” Jo replied, suddenly realizing that she was desperate to talk to Quinn.

  “That’s a sensible idea. There’s nothing like having a chinwag with your sister. Always helps me. Well, take care.”

  The woman walked away, dragging a reluctant Nigel behind her. Jo shoved a crumpled tissue into the pocket of her coat, pulled her mobile out of her bag, and called Quinn.

  “Hi, Jo,” Quinn answered cheerfully.

  “Can I come round? I need to talk to you,” Jo blurted without any preamble.

  “Of course. Are you all right?”

  “I will be,” Jo replied, and ended the call. Suddenly, she knew exactly what she needed to do.

  Chapter 25

  “Wasn’t that delicious?” Quinn asked Alex as she spooned the last of the homemade baby food into his mouth. “That’s right, little man. I made it just for you.” She wiped Alex’s mouth and hands and lifted him out of the highchair. “Now you are going to take a nice long nap, and I will spend some time with your aunt Jo,” Quinn continued as she carried the baby up the stairs and toward his room. “What do you think of that?”

  Alex didn’t seem to have an opinion on the matter, so Quinn settled him in his cot and turned on the monitor. Alex instantly reached for his favorite stuffed animal and pressed a finger into the bear’s nose, laughing happily when it made a squeaky sound. “At least this one doesn’t light up or have a siren,” Quinn mumbled as she tucked the baby in and closed the curtains. “Sleep well, my darling,” she crooned as she bent down to kiss the baby. “I’ll see you later.”

  “Bah,” Alex said.

  “How about ‘Ma’?”

  “Bah.”

  “We’ll work on that later.”

  Quinn closed the door and returned downstairs. She put the kettle on and rummaged in the cupboard for a packet of chocolate biscuits, but it was nowhere to be found. Chocolate biscuits were Emma’s favorite, so their absence was easy to explain. Quinn gave up on the cupboard and turned to the refrigerator. Maybe she could make some sandwiches, if she could find anything to put in them. She really needed to get to the shops. The kettle boiled just as the doorbell rang.

  “Hi. Are you all right, Jo?” Quinn asked as she invited her inside. “Would you like some tea?”

  “I’d prefer something stronger,” Jo replied.

  “All right. There’s whisky.”

  “That will do.”

  “What’s happened?” Quinn tried again as she brought out the bottle of whisky and two glasses. She didn’t want a drink, but it seemed rude to leave Jo to drink alone.

  “I went to see Sylvia,” Jo replied as she shrugged off her coat and tossed her bag onto the worktop.

  “What on earth did she say to you?”

  “Nothing that didn’t need saying,” Jo replied, and reached for her glass. She tossed back the whisky and held out the glass for a refill.

  “Slow down, sis,” Quinn said. She poured Jo a finger-worth of the spirit and put the bottle away. Jo wouldn’t be getting drunk on her watch.

  “I’ve spent my life hating Sylvia,” Jo said, her gaze fixed on the now-empty glass. “I blamed everything on her, all my problems. But do you know what I realized today?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “I realized that even though I’d never met the woman, I’m just like her. I’m selfish, cold, and incapable of loving anyone.”

  “You got all that from one meeting with her?” Quinn asked, wondering what Sylvia could have said or done to unnerve Jo to such a degree. “Sylvia is not the mother I would have asked for, but she does have her good points.”

  “Yes, she’s honest; I’ll give her that. And unapologetic.”

  “Jo, what’s this all about?” Quinn asked gently.

  “I didn’t tell you the whole truth, Quinn. At first, I was afraid you’d judge me, but then I realized I had no desire to rake it all up again, not after I’d done such a fine job of burying it so deep. But everything is different now, and I feel exposed—turned inside out, if you will. The past just keeps coming at you until it becomes the present and the future. Sylvia made me realize it’s high time I faced my own mistakes.”

  “We all have things we’d prefer to keep hidden. You’re allowed to make mistakes, and you’re allowed to move past them.”

  “Is there such a thing as moving past your mistakes? Sylvia is almost fifty and her mistakes are still haunti
ng her after all these years. I want to make things right, Quinn, and I can begin by being honest with you.”

  “Jo, I will support you in whatever way I can,” Quinn replied. “And I won’t judge you. I promise.”

  Jo nodded and reached for Quinn’s untouched glass. She tossed back the contents and set the glass on the worktop. Her cheeks were flushed, and her gaze was glassy and slightly wild.

  “You’ve been relentless and fearless in your pursuit of your birth family, and I’ve benefited from your efforts. I thought I was happy not to know my birth parents or siblings, but now that I’ve met Seth, and Logan and Jude, and even Sylvia, I see what I’ve been missing. No matter what happens from this point on, I know that there are people out there who have welcomed me and made me feel like I belong. I’ve never really experienced that before, not even when I was a child.”

  Quinn remained quiet, letting Jo talk. She was working up to telling her something important and Quinn didn’t want to interrupt or give her a reason to change her mind. Jo needed to unburden herself, and Quinn was there to listen.

  “I told you there were no consequences to what happened with Michael, but that wasn’t strictly true. Michael didn’t use a condom the night he came to my room, and he was too drunk and stupid to pull out in time. My father, being the pragmatist that he was, called in a prescription for the morning after pill as soon as he discovered what had happened. The pills weren’t readily available in those days, but he was Dr. Ian Crawford, he could get his hands on anything. He instructed me to take the pill right away, but I flushed it down the toilet. It was a foolish thing to do; I admit that, but I was angry and hurt. I believed that my father was protecting Michael rather than looking out for me. I suppose I wanted to spite him.”