Page 35 of Complete Me

“You are Rachel Stone?” Now seemed like a good time to clarify that fact, before I started spilling the family secrets.

She nodded. “And you are Alexander. I suppose you don't remember me.”

There were a lot of things I expected her to say, but that had not been one of them. Should I remember her? She had obviously played an important role in my father's life, but I had no recollection of her being part of mine. “I thought we hadn't met.”

“Not since you were a boy.” She shook her head as if recalling some memory that had grown dusty with age. “I worked at the palace.”

The high-pitched whistle of the tea kettle interrupted her recollection. She jumped up to take it off the flame, leaving me a moment to collect myself after this revelation. She had worked at the palace? That had not been in her file. Had my father covered it up? Why had he gone to such lengths to protect her? Before I could theorize, she returned with two mugs and a selection of teabags.

I cleared my throat, and asked the first thing that came into mind, “what did you do there?”

“I was household staff. I brought tea and biscuits and the newspaper.” She dipped a teabag into water and continued, “It wasn't an exciting job, but most of my family had worked in public service. My late husband included.”

I seized my opportunity. Any reluctance I had felt asking about her personal life vanished when she brought it up herself. “I suppose you know why I'm here.”

“You want to know about your brother,” she guessed, laying to rest any possibility that there had been a mistake. I did have another brother. Even after being told weeks ago, it was difficult to wrap my mind around. The idea that my own flesh and blood had been walking around for the last 25 years without my knowledge seemed impossible.

“Amongst other things. I want to know why he was kept a secret, and how you met my father, and—”

She cut me off. “Maybe I should start at the beginning.”

That seemed like a pretty good idea, so I nodded.

“As I mentioned, I worked on the Royal household staff. Initially, I did laundry and worked in the kitchen. After your mother died, I took over some of the domestic duties she had preferred to handle.” Rachel gave me a small encouraging smile as if she knew how I was feeling. “I never took over for your mother, Alexander. But someone had to bring the tea. That's how it started.

“I had just lost my husband, and I needed to keep myself busy. One day your father had been drinking, and I came into his study. He asked me to sit down. I had no idea what to expect. Your father was a private man, and most of the staff considered him aloof at best.”

“And snooty at worst?” I offered. This earned me a laugh.

“Yes,” she agreed. “I knew a very different Albert. He only wanted to talk. I think he was lonely, which is something I understood. From then on, I took his tea to him every day. At first, we talked about the weather or soccer matches. Trivial things. Slowly, he began to open up to me about losing Elizabeth. I listened, and then one day, I opened up to him about losing Todd. It was less a romance than a friendship.”

“I have a half-brother that suggests otherwise,” I said dryly.

“You are very like him,” she said, not noticing how I cringed at the suggestion. “We comforted one another. I doubt that we were the first adults to find solace in bed. If it had been a romance, it would have been doomed. When we slept together, we were imagining other people.”

“And then you got pregnant?” If she was going to accuse me of being like my father, then I would be blunt. I couldn't quite see the picture she was painting, although I knew a thing or two about seeking refuge in sex.

She sighed as if giving up on her trip down memory lane. Rachel squared her shoulders and leveled her gaze at me. “I did. It was unplanned, but not entirely unwanted. My husband and I had planned to have a family when he returned from the Gulf. That never happened. Instead, your father gave me a child and a chance to have the family I thought I had lost forever.”

“Does he…” I trailed away. It was the one question I wanted to ask. The question I had come here to ask. Now, somehow, I wasn't certain I wanted to know. Gathering my courage, I forced myself to ask. “Does he know who his father is?”

“As far as Anders is concerned, his father died on the front,” she said pointedly.

No man could be that stupid. I didn't say this out loud. Instead, I shifted uncomfortably in my chair. The math didn't add up. If her husband had died in the Gulf and my mother died the same year, that meant she was either lying about her relationship with my father or she was lying to her son.

“Let me guess,” she said, interrupting my thoughts, “the timeline doesn't add up. Of course, Anders knows that Todd Stone can't be his father. I suppose everyone does. It doesn't take a genius to look at the date my husband died and the date my son was born and know it's impossible. Todd didn't father Anders, but he's the only father he has ever known, even if it's only my memories. He doesn't ask questions. No one does. I suppose it's considered impolite to question a war widow.”

I felt my mouth go dry. If she agreed with that ideal, then I was violating it. “I'm sorry for intruding. I understand your wishes, but I can't help but wonder why you took my father's money?”

I wanted to believe she was the woman she seemed to be, because it meant she was no threat to my family nor was her son. If that was true, I could respect her wishes and move on with my own life. But she had taken money and I could only assume it was for her silence.

“I debated whether or not to tell Albert,” she explained. “In the end, I knew I had to leave. It was no secret that the two of us had become friends. If I stayed, there would be gossip and it wouldn't be long before the two of us were linked. I didn't want my pregnancy to become a scandal. I'm certain that people gossiped anyway. It wouldn't be the first time a woman disappeared from a domestic job. But it seemed the better of the two options, considering I wanted to keep the baby. Albert supported my decision. When I asked him to deny paternity, he agreed on one condition: he would be allowed to provide financial support for the child.”

“So, he didn't pay you to keep quiet?” I asked.

“No. Children are expensive. You’re a father now, so I suspect you know that. They need clothing and shoes and braces and schooling. Albert was adamant that his son not go without. In a way, I think he wanted to give Anders what he couldn't give you.”

I tried to swallow this revelation but it lodged in my throat. My father had given me very little. Surely, she knew that. I couldn't quite ignore the twinge of jealousy this produced in me. “Approval? Love? I'm not sure you can send those with a monthly check.”