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“I was close to both of my parents. I was a Kavanaugh,” she stated, as if that explained everything. “And then one summer evening when I was seventeen years old, I found out I wasn’t.”
His caressing hand stilled. Tears burned her eyes. She pressed her cheek to Nick’s chest, averting her gaze.
“You mean you somehow found out about Brigit and Lincoln’s affair?”
Deidre nodded, her cheek brushing against the springy hair on Nick’s chest. She touched his skin with her fingertips, the sensation reassuring her...grounding her. Suddenly, the story was pouring out of her, as if it’d been waiting to erupt there at the back of her throat for nearly half of her life.
“When I was a kid, I thought my parents had the perfect marriage. They always seemed so happy, so attracted to each other. I had no way of knowing that apparently their marriage had started out rocky. Derry’d had an affair early on, and my mother had discovered it. She reacted by flying to Lake Tahoe and having an affair with her old friend, Lincoln DuBois. My mom and dad reconciled. All of us kids were happily ignorant of the whole thing, but one night when I was a teenager here in Harbor Town, the truth came spilling out.”
She swallowed thickly and continued.
“I’d had a water-skiing accident during an exhibition show here in Harbor Town. I was hospitalized for a leg wound. It wasn’t all that serious, but I’d lost some blood. I required a transfusion. That’s how my dad—Derry—found out my blood type. He suspected that given his blood type, I couldn’t biologically be his daughter. According to my brother Liam, Derry contacted an old friend after that—a pediatrician who specialized in genetic diseases. The pediatrician confirmed that given our blood ty
pes, I couldn’t possibly be Derry’s daughter.
“I was discharged from the hospital. Mom and I were the only two people in the house on Sycamore Avenue that afternoon. I remember it was a hot, humid summer evening. A storm broke that night. You could feel it brewing in the air all day. I was bored out of my mind. I could hear Mom doing dishes in the kitchen and figured the coast was clear to get out of bed and call one of my friends on the phone in my room. When I heard Mom coming upstairs a few minutes later, I thought I was caught, but she passed my room and went to hers and Dad’s bedroom. A few minutes passed, and I heard the door downstairs open and close, and another tread on the stairs. I told my friend I had to get off the phone. I recognized my father’s step, and I was surprised he was home. It was a Tuesday, and Dad usually worked in Chicago until Thursday night, when he joined us in Harbor Town during the summers. He paused outside my door—I almost called out to him—I wish I had—but then I heard him walking down the hallway toward their bedroom.
“I don’t know why I did it exactly—they would be mad at me for getting out of bed—but I got my crutches and left my room anyway. There was something really strange about Dad coming home. The atmosphere in the house seemed charged. I wanted to see Dad, to make sure everything was okay, even if I did get in trouble. I loved him so much….”
Nick cradled the back of her head with his hand and kissed the top of her head. “You don’t have to go on if it’s too upsetting to you,” he said gruffly. She realized belatedly that she’d dropped into a whisper and finally faded off as she told her story.
“No. I want to tell you,” she said, her voice stronger now. She’d never done this before, never spoken aloud the details of the night that had changed her life forever. She’d told some of the crucial details to Lincoln, but had kept things brief out of respect for his weakened condition and his profound love for Brigit Kavanaugh.
“The door was partially open to my parents’ bedroom,” she continued. “It didn’t take long for me to recognize I shouldn’t go barging in there. My dad wasn’t shouting, but I’d never heard him sound the way he did that night. Tense. Desperate. I remember the tone of his voice scared me, even before I understood the details of what he was saying.”
A thought occurred to her and she lifted her head, staring at Nick’s shadowed face. “I was going to say, ‘do you know what it’s like to hear something and feel like your entire world was just yanked away from beneath your feet?’ and then I realized of course you know exactly how that feels. You lost your parents.”
He reached up and slid his thumb across her cheek, drying her tears. His serious, compassionate expression gave her the courage she required to continue.
“I listened to my father accusing my mother of having an affair. I heard him telling her that I couldn’t be his biological daughter and he sounded so hurt...like he was wild with the pain of it. He didn’t say anything about Marc, Colleen or Liam. Just me,” she said in a pressured whisper. She put her cheek back on Nick’s chest. “I couldn’t be my father’s daughter. Then, my mother admitted there was a chance it was true.”
“You must have been so confused...shocked.”
“I felt like I was dreaming.”
“But your mother didn’t mention she’d had an affair with Lincoln DuBois specifically?”
Deidre shook her head. “All she said was there was a chance I was another man’s child. Then my father told her in no uncertain terms there wasn’t just a chance. His and my blood types proved it as an unassailable fact. I didn’t know the identity of my biological father until Liam completed his investigation last summer. I’ve learned since that my mom told my father the name of the man she’d had an affair with on that night, but that was after I’d fled the scene. I asked my mother afterward. Many times. She refused to tell me my natural father’s identity for all these years.”
“It must have devastated you, hearing that as a kid,” Nick said.
“I was confused. Disoriented. I remember I went back to my room and just lay there, staring up at the ceiling. I heard my father leave and thought I should do something. Go and demand the truth from my mother...something. But I was numb. Scared. I didn’t want to believe it was true. Being a Kavanaugh was such a central part of my identity. I adored my father. I couldn’t comprehend what was happening to me...my family...the whole structure of my life.
“I eventually couldn’t stand it anymore, lying there helpless. I grabbed my crutches and my keys and headed out. My mother heard me leaving, but I had a head start on her. I got in my car and drove. I’m not even sure where I went that night, but I had to get away. I learned later that my mother had also driven the streets and country roads, looking for both of us—Derry and me.”
She paused, lost in her memories. “I eventually returned home...but my dad never did.”
Nick’s body tensed beneath hers. She felt the pressure of his hand on her chin and she lifted her head to meet his stare.
“Do you mean to tell me that was the same night as the accident? Your father died that night?”
She nodded. Pain tightened his features.
“Ah, Deidre...” he muttered, his voice thick with regret and compassion. He drew her tighter into his embrace and held her while she wept.
Later, after her tears ebbed, he laid her on her back and leaned over her. He kissed her cheeks, drying her tears. His lips on her mouth were tender as well, but Deidre laced her fingers through the hair at his nape and deepened the kiss, needing his passion at that moment...starved for it.
He lifted his head after a while and stared down at her. “You must have felt orphaned on that night,” he said.
