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Caroline hesitated, then said, "Okay."
She'd invited Berry to open up to her, but if she wasn't ready to do so, they'd just as well try to rest. She put her suitcase on the bed and unzipped it, then reached in and pulled out the nightgown she had hastily stuffed into it before they left the lake house. That seemed like a long time ago, much longer than the several hours it had been.
During those rushed minutes before their departure, Berry had been checking the contents of her portfolio to make sure she had everything she would need for her presentation, which now wouldn't take place.
Dodge had been waiting for them by the car, puffing cigarettes for all he was worth, unaware that Caroline was watching him from her bedroom window and wondering why his face, for all its cynicism and signs of unrepentant abuse, was the one in all the world that could still make her heart trip. Thirty years' time hadn't diminished its appeal to her.
She could speak to Berry about attraction, because she knew well the dominating ferocity of it. Even when it made no sense, when it was just p
lain wrong, one was powerless against it.
"I always thought it was Roger Campton."
Caroline, lost in her reverie, didn't immediately grasp what Berry had said. When she did, she froze momentarily. Then slowly she came around, clutching her nightgown to her chest like a shield.
"I thought my birth father was Roger Campton."
Caroline, rendered speechless by surprise, said nothing.
"I was in middle school," Berry continued. "Eighth grade to be exact. Roger Campton died in that plane crash down in Mexico. One of the girls at school told me that her mother had told her that you were engaged to him before you married Daddy. And she asked me if you were sad that he had died.
"I'd never heard of Roger Campton. Neither you nor Daddy had ever spoken that name within my hearing. I told the girl she was wrong. But she insisted that her mother wasn't a liar. Why would she make that up?
"So the following morning, I got Daddy's newspaper and read about the plane crash. There was a whole story about Roger Campton, his growing up in Houston, joining his father's company after graduating from SMU's business school. Wealthy, influential family. Socially prominent. His picture showed him to be very handsome.
"Because he wasn't married when he died, I spun this romantic fantasy. His heart had been so severely broken when you married Daddy instead of him that he remained single. But I figured that you, sensible as you are, would have had a very good reason for choosing Dad over him.
"I was happy with the way things were. I loved Dad with all my heart. I couldn't very well grieve for a man I hadn't known. Nevertheless, I was glad that I'd uncovered the secret of who my real father was." She held Caroline's gaze for ponderous seconds, then said, "But it wasn't Roger Campton, was it, Mother?"
Caroline shook her head.
"After Daddy died, and I encouraged you to get back into circulation, you told me you weren't interested in dating, or having a relationship, none of that. You told me that you'd had a good marriage to a wonderful husband. You told me that you'd had the love of your life. I assumed they were one and the same man." Berry gave her a rueful smile. "But they weren't."
Caroline sank down onto the edge of the bed.
"My birth father was the love of your life."
Caroline nodded.
"Dodge."
Tears spilled over Caroline's lower eyelids and rolled down her cheeks.
CHAPTER
21
Houston, Texas, 1978
DODGE WAS WAITING FOR CAROLINE WHEN A NURSE WHEELED her out of the hospital. The wheelchair was unnecessary, but it was a nonnegotiable hospital policy.
His car was illegally parked at the curb. An eight-by-ten card behind the windshield had the Houston PD logo stenciled on it, making the car look official enough to ward off parking monitors.
He was leaning against the passenger door, ankles and arms crossed. As the nurse guided the chair through the automatic door, he pushed himself off the car and walked toward them.
Caroline looked up at him through the dark lenses of her sunglasses. "I called a taxi."
"I gave the driver ten bucks for his trouble. I'm taking you home."
