Family Tree Part 4

The next message was from his brother. Three years Hugh's junior, Robert was an executive vice-president in the company begun with a single hotel six generations earlier. One hotel had become six, then a dozen. Succeeding generations of Clarkes had expanded the business into banking, venture capitalism, and entertainment. The conglomerate was successful enough to regularly replenish the family wealth. It was currently headed by Hugh's uncle, the eighth Bradley Clarke.

Never eager to branch out as Hugh and his father had done, Robert was a blunt-talking businessman. "Dad's incoherent," was his message. "Gimme a call."

With a feeling of dread, Hugh tapped in his brother's private line. "Incoherent how?" he asked without preamble.

"Hold on." Robert's voice faded. "Can we finish up later? Great. Close the door on your way out, will you?" There was a pause, a distant click. Hugh pictured Robert swiveling in his high-back chair to look out floor-to-ceiling windows at the Boston skyline. When he spoke again, his voice was clear. "Dad says the baby is black. What's he talking about?"

"Her skin isn't exactly white."

"What color is it?"

"Light brown."

"That's impossible," Robert argued. "She has two white parents."

"One of us must have an African ancestor."

"Well, it isn't you, so it has to be Dana. Does she have a clue who it is?"

"I wish she did. It'd shut Dad up."

"He's saying she may have kept it a secret from you."

"She doesn't know."

"Dad says that if she doesn't have an African-American relative, she had an affair."

Hugh felt a headache starting. Closing his eyes, he pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Did she?" Robert asked.

"h.e.l.l, no."

"Are you sure?"

Hugh opened his eyes. "Dana is my wife. I know her. Come on, Rob, support me in this. Dana did not have an affair. Tell Dad that. I don't want him starting rumors."

"Then you'd better find Dana's relative. See, as far as Dad's concerned, of the two possibilities-a black relative or infidelity-infidelity is the more palatable to him."

Hugh could guess why. "Does he dislike Dana that much?"

"He always felt you married beneath you, but there's another reason he'd prefer infidelity. If the baby isn't yours, Dad can say it isn't his grandchild."

Hugh was sick. "That's pathetic."

"He is who he is."

"Yeah? So who is he? To read his books, you'd take him for a man who thinks minorities have been wrongly victimized for years. But now he doesn't want to be related to one? What does that say about him?"

"It says he's a closet bigot," Robert replied calmly. "Want to know what else he says?"

Hugh didn't have to reply. He knew nothing would keep Robert from telling him. Robert had competed with him from the time they were kids. He still loved one-upping Hugh, knowing something Hugh didn't.

What was amazing, Hugh realized, was that even though his brother was now more important than Hugh, if power and money were the measure, Robert still felt that compet.i.tive childhood need.

"He believes that you either truly didn't know she had an affair, or that you did know but refuse to admit how wrong you were in marrying her. He says that there certainly won't be any big baptism, not with so many questions about the parentage of this child."

"The baptism isn't his affair. It's Dana's and mine."

"One word from him, and half the guests will stay away."

"Let them," Hugh declared, but he had heard enough. "Hey, Robert, I have to go. Do me a favor, though? Call Dad and tell him he's wrong about Dana. She didn't have an affair, and if he raises the subject with his buddies at the club, he'll end up with egg on his face. Dana and I will sort things out, but we'll do it in our own good time."

"He thinks it was your neighbor, by the way."

"David?"

"He's African American."

"He's one of my closest friends! You're nuts."

"Not me. Dad. But you may want to check it out. I know a good detective-"

"Got my own, thanks," Hugh said and quickly ended the call. He did have his own detective and would be calling him to try to track down Dana's father. First, though, he wanted to contact the geneticist who did most of his DNA work.

He tried to call her, but she wasn't there, so he bought a cup of coffee and walked outside to the patio. He was just sitting down on a bench when his phone rang. His partner's cell phone number appeared.

"Hey, Julian."

"I have to be at the courthouse on the Ryan case, but it shouldn't take more than an hour. I thought I'd drive by the house afterward and get Deb. She wants to see the baby. Is Dana up for a visit?"

Julian was one of Hugh's closest friends. They had met in law school, drawn to each other by a shared vision of the kind of lawyer each wanted to be. Julian was as open-minded and caring as anyone Hugh knew, but he still hesitated.

"I don't know, Julian. She's pretty wiped. Neither of us got much sleep, and she's starting to hurt. It might be better to wait until we're home."

"But she's okay, isn't she?"

"She's fine. Just exhausted."

"Then we'll take a quick peek at the baby and leave."

"If you drive all the way down here, Dana will want to visit. Really, Julian. Give her a day to recoup."

"Deb'll be disappointed. But I hear you. Will you let me know if I can do anything at the office?"

Hugh ended the call feeling like a fool. He couldn't hide the baby. Today, tomorrow, the day after-it wouldn't make any difference when Julian saw her-Lizzie's skin would still have a copper tint. Julian wouldn't care. Nor would Deb. But they would ask questions.

As he sat there with cooling coffee, staring blindly at a bird that had perched on the end of his bench, his thoughts were interrupted by a high-pitched voice on the far side of the hedge bordering the patio.

He ignored it. He had problems of his own. He didn't need to hear someone else's. But when that distressed voice rose again, he couldn't help but listen.

"I tried!" she cried. "I can't get through." There was a pause, then a desperate "How am I supposed to do that? He won't take my calls!" When she continued, her voice was lower, though still easily heard. "There's this first surgery and he's stuck in a body cast for six weeks. And they keep talking about growth plates, which'll mean more operations. I don't have the money for that." She paused. "Do you have insurance? It isn't just me." She added with a sob, "I didn't ask for that car to hit him, Mama. I was right there in the yard. The car came out of nowhere and swerved onto the sidewalk."

Hugh was intrigued despite himself.

"I just told you," she argued. "He won't take my calls, and I know he's in Washington. He was on the news the other night talking about some big Senate vote. He just doesn't want to admit Jay is his."

Hugh smiled. He knew congressmen. He knew power brokers of other ilks as well. As a group, they were arrogant SOBs.

"I didn't plan on getting pregnant either," the girl continued, "but I didn't do it alone. Doesn't he have a responsibility to help?"

Yes, he did, Hugh thought silently. If a man sired a child, he did have a responsibility.

There were a few diminishing sobs, then, "Mama? Please don't hang up. Mama?"

Not his business, Hugh told himself. Especially not now.

Tossing the last of his coffee into the bushes, he rose from the bench. Rather than heading back into the hospital, though, he rounded the hedge and entered the garden.

The woman was doubled over on a bench similar to the one he had been sitting on. He could see denim legs, the back of a slim-fitting tee shirt, and an unruly ma.s.s of auburn hair. A pair of stubbed cigarette b.u.t.ts lay in front of her sneakers.

"Excuse me?" he said.

Startled, she lifted her head. Her left eye strayed, but her right held his. Both were red.

Gently, he said, "I was sitting on the other side of the bushes and overheard your call. I may be able to help."

She wiped her eyes with fingers that shook. "By hitting on me?"

He smiled. "No. I'm married. My wife just had a baby. But I'm a lawyer. It sounds to me like you have a father who is denying paternity of his child."

"You had no right to listen in on my call."

"You weren't exactly whispering. That father does have a legal responsibility. I know. I've handled paternity cases."

She gave him a dismissive once-over. "You don't look like a lawyer."

"Like I said, my wife just had a baby. Literally. We've been up all night. I don't look like this when I'm going to court."

She choked out a humorless laugh. "If I can't pay my boy's medical bills, how can I pay a lawyer?"

"When I find a worthy case, I don't charge."

"Oh, yeah." She stood. She was tall-five nine, he guessed-and that one direct eye leveled him a cynical look. "Right." She stuffed her phone in the small pocket at the front of her jeans and turned to retrieve a worn canvas pouch.

Taking his wallet from his own jeans, he pulled out a business card.

She didn't take it.

Undaunted, he said, "I know Washington. I have a large network of contacts there."

"Not for this. You can't help."

"He's that high?"

She didn't confirm or deny. Nor did she turn and run.

"How old is your son?" he asked.

She raised her chin. "Four."

"Hit by a car?"

"Yes. Two days ago. His spine is messed up. And his leg."

"Is the father a senator?"

Staring at him, she put the strap of her bag on her shoulder.

"And he won't take your calls?" Hugh persisted. "I can get through to him."

"Yeah. Right. If he won't talk to me, why would he talk to a lawyer?" She said the word like lawyers were sc.u.m.

"He'll be frightened of the publicity if he doesn't," he said. "Bring a lawyer into the picture, and he'll want things settled quickly and quietly. Trust me. I know these guys. They think they can do anything they want while they're out there on the campaign trail."

"He wasn't campaigning. He was hunting."

"Around here?"

"In New Hampshire. He had dinner at the restaurant where I work. I waited on him."

Hugh could picture it. Neither the mess of her hair, nor her pallor, nor that wandering eye could hide the fact that she was very attractive. "Is that where he's from-New Hampshire?"

"No. He was someone's guest."

"Are you from New Hampshire?" If so, the case would be out of his jurisdiction.

"Ma.s.sachusetts," she said. "Just over the line."

It was a go. "Can you prove you were together?"

"No."

"Did anyone see you?" When she didn't reply, he added a goading "And you're sure it happened the way you say?"

"I took the motel room," she snapped. "The clerk saw me. But I don't know if he saw the man I was with." She looked down to rummage in her bag.

"Did you talk with him after that night?"