Liz sat up straight, her back hurting from the curled position she’d held for at least the past hour. Maybe longer. So many things had shocked her on this journey—finding out Dorian was investigating her, that she wasn’t really Elizabeth Benjamin. She would have thought that nothing could shock her anymore, but to hear that Dorian had not only refused to work with Warwick but had also returned money he desperately needed for work he had already performed came as quite the surprise.
“You what?” she asked Dorian, clenching her hand harder around his.
He returned the pressure, but kept his voice soft. “I gave all the money back. Well, the deposit I’d been paid anyway. I was hoping it would get Warwick to drop his revenge scheme and go back home.”
“And?”
“He didn’t agree, so I upped the ante.”
She stared at his face in disbelief.
“Finally, he agreed once I paid for his flight and his hotel for the last two weeks.” He made this admission with a flash of guilt across his normally proud features.
“But how? How could you possibly afford to do that?” She looked down at his scuffed shoes, the frayed hems of his pants.
He caught her gaze and shifted uncomfortably. A frown marred his handsome face. “It doesn’t matter. All that matters is he’s gone,” he mumbled. “Well, at least I thought he was until I got here, and Shane told me about him showing up at your work.”
“Maybe he had just stopped in to say goodbye?” But even as the words left her mouth, she knew they couldn’t be true.
“Maybe,” Dorian said thoughtfully.
One thing still didn’t make sense. “But if you thought it was over, why did you drive all this way?”
“Because I wanted you to know everything I knew, and because I couldn’t bear the thought of you hating me.” He smiled weakly, and she felt his pulse quicken.
“I don’t hate you. I… Thank you for everything. I’ll pay you back.” She thought of all the time she’d missed from work these past couple weeks. It would take a long time to catch up on her bills and even longer to repay Dorian’s kindness, but somehow, she would find a way.
“No, don’t do that.” He smiled at her. “I’m happy to help. It takes away some of the guilt in getting involved in the first place.”
He’d done so much for her. Surely he would accept some kindness in return? “But you didn’t know. You—”
“Don’t make excuses for me. What’s done is done, that much is true, but I don’t think I’ll ever feel like I’ve fully atoned for my part in all this.”
She reached for his hand, considered her words carefully. Beside her sat a man who’d found her heart while the rest of her was falling apart, a man she’d thought was the villain when really he had been the hero all along. How could she ever tell him what that meant to her?
She at least had to try to find the words. “I…”
A series of knocks at the door sent the words shriveling back up inside her.
“Coming!” Lauren called, hurried toward the entrance.
The cool spring air filled the cabin and a moment later, Liz's father stepped inside.
“Hi, Ben. Thanks for coming,” Lauren said, placing a hand on his shoulder and guiding him into the living room.
He said nothing in response to Lauren’s greeting, said nothing when he saw Liz—just stared, trembled, began to cry.
Nobody spoke until Shane and his cane had tapped their way into the room and taken up residence in his favorite chair. “I wasn’t sure you’d show,” he said, appraising the other man with a scowl.
Ben hung his head and stared at the floorboards as he spoke. “I wasn’t sure, either. I kept telling myself I’d go ten more miles, then I could turn back around. Ten more, and I could run.”
“But you didn’t.” Dorian’s voice was steady and friendly. He was still trying to help any way he could, even though he’d already done far too much.
The old man turned toward Dorian. How had Liz not noticed the heavy wrinkles that tugged at his mouth and eyes, or the fierce streaks of gray that snaked through his hair? When had everything about her father changed into something she no longer recognized?
“No,” her father—or whoever he was—said. “I couldn’t do that to Liz. Even if what I’m about to say makes her hate me… Even though I’m terrified, I couldn’t keep it from her any longer.”
Liz sucked as much air as she could into her lungs in case there would be no way to fill them once the truth had been released into the air like a poisonous gas. “Who am I? And who are you to me?”
Her father, too, had trouble breathing. It was as if an invisible pair of hands had clenched him by the throat and decided to squeeze all the air out of him. He struggled for each word, but slowly they came out.
“Your name… is Jane… B-Bingham. And I—” His breathing grew even more labored as he reached the full throes of a panic attack.
“I… kidnapped… you.”