CHAPTER FIFTEEN
My family is in there.
Stunned, I stared at the farmhouse, a collision of emotions silencing me. I’d long given up hope this day would come. In some ways, it was a betrayal of my grandma, as if all that she had given me wasn’t enough. But my mother was her daughter. She would have wanted us to reunite.
“I know how you feel about being alone,” Noah said, studying me with an intensity that had nothing to do with seduction or power, only friendship, and maybe more. It radiated off of him as he searched my face, undeniably making sure I was okay.
“My mom is in there?” I asked quietly, still shocked and finding it difficult to breathe.
“No. It’s your dad.”
I frowned, confused. “I don’t know who my dad is,” I objected. Noah must have made a mistake.
“I did a little investigation,” he said unapologetically. It was no confession, just a statement of the facts. “The man in there was a known acquaintance of your mother when she was pregnant with you. Using some of your DNA and his, tests confirm he is your biological father. I never would have brought you here if there was any doubt. Your father is in there.”
It wasn’t necessary to ask how he had gotten my DNA. I probably didn’t want to know.
“I’m not going in,” I decided. “He may be my father, but he’s not family. He’s a stranger.”
Like flashing a sword, Noah reminded me of his authority. “You agreed to do as I say. Total submission. I’m commanding you to go in there and meet your father. It’s not open for discussion.”
Frustrated, I mentally tried to use the Force to make him back down, but it didn’t work. Noah was a master of the Dark Side.
“Fine,” I surrendered, taking a deep breath, wondering if this had been Noah’s intention all along with his lessons.
Let go of inhibitions. Don’t let the insecurity of meeting my father hold me back. Experimentation, which was a formal term for considering new possibilities, including the prospect my father and I could get along. Accept that pain can bring pleasure. It would be difficult to meet my father, but joy could be had.
From his constant line of questioning over the last few weeks, maybe he’d always intended to use his resources to help me find my family, the true reward for agreeing to be his personal assistant. I would have asked him directly, but upset that he was coercing me to do this unprepared, I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.
Gathering my courage, we went to the ramshackle door and knocked. My heart pounded in my chest, and I was nauseated, hindered by my nerves. “I think I’m going to be sick,” I muttered to Noah as we waited.
An older man with silvery white hair and a slightly hunched back opened the door. He appeared to be in his sixties. With sun-filled color to his skin and a clear complexion, he seemed to be in good health. When he saw me, his eyes sparkled, as hazel as my own.
“Mr. Bourne,” Noah greeted. “I’d like to introduce you to your daughter, Imogen.”
“I know she’s my daughter,” the man asserted, not at all intimidated by Noah or his wealth. “Look at her. She’s the spitting image of my mother.”
“I am?” I asked feebly, like a child looking for approval. I couldn’t believe this man was my father. My father. He was here, standing before me.
Taking a step back, he waved his hand through the door. “Come in, my girl,” he beckoned as if there was no distance of time between us.
Outdated, the years peeled at the house. The wallpaper was faded, and the furniture chipped. Brown carpeting resembled a style from decades ago. But it was tidy and clean. We went into the front room and sat on floral couches that reminded me of my grandma’s house. Dinner trays stood in front of a boxed television set, indicating the man ate his meals alone.
“Does anyone else live here?” I asked, afraid he was as lonely as I had been after my grandma died, before my move to Chicago.
“No one else lives here, but I have two sons. They check in on their old man now and again. They’re a little older than you, from my first marriage. I’m afraid your existence came as a bit of a surprise to them. They’re not ready to meet you yet, but they will be, one day. You’re their only sister.”
I have brothers.
The excitement of being reunited with my family was finally starting to kick in. If I had brothers, then I could potentially also have nieces and nephews, and sister-in-laws. Unless my father was an only child, I could also have aunts and uncles. Maybe even a grandparent that was still alive. I would inquire about all of them later. Right now, there was only one person on my mind who I had to ask about.
“And my mother? Do you know where she is?” I asked, more hopeful than nervous.
“I do,” he said rigidly and looked down. “She’s gone.”
My heart stopped. “What do you mean she’s gone?”
“She died about ten years ago in a car accident. Some mutual friends of ours told me about it. I’m so sorry, honey.”
Numb, I didn’t know how to process the news. I had never met my mother. She was a stranger to me, and yet my heart was broken. Not for her as my mother, but for the future that could have been now that I had a link to her. At least my grandma was getting to know her in heaven. The thought got me through the moment, but it didn’t curb the anger I suddenly felt in my grief.
“Why didn’t you find me?” I demanded.
Not at all put off by my tone, he spoke remorsefully. “I didn’t know I had you. When she became pregnant, your mother insisted you weren’t mine, that your father was a biker from Milwaukee. We weren’t exclusive, and she had a reputation for prowling the biker bars, so I believed her.” He slowly shook his head, seemingly miles away. “I stayed in touch with her for many years, and she never said a word. How could she?”
Seeing his own pain, I calmed and placed my hand over his. “Maybe she truly thought the other guy was my father. They didn’t have sophisticated testing like they do now.”
His eyes teared up. “I know you don’t know me, and I don’t know you, but I would very much like it if we could stay in touch. I always wanted a daughter.”
I swallowed. “I’d like us to stay in touch too.”
For the next few hours, while Noah sat in the car working, giving us our privacy, I learned all I could about my father. He was a vet, drafted into Vietnam, but he chose to stay in the military long afterwards, until he finally retired to become a farmer and mechanic. Married twice, he was now a widower.
Saying my goodbyes and promising to visit again soon, I left, exhausted. A storm of thoughts raced through my mind and filled my heart. My life would never be the same. In a million years, I never would have imagined my trip to Thailand would have led to this.
“When the convention is over, I need to take a week off,” I said to Noah as I slipped into the backseat.
“Of course,” he agreed, studying me as he had before, searching to make sure I was okay. The ardor of his green eyes was like a tent, sheltering me. “Have you made arrangements to spend more time with your father?”
“I have, but that’s not what the week is for. My mother is buried in Arizona. I want to go see her.”
“And you will. You can take my private jet.”
“You’re not going with me?” I asked, surprised Noah would consider letting me travel unsupervised.
“I have the company to run.”
Disappointed, I slumped into my seat. I’d forgotten. Work was his true mistress. Yet I couldn’t be angry with him. He had orchestrated the reunion with my family, giving me a gift I could never pay back.
“Thank you,” I said, locking my eyes with his until they melded together. “You’ve outdone yourself. I’ll always be grateful. Knowledge really can save people.”