Kane, Andrea (7 page)

So, Sabrina came into the world, a welcome, beloved daughter and
granddaughter. Gloria had taken the wise course, privately telling Sabrina that
a father didn't factor into her life and then, as soon as Sabrina was old
enough to understand the birds and the bees, explaining the donor insemination
process—and her grandparents' unwillingness to acknowledge it. Sabrina heard
her mother's message loud and clear. And the truth remained buried in the
silent woodwork.

Until now.

Sabrina loved her grandparents dearly. But she also understood
what they were about. They'd been elitist and rigid in their youth. Now, vital
as ever but well into their eighties, they were positively implacable. Their
reaction to this bombshell would be predictably severe. Not to mention the
fallout Gloria would experience from them as a result.

And that was just from being told that this forbidden secret had
been dug up, and that Sabrina knew her father's identity. If things progressed
beyond that point and Sabrina went ahead with the tissue-typing, then all hell
would break loose. There'd be
no
chance of keeping her relationship to
Carson Brooks under wraps, the tabloids would burst onto the scene, and her
grandparents would totally freak out. And, no matter how you sliced it, she'd
be responsible for their angst—angst that would only escalate if it turned out
she was a compatible donor and decided to go through with the transplant. She
meant everything to her grandparents—
and
to her mother. Putting her
health at risk might just push them over the edge.

With a huge sigh, Sabrina climbed out of her car, wishing she knew
how to bypass the land mines and arrive at a decision that was right for
everyone. Any way she viewed this, it was a lose-lose situation.

Except maybe for Carson Brooks. He might stand to win. If that
were the case... well, when one weighed physical survival against emotional
well-being, the scales tipped heavily in favor of survival.

Sabrina was halfway up the front walk when Gloria pulled opened
the door and stepped outside, rubbing the sleeves of her robe against some
internal chill that defied Indian summer.

"I tried your cell phone three times," she said in
greeting, eyeing Sabrina anxiously as she crossed the threshold. "I wanted
to make sure you were calm enough to drive. You didn't answer. After the way
you sounded on the phone, I was really starting to get frightened."

"I'm sorry. I guess I forgot to turn on my phone,"
Sabrina replied, slipping off her lightweight jacket and hanging it up.

"That's a first. You're never unreachable, especially since
you started CCTL." Gloria's features were tight with concern. "You're
really upset. What's this about?"

Sabrina studied her mother, noting that she looked tired—not a
surprise given a week-long business trip. She also looked out-of-sorts, thanks
to Sabrina's cryptic phone call and mystery visit. Well, things were about to
get a lot worse. Her announcement was about to blow the lid off Pandora's box.

"Sabrina, whatever's bothering you is serious." Gloria
was watching the play of emotions on Sabrina's face, her concern tangibly
mounting. "I've never seen you like this. You're sheet-white." She
drew her daughter over to the living room sofa. "Sit. I'll pour you a
glass of merlot."

"Pour one for yourself, too," Sabrina advised. A wary
look. "All right."

Once she'd dispensed with that task, Gloria settled herself on the
sofa next to Sabrina and handed her daughter one of the two wine goblets.
"Now tell me what's happened."

With a fortifying sip of merlot, Sabrina turned toward her mother.
From her peripheral vision, she spied the matching pieces of Louis Vuitton
luggage clustered just inside the master bedroom and was reminded again how
late it was, how intrusive her barging in this late must be. "I'm sorry,
Mother. You haven't even had a chance to unpack."

"I'll do that later." Gloria waved away the notion.
"You're stalling. That's not like you either."

"You're right. It's not. But the subject I'm about to get
into was a closed chapter in our lives. Unfortunately, it's been pried open
with a crowbar."

"What
subject?"

"My conception."

That was obviously the last thing Gloria had expected. "Your
conception? Why on earth would that come up? And why would it cause you a
problem?" An angry spark lit her eyes. "Don't tell me we have another
con artist on our hands."

Sabrina shook her head. "Unfortunately not. That would be old
hat, certainly not enough to freak me out like this. No, Mother, no con artist.
This time we have the real thing. And he comes with a built-in crisis we have
to deal with."

Gloria had gone very still. "You'd better explain."

"That's why I'm here." Sabrina steeled herself.
"Mother, I know who the sperm donor was. I have more than enough proof.
We'll get to that part later. First things first. You'll recognize his name.
He's an extremely visible man. Visible enough so I doubt my biological ties to
him can be kept under wraps for long. It's Carson Brooks, head of Ruisseau
Fragrance Corporation."

Slowly, Gloria blew out her breath. For a long moment she said
nothing. When she spoke, her voice was filled with quiet resignation.
"Yes, I know. I don't need proof." She cleared her throat. "Now,
how do
you
know, and what's this crisis you're referring to?"

Sabrina's jaw had nearly struck the coffee table.
"You
know?"

Another pause, as Gloria forced herself to address an issue she'd
clearly wanted to avoid. "Not through any concrete proof. But, yes. I
figured it out a long time ago."

"How long ago?"

"Maybe ten years."

Okay, Sabrina was about to lose it. This night was turning into
The Twilight Zone. "How could you figure it out? Based on what? I thought
the donor was anonymous."

"He was—at least by definition."

"What does
that
mean?"

Gloria swirled the remaining merlot around in her goblet. "It
means I was never told his name. But I had lots of other information at my
disposal. I had an entire personal profile. Most particularly, I had his
photo—a very clear photo of a man who, even at twenty-two, had a face that was
too striking, too charismatic to forget. Of course, at the time, he was a
nobody. He couldn't have had any idea how high-profile he'd become. So he had
no way of predicting that I'd wind up with an unexpected means of
identification. His physical appearance hasn't changed much over the years.
Same compelling features, piercing blue eyes, and an interesting scar on his
right cheek. That was the giveaway. It's on the arch of his cheekbone, a
curved, jagged slash, like he was cut by a bottle cap. It's very distinctive.
So when I saw it again on the business news, on the face of a man who's an
older version of a photo I once memorized feature for feature, I recognized it.
That's how I knew."

"I don't believe this." Sabrina was still reeling.
"You put all this together ten years ago—and you never said anything to
me?"

This time her mother's chin came up. "What would you have
liked me to say? 'Guess what, Sabrina, I figured out who helped make you'? He
was a sperm donor, not a father. He had no obligation to me, and I had no more
right to invade his privacy than he had to invade mine. More important, I
didn't want to throw your life into chaos. I know you. If I'd told you, you'd
have become personally vested, even if you somehow restrained yourself from
going to him, which I'm not sure you'd manage to do. You'd have pored over
articles on Carson Brooks, read everything about Ruisseau that you could get
your hands on. It would have done more harm than good. I'm your mother. My job
is to protect you. That's why I said nothing." Gloria finished with an air
of finality. "We can debate my decision later. For now, I'd like some
answers. How did you find out about Carson Brooks? What crisis forced him into
your life? And why is time of the essence?"

Sabrina had given up trying to digest anything. As for the
explanation her mother was demanding, there was no way to ease into it. Nor did
she have the wherewithal to try. So she just went for it.

By the time she finished, Gloria had turned pale. "Are you
suggesting that they want
you
to donate a kidney?"

"If I'm a compatible donor, yes. That's pretty much the size
of it." Sabrina's lips gave a wry twist. "Ironic, isn't it? He was my
donor, now I can be his."

"Sabrina." Gloria was visibly struggling for control.
"Am I to assume you're actually considering this?"

Wearily, Sabrina massaged her temples. "A man's life is at
stake. A man I'm biologically tied to and whose recovery might depend on me.
How can I
not
consider it?"

"Because there are risks involved.... Because you don't even
know this man.... Because after all I've done to make sure—" Gloria broke
off. "How bad are his injuries?"

"It sounds like it's touch and go."

"Then he might not make it. So why are the doctors focusing
on a kidney? They should be focusing on saving his life."

"They are. But it takes time to find a compatible kidney
donor, even in instances where the victim does have living relatives. In this
case, there's only me. And if I don't fill the bill..." Sabrina fell
silent for a moment, then placed her wineglass on the coffee table and turned
to face her mother. "But you know what, Mother? You were right. Now that I
know the truth I can't ignore it. He might not be my father, but he did father
me. Now he might die. I've got to at least meet him. I might not have another
chance. As for the rest, we'll play it by ear. I don't know if I'll agree to be
tissue-typed. Maybe I won't have to make that decision. Maybe the doctors will
already have found another donor. Or maybe I won't be a compatible match."

"Maybe." Gloria sounded dubious, her lips thinning into
a tight, apprehensive line. "I take it news of the shooting hasn't hit the
media yet."

"Not until tomorrow. Dylan Newport was keeping things quiet
until he could reach me. The financial networks will get hold of it first thing
tomorrow. As for my existence, my relationship to Carson Brooks, that he'll try
to keep a lid on as long as he can."

"Right. Which will be about twelve minutes, knowing the
media." Gloria polished off her wine and rose, nervously tightening the
belt of her robe. "This is going to snowball like crazy."

"Not if I do nothing but meet the man."

Her mother shot her a who-do-you-think-you're-kidding look.
"True. But that's not the way it'll play out. If you can help him, you will."

Sabrina didn't deny her mother's words. She wasn't sure she
could—not in good conscience. The truth was, Gloria was probably right.

Walking over, she touched her mother's arm. "I realize what
I'll be exposing you to. It's not fair to you, or to Grandmother and
Grandfather. I don't know what to say except I'm sorry. Do you think they're up
for this?"

A short, humorless laugh. "Your grandparents? They're tough
as nails, and twice as strong as we are. They'll be fine." Her wry humor
vanished, and she swallowed, her voice trembling a bit as she added,
"Unless something should happen to you. That would kill them— and
me."

"Mother..."

Gloria waved away Sabrina's assurances. "Don't. Not yet.
We'll cross that bridge when we come to it." She paused to collect herself.
"In any case, your grandparents will prevail. What they'll do to us, now
that's another story." An overwhelmed shake of her head. "This is all
so unbelievable. Carson Brooks—shot. Do the police know who did it?"

"No. They're investigating."

"I assume that that attorney—Dylan Newport—told the police
about you?"

"He had to, yes. The police know. Carson Brooks's doctors
know. But that's it."

"For now." Gloria angled her head, her eyes widening as
a different thought occurred to her. "How did this Dylan Newport find out
about you—from Carson Brooks? Does Carson Brooks know he's your...
your..."

"Not yet." Sabrina spared her mother the discomfort of
using the word "father" to describe Carson Brooks. "Evidently,
he was toying with the idea of finding out if his sperm donation had resulted
in a child. But he didn't have time to follow through. He asked Dylan Newport
to do that for him. I've seen the investigation results. They're real."

"Getting them was also illegal, no matter how Mr. Newport
managed it."

"I know. But does it really matter at this point?"

Sighing, Gloria replied, "No. If we initiated legal action,
it would only magnify the scandal that's already going to swallow us
whole." She stared off into space for a moment before looking back at
Sabrina, her eyes filled with tears. "Dylan Newport is waiting for your
answer?"

Sabrina nodded. "I told him he couldn't have it till
tomorrow. He's staying at the Center."

"And you're staying here." Gloria crossed over to the
hall, opening the linen closet and tugging down a blanket and pillow.
"I'll make up your old bedroom. It's after midnight. You're exhausted,
physically and emotionally. I was worried enough when you drove here an hour
ago. Now you're in even worse shape. Get some sleep. You'll drive home after
breakfast. That'll give you plenty of time to give Dylan Newport his
answer..." She turned back to her daughter. "...and to catch a late
afternoon flight to LaGuardia. Which I presume you'll be doing."