At Last (The Idle Point, Maine Stories) - By Barbara Bretton Page 0,108

lies and plans that ended on a sunny afternoon in May when Mona Taylor died.

"It doesn't make sense," he said, struggling to find one shred of sanity in the sordid mess. "If you were his child, why did he hate you so much?" He remembered his father's withering sarcasm whenever Gracie's name was mentioned. His seething resentment of his cook's grandchild had always seemed out of whack to Noah. "You were all he had left of the woman he loved. You should have been—"

"He blamed me. I was the reason she stayed in her marriage. My birth brought her and Ben back together. Don't you see? In Simon's eyes, it was my fault and he hated me for it."

"Why didn't you come and tell me?"

"Your father was a very powerful man, Noah. He told me he would ruin what was left of Ben's life, break your mother's heart, and—" she hesitated a moment "—he said he would cut you off without a penny."

"Do you really think I gave a damn about his money?"

"No, but we were so young, Noah! He was going to take school away from you, everything that was part of your life. I knew what it was like to be poor but you hadn't a clue. How could I do that to you?"

"Are you sure you weren't looking out for yourself?"

His words stung like a slap. "I think you know the answer to that."

"There was money involved. I heard the stories."

"Ten thousand dollars cash," she said without hesitation. "He left it in an envelope on the kitchen table. I found it when I was leaving the notes for you and for Ben." She told him about Old Eb and his surprise. "I like to think he had himself a good time on it."

In a twisted way, everything she had said made sense. Each piece fit perfectly with the piece next to it and the pieces above and below.

He swung his legs from the bed. "Get dressed."

She stared up at him as if she'd never seen him before. "What did you say?"

"Get dressed. We're going to talk to my mother about this."

"No!" She leaped from the bed and faced him. "Leave Ruth out of it. I don't want her to be hurt by this."

"I need some answers and she's the only one who might be able to give them."

"You can't do this, Noah. She's old. She hasn't been well. You can't throw the past at her this way. What if she doesn't know?"

He pulled on his pants and sweater, jammed his feet into his shoes. "Then I'm afraid she's about to find out. This is the rest of our life we're talking about, Gracie. Don't you need to finally hear the whole story?"

The last thing Gracie wanted was to hear the whole story in all of its sordid detail but Noah was out of his mind with anger and pain. She'd never seen him this way before. This Noah hadn't existed when they were young and their future stretched out before them, bathed in the golden light of innocence. She quickly slipped back into her clothes and ran down the hall after him.

#

The loud voices were what woke Sophie up. She tried to cover her ears with the pillow to keep them out but it didn't work. Papa's angry voice found her anyway. She thought she heard Gracie too but Gracie didn't sound angry. She sounded scared and very sad, like she was about to cry.

Sophie hated loud voices unless they were hers. She didn't like the way grownups shouted at each other and then made the children pay the price. She lay there for an awfully long time, listening to the sounds. Her mind danced all over the place. She thought about all the people she had met today. She thought about how much fun she had playing outside with Sage's and Morocco's children. She thought about the food and the music and Gracie and the poor bird she had found on the beach. She didn't want to think about the bird but every time she closed her eyes she saw him lying there, scared and cold and alone on the rocky beach.

What if there were other birds on the beach who needed help too? There could be lots of them all tangled up in fishing line, hoping somebody would come along and save them. The more she thought about the birds, the sadder she felt, until there was nothing left to do but go down to