Another deep breath, and Tyree continued, finally finding the photograph he'd been looking for. Over twenty years old now, the colors had faded, so that Eva's dress looked pink rather than red, and the sky more gray than blue. But the love in her eyes was still there, and the face was still hers.
His heart twisted as he recalled their last weekend together in San Diego before he'd been shipped out. They'd known each other only two short weeks, but he'd been madly in love with her.
He'd learned soon enough that he'd been a fool.
With a sigh, he closed his eyes, his mind filled with the memory of both the women he'd loved. One he'd lost to death. The other had turned her back on him.
Both were gone.
There was a sharp knock on his doorframe, and he looked up to see a ghost.
He blinked.
No, not a ghost. That wasn't Eva. Of course it wasn't. But once again he was struck stupid by the resemblance.
"Mr. Johnson?" Her voice was lyrical yet strong and achingly familiar. "They said I could come back. I--you are Tyree Johnson, right?"
"That's me."
She drew in a breath, as if his words were a relief.
"And you lived in San Diego?"
A chill raced up his spine, and he thought of his grandmother, and the way she'd always say that a ghost had walked over his grave.
"I did. But that was a long time ago. So what can I do for you now, Miss...?"
"Anderson," she said. "Elena Anderson."
Elena. That had been his mother's name, too, and he looked at the girl more closely. "Who are you?" he asked, even though in his gut he already knew the answer.
"My mother is Eva Anderson. Well, she was Eva Wilson before. And I think that you're my father."
Chapter Five
Tyree slumped back in his chair, all the air sucked from his lungs. He realized that he'd known what she was going to say. But anticipating her words and hearing them were two different matters.
And believing them was a third.
"I--" He cut himself off with a shake of his head. "Now, don't take this the wrong way, but that's just not so. I knew your mother, sure. But somehow you've gotten your wires crossed."
She drew in a breath, looked him in the eye, and said very simply, "no."
Then she stepped over the threshold into his office and sat down in one of his guest chairs. "It's true," she insisted. "You're my father."
Tyree's head was spinning. It wasn't true. It couldn't be true. But how was he supposed to convince this girl who so obviously believed she'd tracked down her daddy?
She was obviously Eva's daughter, that part he had no qualms with at all. The resemblance was striking enough to kick him hard in the gut, after all. But except for Elena's height and her skin tone, which was just a bit darker than Eva's, there was
nothing about her appearance that seemed to come from him. More than that, he'd seen the man with her and Eva all those years ago. The black couillon who'd slid in and stolen Tyree's place. He'd been tall, too. And his skin quite a bit darker than Tyree's.
Then again, maybe the bastard had done him a favor. After all, what the hell would Tyree want with a woman who'd flip so quickly to another man and then keep the first man's child a secret from him?
Secret? No, she hadn't kept a secret from him. There was no secret.
There was no secret, he thought again, because this girl wasn't his daughter.
"Is this your family?" Her head was tilted as she looked at the frame with the photo of Elijah and Teiko. She reached for it, then turned it slightly on the desk so that she could see the image better.