Swim Deep - Page 113

“Yes,” he replied thickly. Abruptly, his reluctance annoyed me.

“Come on, Wes. If I can accept the truth, surely you can,” I said, unable to keep the impatience out of my tone. “I am whatever I am, no matter who my biological parents are. You don’t have to act like I’m a monster.”

He started, meeting my gaze for the first time. He looked stunned.

“I don’t think that, Anna. I’m just… this is difficult to say.”

“It’ll be more difficult to hear,” I countered grimly. “But I’m ready, Wes.”

He frowned, and then sighed. “I’m not sure how much Evan told you,” he said hoarsely. “But we decided to have both your paternity and maternity determined.”

“Wouldn’t you have to have my father’s genetic material to do that

?”

“Yes,” he said, his gaze flickering around.

“Wes?” I demanded. “Trust me, whatever you say isn’t going to come as a surprise to me. I found out from my parents yesterday that I was adopted. I’ve already suspected and agonized over the possible truths. I’ve braced myself to hear it.”

He met my stare uneasily. “Anna… I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but the genetic testing has proven with an extremely high level of certainty that your biological mother was Elizabeth Madaster.”

I just nodded, ignoring the roaring that started up in my ears.

“And my father?”

Someone else said those words, someone that sounded calm and strong.

Wes grimaced. He looked sick.

“The genetic testing shows that your father is Evan. God, I’m sorry, Anna.”

Chapter Twenty-Nine

I never returned to the hotel suite.

My mind was blank for the next forty minutes or so. I functioned, because I successfully maneuvered on the lakeside road to reach Les Jumeaux. But I was a machine, performing all the necessary motor movements, while I—Anna—was blessedly absent.

Who was Anna Solas, anyway? Anna Halifax? Anna Madaster? She was nothing. I was no one, just the organic robot that drove the steep, twisting road with much more expertise than the previous, self-conscious Anna would have done. Did I believe Wes? Or Noah? Or Evan?

I don’t know what or whom I believed. I existed in a fixed state of doubt, right on the edge of complete and utter despair.

The first time I experienced any sense of emotion was when I pulled up to the shadowed, stone gatehouse to Les Jumeaux. I remembered vividly first arriving there, how I’d felt like I’d entered a dream—a fairy tale—as I stared up at the towering pine forest while sitting next to my handsome, perfect husband. I remembered Evan’s small, special smile when I’d handed him back the card key, and how the gate had swung open.

(The gate opened for you because Les Jumeaux is yours. It’s your birthright. Your heritage.)

“No,” I said out loud emphatically.

Yes, I was now talking to her out loud now. The ghost. The ancestor. Elizabeth.

My mother.

“This place is no fairy tale. It’s a nightmare. It’s hell,” I grated out, gripping the steering wheel tightly.

A silent pause.

(Let’s finish the nightmare, then.)

I lowered my window and pressed the card key to the pad. The wrought iron gate to Les Jumeaux slowly swung open.

Tags: Beth Kery Romance
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