Page 41 of Seduction Under the Southern Stars
“Apparently, she had an affair early in their marriage, but Don found out and beat the guy up, and she never saw him again. Don knew that Linc wasn’t his, though. That’s why he was so awful to him.”
He gives a muffled groan.
“You should have seen his face. He said he’s going to get Liber Sum tattooed on his forehead.”
“I’m free,” Dad says quietly.
“Yeah. He’s going to try and contact his real dad. He’s not here for long, though, so I don’t know if he’ll be able to track him down. But the thing is… you were the closest he’s ever had to a father. He worshiped you, and he respected you. When he kissed me… it was nothing to do with you, Dad. It was about us, me and him. I think there could have been something special between us, but I’ll never know.” My voice breaks slightly, and I stop and clear my throat. “It’s too late now, of course, he has a life in the UK, and he’s off south soon for a convention. But it was great to see him and put some of the ghosts to rest.”
“Are you going to see him again before he leaves?”
“Yes, probably. He thinks he might know where the Bell Ring is.”
“Oh, really?”
“Yeah. He had some contact who mentioned someone who bought it… somewhere. I can’t be any more specific than that. But he’s going to phone around and catch up with me later. I want to try and find it for Mum.” I stop and swallow hard. “Are you okay?”
“Yes, I’m fine. I’m glad you spoke to me.”
“Are you? I feel terrible now.” I’ve never contradicted him or spoken to him as harshly as this.
But he says, “You did the right thing. I’m not saying I agree with you a hundred percent, or that it’s definitely going to change my opinion of what happened. But… I appreciate what you’ve said. And I will think and pray on it.”
I know that’s the best I can hope for. “All right. Well, I’d better go.”
“You take care of yourself, okay?”
“Will do. Love you.”
“I love you too, my darling.”
I end the call.
I’m shaking a little. I take deep breaths and let them out slowly. It’s so strange how my parents programmed me with respect and deference as a child, and even though I’m an adult now, it’s so hard to break that programming. I no longer have to agree with everything they say, or live my life the way they’ve taught me, but it’s almost impossible to change the blueprint they laid down for me at birth.
I feel itchy, as if insects are crawling under my skin, and I have a feeling that’s not going to go away anytime soon. But I’m glad I called. For the first time, I feel as if I’ve taken control. I’m putting things in order. And although ultimately it’s not going to change anything between me and Linc, there’s something to be said for excavating the truth and exposing what’s been buried. Now I just need to use excarnation of the soul—to leave the skeleton of the past out in the fresh air, and let the elements and wild animals pick it clean.
Chapter Nine
Linc
I decide to call the guy in Queenstown first.
I have no idea what I’m going to say, if he even answers. I’ve spent most of my life living off my wits and winging it, so I decide to play it by ear and make it up as I go along.
I dial the number I found on the White Pages website, amazed that people still use landlines. While I wait, I go over to the window and look out at the view of Lambton Harbour. One of the Interislander Ferries has just set out, making its way across the Cook Strait to Picton in the South Island.
“Hello?” a man’s voice says.
I start and turn away from the window. I know this isn’t going to be the man I’m looking for. I’m fully expecting to have to make a dozen calls before I find him, or, more likely, not find him at all. It did also enter my head that my mother might have been lying, although I haven’t yet been able to figure out a reason why she’d do that.
I clear my throat. “Good morning, I was hoping to speak to Edmund Mansfield.”
“This is he,” the man says. He sounds abrupt, busy.
Ten years ago I might have gone to pieces, but now I find it easier to clamp down on my emotions and switch to business mode. “My name is Lincoln Green. I’m sorry to bother you on a Saturday morning.”
“Are you selling something?” Edmund asks with a touch of exasperation, “because if so, I’m in the middle of breakfast, and I can tell you that nothing you can offer me is going to be as attractive as the bacon sandwich currently sitting there alluringly on my plate.”
