chapter 11

Julia had been scared to see Drew again, scared that he would reject her, that he would

send her away. That he would, somehow, no longer be her brother, who had seen her

through so many of life's challenges before he'd retreated into whatever kind of solace he

found out here on this small island.

But she need not have worried.

When he opened the front door and found her standing on the porch with her purse,

looking small and frightened, he simply reached out and pulled her into his arms.

"Jules," he breathed into her hair.

"Drew." She was already crying; she couldn't seem to help herself. "Are you all

right? Mom told me what happened. Finally. Why didn't you tell me? Why did you just

leave?"

She had so much to say to him that it all just seemed to spill out.

"Shh," he whispered, holding her, rubbing her back with his hand. "It's okay. Don't

cry, Jules. I'm all right."

"Are you?" She pulled away from him so she could look into his eyes. He had the

same fair skin as she did, the same auburn hair that they'd both inherited from their

mother. But he looked tired, and too thin. The lines on his face were etched too deep for a

man so young.

"Did she also tell you that he died? My biological father?" Drew hugged himself, his

elbows cradled in his hands.

"I know." Her voice was the same soothing tone their mother had used when they

were children and they were sick or scared. "Drew, I know."

She waved the taxi driver away, and they went inside. His house was small but

warm. The furniture appeared to have been bought secondhand—or maybe he'd rented

the place already furnished.

He led her into a compact kitchen with yellowed Formica countertops and linoleum

that was peeling up at the edges of the floor.

"You want coffee?" he asked her. "Or I've got tea. I could—"

"I don't need anything," she interrupted him. "I just needed to see you. To talk."

He'd greeted her so warmly, but now he appeared to be retreating into himself a little

at a time. He leaned against the countertop with his long legs crossed, his arms folded

over his chest, as though his very posture could lock her out, keep her silent.

"There are some things I have to tell you," she said. "Maybe we'd better sit down."

Once she'd laid out everything that had happened—Colin approaching her about the

inheritance, their mother coming clean about Drew's parentage, and then Colin

accompanying Julia to Salt Spring Island—Drew looked not just tired, as he had before,

but stunned.

"You've got to be shitting me," he said.

Drew was sitting on the sofa in the small living room, and Julia sat perched on the

edge of a chair beside him. She didn't say anything, because she didn't think he needed

or wanted her to. For now, he just had to absorb what she'd told him.

"I don't … How could this even be happening?"

He raked his hands through hair that had the same thick, wavy texture as Julia's. It

would have been impossible to tell that they weren't full siblings; apparently, their

mother's genes were strong.

"I knew he was rich. Of course. Once Mom told me about him, I Googled him—I

mean, who wouldn't? But he never tried to contact me all those years, so I just thought

…"

"He sent money to Mom."

Drew just stared at her.

"He sent checks, regularly, for eighteen years," Julia went on. "But Mom just threw

them away. She didn't want you to know about Redmond. Didn't want Dad to know."

He bent forward, elbows on his knees, and rubbed his eyes with his hands. "He

cared, then. At least a little. So, I could have known him if Mom hadn't shut him down. I

could have had him in my life all that time."

"That would have killed Dad," Julia said softly. "To know that you weren't his son,

to know that you wanted a different father?"

"I didn't want a different father," Drew said sharply. "You know I loved Dad. And

he's still my dad. He always will be. I just wish I'd had the truth."

She reached out and put a hand on his knee. "Of course you do."

"But it's not entirely her fault. You know? I've known about Redmond Delaney for

three years now. I could have gotten in touch. I could have gone out to California. I could

have…" He shrugged, to indicate the enormous potential of all of the things he could

have done.

"But he died," Julia said.

"Yeah, he died. Just like Dad." Drew shook his head and gazed at the floor. "I told

myself that I didn't want to contact him because he didn't want me. Didn't love me.

Because he didn't try to see me for all those years. But the truth is, I was scared."

Julia watched him, watched all of the emotions play across his face, and her heart

hurt for him. But this wasn't something she could help him with. This was something he

had to go through alone. And that was why he'd come here, away from her, away from

everything he'd known.

She noticed, of course, that they weren't talking about the money. She suspected that

the subject was simply too shocking, too enormous, for Drew to process right now. But

he would have to try, because she had to bring Colin here to see him.

"Colin Delaney—Redmond's nephew—needs to see you. To talk to you about the

inheritance. Is it okay if I bring him out here? I know I shouldn't have let him come to the

island with me without speaking to you first, but—"

His expression hardened. "Why did they send his nephew out here? Why didn't they

send a letter, or a lawyer, or …"

"Colin is the family's lawyer."

"Colin? You're calling him by his first name? You're awfully friendly with the

Delaneys now."

He was glaring at her, staring her down with accusation, and Julia didn't like it.

"We've been traveling together all day. It would have been odd to call him Mr.

Delaney, don't you think?" She didn't care much for the defensiveness in her own voice,

but she couldn't seem to help it.

"I just want to know whose side you're on here," he said, his gaze still hard.

"Whose side? I'm on the side of you getting your inheritance, Drew. I'd have

thought that was clear."

He sighed and seemed to sag a little. "It is. I'm sorry. It's just … that family.

Ignoring me all this time, like I didn't even exist …"

"They didn't know." Julia reached out and put a hand on his arm, and he tensed at

her touch. "Drew, they didn't. They only found out when they read the will."

He let out a bitter laugh. "I'll bet they're thrilled to be handing over some of their

fortune to their uncle's bastard son."

"Drew, don't." Julia scolded him in her big-sister voice. "Just talk to him. Talk to

Colin. It's not like you couldn't use the money right now."

His eyes narrowed. "Right. Thanks for reminding me that I don't have a goddamned

pot to piss in. That I need charity"—he spat out the word like some foul-tasting thing

—"from some West Coast rich people who didn't want a goddamn thing to do with me

until their dead uncle forced them to."

"Drew, that isn't—"

"I think you'd better go," he said.

She blinked at him. His tone and the way he was looking at her planted a hard pain

in her gut. "You don't mean that."

"Yes, I do, Julia. I want you to go."

"I'm not going anywhere until we talk this out." She mimicked his stance—arms

crossed over her chest, chin raised in stubborn defiance.

He stared at her a moment and then nodded. "Fine. Suit yourself."

He grabbed his coat from a hook by the front door and shook it on. Then he snatched

up his car keys from a side table, went out the front door, and slammed it shut behind

him. As she stood there in stunned silence, she heard his car start up and pull away.

She didn't move for a moment as tears stung her eyes. Then she pulled out her cell

phone and called Colin.

"I need you to come and get me," she told him, and gave him the address.

Colin wanted to be angry at her for ditching him at the B&B, for leaving him feeling

naïve and gullible while she went off to pursue her own agenda. But she looked so sad

sitting there in the passenger seat of the rental car that he couldn't quite manage it.

"I'm sorry it didn't go well," he told her. "That must have been hard."

"Hard?" She was holding wadded-up tissues in her hands, her eyes red, her nose

stuffy from crying. "My brother just tried to kick me out of his house, he and my mother

have been lying to me for years, nobody in my family is talking to each other, and my

father is dead! That's pretty freaking hard!" She honked into the tissues.

"Fair enough," he allowed as he navigated the car through the tree-lined roads of the

island and back toward the B&B. After a while, he added, "You know, he's not really

angry with you."

"Oh, shut up," she snapped. "You sound like Mike."

He shot her a glance. "Who's Mike?" Did Julia have a boyfriend? He knew she

wasn't married, but was there a significant other? The thought troubled him more than he

would have expected.

"He's … it doesn't matter."

"Your boyfriend?" Now that the thought was in his head, he found that he needed to

know the answer.

"No. God. No. He's the general contractor I work with in my landscape business."

"But … why does your general contractor have an opinion on your relationship with

your brother?" It seemed like a logical enough question to Colin.

"Because!" She threw her hands up into the air, the tissues still clutched in her fists.

"He's … You could say he's a friend. We give each other advice. We help each other out.

We eat Cheetos."

"Cheetos," he repeated.

"Sometimes, yes. Or frozen pizza, when he doesn't burn it."

"Okay." Colin figured it would all make sense in time, if he didn't try to force it.

Sometimes life was that way.

"But, yes. Mike says that none of this is about me. And I know that. I know it. And

yet, I'm the one who just got rejected by my brother, aren't I?"

"Yes. Yes, you are."

"See?" She looked at him in triumph, as though all of her most basic points had just

been proven.

He drove the rest of the way back to the B&B in silence, because that seemed like

the best bet, given her volatile mood. Not that he blamed her for it, but still, it seemed

like a good idea to let the storm dissipate somewhat before navigating his little boat back

out onto her waters.

He parked the rental car on the street in front of the B&B. It was dark now, and the

evening chill pressed against him as they stepped out of the car and into the street.

"Are you hungry?" he asked her as they both stood on the sidewalk in front of the

inn. "If you're not, I get it. You're emotional, and sometimes—"

"I'm ravenous," she said. "I could eat everything they've got at one of those Las

Vegas lobster buffets. Everything." She looked at him. "Even the silverware."

It wasn't the answer he'd expected, but it was one he could work with. He gestured

toward a steak and seafood place a couple of doors down from the B&B. "Shall we,

then?"

She looked at him, looked at the restaurant, and then stalked down the sidewalk

ahead of him. "God, yes."