Page 35 of Desert Wind

Gently, she removed the small layette once belonging to her daughter. Holding it to her nose, she inhaled, the scent of baby powder and lotion still prevalent. A small silver rattle was pushed aside, a hospital bracelet with her name on it.

Beneath the false bottom, she opened another space revealing a matchbook, a playbill from the theater, and a room key for a hotel in Paris.

“Memories,” she whispered. “How are they so powerful after all this time?”

Carefully, she placed the items back in the box and secured them in her closet once again. After straightening her dress and dabbing the tears from her face, she made her way back downstairs to the dining room.

“Are you ready for dinner, madam?” asked the butler.

“Yes. I suppose I am.” He started to walk away, and then she called to him again. “Samuelle? I know it’s an unusual thing for me to ask, but do you think tonight you and the staff could join me for dinner?”

“Join you? I-I’m not sure. It’s not usually done, Madam. Are you sure?”

“Yes. I believe I’d like some company this evening. I suppose getting older has made me feel nostalgic. We used to throw grand dinner parties here. Hundreds of people would attend. I miss those days.”

“Of course, Madam. I’ll notify the others. I’m sure they’ll love having their meal with you.”

Claudia knew that was a lie, but at least she could beat back the loneliness, even if just for one night. As much as she’d hated her husband, she loved being wealthy and having everything a woman could possibly want.

Except love. Love was always out of her reach.

Maybe she could give all of this up. Maybe she’d sell it all and buy a small place in the north of France or England. She didn’t need this huge chateau. She didn’t need the boats, cars, or airplanes. She could leave it all tomorrow, sell it, and find happiness in a smaller way.

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I hate myself for it, but no. I cannot give up this life.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Nash had his arm around Jenna’s shoulders, gently pushing his foot against the porch as the swing moved easily in the breeze. It was raining. Again. As much as Arizona needed rain, Louisiana needed a bit of a dry spell.

Yet nothing stopped because of the rain. In fact, it seemed to move at the same crazy pace that it always moved.

In the last few days, Jenna seemed to open up more emotionally and physically. She was now the first one to kiss his cheek or even his lips. She was now the first to reach for his hand or arm. This was the Jenna he’d prayed for.

“Nash? Was anyone able to contact my biological mother?” she asked quietly. He knew the question was coming. He’d dodged it for days, hoping that they would convince Claudia to see her daughter.

“We did,” he said honestly. “She is doubtful that you really are her child. She’s asking her own team to look at the evidence. We all thought it was best to give her some space and time. She’s a very old woman now.”

“I see. You would think if she’s a very old woman, she would want to meet the daughter she never knew.”

“I feel the same way, honey, but I’m trying to be respectful of her feelings. It must be terrible to think of your child as gone and then suddenly find out she’s alive. Especially after all this time. I can’t imagine what that must be like.”

“I suppose,” she nodded. “I guess I had this childish dream of her hugging me and welcoming me into her life.”

“Did you have a good life? Before,” he asked.

“I did. The parents I knew, John and Mary Brooks, or Victor and Angela Portello, whoever they were, were good. I knew that things were different but never guessed as to why.

“Max and Titus said they found memory boxes belonging to my sisters and thought it was strange that they didn’t find one for me. I did have one. It was small, but it was mine. I added things to it over the years.

“They were kind to me when I would do well on a paper or contribute my babysitting money to the family fund. I think they loved me in their own way. But I’ve been thinking a lot about this, a lot. I don’t think they were kidnappers.”

“Honey, you were taken, and they had you. That, by definition, makes them at least accessories to kidnapping,” said Nash.

“Maybe, but they never hurt me, never spanked me, never yelled at me. And we didn’t live in luxury. I don’t understand that at all. If they were paid to take me, wouldn’t someone have paid them well?”

“I suppose so,” frowned Nash.

“Dad was always working two or three jobs, and Mom always worked as well. It was a hard life, but they made it a good life, and I never really noticed that they treated me differently. I was asked to take care of the girls, but that’s because I was the oldest.”

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