‘I’ll just bet,’ he grumbled.
‘No need for jealousy. He’s been out of the picture for almost twenty years. But that year, he took me home with him to Sarasota. It’s a circus town, you know. The winter home of Ringling when it was operating. Huge circus museum. Used to even have a clown college. Lots of circus people still live there. Anyway, his mom took me in. Fussed over me. His dad wanted to kill mine when Terrence told them what happened. They were nice people.’
‘Were?’
‘Yeah, they died in a hit-and-run. They were tightrope performers, but they died crossing the damn street a few months after Terrence and I had left the circus. I traveled with them for a couple of years, until I was eighteen. Worked for my keep. Started out sweeping and shoveling shit, but I had some skills. I’d done gymnastics in high school. Dreamed of the Olympics, but we never had the money for that kind of coaching. But I wasn’t bad, and I was . . . flexible.’
‘Of this I am well aware,’ Thorne said, hoping to pull a small smile to her mouth.
She did smile, just a little. ‘Yeah, well. There was this woman there who did a contortionist act. She trained me and I was good. I could get out of all kinds of locked boxes and tied ropes. Learned to pick locks, get free of chains.’
‘That’s how you knew how to pick locks when we’d go undercover, investigating for the firm?’
‘Yep. Picking locks is a bankable skill. I was cute back then. Made good tips.’
‘You’re cute now.’
‘Thank you,’ she said, rolling her eyes. ‘I wanted to try the tightrope, though. Which did not end well.’
‘You got hurt.’
‘Yeah. There was a net, but one of the other performers fell on top of me. My back still aches when it gets cold. But the hospital needed my medical records and it came out that I was just eighteen. Which meant I’d lied about my age. I agreed to quit so that the circus – and Terrence’s family – wouldn’t get into any trouble for hiring me without proper ID. Terrence wasn’t happy, though, and he’d lost his archery target. He wanted to leave. His parents were chill, and they kissed us both and gave us a little cash, and off we went. Terrence had put together a band and I played piano and sang. At the beginning, I only knew church hymns, but I learned a few things from Terrence.’
He growled. ‘I don’t want to hear any more about him.’
She sighed. ‘You have to, because none of that was in the fire safe.’
‘What was?’
‘I got pregnant. I was eighteen. And a half. He and I had been traveling with the band for about six months. I went to tell him the news and found out that I wasn’t his only port in a storm.’
Thorne was still stuck on ‘pregnant’. She’d never mentioned a baby, so either she’d never had it or she’d put it up for adoption. He gathered his wits, though, because she’d stopped talking. He latched onto the topic that felt less like a minefield. ‘Terrence was cheating.’
‘Yeah. With one of the other singers. I hated her. I threw a hysterical fit and she left. I told him about the baby and he wanted me to get rid of it. I couldn’t. I know some women do and I support their choice, but it wasn’t right for me. He gave me an ultimatum. So I left and went home to Anderson Ferry. My mother and father were not happy to see me. And when I told them I was pregnant, they threw me out.’
Thorne clenched his teeth so hard that a sharp pain speared his jaw. ‘I really hate your parents, Gwyn.’
‘Me too. I didn’t have anywhere to go. Terrence’s parents were gone. I had one great-aunt in Baltimore. My mother’s aunt, who they rarely spoke of except to pray for her immortal soul. I found her and she took me in, no questions asked.’
‘Your Aunt Aida. Your letters for Sheidalin.’
‘Kind of. I loved my aunt, but she was much older and in bad health. I got my GED while I was pregnant, but I had no real business skills. She helped me see that I couldn’t provide a good home for a baby and that I needed to be able to fend for myself, because she wasn’t going to be around for much longer. She might have been the family bad girl, but she had the kindest heart. She knew some people who knew some people, you know? And through them we met the couple who adopted him.’
Him. ‘You had a boy?’ he asked, unprepared for how much the question hurt.
‘Yeah. I named him Aidan, after my aunt. The couple liked the name and kept it.’
‘That’s your I-D-A, then,’ he said, and she nodded. ‘What happened to the family?’
‘They’re in Virginia, near Richmond. Aidan just graduated from high school. He’s going to Virginia Tech next year to play football.’
‘So what was in the fire safe? Pictures of him?’
‘I only have one photo and it was in there, but it was just a copy. The original is in my safe deposit box at the bank. That’s the only picture I have of me holding him. The rest are newspaper clippings. Most of them are from his high school football games.’
‘You ever see him play?’
She closed her eyes, but not before he saw the pain there. ‘Once. Just once. I couldn’t stay. It hurt too much. It was a big game. Homecoming. Lots of people there and it was cold, so I could wrap a scarf around my face. No chance of his parents seeing me. I didn’t want to intrude. I just wanted to see him. But I had to leave.’
He could imagine her sitting all alone in the stands, her heart breaking. His was breaking just listening to her. ‘Did you see him any other times?’
‘Occasionally, yes. Sometimes – and I’m not proud of this – I’d go to his neighborhood and watch for a glimpse of him. Just playing. I wanted to be sure he was okay. That he was happy. That they really were good people. He was always smiling.’
He sighed, picturing that too. ‘You think Anne will be able to open the fire safe?’
‘I’d be shocked if she hasn’t already. Other than you and Lucy, that boy means more to me than anyone else in this world. If I were them and I were trying to figure out how best to hurt you, I’d pick me. And with Lucy now out of reach, Aidan is the only one they can use to hurt me.’
‘We should contact his parents then.’
‘I was hoping you’d say that. I . . .’ Her eyes filled with tears. ‘I can’t, though.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because he was eighteen in February.’
Oh. Oh God. ‘The seventeenth is his birthday?’ 0-2-1-7. How many times had he entered that alarm code without knowing what it stood for?
She nodded. ‘His parents said they’d tell him about me when he turned eighteen and leave it up to him whether to contact me. He’s been eighteen for four months now and I’ve heard nothing.’
‘Maybe they didn’t tell him.’
She shrugged. ‘All the more reason I shouldn’t call them. I don’t want them to think I’m pressuring them. That wouldn’t be fair. Plus, what if he picks up? That could be awkward, and even more unfair to him. I was going to ask Jamie to contact them, as my lawyer. But . . . you could, if you wanted.’
If he wanted . . . Yeah, he wanted to do this for her. He hoped he was strong enough. ‘I’ll ask Alec to get me the number.’
‘He already did. He sent it to my phone.’
‘Oh. That’s what that look was for.’
‘Yeah. He was trying to preserve my privacy. He didn’t ask who they were.’
‘Alec’s a good kid.’ He tilted her chin up, kissed her gently. ‘You know this doesn’t change how I feel about you, right?’
She swallowed hard. ‘I’d hoped it wouldn’t,’ she whispered.
‘You did what was best for Aidan.’ He remembered the early years, right after he’d met her. She’d struggled to make ends meet. Struggled to get her degree, to make a life for herself. She’d been too proud to accept his help, had eaten a steady diet of ramen for the first year or two. ‘He’s had a good life, right?’