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  Then in November Randolf had tried a more indirect approach, proposing that the board take the cost-saving measure of eradicating Kenneth’s entire department.

  Kenneth called her that night to break the news. “Randolf was at his most persuasive, painting pictures of enormous profits to our stockholders. The vote was put off a month, pending a report from the accountants.”

  Kyle found herself as concerned about him as she was about the action. “You sound exhausted.”

  He did not deny it. “Things have not been very pleasant around here for me.”

  “But all this is going to work out, isn’t it?” When he did not reply, Kyle pleaded, “Kenneth, tell me you’re not leaving.”

  “I have been offered a directorship with another company,” he replied slowly.

  She fought down rising terror. “You’d leave me all alone?”

  “Kyle, I never want to leave you. But . . .” He hesitated a long moment, then continued, “You’ve been so quiet, I haven’t been sure how you feel.”

  It was true. She could not deny it. She had kept her distance from him, building walls to keep him at arm’s length ever since their talk in the car.

  “There’s been so much happening,” she replied, knowing it was inadequate even as she said it. A girl she vaguely knew came down the hall and gave her a knowing little smile. Kyle grimaced in reply, then rested her forehead on the wall beside the phone. It was as much privacy as the dormitory’s hall phone could offer. “I feel as if I’m just barely holding on as it is.”

  “I understand,” his voice was sympathetic. “And I’ve tried to be patient. I really have. But, well, I feel as though I’ve spent most of my adult years waiting for you to decide.”

  Kyle opened her mouth, but the words were not there. In truth, she did not know how she felt. And she could not shake the honesty between them by pretending otherwise. “Kenneth, I . . .”

  “I would still be there for you. But not inside Rothmore Insurance.” He sighed. “There’s something else. I’m pretty sure all this cost-saving hokum is merely a smoke screen. Randolf thinks if he can get rid of me, you will be more . . . well, amenable to his plans. He’s very shrewd, make no mistake. He knows I’m concerned about all my staff losing their jobs. So he’s bargaining. If I went to him and offered to leave, he’d probably be willing to drop the whole thing and leave the other employees in place.”

  She found herself so weak with pending loss that her knees threatened to give way. “What will you do?”

  “I don’t know,” he breathed. “Pray. That’s all I know to do.”

  “I . . . I’ve wanted to tell you.” She had to take another breath to steady her voice. “I’ve been going to church with Maggie and Bertrand.”

  “Kyle, that’s wonderful.” Enthusiasm rang in his voice. “How was it?”

  “Good, I think.” A tear escaped to trickle down her cheek. He was so happy for her. He had done so much, given her such warmth and kindness and friendship and strength. Why could she not respond? “Please don’t leave me, Kenneth. I need you.”

  There was a long silence. Then, “Do you?”

  “Yes.” But even this admission seemed wrenched from her. She had to change it. She could not leave it without further explanation. “The company does.” It sounded lame even to her.

  “I see.” The tired flatness returned. “I have to travel to some of our other offices these next few days. I’ll think things over and speak with you when I return.”

  Kyle replaced the receiver and staggered back to her room. From the open door of her neighbor’s room came the tinny sound of a little phonograph. “Somewhere beyond the sea, my lover waits for me,” the voices sang. Kyle felt as though the music was heckling her. She closed her door and sank down onto the floor.

  Kenneth was going to leave. She could see it happening with absolute clarity. What reason had she given him to stay?

  She covered her face with her hands and suddenly found herself recalling a conversation she’d had with Maggie after church the Sunday before. As they had left the vestibule, Maggie had busied herself with her Sunday gloves, then commented, “I notice you don’t bow your head when the pastor invites us to join in prayer.”

  “I’m trying to be honest,” Kyle had replied.

  Maggie had stopped, waving Bertrand to continue on without them. “Honest? Or are you trying to hold on to your independence?”

  The woman’s quiet perception had rocked her. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “I think you do.” Maggie chose her words carefully. “You have had to fight hard to reach a point where you could think and act for yourself. And I am proud of you. But this does not mean you can go through life by yourself. Not with any sense of real peace or real success. You think upon what I have said.”

  Kyle remained curled up on the floor of her little dorm room, her face hidden behind her hands. Gradually her breathing slowed, and the words seemed to form of their own accord. Help me, she said, and felt something inside flowing out from behind the self-made barriers, reaching out and into the unknown. Please help me.

  She stopped. There was more to be said. She could feel the thoughts hovering about her mind and heart, waiting for her to open further and accept. But she could not. It was suddenly all too much. She sighed herself up from the floor, only to sprawl upon her bed and close her eyes to the world.

  She was awakened the next morning by a knock on her door. “Kyle?” The voice outside her door sounded both sleepy and irritated. “There’s a call for you. A Kenneth Adams, I think that was his name.”

  She raced down the hall, grabbed up the receiver from where it swung upside down, and stammered, “Hello?”

  “Success!” Triumph rang in his voice. “At least, a little bit. The first step, and they say that’s always the hardest.”

  Kyle focused upon the wall clock. It was a quarter past six. “Where are you?”

  “The office. I’ve got to get some things done before I leave town. And lucky thing, too. There was a message on my desk from a contact in the state government. Do you have a pencil?”

  “No, wait, I don’t . . .” Kyle tried to force her fuzzy mind awake. She fumbled in her pockets, came up with a lipstick holder. “Okay, yes.”

  “Riverdale. That’s a little town just over the Maryland border.” He seemed a half-breath away from laughter. “The fellow had time for only a brief glimpse at the notes related to your case. They contained an enquiry made a year or so after your adoption. The man claimed to have been the doctor attending your birth. The notes were in pencil and so smudged my friend could not make out either the doctor’s name or street. But the town was definitely Riverdale.”

  “Oh, Kenneth.” Electricity seemed to zing through her system, and her heart took wings. “Are you sure?”

  “This guy has never failed me yet. I’m sorry it’s not more.”

  “It’s a start,” she breathed. Finally. “How can I ever thank you?”

  “Say you’ll come out to dinner with me.”

  He had asked many times over the months, and almost before she could think, the standard denial was there on the tip of her tongue. That she wasn’t ready. That it wouldn’t be right until she was sure of what she wanted and who she was. But she stifled the impulse and instead said weakly, “Yes, please, let’s do that.”

  “What?”

  “I said yes.”

  This time the laugh broke through. “Do I have the right Kyle Rothmore on the line here?”

  “Thank you,” she said again. “With all my heart. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome,” he said softly. “With all my heart.”

  The instant she set down the phone, Kyle knew it wasn’t enough. She hurried back to her room, dressed in haste, and rushed to call a taxi. Impatiently she waited in the chill misting rain until the cab arrived. She flung open the door and said, “The Rothmore Insurance building, please. Massachusetts Avenue.”

  She was out the door before the c
ab rolled to a halt. The elevator seemed to crawl up between floors. As soon as they opened upon the executive floor, Kyle was out and running down the hall. She almost collided with Kenneth as he came out of his door, overcoat in one arm, briefcase in the other. He stared at her in astonishment. “What are you doing here?”

  “I had . . . I had to speak with you,” Kyle puffed.

  “Wait and catch your breath.” The smile broke out again. “Maybe it really was you I spoke with this morning.”

  She took one step inside his office, impatient to speak, to get out what was pushing up from deep inside. “I wanted to say thank you, Kenneth. For everything.”

  “You’re welcome,” he said, the smile still tracing through his voice and eyes.

  But she was not done. “All my life, I’ve hidden myself away. I’ve never even realized how much time and effort I’ve spent holding myself apart from everything and everybody.”

  The smile faded as he searched her face. “You have had as much reason to do it as anybody I’ve ever known.”

  “But not now,” she said, rushing on. Fearful that if she stopped her courage would drain away and she would not be able to start anew. “Not with you.”

  “No,” he said quietly. “You don’t need barriers with me. Not ever.”

  “I know that now. It’s just that, after all this time, it’s so hard—”

  “Kyle! How wonderful it is to see you again.” Randolf Crawley pressed his elegantly dressed form through the doorway. “Could you join me in my office, please?”

  “No I cannot,” she replied. She pushed down her irritation and said evenly, “I have no intention whatsoever of going anywhere with you.”

  The firmness of her tone and manner shocked them both. Randolf tried to dredge up a pasty smile. “Kyle, you don’t mean that.”

  “Yes I do. And right now Kenneth and I are having a conversation,” she responded. “A private one.”

  Randolf gave Kenneth a very hard look, then turned back and pulled his face into more polite lines. “Don’t tell me you are intending to continue with your silly pursuit.”

  “Searching for my parents is silliness?”

  “Your mother is very concerned about your welfare. As I am.” Randolf strained to hold to his smile. “I really must urge you. Don’t take this dangerous course.”

  She inspected him carefully. “How is it dangerous?” she asked finally. “Are you afraid to find out who I really am? If so—why? What could it possibly mean to you?”

  The false smile slipped away, revealing a coldness in his eyes. He retreated, pausing at the door long enough to shoot Kenneth a venemous look.

  Kyle stared at the space Randolf had vacated for a long moment. Part of her mind wondered where she had found the strength to stand up to him. Perhaps it was the knowledge that her back was to the wall, that she could retreat no further.

  She turned back to Kenneth and found him watching her with that same patient regard she had seen so often before. “Oh,” she said dispiritedly. “That special moment, it’s gone now.”

  “No it’s not,” he said quietly. “It won’t ever be, not if you want it back.”

  “Help me,” she pleaded. “Show me what to do.”

  “You don’t know,” he softly replied, “how often I’ve dreamed of hearing those words.”

  She placed both hands on his arm, feeling the softness of his overcoat and the strength of his shoulders. Her heart beating like a hummingbird’s wings, she raised up on tiptoes. He stood stock still as she drew nearer and gave him the softest of kisses. “Hurry back,” she whispered.

  His breath a lingering sigh against her cheek, he put his arms around her and held her for a long moment.

  19

  KYLE WAS FRIGHTENED, yes, but she was also determined. She felt as though she had been forced to shed one skin, only to discover something utterly different underneath.

  She prepared as best she could. Leaving the office, she went straight to Woodie’s, Washington’s oldest and most popular department store. It was the first time she had been shopping since all this had begun.

  Her mother had always taken her to Garfinkel’s, a woman’s shop that catered to Washington’s upper crust. Kyle had always sought out dark-colored clothes, feeling that they helped her escape attention. A two-piece suit of navy blue or dark forest green would allow her to drift more easily along the edge of things, observing but remaining as isolated and unnoticed as possible.

  But not today. She found herself choosing a two-piece outfit in dark gray, with an ivory blouse and simple gray pumps. Things were changing. It was time she changed with them.

  As she studied her reflection in the mirror, she wondered if perhaps she ought to smile more. Smiles had always seemed part of the falseness that she had hated so. But she had always loved Kenneth’s smile. It warmed her, even the memory of it when he was so far away. Yes, she decided, an honest smile would be a nice gift to share.

  “Turn signal, Miss Kyle. There on your left.”

  “I know where the signal is.”

  “Then use it, please.” Bertrand’s tone was sharp, and she turned her head to stare at him in surprise. “That car up ahead is going to stop,” he said, tension raising his voice from its usual somber tones. “Please watch the road, not me.”

  “Well, of course,” she told him, turning back to the task at hand. “I can see the stop sign.”

  “Then you must prepare now. Take your foot off the gas and begin pressing the brake.”

  “I’ve already done that.” After turning the corner, she said, “Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all.”

  “I am quite happy to give you driving lessons,” Bertrand said stiffly.

  “No, you’re not. You’re scared silly I’m going to scratch your precious Rolls.”

  “Don’t even speak of such a thing.” Nervously Bertrand pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and mopped his brow. “Besides which, it is your car.”

  “No, it’s Mother’s. I wouldn’t dream of owning such a thing.”

  “Stoplight, Miss Kyle.”

  “It’s half a block away,” she complained. “Give me a chance to see these things for myself. And stop calling me ‘Miss.’ Please.”

  “But . . .” Bertrand struggled a moment, then gave a little smile. “I suppose it would be all right, wouldn’t it?”

  “Of course it would. And calm down. You’re making me more nervous than I already am.”

  “All right, I’ll try.” He settled back and crossed his arms determinedly. But at every intersection, she could see his foot pressing on the floorboards, reaching for pedals that were not there.

  To take his mind off her driving, she asked, “When did you and Maggie start working for Daddy? It was after I was . . . after I was born, wasn’t it?”

  “You had just celebrated your first birthday.” Bertrand smiled at the memory. “You looked like such a little angel. You stole our hearts the first time we saw you.” He hesitated, then said quietly, “I was so distressed to hear of, well, everything. And shocked. It came as a complete surprise to both of us. But it changes nothing as far as we are concerned.”

  “Thank you.”

  “The house is so quiet without you. So empty.” He glanced over. “Is there any chance you might reconsider and move back?”

  “If Mother agrees to leave things as Daddy wanted,” Kyle said, but in her heart she wondered if that was still true. After all that had happened, she was no longer sure she could ever have any place there again. The thought left her empty.

  “Yes. I understand,” he said, as though he could read her thoughts. He turned to watch the Riverdale city limits sign sweep by, then asked, “What exactly are we looking for?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe nothing. Kenneth will try to find out something more when he returns. But that could take months. I just thought . . .” She sighed. Now that she was here, the task seemed impossible. “I don’t know what I thought.”

  “You’re driving
very well, Miss . . .” Bertrand stopped himself and smiled. “That will be one difficult habit to break.”

  Kyle turned long enough to give him a fleeting smile, then resumed her search of the Riverdale streets. The town did not look old, yet already the houses seemed tired and defeated. There was a weary sameness to the little white clapboard houses, many in dire need of paint and repairs. She drove down street after street, unable to find an area that felt like a center, some place from which to begin her search.

  Kyle sighed, pushing at her growing tension and frustration. Her stomach felt tied in knots. She stopped at a traffic light and found herself repeating the brief prayer, Help me.

  On impulse Kyle pulled into the parking lot of a Hot Shoppe restaurant. She cut the motor, then sat looking at the entrance until Bertrand asked, “Are you hungry?”

  “Not at all.” She’d had nothing to eat all day and it was now past the noon hour, but she did not feel like eating. Steeling herself, she opened her door. “Would you wait here for me, please?”

  “Of course,” Bertrand said, giving the restaurant a doubtful glance.

  She walked in and seated herself at the counter. To give herself something to do, she picked up the menu but could not concentrate on the words. What was she doing here?

  The waitress walked over, a sturdy woman with an expression that said she’d seen it all and heard even more. “Ready to order?”

  “Just coffee.” Kyle waited until the cup was filled and placed in front of her, then asked, “Do you know everyone in this town?”

  “Know more than I’d ever want to, honey.” The waitress turned away. “But that don’t make me a talker.”

  “Wait. Please. I’m looking for someone.”

  “Sorry. Can’t help you.”