Page 82 of The Lovers (Echoes from the Past #1)

SIXTY-FIVE

London, England

Quinn sat across from Rhys in his office.

He was going over some notes, so she forced her face into an expression of complacency as she looked at him.

A part of her wished to confront him about Sylvia and everything Quinn had learned over the past weeks, but common sense told her to remain quiet.

There was nothing to gain by confronting Rhys.

Gabe was right: This wasn’t her fight. Sylvia had made her choice, and Quinn had to respect that.

But her anger was too close to the surface, and Quinn was afraid it would boil over if she remained in his presence.

“So, the child was born in Southwold, Suffolk, and was baptized in St. Edmund’s Church on December fourteenth.

This explains why we never found any reference to him in the London archives,” Rhys said with an air of great satisfaction.

That was one mystery solved, as far as he was concerned.

Rhys pushed aside his papers and looked at her, his expression thoughtful.

“But what happened to him? There is no trace of this boy anywhere. We know when he was born. We know his name. And we know who his parents were, but there’s no record of this child anywhere after the baptism. ”

“I don’t know,” Quinn replied. The logical answer would be that the child died in infancy, and his death was never recorded, but Quinn hoped that wasn’t so.

She saw the baby in her visions, and he was as sweet and precious as only a newborn could be.

To think that little Charles died shortly after the birth left Quinn feeling sad and weepy.

Perhaps she would learn something of him once she got to the end of Elise’s story.

Quinn still had no idea when Elise actually died, or how, but the skeleton had been that of a young woman, and it stood to reason that Elise had only a few years left to live.

Quinn almost wished that she could stop herself from finding out.

She’d grown fond of Elise and hated to see her suffer.

Elise was headstrong, and probably too na?ve in some instances, but she was a young, vulnerable girl who’d been an innocent pawn in the game grown men played. Quinn sighed.

“You care what happened to her, don’t you?” Rhys asked as he leaned back in his chair and put his hands behind his head. “She’s long gone, Quinn. Her story ended many years ago. Don’t take it to heart. The past is the past.”

“Is it?” Quinn asked pointedly. “Sometimes the past has a way of catching up with you.”

Rhys leaned back forward and gave her a hard look. “Are you referring to anything in particular?”

“I am, actually. Perhaps you haven’t given it a thought since, but thirty-one years ago, you went to a Christmas party at the home of a friend.

There was a girl…” Quinn let the sentence trail off, eager to see Rhys’s reaction.

She was gratified to see him go pale as his eyes widened in shock. She’d hit a nerve.

“How do you know about that?” he breathed, eyeing her with suspicion born of fear.

“That doesn’t matter. Tell me, Rhys, was that the only time you raped someone?”

She hadn’t meant to let that slip out, but now that the words were out, she was glad.

She needed to know. She couldn’t continue working with Rhys with this two-thousand-pound elephant casually lounging between them.

He seemed like a good, kind man, but there was another side to him, and she needed to expose it, at least to herself.

Rhys got to his feet and turned his back to her, staring out the window at the gray London morning.

Somewhere below, people went about their business, and cars moved at a glacial pace down the congested street.

The London Eye stood still, not yet open to the public for the day.

It was like any other weekday morning, except that it wasn’t.

Rhys finally turned around. His face was white, his eyes shadowed by either grief or guilt, Quinn couldn’t quite tell.

She thought he might lash out at her, accuse her of slander or deny it all, but Rhys simply nodded as if acknowledging her question.

“Quinn, I don’t know what your connection is to what happened that night, but I have lived with what we did these past three decades.

It was the worst thing I’ve ever done, and not a day has gone by that I haven’t thought of that girl.

Robert made me swear not to say anything to the police, especially if she pressed charges, but I promised myself that I would never hurt or disrespect a woman again as long as I lived. ”

Quinn exhaled a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.

At least Sylvia’s story checked out, and it meant the world to Quinn to know that her mother hadn’t lied to her to cover up her own mistake.

Quinn wished that young Sylvia could have been spared that awful night, but at least now they could move forward with a little more trust between them.

“Why, Rhys? Why did you do it?” Quinn asked, needing to understand why someone she found so likable would have stooped to something so base and violent.

“I was young, foolish, and easily intimidated. Robert and Seth pressured me into participating. I knew it was wrong, but I couldn’t resist. I was a virgin, and the opportunity to finally lose my virginity to a girl who was half-conscious and wouldn’t laugh at me was more than I could refuse.

Robert and Seth were so drunk, they’d barely remember if I made a fool of myself, and they’d already taken their turn, so one more wouldn’t really matter. We didn’t hurt her, Quinn.”

“Do you honestly believe that?” Even after all these years he couldn’t own up to the truth.

“Well, not physically anyway. There was no brutality, just persuasion. She never said no. She never even tried to push any of us away. She went along with it.”

“She was drunk,” Quinn spat out, amazed by the man’s propensity for self-delusion.

“I know. There’s no excuse for what we did.” Rhys suddenly grew silent, his eyes opening wide. “Is one of them dead? Is that it? Have you found something that belonged to them and saw what happened?”

“No, Rhys. I was approached by Sylvia. That was her name, in case you couldn’t remember. Sylvia.”

“Why did she approach you?” Rhys asked, suddenly nervous. He looked like a cornered fox, desperate to escape the hounds that were closing in.

“Because she’s my birth mother, and you could have been my father, but you are off the hook. Your DNA didn’t match mine.”

Rhys let out a slow breath. “You’re Sylvia’s daughter?”

“Yes. I was conceived on the night you all took turns with her.”

“Oh, Quinn, I’m so sorry,” Rhys breathed. “I had no idea she’d had a child. Have you known all along?”

“No, I’ve only known for a few weeks, but I can barely look at you, much less work with you. ”

“I’d like to see her.”

“Sylvia?” Quinn gaped at Rhys. Had he taken leave of his senses? What could he possibly have to gain by coming face-to-face with Sylvia now?

“Yes. Quinn, please. I want to apologize, make amends for my part in what happened.”

“You want absolution, is that it?”

“Not absolution, but forgiveness maybe. I will never be absolved, but perhaps I can make amends,” Rhys pleaded. He didn’t look frightened anymore, just desperate.

“There’s something else you can do.”

“Name it.”

“You can help me find my father,” Quinn said, her eyes never leaving Rhys’s. He seemed surprised by her request, but he shrugged in acquiescence.

“That should be easy enough. You know who the other two were.”

“Yes, I know their names, but I want to get to know them without them knowing who I am. I want to take them by surprise and be sure of which one of them fathered me before I say anything.”

“Robert Chatham is the head of Chatham Electronics. I haven’t spoken to him in nearly thirty years, but I have seen articles about him from time to time.”

“And Seth? Sylvia knows nothing about him at all. Just that his name was Seth, and he was American.”

“Yes, Seth Besson, that was his name. He was a friend of Robert’s. I hardly knew him. He was from Louisiana, I believe. I’m afraid I don’t know anything more. ”

“Will you help me find out what I need to know?” Quinn asked, challenging Rhys to say no, but he didn’t. He really did seem to want her forgiveness, even if it was only motivated by his sense of self-preservation.

“I will help you with whatever you need. How does Sylvia feel about this quest you’re about to embark on?”

“I haven’t told her yet, but I can’t imagine that she’d disapprove. I have a right to know who my father is, and I need to know where this psychic gift came from.”

“I understand,” Rhys replied. “Quinn, will you ever trust me again?”

“Maybe. In time.”

Quinn felt almost sorry for the man. He looked so crestfallen.

She didn’t want to let him off the hook, but she knew that he wasn’t unique in what he’d done.

These types of situations happened more than people realized, with girls refusing to report the incident or press charges for fear of not being believed or being treated as if they’d brought it all on themselves.

Date rape was common in the past and still was to this day.

Perhaps the fact that Sylvia had been assaulted by three men rather than one made this situation worse, but it was certainly not exceptional.

And many men who’d taken liberties with young women and crossed the line between being pushy and actually committing the act now had wives and children of their own, many of them fathers to daughters who might be in danger of experiencing the same thing on a college campus or while on a date.

Rhys wasn’t a monster; he was just a weak, spineless boy who gave in to peer pressure and did something he’d never planned on doing.

At least he had the decency to feel guilty about it.

Quinn wondered if the other two men ever gave Sylvia a thought.