The Moment of Truth

“Yeah, but that doesn’t stop kids from partying. It goes on even here, trust me,” Lori said. “Kids are more cool about it, and keep it quieter, but college is college, you know? I just never expected Marissa to get into that scene. We were like the nerds in high school because we were the only two in our class who didn’t party. It’s one of the reasons we chose Montford.”

They’d reached Dana’s car. Unlocking the passenger door, she held it open while Lori, puppy in arms, slid inside.

“Where are you from?” she asked the pretty blonde beside her as she started the car.

Dana had always wanted blond hair—naturally blond—instead of the mousy brown she’d been born with. Her younger half sisters both had blond hair. At least she had their blue eyes.

“I’m from Bisbee. It’s a little town in southern Arizona. How about you?”

“I’m from Richmond, Indiana. It’s on the Ohio border.” She gave the dog a reassuring scratch and put the car in gear. “My folks own a small chain of furniture stores there.”

“Indiana is days away from here!” Lori said. “What brought you all the way across the country? You have relatives here?”

“Nope.” Dana shook her head, feeling a tug as her long ponytail caught between her back and the seat. “I’m here on scholarship.”

“What made you apply to Montford?”

It was just talk. A normal conversation between fellow students who’d just rescued a dog.

And it was excruciating as far as Dana was concerned—the explaining, answering to and thinking about her past. Shelter Valley represented a new start for her. A life where she could just be Dana Harris, a person who wasn’t second-best, who didn’t wear Cinderella clothes and live a Cinderella life. A woman who’d accepted a scholarship she hadn’t applied for, to embark on a life she hadn’t planned on, because she hadn’t been able to bear the thought of doing as her father had demanded and marry a man she didn’t love.

But then, Daniel Harris, for whom she’d been named, the man she’d always called “Dad” and thought was her biological father, wasn’t really her father. And no matter how far away she roamed, or how hard she tried to be good enough, that fact was never going to change.

CHAPTER TWO

“YOUR MOM AND DAD are well and send their love.” Sitting in the chair opposite Michelle, a chair identical to hers except for the restraints, Josh looked from the still-beautiful woman to the day’s fresh flowers in the vase on the coffee table directly in front of them. He’d replaced yesterday’s bouquet. Opened the sheers that had been pulled for the night across the window opposite them, giving Michelle a skyline view of the harbor she loved.

He’d turned on the sixty-inch flat-screen television hanging on the wall next to the window. And, when she’d frowned, turned it back off again, although he knew her frown probably had nothing to do with the TV.

Michelle comprehended little, if any, of what went on around her. According to her doctors, frowning—and smiling, too—were simple reflexes that came and went. Sometimes her eyes filled with tears—a physiological reaction to medication, dry eyes or something in the air. Her gaze would land on something sometimes, but there was no connection between visual stimulation and a thought process that would translate the view. Permanent vegetative state was the diagnosis—and it was the same according to all four specialists Josh and her family had called in from around the world to see to her. She couldn’t move of her own volition. Or speak. Or even think.

But somehow she breathed on her own. And as long as that was the case, Josh’s inheritance would be providing for her care. Every dime of it. From a trust account he’d established in her name.

Her parents had more than enough wealth to care for her. Insurance covered basic expenses. But as far as Josh was concerned, his money would be dirty if he spent it on himself.

“I’m going away, Michelle.” He said what he’d come to say. “I’m on my way out of town now.” He’d waited until nightfall so there’d be less traffic.

It seemed fitting that he’d slink away into the night.

Leaning forward, he grabbed a tissue from the box beside her and wiped a drop of drool from the side of her mouth, catching it before it could roll down her chin. “I don’t know when I’ll be back,” he told her. It wasn’t right, him leaving her like this. But staying wasn’t right, either. His presence in town was hurting his father’s business, creating strife for the Wellingtons and embarrassing his mother’s family, the Montfords. The Montfords had worked hard to rebuild their reputation of decorum after his distant uncle’s scandalous marriage and desertion many decades before. They’d dedicated all the decades since to reestablishing themselves as a family of conservative do-gooders, whose purpose on earth was to contribute to and better the world and whose behavior was always above reproach.