Susannah's Garden (Blossom Street #3)(98)

“Jake is…dead?” Susannah was having trouble taking this in. “But that’s impossible! Sharon said he’s Troy’s father and that she’s been in touch with him.”

Her brother’s smile was grim. “She lied.”

“But…why?”

“She obviously resented you,” Joe said, reaching for her hand and gently squeezing her fingers. “For some messed-up reason of her own. She refused to help him—and never saw him again. This summer, when she learned you were looking for Jake, she told you all those lies. She obviously wanted you to think the worst of him. And Suze—it means he wasn’t Troy’s father.”

Susannah could barely take that in, but her heart lightened. Jake had been true to her, true to the end of his life.

Doug sipped his coffee and went back to his story then. “With Jake dead, it all came down on me. Proof of my innocence had been destroyed. Dad had got hold of Sheriff Dalton before we learned about the accident. He knew he could trust his friend, but because everything had been turned over to the FBI, there was nothing the sheriff could do.”

“Oh, no.”

“It was Dad’s idea to bury Jake in my stead.” He spoke in a low voice. “He knew the chances of me getting off were slim, despite my innocence. After all the men he’d sent to prison, he feared it would be hell on earth for me there.”

“What about Jake’s father? Did he ever know?”

Doug shook his head. “To the best of my knowledge, he didn’t. He took the money Dad gave him, and from what I understand, Jake and his dad had a falling out before the move. His father was living in Oregon, and Jake said he was finished with him.” Doug paused for a moment. “Allan was the one who went to Dad, you know. When Jake found out, he was furious. Jake tried to be the man you wanted him to be, Susannah. Unfortunately, things didn’t work out for him.”

Despite Allan Presley’s inadequacy as a father and a human being, she found it sad that he never knew his only son was dead.

“How did they ever manage to bury Jake and pass him off as you?” Joe demanded.

“Sheriff Dalton had Jake placed in a body bag at the scene of the accident, and he took him to Uncle Henry’s.”

“Uncle Henry?” Joe asked, frowning.

“My dad’s brother owned the town mortuary,” Susannah said. “He died years ago and it was sold.”

“The funeral was closed casket,” Doug went on, “and that was understandable with the type of accident it’d been. No one questioned any part of it. Jake was buried, and I was dead to my family.” He paused for a moment. “Dad was able to get me new identification papers, and a social security number. He had the connections.” He stared down at his hands. “Dad found out about a baby born the same year I was, a baby who died at six months of age. David Langevin. That’s who I became.”

“All this time Mom thought you were Dad.”

Doug’s sigh revealed his chagrin. “Yes, I know. But there was nothing I could do except let her assume that. I guess I do look a bit like Dad these days. Or at least the way he looked in middle age.”

“She didn’t know the difference,” Susannah said.

“I never intended to show myself to her. I found her by the park one night, sitting on a bench, and she was clearly lost. I had to help her, but when she saw me she assumed I was Dad. I didn’t speak for fear she’d figure it out. I didn’t want to confuse her any more than she already was.”

“You came back to see her again?”

Her brother nodded. “I visited her at the hospital once, and at Altamira. It seemed to comfort her. She never knew what really happened to me. Dad made the decision not to tell her I was alive. It would’ve been too hard on her, he said, keeping this kind of secret, so he felt it was best to cut all ties. I agreed at the time but later I wished I hadn’t. He came to see me through the years and brought me money. I worked menial jobs in various states.”

“Hold on a minute,” Susannah said, stopping him. Once again she’d misjudged her father. “I found a small journal he’d kept of those trips. I thought Dad might’ve had a mistress and he was wining and dining her instead of our mother.”

“I found it, too,” Doug told her. “I was afraid of what you might think, so I took it. Apparently too late,” he added ruefully.

“Oh, no.” Susannah covered her eyes with both hands. She’d wrongly accused her father at every turn.

“At the time everything had to be decided quickly and I know Dad had his regrets after the fact. I did, too, but I couldn’t set things straight because of what might happen to him. He was instrumental in setting this up and there would be ramifications for him because of it. I was trapped and so was he.”

If the fraud had been discovered, Susannah realized, her father, her uncle and the sheriff would’ve been charged and possibly imprisoned. Naturally, her brother couldn’t risk that.

“I didn’t believe Mom when she told me she’d seen Dad.”

“Don’t blame yourself for that,” Joe said, giving her hand another reassuring squeeze. Then nodding at Doug, he said, “Continue with what happened to you after the accident.”

Doug looked sadly down at his coffee. “Dad gave me what cash he could and I crossed into Canada. I lived in British Columbia for a number of years under my new identity. I even worked in mills in a couple of B.C. towns. You remember I once had a summer job at Bronson’s?”