Switch master 6 ink and.., p.27
Switch Master: 6 (Ink and Kink), page 27
“I’m sorry, Mom, so sorry,” she said, knowing she’d say it again a thousand times just to make things right between them.
“Mark, Martin and Barbara Cormack should apologize to you, to us. Mark stayed silent while I feverishly tried to find you. He was very much his mother’s son back then, willing to do anything for the family name and fortune, hers and her husband’s.”
“Mom, I need to know something.” Sam shrugged out of her coat and opened the envelope, pulling out the photos. “These were sent to me today. Mark Cormack’s return address is on the envelope.”
Gwen stretched out to take the photograph on the top. She paused, drawing in a deep, shuddering breath. “Heaven above, these are Martin’s. How on earth did Mark get a hold of these? I haven’t seen them since…Martin took them.”
“He took these? How?”
“He used a tripod. He fancied himself a photographer with ambitions of traveling the world. He was such a handsome, passionate man back then.”
“Mom, is Martin Cormack my father?” Sam finally asked, having to know once and for all.
“Yes he is.” This time there was no evasion or fear, no change of subject, just straight-up honesty.
Feeling ill, Sam was about to charge for the nearest bathroom when her mom’s hand caught her elbow to stop her. “Samantha, calm down. You need to sit down and listen.”
“How can I calm down, Mom? I had a child with Mark, my half-brother, a child who may not have died as I thought,” Sam said, feeling hollow and confused.
“Honey, Martin is not Mark’s father,” Gwen revealed.
“What exactly are you saying?” Sam collapsed against the loveseat, realizing she was shaking.
“They were forced to marry. Martin tried to make their marriage work, but Barbara’s tantrums and hysterics pushed him away. They didn’t share the same bedroom and she frequently visited college acquaintances in New York City.”
“He told you that?” Sam asked.
“When you clean someone’s house, you find out who’s sleeping where and who’s not sleeping together at all.”
Sam shifted in her seat, facing her mother. “Who is Mark’s father?”
“My guess is that she found herself a baby daddy. Several times I’d heard Barbara and Martin argue over a man she’d met in New York,” Gwen said.
“Mom! A baby daddy?” Sam questioned, finding her mother’s word choice amusing.
“Well, I don’t know what they called it back then. Right now it’s important for me that you know I loved you from the moment I knew I was pregnant with you.”
“Then why didn’t you tell me about my father?”
“I was scared,” her mom admitted.
“Of what, did Martin threaten you?” Sam reached out, grasping her mother’s hand.
“Yes, but it was more than that. When you were old enough to start asking about your father, I was afraid you’d be angry with me for having an affair. He…he came to me on a cool, wet October night, claiming he’d left Barbara due to his suspicion of his young son not being his own.”
“Did he actually say that?” Sam asked.
“Yes, he believed she had a brief affair with a doctor she knew from when she attended New York University. Plus, he claimed the timing of her pregnancy didn’t match to the last time they’d been intimate and that he’d used the old-fashioned pull-out method of birth control.”
“Trust me on this one, Mom, Barbara could still get pregnant by her husband.”
“I told him that too, but he was devastated. You can imagine what happened next.”
“Oh Mom,” Sam whispered, not really sure what to do or say. “I wouldn’t have been angry. There’s no fault in loving someone. You loved him, didn’t you?”
“Oh yes, at the time I loved him very much. He was quite the charmer.”
“How long were you two together?”
“After that first night, off and on for about a month and a half,” Gwen answered. “One morning, I saw him looking at a photo he’d taken of Mark and I insisted he needed to go back to his family. It wasn’t the boy’s fault that Martin had doubts about his paternity. He did go then our affair ended. Soon after that I realized I was pregnant with you. I tried to contact him, but he refused to return my calls.”
“Does he know I’m his daughter?”
Gwen frowned, saying, “He came to visit when you were five. When he saw you he asked who your father was. I told him the truth, but it took time for him to actually believe it. He came by again a few months later and offered financial support if I kept quiet, ostensibly to protect you from his wife.”
“That’s why you kept your secret for so long.”
“Yes, I didn’t feel as if I had much choice.”
“He moved us to Falmouth, didn’t he?”
“He did. It was close enough for me to take a boat from there to Martha’s Vineyard.”
“He was a cad! I almost wish I didn’t know the truth now.”
“I think in his own way, he was trying to keep you close to him without tipping off his wife about you. She’s not someone I’d ever want to turn my back on.”
“If that’s the case, why on earth did he arrange to have us come to the Vineyard that summer?”
“Honestly, I only knew that he’d finally had DNA analysis done proving he was not Mark’s biological father, and he’d gotten it into his head to try romancing me again. It didn’t work, but he was a Cormack who wanted his way. I said no several times until he offered to get you into an Ivy League college if I worked the summer there.”
“I could’ve gotten a scholarship. My grades were good enough.”
“There’s not a day that goes by that I don’t regret making the decision to move to the island. I wanted what was best for you,” her mom admitted. “The choice put you on Mark’s radar and I was saddened to know he hurt you the way Martin Cormack did to me.”
“The few times I’d dealt with Barbara Cormack back then, she wasn’t very nice. I hid myself in the guest house, reading my books and playing with my first computer. That thing was massive, remember?”
“You always were talented when it came to computers.”
“Before we got that computer, I had to use a computer lab at school. You gave it to me for my birthday.”
“Actually, Martin gave it to you. I’ve hated him for a long time, Samantha, but his saving grace was that he hired the private investigator who traced you to his brother and tipped off the police.”
“Of all the people I’d thought was the detective’s source the day he’d come to me in the hospital, it certainly wasn’t another Cormack.”
“James was a very troubled man. His name was hardly ever spoken, not by Barbara or Martin, anyway. I never did know what James had done to cause the whole Cormack clan to ban him from returning to New England.”
“It took awhile for me to forgive myself for hurting you when I ran away, Mom. I’ve Taran to thank for helping me do that,” Sam stated, trying to grasp it all. “I’ve told you I think my baby may be alive.”
“Yes, I remember from when we spoke earlier in the day. Do you want to talk to your father? Ask him to help in finding the truth?”
Sam didn’t know. “He’s never given me reason to think he was my dad or even wanted to be. I’m still trying to take it all in. Thank you for your honesty tonight. Now I feel more confident about moving forward with Taran and hopefully Luke Walker.”
Gwen reached up with her free hand and brushed Sam’s forehead. “Happily ever after was all I’ve ever wanted for you.”
“I love you, Mom. I don’t say it much, I know, it doesn’t make it less true,” Sam said, finding herself suddenly wrapped up in her mother’s unshakable love.
“I love you too. Now listen to your mother. I’m going to fix us some coffee and we’ll chat. You’re staying the night, aren’t you?”
“I was hoping to,” Sam answered.
“I’ve got plenty of room. Stay for as long as you’d like.”
“I need to call Taran and let him know.”
“Call him and remind him if he doesn’t take care of you as you deserve, he’ll face the wrath of a Riley!” her mother warned vehemently.
With their hearts laid bare and the truth finally known, a tremendous weight lifted from Sam’s shoulders. She still had to grasp the fact that her father was Martin Cormack and Mark wasn’t her father’s biological son, yet she and her mother had bridged a tremendous gap.
Hugging her mother closer, Sam couldn’t fight the tears that fell. Only when her mom dried her tears sometime later did they separate.
Quietly, Gwen prepared two mugs of coffee, bringing them and a plate of biscotti in on a small tray with sugar and cream. Reconnecting on a whole new level, they talked about so much more than where they’d been or where they’d come from.
They spoke of the future, of love, the Maddox family, Sam’s friends, roller derby, the group of companions Gwen had made at the retirement village and Mexican Train. Sam couldn’t say she completely comprehended the rules of Mexican Train. If it made her mom happy to play the game, she was all for it.
An hour into their conversation, she took a break to call Taran. The call went to voicemail and she left a message, letting him know she was staying the night and asked him to call her as soon as he could. She then tried her partner and Phalen, with no luck.
She had no idea what was going on in Plymouth. Although she had a terrible feeling that if Taran’s phone, or any Maddox brother’s for that matter, was being ignored for voicemail, something was terribly, terribly wrong with Mark Cormack.
Chapter Fifteen
A few hours after the phone call, Taran and his brothers arrived at a coastal mansion that’d been turned into a hospice center.
Stunned, Taran sat in the backseat of the Navigator, staring at the massive building. Ethan remained in the driver’s seat. Phalen was in the front passenger seat, his eyes focused straight ahead.
“If Mark Cormack is a patient here, he’s dying,” Phalen said.
“I know, bro, I’ve helped families deal with legal matters for those who’ve gone into hospice care. I don’t wish this kind of illness on any man, not even one I was about to beat with my bare hands.”
“I’d have been right there with you, Taran,” Ethan stated. “Morgan said we’d find him at a medical facility and it was urgent. He’s got to be a patient here.”
Taran shook his head, trying to understand. “The question is why would he send Samantha old photos of his father and her mom?”
“We won’t know until we’re inside,” Phalen said. “Tread carefully once we’re in there. We don’t want to disturb the patients.”
“If we’re unsuccessful in talking to Mark tonight there’s a Holiday Inn Express not far from here. We can camp out there until tomorrow morning,” Ethan suggested.
“One step at a time,” Phalen cautioned.
A thought came to Taran, one he couldn’t shake, and he had to ask, “You found Samantha’s daughter, didn’t you, bro?”
“As much as I love you, Taran, Sam’s going to learn what I discovered first. I’ve the feeling Mark’s got something to say about it too.”
“I respect that. Let’s go.”
Collectively, they turned their phones off as they got out of the SUV and headed through the main entrance of the building. They came to an elaborate receptionist’s desk made of rich red oak and brass. The rest of the lobby area was luxurious, reminding one of an expensive hotel.
There were no foul odors often found in hospitals or nursing homes. It smelled like the seashore and saltwater taffy. There was popular music quietly pumping through an unseen speaker system, rather than elevator music. Not far from the lobby was a small bookstore and gift shop.
The receptionist greeted them with a warm smile. “Good evening, gentlemen. Might I be of assistance?”
“My name is Taran Maddox, I’m an attorney from Boston hoping to visit a patient of yours, Mark Cormack,” Taran introduced himself, automatically turning on his professional charm as he produced his ID. He was really glad he still wore his courtroom getup.
The receptionist took his ID, studied it then looked back and forth at them as she placed her hand over a phone-speaker system on the desk.
“You might not have blond hair, but the three of you are related,” she said, handing back his ID.
“You’ve a good eye. My brothers accompanied me here to Plymouth, as I’d only learned of Mark’s illness. His parents must be devastated.”
“I’m afraid you’re mistaken, Mr. Maddox,” she finally said.
“I understand, Ms. Carlotta,” he said smoothly, having noticed her nameplate on the desk. He also knew that the receptionist was obligated by HIPPA laws to guard the identities of the facility’s patients.
“It’s all right, Angela,” a man with a weakened but native New Englander accent spoke, the voice coming from a small speaker on the desk. “It happens that I contacted Mr. Maddox in the hopes he’d visit. Send him back.”
Ms. Carlotta flushed nervously. “Mr. Cormack, you should be resting,” she admonished.
“Easy does it, Angela. I’m dying, not dead yet. My doctor has told me I could have visitors. I’m sure he won’t stay overly long.”
“As you wish it, Mr. Cormack,” Angela Carlotta agreed.
Taran turned to his brothers. They gave him the go-ahead and he headed in the direction the receptionist indicated. It took less than a minute to find Mark Cormack’s room.
Inside, he found a frail man wearing a monogrammed robe reclining in a chaise. Sadly, the room’s décor, though elegant and resembling a fancy hotel room, couldn’t hide the plethora of monitors and medical equipment. An IV pole was situated next to Mark, the line hooked to his arm, dripping constantly.
“Come in, Maddox,” Mark invited, sounding weak but stronger than he’d been over the intercom.
“Thank you,” Taran said, stepping farther into the room and closing the door. “Under the circumstances, I wish we’d have met sooner.”
“We’ve met now,” Mark said.
“How long have you been sick?” Taran asked, wishing there was something he could do to help.
“Years, it seems. I went in remission two years ago, found a new purpose in my life, wrongly thinking I’d beaten the odds. Never was a good gambler. Here I am now, the house won, cancer returned. The morphine helps.” He gestured to a small device in his hand and the intricate IV line and device.
“I’m very sorry to hear that. I’m sure Samantha will be too.” Taran took a seat in the lounge chair close to Mark.
“I’m not so sure she would. I was a sonofabitch to her. I’ve no excuse other than finding out my old man wasn’t my old man and wrongly decided to screw the only decent person I’d known.”
“What you did was wrong,” Taran agreed. “You could’ve apologized a long time ago. Why didn’t you?”
“I was ashamed. I’ve wronged many since that time. Given that, I decided I can’t maintain lies anymore. For my wife and my children, I’m making everything right.”
“Is that why you called and then sent the envelope?” Taran asked, taking a seat in the lounge chair near the chaise.
“I sent the envelope because I didn’t want to face a restraining order, although I don’t pose any danger to anyone anymore.”
“We’ve been trying to contact you,” Taran told him. “Your phone was out of commission.”
“It was cheap thing the receptionist picked up for me at a 7-11 during a visit to see her son in New Hampshire,” Mark explained. “Can I ask you something personal?”
“You can ask. If it’s too personal, I may not answer.”
“Fair enough. Do you love Sam? It sounded as if you did on the phone, but I want to be sure.”
“I love her very much and plan to have a family with her,” Taran answered, proud to say those words.
Mark shut his eyes, sighing sadly. “She deserves to be happy.”
“Since we’re sharing, how many children do you have, Mark?”
“With Pamela, two boys and three girls,” he answered, visibly perking up at the mention of his children.
“You love them?”
“More than words can say. It’s killing me to know I won’t see them grow up or get married or have a family of their own. This time here has helped me get to know them better. We play games, they talk and I listen.”
“Family is everything, my parents taught me that. You said Pamela specifically. You have other children?”
“Three that I know of,” he admitted. “That’s one of the reasons I’m glad you visited tonight.”
“Does one of your children include Samantha’s daughter?”
“There’s a file in the top desk drawer over there. Could you get it?”
Taran stood and went over to the ebony and mahogany monstrosity. There was fancy monogrammed stationery, a pen and envelopes sitting out on the desk blotter. He ignored it all for the drawer, opening it up to find the file.
“Everything Samantha needs to know is in there. Maddox, it destroyed what little humanity I had left in me when I had to send her away, but I was left with no choice.”
“Everyone has a choice, Mark. Why did you do it? Samantha didn’t want anything more from you than financial support.”
Mark wheezed some more, looking much like a deflated balloon. “My mother bailed me out of a huge gambling debt, promising to turn me over to loan sharks if I didn’t ruin Samantha.”
“Why the hell would she do such a despicable thing?”
“She’d do anything to protect what she regards as hers, the Cormack name. My dad may have fooled himself into thinking he’d kept his mistress and his daughter a secret but my mother knew, therefore, I knew.”
“Don’t misunderstand, Cormack, your mother’s a bitch.”
“You’ve no idea.”
Taran remained standing. Mark became more agitated and winded after so much talking and he wasn’t sure if he should call a nurse or a doctor.
“Use the morphine, man,” he advised.
“I will,” Mark replied softly, pressing a button on the device in his hand. “Will you tell Samantha I’m sorry? As much as I was at fault for hurting her, I didn’t know the lengths my mother would go to destroy Sam until it was too late to change what happened to her in New York.”
