The American Heir(3)

I'm dying, Rans. Quickly, I hope. I have an aggressive form of cancer   that we caught late. I will be dead by the time you read this letter,   per my wishes. My lawyer has instructions to mail it only after I'm   gone. Very dramatic, isn't it? Like something out of a novel.

But I rather enjoy being dramatic at my age. There isn't much more to   live for or much fun to be derived from anything except what's in my   mind. Anyway, there is a point to this letter. A reason I'm writing you   on my deathbed. I made a promise to my sister, your beloved Helen, many   years ago. The time has come to make good on it. I thank God my mind  is  still clear and sound enough to remember the promises I made in my   youth.

Maybe this will give you some comfort. In any case, I hope you won't   blame Helen. That this won't sully your memory of her or diminish your   epic love. I can't think of any way to tell you this but straight out   and then explain.

My daughter Gloria is adopted. She's your daughter. Yours and Helen's. Congratulations, you have a girl, old bean!

And now you have a new baby great-granddaughter, too. Just born. Has the Wares good looks, fortunately.

What you do with this information is up to you, of course. I'll be gone   and unable to interfere with whatever you choose to do. I would ask  that  you respect them. My granddaughter is happily married, happily  middle  class, happily American. Please don't upset her life.

Now that I've dumped this on you in my final hours, I owe you the particulars. You always were one for details.

You broke Helen's heart all those years ago when she went to England the   first time. It's still hard for me to believe Papa sent her to England   to catch a member of the aristocracy. He was hoping for as much as an   earl, I'm sure. That she landed a duke, or so it seemed, was beyond his   wildest expectations.

My sister was always a romantic, a follower of her heart, a lover of   passion, a giver. Easily seduced, as you well know. Easily hurt. But   headstrong and just plain strong, period. You made love to her. Made her   fall in love with you. When she realized you wanted her only for her   money, not herself, she came home broken. You never saw that part. The   hurt little girl, her rosy view of the world and romantic love   shattered.

She hadn't been home long when she became listless. She looked pale.   Wouldn't eat. Lost weight. Slept all the time. Papa and Mama thought she   was depressed and spent their hours trying to cheer her up. Only I saw   through it. Maybe trying so desperately to get pregnant all those  years  made me keen to recognize the symptoms of pregnancy when everyone  else  was blind.

Helen knew, though. And was terrified. What was she going to do? She'd   disgraced the family. Papa would be devastated. Ruined. His health had   already begun to fail. I, on the other hand, had come to terms with   being barren. Now I saw my opportunity. I wanted the baby. I made my   case to Helen. We both agreed it was for the best, the perfect solution   for everyone.

We cooked up a plan and sent Helen away to New York and the East to   "cheer her up" and mend her broken heart. She was gone a long time. Over   nine months. In the meantime, I made plans to adopt a baby from a   "friend" who was in trouble.

It all worked out. We were exceedingly careful and clever. But I'm still   amazed we were never caught or found out. You were the one fly in the   ointment. All those damned letters of yours that began arriving with a   fury. There were times, many of them, when I thought Helen would relent   and open one.

Would you hate me very much if I told you I encouraged her not to? You   must understand. I wanted that baby with my heart and soul. With every   ounce of my being. What right did you have to her?

But no force on earth could make Helen do something she didn't want to.   And she was too hurt to want to hear from you. She had the baby, my   beloved Gloria. Who was truly my daughter. I have loved her as my own   and cherished her all my life. She has been my greatest gift. Her and   her daughter and now her granddaughter. I hope that's some comfort.   Though maybe my confession will only make you jealous and angrier.

Bygones, Rans. It was a bygone era. It's now a bygone life. For me,   anyway. You'll probably live to be a hundred. What would you have done   with a daughter? She wouldn't have been the precious male heir you so   badly needed. But I have loved her.   





 

Anyway, back to Helen. We got lucky. She popped back into shape and good   spirits, seemingly none the worse for the wear, as they say. No  stretch  marks. No scars. After she gave Gloria to me, the baby was my  daughter.  She was her auntie. Helen never looked back. And neither  should you.

Mama and Papa were thrilled to have their sunny daughter back. And then   you showed up to reclaim Helen. You with your Clark Gable good looks  and  your English charm and title-how could she resist you? Especially  when  you were finally determined to have her. You have always been a  force to  be reckoned with. Damn your charm, Rans. You took my sister  away.

I don't think you ever knew what it cost her to choose you. Although she   was content to play auntie, I know she would have loved to watch  Gloria  grow up. To play an active part in her life. If only you hadn't  come  back, she could have married one of her many local suitors, stayed  in  Seattle, and watched her girl become a woman. Instead, you swept  her  away with you and she was doomed to watch from afar.

I don't believe Helen ever stopped loving you. Not during that long   absence and first pregnancy, nor any time after. Does that satisfy your   vanity? Give you faith in true love? She finally came to believe you   really loved her. I have to give you credit for that.

I don't know whether it pained Helen to keep your child a secret from   you. I don't know whether she ever cried for Gloria. I'm not sure you   would have found anything suspicious about her great fondness for her   niece.

There were worries, of course. I thanked God every day that Gloria   looked nothing like you, while dreading that some resemblance would   eventually show. But she looked too much like Helen and me. I shrugged   off the resemblance as a happy coincidence and hinted that my "friend"   was a distant cousin.

If Mama and Papa ever suspected the truth, they never mentioned it to me.

And so there you have it, Rans. The truth, finally. You do have an heir,   an American heir. Not that it does you any good, all of your children   and grandchildren being female. And Gloria being illegitimate. But if   it's any comfort, your line lives on.

I do have one favor to ask. I've lived a long and full life and enjoyed   myself immensely. What I haven't done is accumulate wealth. Whatever I   got from Mama and Papa is long gone. I have nothing to leave the next   generation.

I'm asking you to leave something to your grandchildren when you go. For   Helen's sake. It's what she would have wanted. It doesn't have to be   much. Some valuable bauble of Helen's, perhaps? Or enough cash to give   them a sound start in life. You've always been smart. Even if you decide   not to reveal your true identity to them, I'm sure you can find a way   to leave them something without arousing suspicion.

A letter is old-fashioned. I suppose I could have called. But letters   are our way, aren't they? A thing from the past. And they can be   destroyed, burned in the fire, and no one will be the wiser.

Do what you will, Rans. Take this secret to your grave or go meet the   newest member of your family line. In case you have any curiosity about   her, I've enclosed a picture of your great-granddaughter, Haley. She's a   little beauty if I do say so myself. Looks a lot like Helen did as a   baby.

It's been a grand life, hasn't it?

Good luck, Rans, whatever you decide.

All my love,

Your devoted sister-in-law,

Clara



I took my time rereading the letter. By the time I finished, I had tears   in my eyes. And a lump in my throat from seeing my name mentioned. I   reread several key passages over and over.

There was no picture of me remaining in the envelope. I wondered what   he'd done with it. Where could he have put it? Finding it in this   monstrosity of a house would be next to impossible. Or had he tossed it?   Torn it up?

I carefully folded the letter and put it back in the Bible with trembling hands.

My great-grandmothers, both of them, had loved me extraordinarily.   Helen, enough to give my grandmother up so generations of us could have   good lives and her family's good name could remain intact. Clara enough   to love me as her own great-grandchild.

And Rans? What had he thought when he'd read the letter? Why hadn't he   jumped on the first jet to America to see me? Why hadn't he introduced   himself as who he really was? Why had he kept the secret all these   years? Had it given him comfort to know we existed? Or caused him pain?   How could he stand missing out on our lives? And yet he had called me   here now.