"What did you tell her?"

"I told her I need to take care of myself. I told her what I'm doing is hard and that while I didn't expect her support, I didn't deserve her criticism either. I asked her not to call me anymore. I told her I'd come see her and explain things to her as soon as I possibly could. In the meantime, I need s.p.a.ce."

"Whew! What did she say to all that?"

"She said I never had appreciated all the things she and my father gave me. At which point, I kind of yelled back that I'd appreciated them every single d.a.m.n minute of my life because I lived in constant fear of losing them. She told me I didn't even wear the gown she chose for the debutante ball. I informed her I never wanted to be a debutante in the first place, that it wasn't me, but that I'd gone through with it to please her. Can you believe this woman, Kris? Ten years later, she's still mad that I didn't wear the dress she liked. I went to the G.o.dd.a.m.n ball. All these things I did for her all my life, because on some level, I was afraid that if I didn't do them, she wouldn't let me stay. But they were never enough. Anyway, I kind of lost my temper and she hung up in the middle of me screaming at her."

"Did you call her back?"

"Not hardly. I've needed the break from her. I'm sorry it had to come to this, but at the same time, I'm relieved. Some days, when I'm really discouraged, I think she'll never accept me for who I am. To this day, she still sends me money in the mail. Every month, I get an envelope with cash in it. She used to send me checks, but years ago, I told her to stop, so now she sends the money anonymously, and we both pretend that she doesn't do it. The only thing I can do to keep my sanity is donate it to the most radical lesbian cause I can find. She'd have a heart attack if she knew about the kinds of donations I've made in her name."

"Good for you."

"It's funnya"I've done so many things other people would call courageous, and yet I can't do the simplest thing in the world a" tell my mother what's in my heart," she said with disgust.

"Don't be so hard on yourself, Destiny. It may seem simple but it's never easy."

"My work is really ironic, too. That's part of what I've been thinking about lately. I think I'm good at what I do because of my mother. In dealing with her, I learned to be a supreme negotiator. I've lived my whole life working the system, compromising, giving her what she wanted while trying to get some things I needed. There's nothing courageous in that. I've worked and worked to save the world when I couldn't even save myself."

"C'mon, you've done a lot of people a lot of good."

"I know that. I've always known that. But it's not enough anymore to take care of other people when I can't take care of myself. That's why I've decided to take a leave of absence from my work."

"You're kidding!"

"I'm not. I've never been more serious. The world needs so much saving, Kris. It can do without me for a month, or even a year."

"Would you take a whole year off?"

"Maybe. I'm committed to taking as much time as I need."

"I'm shocked! You are your work, Destiny!"

"No, I'm not," she said with a heavy sigh. "Until recently, I thought I was, but I'm not. My work is a part of me, but it's not all of me. There are other parts of me, too, most of which I've let die because I was so busy with my work. Now I'm finally doing something just for me. You should join me a" take a month off. We could travel, see the world, find ourselves."

"Don't tempt me."

"You're not ready to let go of your work, though, are you?" she asked seriously.

"No, I'm not. It protects me," I said simply.

"Oh well, it was just a thought."

We chatted for a few more minutes. I thanked her for talking to me in the dark hours of the night. She thanked me for calling her. Before we hung up, I asked her to call her father to get the names of the people in the church who had handled her adoption to the Greaves.

As I straightened the sheets on my bed, I thought how lucky I was to have a friend like Destiny.

Maybe I was changing, I thought as I fell asleep. Just maybe.

Dawn had barely broken when I screamed myself awake.

Destiny and I are visiting my family. After some horrible fight, I decide to leave. I tell Ann and Gail I'm leaving. I talk to them separately. I yell at them, trying to get them to understand me. Over and over, I scream, "I haven't betrayed you! I haven't betrayed you!"

This time, I didn't call anyone, and I didn't bother trying to get back to sleep. I got up and went to work.

Chapter 19.

Given my early arrival at work, I was the only one there for several hours. When Ann came in at her usual time of 9 a.m., she popped into my office before she started working.

"So, how are things going with Destiny?"

"Have a seat," I offered after she helped herself to my couch. "So far I've found three mothers."

"No!"

"Really."

I straightened the work on my desk into piles so I wouldn't lose track of what I'd been doing. Then I opened the bottom drawer of my desk, kicked back in my chair, and propped my feet on the drawer. I proceeded to explain Destiny's complicated family tree to Ann. In the end, she shook her head in disbelief.

"I can't believe that! How awful!"

"Neither can I, except I keep finding it out one little piece at a time, so it's easier to absorb."

"How's Mich.e.l.le reacting to all of this?"

"Funny you should ask...."

"What? I suppose Mich.e.l.le is Destiny's long-lost sister."

I laughed.

"No, nothing that sensational. Destiny broke up with her last week."

"Huh. How's Mich.e.l.le handling it?"

"Superbly, as always. She's chasing after some veterinarian. She's contemplating taking her cats in for vaccinations they don't need. I told her it might not be so good for their health, but I doubt she listened to me."

"Boy, she doesn't waste any time, does she?"

"Nope. Enough about her, though. I wanted to talk about you and me... and about us." I sat up in my chair, closed the desk drawer, took a paper clip from the top of my desk and started fiddling with it.

"Okay...." Ann said, looking a little uncomfortable.

"I've been dreaming some more..." I started slowly, "... about the incest."

"And you're sure it's Dad?"

"Positive."

She looked stricken. I felt stricken. I put the paper clip down and started doodling on my desk pad. I drew kites, which were the only thing I ever sketched, and used different colored pens to fill them in.

"It's hard to believe, isn't it?"

"Impossible," I said wearily. "Have you had any memories of it?" I asked hopefully.

At first, she didn't reply.

"No. No, I haven't. But it feels like something happened. Ever since you asked me if I thought he molested us, I can't stop feeling like he probably did. Andrea, my therapist, thinks maybe it's time she and I started working on him in our sessions. But just the thought of it makes my stomach hurt. What are we going to do, Kris?"

"I don't know."

"Do you think you'll confront Dad?"

"Oh, G.o.d, no!" A chill ran up my spine at the very thought. "I'm not ready for that yet."

"Good," she said, much relieved, for she knew that my confrontation would result in hers as well.

"It's funny, Ann, but I don't think that's the most pressing thing. Most of the work has to be done inside me. Before I can confront him, I have to first confront my own feelings.

"You know, I've run all over the city for Destiny, gathering memories and facing people, and I've seen that what I've done for her has helped. But most of what's changed Destiny is Destiny. The day she hired me, she allowed herself to start feeling again a" things she'd blocked twenty-five years ago and even a month ago. I want to start feeling again, too, instead of blocking everything, then maybe I'll be ready to face Dad."

"You already have started feeling, Kris. We're talking about it, aren't we?"

"We are... and this will probably shock you, but I'm going to take some time off work, time to stop running from it."

"You can't be serious!"

"I am," I said quietly, taking my gla.s.ses off to wipe the sweat off my eyebrows. "G.o.d, it's hot in here, maybe we should turn down the heat."

"The heat's not on."

"Huh, well, I'm going to take a few days off, maybe a month."

"You never take time off, especially not since Gallagher left."

"Then it's about time I did, right?"

"I don't know," she replied, the shock still evident on her face. "I can't picture you not working. You always work."

"Don't worry," I a.s.sured her, "I don't have any firm plans yet. It's just a thought. I'll give you plenty of notice if I decide to do it."

"You've gone off the deep-end," Ann said, with more affection than judgment.

"I know," I laughed. "It's great, isn't it?"

That night, Destiny and I went to a photography exhibit at the Denver Art Museum. We both pretended to know more about art than we did. We laughed a lot and saw very little. Almost as an afterthought, as she was getting out of the car at her house, she gave me the name of Sister Margaret Kincaid a" the nun who had introduced her to the Greaves family.

I fell asleep that night thinking of what it must have been like to take a four-year-old Destiny from her grandmother's arms. And I dreamed.

J am kissing my father, long and slow on the lips. We are standing up, in the bas.e.m.e.nt by the washer and dryer. lam older, maybe even my own age.

He's telling me how attractive I am. I am putting up with it to get information, to see if he'll really do it, to be able to have proof. It's absolutely revolting.

I got up and took a long, hot bath. I hopped back into bed and for a change, instantly fell into a deep sleep.

I didn't wake up until the alarm went off.

Maybe I was beginning to heal from the wounds of misplaced touch and broken trust. Slowly but surely, maybe I was.

As soon as I arrived at work, I made a few simple, if deceitful, calls to the Archdiocese of Denver and easily located Sister Margaret Kincaid. She was working as a secretary in one of the parish's elementary schools.

In the afternoon, I met her at the school, right before the last bell rang.

We talked in her cramped, windowless office. I sat on the other side of her cluttered desk and tried not to look at her. Her red-orange hair bothered me, as did the black-framed gla.s.ses with half-inch-thick lenses that rested in stark contrast to her pale complexion.

I began by explaining why I was there. I told her I wanted to find out more about the Kenwoods, that I was doing this as a favor to the daughter they left behind when they died. Between pursed lips, she curtly told me she knew who Destiny Greaves was, that she read the papers and watched the evening news.

In a quiet voice, she answered my questions with speed and precision.

"How well did you know the Kenwoods?"

"I knew of them. They'd been active in our parish for several years."

"Can you tell me what they were like?"

"I believe they were good people. They attended church every Sunday."

"When did you first meet Destiny?"

"The day after her parents died. Father O'Malley suggested I visit the grandmother and the child a" to offer the church's condolences. He set up the appointment."

"Were you the one who decided where she'd spend the rest of her life?"

"I decided nothing. I met with the grandmother and she asked for the church's a.s.sistance. We found a suitable family for the child."

"In the form of Benjamin and Liz Greaves?"

"Yes."