Let It Be Me, Becky Wade [beautiful books to read .TXT] 📗

was outgoing and passionate. He was honorable and even-keeled. In fact, as far as Sebastian knew, Sam was so even-keeled that he’d only ever lost his head over one thing.

Genevieve.

Eight days later, Leah traveled to Atlanta.

This time, she did not make the trip in order to see a whip-smart doctor. This time, she made the trip to see a house. Jonathan and Trina Brookside’s house, to be precise.

She drove past their address slowly. Then she parked her Honda—far enough away to be safe, close enough to observe.

Jonathan and Trina now lived in the Tuxedo Park neighborhood of Atlanta, surrounded by some of the region’s wealthiest families. Their sprawling Tudor sat on its lot like a queen on her throne. The oak trees, dogwoods, and lush landscaping surrounding her pledged fealty.

In an alternate version of her life, Leah would not be parking on the street, a stranger. She’d be intimately familiar with this house and its occupants. She’d come here often for holidays, meals, family gatherings. When Jonathan and Trina traveled, she’d stop by to feed the cats or water the flowers or collect the mail.

Then again . . . maybe not. Had these people raised her, she’d likely have attended Princeton. In which case, she might have opted to teach at one of the East Coast universities. In which case, she wouldn’t be living in Georgia.

Her actual life and her possible life had diverged from each other the day of her birth. The more years that passed, the farther apart the two paths grew.

She tapped her fingertips on the lower curve of the steering wheel. The past few weekends, work responsibilities or Dylan-related responsibilities had prevented her from making this pilgrimage. However, she’d spent plenty of time planning her sleuthing tactics and staring at this house on Google maps—which had in no way prepared her for the appeal of the real thing.

Ultimately, she’d decided to make the trip to Atlanta early on this Sunday morning because, under the section of her mother’s obstetrical records marked Religious Affiliation, Trina had checked the box next to Christian. Not all Christians attended church regularly on Sunday mornings. But a large number did. Should Jonathan and Trina drive to church this morning, she’d be poised to follow. Churches were public, unthreatening places that welcomed visitors. No one would give her presence a second thought, and she’d be able to get close enough to the Brooksides to get a good look at them.

She’d arrived here at 7:45, right on schedule.

As her watch ticked off one hour, then another, the plan that had seemed solid to her back in Misty River began to tarnish. Both she and her car appeared harmless. However, a woman sitting alone on a residential street for hours at a time could not expect to go unnoticed. Eventually her presence would raise suspicion.

She had a multitude of papers to grade back home. She and Dylan needed groceries, and it would be excellent if she could find time to go walking today, because she hadn’t found time Friday or Saturday. Most important, she didn’t want to leave Dylan to his own devices for the entire day. He’d promised to go to Tess and Rudy’s for lunch, and Tess could be counted upon to call Leah if he didn’t show. Still. Dylan might be vaping marijuana at this very moment, while she was chasing her phantom history.

Checking his location on her phone, she saw that he was at his friend Isaac’s house, just like he’d said he’d be. Isaac’s mom was trustworthy.

Everything was fine. Dylan wasn’t vaping marijuana . . . probably.

The Brooksides’ home remained motionless, concealing its secrets.

She killed time browsing wistfully through her Princeton album. Nassau Hall, once George Washington’s capitol of the fledgling United States, with its bell tower and stoic façade. Blair Hall, with its castlelike turrets. Alexander Hall, with its Tiffany stained-glass windows.

When she’d looked through all her photos and scoured the Internet for a few more to add to her collection, she checked Beckett Memorial’s website to see if she could find a picture of Sebastian there.

She couldn’t.

Since she’d seen him at his hospital almost a month ago, she’d often mulled over his appearance—giving her memories of him color and three-dimensional depth. Again and again, she’d envisioned him in his T-shirt, scrubs, Adidas.

She’d thought of Levi and Isabella, too. For those babies and their families, the specter of death wasn’t some abstract, distant thing. She’d felt just how close it was when she’d visited them. Levi and Isabella were small and helpless. Death, big and dangerous.

Sighing, she returned her focus to the house just as a shiny black BMW sedan finished backing out of the driveway. The car turned in her direction, and she dropped low in her seat with a gasp.

What! A car? Who was inside it?

Despite the glaze of sun and shadow against their windshield, she glimpsed two passengers in the front seat before the vehicle slipped past.

She executed a three-point turn as quickly as possible.

The BMW turned left at the end of the street.

Adrenaline jerked through her system. She was tailing a car like in the movies!

They wound through the neighborhood onto increasingly larger streets, until ten minutes later, the BMW pulled into a church parking lot.

She’d hypothesized that they’d leave their house for church this morning, and they had. Little pleased her more than forming a hypothesis based on logic, then watching that hypothesis proven true.

She parked two rows away from them in the lot, which gave her a clear view of the woman and man who exited the car. Based on the Facebook cover photo Leah had so carefully studied, the woman was definitely Trina Brookside. The man, very likely Jonathan Brookside, was of medium height and distinguished. Trina wore a pink cardigan over a classy blouse and skirt. Jonathan wore a black suit.

Leah watched them walk inside.

Rapidly, she finger-combed her hair and applied lipstick, then merged into the stream of people heading toward the service. Anticipating that this morning might include a