I want to thank everyone who read and/or reviewed the previous chapters to this. I know that I took a long hiatus, but I'm hoping that this will make up for that.

Yours,

Erin

5

A secret's worth depends on the people from which it must be kept.-Carlos Ruiz Zafon , The Shadow of the Wind

Ray could barely eat the dinner his aunt cooked. His stomach was tied into knots. After years apart, he was about to see his father, but it was unlike the meeting he'd imagined. He'd believed that he would eventually come here and have it out with the man. Tell him exactly what he thought of him. He didn't want to admit that a small part of him had craved some measure of true remorse on his father's part. Had craved reuniting with his father on a level that didn't involve alcohol induced tears. That was something he would never even admit to Neela. That was one thing he could hardly admit to himself.

The ride to the funeral parlor seemed impossibly long and far too short all at the same time. Ray sat in the back seat wearing his new clothes, watching the streets pass as they drove. He listened to his aunt chatter on as she always did when she was upset or nervous. It didn't matter much which she was feeling at the moment. He answered her questions as if in autopilot. Short, sweet, to the point. She didn't seem to notice, and for that he was grateful. He wasn't in the mood to pour his heart out right now, especially since he didn't have the slightest idea of what he was truly feeling.

He endured the meeting with the funeral director, shaking hands with him and listening to words of comfort and sympathy that for some reason seemed hollow. Ray knew the man had seen thousands of people come through here to mourn their dead and he'd probably said the same words to them. It meant nothing.

"Are you ready?" Amy asked softly, taking his arm to lead him gently into a room at the far end of the hall.

He nodded, words failing him for the moment. Gene trailed behind them, looking impossibly out of place in these surroundings. The place was decorated for the maximum possible comfort. His uncle was more comfortable in jeans and a tee-shirt, his arms covered in grease up to his elbows and beyond. He squirmed in his sport jacket like a little kid in church. Ray knew exactly what he felt like.

But then there wasn't any more time to think of discomfort. For a moment, it was all he could do to breathe. His father lay in the plush coffin, his hands resting peacefully on his chest. His hair had receded a little more than Ray remembered. The lines on his face were relaxed in death, the burdens of his life having been laid aside. Ray swallowed hard at the sight of the wedding ring on his finger. He'd never given that up, even after the divorce. He lifted his eyes to the photo propped above and stared at his father's smiling face.

Ray didn't know what he was supposed to be feeling at this moment. A part of him knew what he was supposed to feel. He could see the expectation in his aunt's face. The wary look of hope that she would see in his face what she wanted to see. Sadness. Devastation. Remorse, perhaps. He didn't know which one or if she wanted all of them. It didn't matter really. He felt nothing more than a sense of emptiness as he stared down at the empty shell that had once been his father. There was so much that would now be unsaid; so much that they couldn't do. They'd lost that chance a long time ago. For a moment, Ray wished that he could turn back time and rail at the man for all he'd put him through over the years. Rail at him or beg him to give one shit about him instead of the bottle.

"He looks so peaceful," Amy sniffled beside him. Her voice hitched in that way it always did right before she settled into a full blown sob. He nodded dutifully, willing himself to feel something…anything, but all he could feel was numb. Without a word, he turned away from the coffin wishing that Neela could be with him. He heard Amy begin to cry behind him, but he shut out the sound of her weeping as he made his way to the back of the room away from the platform holding the body of his father. He snorted derisively. It was like a fucking storefront window. Death on display, dressed up with pretty flowers and soft music. It disgusted him all of a sudden. He'd seen death in the ER. It was quick and painless or came with blood and screaming. It was cancer or a heart attack. A car accident. A drug overdose. It never came with sweet smelling flowers or the sound of "Ave Maria" in the background.

He pushed through the doors to the hall and past the waiting mourners there for the wake. He ignored the whispers that followed his flight. He shut his ears to the sound of his name being called. He needed to get out. Even if it was just for a minute. It sickened him the spectacle they were making of this. He knew that everyone would cry and offer sympathy that he didn't need or want. As if they didn't know that he and his father hadn't spoken in months. As if everything was still all right.

Ray shoved through the door labeled tastefully "Men" and crossed the white tiled floor to stand before the mirror with his hands braced against the sink. Hazel green eyes stared back at him from the reflection in the glass. Hazel eyes that looked tired and worn. He could see the beginning of fine lines around his eyes and wondered if age were catching up with him or if he was only tired. He fumbled in his suit jacket and pulled out his cell phone, debating whether or not to call Neela. He had no idea what time it was in Chicago, but he needed to hear her voice. He needed her. Never once since they'd finally come together had he felt as alone as he did in this moment.

Ray hit the auto dial, his finger hovering over the "Send" button. He cursed softly, snapping the phone shut again before dropping it in his pocket. He could deal with this. He could close this chapter of his life without burdening her. She'd been burdened by his emotional train wreck enough. He knew she wouldn't care if he called and woke her up. He knew that she would always be there if he needed her. He just wanted to prove to himself that he could stand on his own two feet for this. He could break down later. When he got home he would fall on his knees and beg if needs be.

Forcing a smile for his reflection, he turned on the taps and filled his cupped hands with water. He felt a little better after he'd splashed some across his face. More in control. Ray didn't know how he was going to get through the rest of the night, but he had to. If for no other reason than Amy needed him to.

Wiping his hands and face, he pushed open the door to the restroom only to pull back into the shadows as Amy stormed past, her pretty face twisted with worry.

"You can't be here, Felice."

Ray felt his breath stop in his chest at the sound of that name. Inching forward, he looked up the hall and felt his heart sink to the pit of his stomach. If the wake wasn't enough to deal with, his mother had decided to take this time to finally show up. He swallowed hard, his eyes roving over her face. She'd changed little in twenty years. Her face bore more lines and her dark hair carried more silver than brown, but he would never forget the tight look of anger that had always been in her brown eyes. He would never forget the harsh set of her mouth or the way her smile would seem just a little more predatory than was seemly.

"I can be wherever I want to be, Amy," he heard her say in a voice that he remembered. Rough and slightly tinged with sarcasm. "This is still a free country and I wanted to see the old goat buried."

Ray took a step forward, his rage rising to the fore as he heard Amy's sharp gasp.

"Felice, you cannot be here. Ray is here and you promised…"

Ray frowned, pulling back into the shadows. What had Amy meant by that? Promised? What promise?

"I promised him," his mother snapped, gesturing toward the room beyond. "I didn't promise you a damn thing."

"Please, Felice," Amy begged. "No good will come of rehashing this…"

"I've kept my silence for nearly thirty years. I refuse to keep his secret any longer. It was bad enough that he brought that little bastard into the house let alone expected me to help him raise it."

The wheels of Ray's mind suddenly ground to a full halt at the cruelty of those words. He'd had a feeling that his mother disliked him, but he'd never imagined that she outright hated him. Without thought, he stepped into the hall, his heart raw from the slices her razor edged tongue had given it. Then the full import of her statement hit him and he moved forward.

"Maybe you could let me in on the little secret," he snapped, becoming fully the Chief Resident. His eyes darted to Amy's startled face and back to his mother. He ignored the pleading look in her eyes. He was in no mood for it now. "I wish I could say that it's good to see you, Mom, but I would be lying if I did."

Her eyes scanned his face for a moment before she smirked.

"Well it lives and breathes. Word on the streets says that you're a doctor now. Some big shot in Chicago." Her tone said that she very much doubted it.

"I am," he said simply. It was all she really needed to know. "What the hell are you doing here? Haven't you done enough?"

"Hardly. Isn't the widow supposed to come to the funeral?"

"I don't think being an ex-wife qualifies you to be the widow," Ray snarled. "Especially since you haven't seen each other in over two decades."

She smiled coyly.

"Touché. You're right. I didn't come for that."

Ray narrowed his eyes.

"Then why are you here? Money?"

Her laughter was brittle and overly loud. Several people turned frowns their way from the other end of the hall.

"Money, I have. I came…"

"Felice, please," Amy choked out.

"I want to hear this, Amy," Ray said, crossing his arms over his chest. He was beyond anger. Beyond hatred. Something was happening beyond his basic understanding. Something that had turned his aunt into a liar, his mother into a cruel shrew, and his father into a drunk. He damn well wanted to know what it was.

"He wants to know the truth," Felice said, eyeing him up and down. "It's about time you did. You should have been told years ago, but they got it in their heads that you were actually family."

Ray's frown deepened.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"You think that man in there was your father? You think that I'm your loving mother?" She glanced at Amy. "This isn't even your aunt."

Ray's heart turned over in his chest as his breathing sped up. For the second time in a week, his world was grinding to a halt. What she was saying was insanity, and yet…

"You're lying," he said softly, dropping his hands to his sides.

"Ask her."

Ray glanced at Amy. Her hands covered her face as she cried silently into her handkerchief.

"Amy?"

She shook her head before dropping her hands to look at him. Ray took one look into her watery green eyes and turned away, seeing all the confirmation he needed there in her face. His heart went through an entire gamut of emotions in the span of seconds. But what he mainly felt was rage. Rage and hurt so deep that he felt as if he'd been gut shot.

"So why tell me now?" he heard himself ask. "Why now and not when I was a kid?"

"He wanted you to be our child. He couldn't have kids." Felice's voice was laced liberally with contempt. "A fact he didn't share with me until much later in our marriage. I didn't want a kid that wasn't mine."

Ray turned his head to look at her. He had no idea what she saw in his face, but she took a step back, her expression turning uneasy.

"And did you get what you wanted?" he asked sharply.

"Yes."

Ray nodded.

"Then get out. You've done enough damage for a lifetime."

She frowned.

"I want to know…"

"He's dead. Any money he was paying you for your silence is done. Especially since the cat's out of the bag now."

Her lips thinned in anger.

"You can't…"

"Get out!" he shouted suddenly. "Get the fuck out of here, Felice. If you don't leave now, I'll toss you out."

He took a step toward her, and she turned tail and ran for the exit as fast as her heels allowed, throwing one last hateful look over her shoulder.

Leaving him alone with Amy.

"Ray…"

"You lied to me. All those years, you knew and you lied to me."

"I didn't lie. Your father…he asked me to keep…"

"He told you to lie."

"No! That's not how it was, Ray!"

"Then tell me how it was, Amy!" he shouted, hating the way she flinched away from him, but he couldn't stop himself. "Tell me how it was, because all I've heard from you is bull shit."

She turned away from him, her face in her hands, her plump shoulders shaking as she wept. Ray brutally shoved away the guilt at seeing her cry. He couldn't afford it right now. He needed the truth from her.

"Tell me the truth, Amy. For Christ's sake at least give me that."

She dropped her hands and sucked in a huge breath. Ray felt the eyes on them from the doorway at the same moment her gaze flicked ruefully to a spot just beyond them. He turned to glare at them.

"Is there a problem?" he asked smartly, uncaring if he seemed like an ass. They seemed startled by his harsh tone, some frowning and grumbling as they turned away.

"Ray, please," she said softly as they left. "Your father couldn't have children. He was ill as a child with some fever and it took that from him. And he wanted a child so badly…"

"So what…he bought one? Stole one?"

She frowned, her eyes bright with tears.

"Your mother gave you up. She was very young and she wanted you to be with a family who…"

"What? Cared about me?" Ray laughed bitterly. "If this is what caring is, then I'd rather be hated."

He turned for the door, intent on leaving. Amy reached out and snagged his arm.

"Ray, your father loved you very much. He just had a hard time showing it."

He jerked his arm from her grip, backing away.

"He couldn't show it at all," he said softly. "If you love someone, you don't lie to them. You don't keep secrets from them, and you sure as hell don't drink to forget them."

"Ray…"

He narrowed his eyes at her, his temper just beneath the surface.

"Is this why you wanted to go through the papers at the house?" he asked. "So you could get rid of the evidence? Keep it from me forever?"

"You were adopted, Ray, not kidnapped."

Ray snapped his head around to find Gene standing in the doorway, his thin arms crossed over his chest. He'd closed the door behind him, shutting away the watching throng.

"You could have fooled me the way it was covered up," Ray retorted. "I should have been told years ago."

Gene glanced at Amy, his brow furrowing.

"You've made your aunt cry," he said darkly. "Take a walk, get yourself under control."

Ray thinned his lips and nodded before turning toward the door.

"Are you coming back?"

Ray paused, his hand on the door before shaking his head at his aunt's question.

"Don't count on it," he whispered as he yanked the door open and threw himself into the Miami night.