Lost and Found Groom McLinn, Patricia (love books to read .TXT) 📖

Yes, she had to remember those aliases–two among how many? She shouldn’t get too caught up in sympathy for the boy he was describing. How did she even know that was the truth?

Because it has the ring of truth.

Okay, it had the ring of truth, but she’d already learned how with this man her skepticism, even her instinct for self-preservation could let her down.

“So you weren’t born Daniel Benton Delligatti, and the name is another–”

“It’s mine. It’s real. It’s legal.” None of the calm of a moment ago, none of the gentleness of Paulo, none of the generosity of Taumaturgio remained in those words. So where did this cold-eyed, hard-jawed presence fit in?

In a way she understood it; she’d sat across from such presences in many an interview. It was familiar and would never slip past her guard the way Paulo Ayudor had.

“So, are you going to make me ask a question for each step of the way or are you going to tell me how a South American street kid came to be an American named Daniel Delligatti working in Santa Estella as a crusader going by the name Taumaturgio.”

Her tart tone seemed to lighten the grooves around his mouth.

“I told you, I got lucky.”

“That’s all? You got lucky?”

“Damned lucky. I was adopted. Annette and Robert Delligatti. They named me Daniel Benton Delligatti.” One side of his mouth lifted in a self-mocking half grin. “At first I was irked they’d given me such a long name to memorize. It took a long time to realize it was the last one I’d have to remember.” The grin twisted. “At least until I became Taumaturgio.”

“You were in an orphanage?” She almost cringed at the memory of the Santa Estella orphanage where Emily had been before Marti adopted her. And that had been one of the better facilities on the island.

“No, no orphanage. A market square, picking pockets. That’s where I was. And I’m sure the last thing Annette and Robert Delligatti expected to find was a kid they’d adopt. Especially a kid who ended up with Robert’s wallet.” This grin was more genuine, though still thin. “Scared the hell out of me when I flipped it open and saw the American government I.D. I was about seven by most estimates, but I knew that was trouble.

“When I felt the grip on my shoulder I thought I was dead. The policia had me, and they’re not known for their tender care of street kids. They were getting ready to take me in, when Annette objected. They took me to the consulate instead. That’s when they realized I had no family, no real name, no identity. They sent somebody to the shack where I’d been living, but Tia had seen me caught and she was long gone. Why the Delligattis didn’t ditch me, I’ll never know.”

An image of a skinny, ragged boy, a blend that bridged the gap between the man he was now and the baby Matthew was, and yet was neither of them–came into her mind and she thought she could understand very well why the Delligattis hadn’t ditched him. They’d seen the intelligence, the character, the heart . . .

She forced that image out of her head, concentrating on questions.

“So, you were adopted and had a normal family life?”

He laughed. A genuine laugh, she thought, with a tinge of underlying sadness. “I wouldn’t say that. Not if you mean a Leave It to Beaver kind of family life.”

“Wait a minute, if you spent your childhood on the streets of South America, how do you know about Leave It to Beaver?”

“You never heard of re-runs? Those old shows are in a lot of countries. Wherever the Delligattis were stationed, there’d be those old shows. That’s how I learned a lot of English. Other than the swear words I knew from the streets.”

“So you moved around a lot with your adoptive parents? Just them and you?”

“They had one son, Robert Junior, but he was in college when they picked me up. He made no secret of thinking they were crazy. Hell, they were nearly fifty, liked classical music, reading and quiet strolls in whatever country we were living in. I was a wild kid from the streets. I must have aged them several decades in those first few years. They’re good people, but I think they must have been ready to lock me up and throw away the key until . . .”

She watched him as closely as she could with the movement of the horses. Otherwise she might not have caught the mixture of intensity and calm that came into his eyes. She’d seen that look during the hurricane. When they held each other . . . he’d leaned over her, his face close, his weight pressing against her body–

She jerked her mind away from the memory, unthinkingly twitching the reins, too. Rusty sidestepped in irritation at her rudeness, and the movement brought Daniel’s attention back to her.

“Until?” she prodded abruptly.

“Until I stowed away in a plane when I was twelve.”

“Good Lord, why?”

“I was running away. I’d picked the Belgian ambassador’s pocket at a party at the Chinese Embassy in Bangkok. The ambassador wasn’t too irate–not after he got his wallet back–but the Chinese wanted to flog me, because I’d dishonored their hospitality. Robert Junior was visiting, fresh from finishing one of his litany of advanced degrees, and I overheard him saying, in his usual dispassionate way, that maybe turning me over to the Chinese would be the best thing for me. I didn’t stick around to hear their answer. I lit out. Found my way to a nearby airfield and got into the first plane I found open.”

“How on earth did your parents find you?”

“They didn’t. The plane took off. I was lucky they didn’t lock the hold area, because it got real cold. I went up front–it was like I couldn’t help myself. I’d been in big jets when we moved to a new posting. but never anything like this, where you could feel the flying. Where