Diary of an Ugly Duckling Langhorne, Karyn (reading rainbow books txt) 📖

think that’s one of the reasons I

like those movies so much . . . Everything was so . . .

squeaky clean.”

“This isn’t your fault . . . uh . . . Audra.” Bradshaw

sounded uncomfortable in a way Audra hadn’t ex-

pected. Not with the information, but with her pain.

Like he wished he were closer or something. “Might

not be hers, either. Your father—at least the man you

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thought was your father—he doesn’t sound like

much of a guy if he walked out on you guys all those

years ago.”

“He did . . . and he wasn’t. I—I—always felt like

that was my fault, too . . .” Audra whispered, feeling

her fragile control slipping away again. “Like . . .

they might have stayed married . . . if only . . . if

only . . . I’d never . . . been born . . .”

And then the tears were there again, drowning

out any hope of speech. Audra covered her eyes

with one hand as if that would somehow stop them,

but it was like a damn had burst inside her and now

there was nothing to stop the flood of feeling from

its release. And Art Bradshaw kept murmuring, “It’s

okay, it’s okay,” in a gentle, encouraging voice that

made it that much harder to stop, so she kept crying

and crying . . . until finally there was a big empty

space in the pit of her stomach where the tears had

been.

“Andrew Neill . . .” Art said when Audra had

calmed herself enough to listen again. “You say he

died the same year you were born?”

Audra nodded. “That’s what she said.”

“In New York?”

“I—I think so. Why?”

“Maybe we can find out about him. At least some-

thing. Maybe there’s some records. Maybe a photo.

You might even have more family, Audra. Got a

buddy from Gulf War One whose a P.I. now. I could

call him. See what he can find out. Dude owes me a

favor anyway—”

“You’d do that?” Audra interrupted.

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“If you want me to. If it would help. Do you want

to know?”

“Yes,” Audra said, not needing to think about it.

“Yes, I want you to. Yes, it would help and yes, I

want to know.”

“Consider it done then. Just don’t get your hopes

up. He might not be able to find anything, and even

if he can, it might take a while.”

“Thanks, Bradshaw—”

“Better make it Art.”

“Thanks . . . Art.”

“No problem. But you’ve got to promise me you’ll

do something.”

Audra felt her heart banging hard in her chest.

He’d only made one other request of her since she’d

known him—and that had been the fiasco at Penny’s

party that had had its role in bringing her here, to

Ugly Duckling. So this moment she wasn’t entirely

sure she was as happy about it as she had once

thought she would be. “W—what?” she stammered.

“What do you want me to promise? What do you

want me to do?”

“Promise me you’ll talk this through with that

therapist—what’s her name again?”

“Goddard.”

“That’s the one.” Audra could hear the smile in

the man’s voice. “Remember in Now, Voyager, Bette

Davis had Dr. Jaquith? Well, she’s your Dr. Jaquith,

and if you’re any kind of Bette, you’d better use

her.”

“I don’t know . . .” Audra protested. “I really

don’t want them using this stuff in the show . . .”

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233

“Didn’t Shamiyah promise your mother all this

was off-limits?”

“Yes, but—”

Art silenced her with the force of his voice. “You

talk to her, and I’ll talk to my friend. Deal?”

Chapter 19

“Is that it?” Dr. Goddard nodded toward the

thick brown mailing envelope Audra held

pressed to her chest by a single brown hand.

Audra nodded in the affirmative, unsure that she

could get her vocal cords to cooperate. Art’s friend,

the private investigator, had worked amazingly fast

and now she was holding in her hands an envelope

from his office. An envelope that, she knew, held

both the keys to her past, as well as, in many ways,

the hope of her future.

Shamiyah had shown up to deliver it personally,

handing it to her just a few moments before Au-

dra had arrived for this appointment. She stood in

the hallway, just outside Dr. Goddard’s office, turn-

ing the thing over and over in her hands.

“I assume you’ve been waiting for this,” she said

with an eagerness that didn’t match the vibe of the

moment, and she held the package toward the cam-

eras for a second too long before she stuffed it into

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235

Audra’s hands with a quickly murmured, “Oops.”

“I’m dying to hang around and see what’s in it, but I

guess I’ll just have to wait,” she said, squeezing Au-

dra’s shoulder. “Good luck!” Then she set off down

the halls, humming a little to herself, swinging her

round hips in yet another pair of designer jeans.

“Would you like me to open it, or would you like to

do it?” the good doctor asked gently, when Audra

had done nothing more than turn the envelope in

her hands a few times. The cameraman had taken a

spot across from her and she felt the light on her

face, but she’d become so accustomed to him, it was

like he wasn’t there.

All that mattered was the envelope, and yet, Au-

dra realized with a sudden jolt of fear that shook her

to her heart’s core, she was absolutely terrified of

knowing what lay inside. Instead, she focused her

eyes on the doctor.

“Do you think she loved him?” she asked at last.

“That it was more than just . . . Oh, I don’t know.

Some kind of cheap thrill?”

“Oh, I’m certain she loved him,” Dr. Goddard

said without hesitation.

“How can you be so sure?”

Dr. Goddard smiled. “You’re here, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, but—”

“There’s no ‘but.’ That she chose to have you is

love. She raised you and kept you and took care of

you—”

“I know all that, but . . .” She shrugged. “Maybe

she felt like she had to. Maybe—”

“Even that’s a kind of love, Audra,” Dr. Goddard

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said, sounding suddenly ancient, suddenly wise.

“She loves you, doesn’t she? You fight, you misun-

derstand each other, you drive each other crazy . . .

but you’ve never really doubted that she