"What does that mean?"
Gloria swirled the remaining merlot around in her goblet. "It means I was never told his name. But I had lots of other information at my disposal. I had an entire personal profile. Most particularly, I had his photo—a very clear photo of a man who, even at twenty-two, had a face that was too striking, too charismatic to forget. Of course, at the time, he was a nobody. He couldn't have had any idea how high-profile he'd become. So he had no way of predicting that I'd wind up with an unexpected means of identification. His physical appearance hasn't changed much over the years. Same compelling features, piercing blue eyes, and an interesting scar on his right cheek. That was the giveaway. It's on the arch of his cheekbone, a curved, jagged slash, like he was cut by a bottle cap. It's very distinctive. So when I saw it again on the business news, on the face of a man who's an older version of a photo I once memorized feature for feature, I recognized it. That's how I knew."
"I don't believe this." Sabrina was still reeling. "You put all this together ten years ago—and you never said anything to me?"
This time her mother's chin came up. "What would you have liked me to say? 'Guess what, Sabrina, I figured out who helped make you'? He was a sperm donor, not a father. He had no obligation to me, and I had no more right to invade his privacy than he had to invade mine. More important, I didn't want to throw your life into chaos. I know you. If I'd told you, you'd have become personally vested, even if you somehow restrained yourself from going to him, which I'm not sure you'd manage to do. You'd have pored over articles on Carson Brooks, read everything about Ruisseau that you could get your hands on. It would have done more harm than good. I'm your mother. My job is to protect you. That's why I said nothing." Gloria finished with an air of finality. "We can debate my decision later. For now, I'd like some answers. How did you find out about Carson Brooks? What crisis forced him into your life? And why is time of the essence?"
Sabrina had given up trying to digest anything. As for the explanation her mother was demanding, there was no way to ease into it. Nor did she have the wherewithal to try. So she just went for it.
By the time she finished, Gloria had turned pale. "Are you suggesting that they want you to donate a kidney?"
"If I'm a compatible donor, yes. That's pretty much the size of it." Sabrina's lips gave a wry twist. "Ironic, isn't it? He was my donor, now I can be his."
"Sabrina." Gloria was visibly struggling for control. "Am I to assume you're actually considering this?"
Wearily, Sabrina massaged her temples. "A man's life is at stake. A man I'm biologically tied to and whose recovery might depend on me. How can I not consider it?"
"Because there are risks involved.... Because you don't even know this man.... Because after all I've done to make sure—" Gloria broke off. "How bad are his injuries?"
"It sounds like it's touch and go."
"Then he might not make it. So why are the doctors focusing on a kidney? They should be focusing on saving his life."
"They are. But it takes time to find a compatible kidney donor, even in instances where the victim does have living relatives. In this case, there's only me. And if I don't fill the bill..." Sabrina fell silent for a moment, then placed her wineglass on the coffee table and turned to face her mother. "But you know what, Mother? You were right. Now that I know the truth I can't ignore it. He might not be my father, but he did father me. Now he might die. I've got to at least meet him. I might not have another chance. As for the rest, we'll play it by ear. I don't know if I'll agree to be tissue-typed. Maybe I won't have to make that decision. Maybe the doctors will already have found another donor. Or maybe I won't be a compatible match."
"Maybe." Gloria sounded dubious, her lips thinning into a tight, apprehensive line. "I take it news of the shooting hasn't hit the media yet."
"Not until tomorrow. Dylan Newport was keeping things quiet until he could reach me. The financial networks will get hold of it first thing tomorrow. As for my existence, my relationship to Carson Brooks, that he'll try to keep a lid on as long as he can."
"Right. Which will be about twelve minutes, knowing the media." Gloria polished off her wine and rose, nervously tightening the belt of her robe. "This is going to snowball like crazy."
"Not if I do nothing but meet the man."
Her mother shot her a who-do-you-think-you're-kidding look. "True. But that's not the way it'll play out. If you can help him, you will."
Sabrina didn't deny her mother's words. She wasn't sure she could—not in good conscience. The truth was, Gloria was probably right.
Walking over, she touched her mother's arm. "I realize what I'll be exposing you to. It's not fair to you, or to Grandmother and Grandfather. I don't know what to say except I'm sorry. Do you think they're up for this?"
A short, humorless laugh. "Your grandparents? They're tough as nails, and twice as strong as we are. They'll be fine." Her wry humor vanished, and she swallowed, her voice trembling a bit as she added, "Unless something should happen to you. That would kill them— and me."
"Mother..."
Gloria waved away Sabrina's assurances. "Don't. Not yet. We'll cross that bridge when we come to it." She paused to collect herself. "In any case, your grandparents will prevail. What they'll do to us, now that's another story." An overwhelmed shake of her head. "This is all so unbelievable. Carson Brooks—shot. Do the police know who did it?"
"No. They're investigating."
"I assume that that attorney—Dylan Newport—told the police about you?"
"He had to, yes. The police know. Carson Brooks's doctors know. But that's it."
"For now." Gloria angled her head, her eyes widening as a different thought occurred to her. "How did this Dylan Newport find out about you—from Carson Brooks? Does Carson Brooks know he's your... your..."
"Not yet." Sabrina spared her mother the discomfort of using the word "father" to describe Carson Brooks. "Evidently, he was toying with the idea of finding out if his sperm donation had resulted in a child. But he didn't have time to follow through. He asked Dylan Newport to do that for him. I've seen the investigation results. They're real."
"Getting them was also illegal, no matter how Mr. Newport managed it."
"I know. But does it really matter at this point?"