The Child She Always Wanted. Jennifer Mikels

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СКАЧАТЬ she slid out of the van, the wind whipped at her, tossed down her hood. She yanked it up again, then stretched into the back seat to unbuckle Heather from her car seat. She wrapped her snugly in a heavy blanket and nestled her against her chest and beneath the opened rain slicker.

      Almost punishingly the rain whipped at the side of her face before she reached the steps. They creaked beneath her feet; memories flooded her. As a child, she used to chase up the stairs after her brother. As a teen, she’d come down those stairs with the gangly sixteen-year-old star of the school basketball team.

      On the porch now, she dabbed a hand at her wet face before she knocked on the door. In a matter of minutes she would fulfill a plan that had started in Texas almost two weeks ago. Optimism, along with tenacity, ranked as her best traits, but she was filled with doubt.

      Tempted to turn on her heels and scurry back to the van, she rapped again. An instant later, the door swung open. Kane still intimidated her with a look, she realized, feeling more nervous than she wanted to be. “Hi,” she said with exaggerated brightness.

      Deep-set eyes traveled down to her soaked and mud-spotted sneakers, then came back to her face. “What do you want?”

      Rachel had used the moment to inch closer to the screen door, to breathe again. “It’s been ages.” She gave him her best smile. “I don’t know if you remember me. I was friends with Marnie,” she said, hoping the mention of his sister would stir his smile. “We—my family used to live here—in this house.” When he said nothing, she went on, “Charlie Greer sold it to my parents. Before we moved to Texas, Charlie bought it back.” As another chill gave her goose bumps, she contemplated what was the best way to get Heather into the warm house. “Do you remember me?”

      He bore a five-o’clock shadow. It darkened his jaw, emphasized the shiny blackness of his hair, those pale-gray eyes. “I remember you.” No friendliness entered those eyes, even when they slanted toward the pink bundle cradled in her arms. Had he trained himself to keep his face so expressionless, his emotions so unreadable? “If you’re looking for my sister, I can’t help you.”

      “This is kind of complicated. May we come in?” Rachel had been so anxious to see him that she’d never considered he might not be receptive to her. Had he always been so unfriendly? Years ago, blinded by infatuation, she’d never noticed anything except his muscles, those gray eyes and the sensation that quivered within her whenever he’d been near. “I really need to talk to you.”

      “About what?” Despite the question, he opened the screen door.

      Edgy, Rachel gripped the straps of the diaper bag that she’d slung over her shoulder before leaving the van and scooted past him into the house. Behind her, she heard the click of the front door closing. Tension crept up again as she faced him. She couldn’t blurt out words. Now because he acted so displeased with their intrusion, she felt stymied how to proceed. She could hardly thrust Heather at him with her news. This baby is yours. Take her.

      With Heather’s squeak, Rachel mentally returned to a more immediate concern. “I’m sorry, but I’ll need to change and feed her, or in a minute she’ll demonstrate her lung power.”

      He pointed to his left. “You can take her in there.”

      She knew what room he meant. It used to be her bedroom. An enormous room, she’d shared it with her younger sister, Gillian. She paused at the doorway. Her posters of rock stars, the collection of stuffed animals, the lovely, ruffled shams, the laced curtain and the patchwork quilt were gone. The room contained a bed with a bare mattress, a small chest of drawers and a rocking chair.

      Bending over the bed, she unwrapped the pink blanket, then the pale-aqua lightweight one from Heather. “This was my room, mine and my sister’s,” she said, aware he’d followed and was standing in the doorway. It felt so strange to be in the room she’d called her own as a child. She’d never insisted on privacy from Gillian. She’d liked being in a room with her sister, especially on stormy days and nights. Rachel had hated to be alone. Her sister, daring and bolder even at a young age, had loved to sit with her nose pressed to the window and watch the sky explode with lightning.

      “Are you almost done?” he asked, as if she’d said nothing.

      It was best Heather was too young to understand any of this. Rachel removed the soiled diaper, then fastened a clean one. “Yes, I’m done,” she replied while she maneuvered Heather’s tiny feet into the fleece, peach-colored sleeper and zipped it. She dumped the soiled diaper into a plastic bag that she’d removed from the diaper bag and wiped her hands with a moist towelette.

      Only once had he glanced at Heather. She remembered his father had been like this, curt and remote. An angry, morose man, he’d made Marnie cry with his harsh words. What if Kane had become his father? Would Marnie have wanted Heather to be with a man like that?

      Kane eyed the baby in her arms, had already noted no wedding band. A baby and no husband. He’d never figured this kind of future for Rachel Quinn, then he’d never really known her. “There’s coffee if you want a cup,” he said, and walked out. He viewed her last few moments as a stall tactic. Whatever her problem was, she was struggling to spit it out. What bothered him most was why she was involving him.

      “The coffee smells wonderful.”

      He looked back over his shoulder, made eye contact with her. He wondered where she’d left the baby. With a hand he motioned toward the coffee brewer. “There.” He had no intention of waiting on her, making her feel welcomed. He caught a whiff of some light and lemony fragrance as she passed by to reach the coffeepot.

      “That room is the one that I—”

      “Grew up in,” he finished for her. Turning, he braced his backside against the kitchen counter. “I know.”

      From across the table she stared quizzically at him. He couldn’t blame her. He was being more curt than he intended. But annoyance had inched under his skin. Annoyance with himself for letting her into the house.

      “When did Charlie die?” she asked between sips of coffee.

      “It’s been a while.” Because he lived alone, he paid little attention to the house. With her there, scanning the room, he noticed the refrigerator needed wiping. Unlike Charlie, he had no housekeeper, wanted no one snooping around. “Why don’t we cut to the chase. What do you want from me?”

      “This is difficult.”

      “If this is about my sister, I haven’t seen her in years.” He wondered if Marnie had found all she’d wanted. Wherever she’d gone and whatever she’d done, she had to have found something better than they’d had here.

      “I know.”

      “You know?” That caught his attention. “Does that mean you’ve seen her recently?”

      Though Rachel remained unsure what to do about Heather, she had to tell him about his sister. Being the bearer of bad news was never easy. “Marnie was in Texas.”

      “In Texas?” He set down his cup and gave her his full attention. “How do you know that?”

      “I was there.” Rachel wanted to stop, plead a headache, illness—escape. How would she tell him?

      “I worked in a bank, and she came in for a job.”

      “She has a good job.”

      “She СКАЧАТЬ