Second Chance Mom. Emilie Rose

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СКАЧАТЬ every time Rachel had sneaked out. She’d been friends with Rachel’s great aunt who’d originally owned the house and left it to Hope.

      “Martha called from the school to tell me you and Chastity were on your way home. There’s nothing in the refrigerator, so I brought a casserole for your dinner and a salad. I grew the lettuce myself, and the dressing is my secret recipe.”

      The thoughtful gesture was unexpected. Rachel didn’t know how to handle it, but then she stiffened her spine. No doubt Hope’s neighbors thought Rachel the Rebel incapable of feeding a child. But Rachel swallowed her pride, set down her bag, took the dishes and forced a smile. “Thank you.”

      “The church women’s group and I have been keeping an eye on the place and straightening up a little since our dear Hope passed. She will be sorely missed.”

      That explained the spotless house. “Yes.”

      Alice showed no sign of leaving. The polite thing to do would be to invite her in, but Rachel couldn’t imagine Alice wanting to chat with the girl who’d rearranged her flower beds until the purple and yellow pansies spelled something vulgar.

      “Chastity tells me you’re a nurse now.”

      “I am.”

      “She talks about you all the time. Wants to grow up to be just like her aunt Rachel and see the world. Of course, it used to break her mother’s heart to hear Chastity say she wanted to move away like you did. But Hope was quite pleased with the way you turned out after she convinced you to finish school and get a responsible job.”

      Stunned speechless, Rachel merely stared. Hope hadn’t said anything, and one word of praise from her sister would have been more welcome than a winning lottery ticket. The only thing Rachel had known for sure was that she’d disappointed Hope and their parents on a regular basis.

      Miss Wilkins pointed to the casserole. “Bake it at three-fifty for thirty minutes. Call if you need anything. I can pop over anytime. I left my number on the pad by the phone.”

      “Thanks, again.” For more than the food. Rachel shut the door behind her. After all the effort Rachel had expended to make the woman miserable, she couldn’t fathom why she was being nice...unless she was fishing for information.

      “Who was that?” Chastity had changed into jeans and a T-shirt and pulled her hair up into a ponytail on top of her head. Even though she still wore the heavy makeup, she looked more like a thirteen-year-old now than the thirty-year-old she’d been impersonating earlier.

      “Miss Wilkins.”

      Chastity grimaced. “Whatever she says, I didn’t do it. I’ve been at school all day.”

      Rachel laughed. “I used to say those same words. She brought dinner.”

      “Nah, she was checking up on us. Dinner is an excuse. What is it?” She peered under the foil. “Mmm, her chicken casserole. The old bat makes the best chicken casserole on the planet...even if she does make a career out of spying on me and making my life miserable.”

      Grabbing the dish, Chastity headed for the kitchen. Rachel followed with the salad. A smile tugged her lips at yet another familiar refrain. She’d hated the neighbors who seemed determined to mind her business and offer unsolicited advice. It seemed she and her daughter had more in common than genetics. Rachel shoved the bowl into the empty and sparkling clean refrigerator.

      “You can sleep in the guest room. I’ll help you unpack.” Chastity reached for the duffel bag Rachel had dropped on the floor.

      “Thanks, but I’ll do it. I need to do my dirty laundry anyway.”

      “This bag feels empty. Where’s the rest of your stuff?”

      “I left most of it with the village women.”

      “Why?”

      How could she explain the horror of watching children sift through the dump for clothing, food and supplies? “Because they don’t have much, and there are no Walmart stores over there.”

      A moment of silence passed. “I guess you could borrow some of Mom’s clothes. You’re taller, but otherwise about the same size.”

      Stepping into her sister’s shoes or clothing wasn’t something she’d wanted to do if she could avoid it. “I’ll wash what I have.”

      The phone rang, and Chastity bolted to answer it. While she chatted, Rachel headed to the laundry room. She dumped her soiled clothes in the washer and turned it on. While the tub filled, she opened the cabinet where Hope had kept the detergent. The box was empty. She searched every other cabinet and realized they were out. She turned off the machine, but it was too late. Her clothes were saturated.

      Carrying her bag she headed toward her old room. The first room she passed was Chastity’s. It was decorated in ballerina pink with matching quilts on the twin beds and airy tulle bed skirts. It was every bit as adorable as the pictures Hope had sent.

      Hope’s room was next. Her sister had redecorated the space in creamy white since Rachel’s time here. A pure room for the pure sister? Hope had been the unreachable ideal that Rachel’s parents had expected her to model. But now Hope was gone. Loss swelled in Rachel’s chest and tightened her throat. She swallowed, trying to ease the grip of grief. She and her sister had never been close. Even without their personality differences, the ten-year age gap had been too wide to bridge—and now it never would be.

      And then an insidious, sickening thought slithered through her. Had Hope shared that bed with Matt? Had she been trying to give Chastity the father she deserved? The one to which she was entitled? Hope had always believed in family sticking together.

      Rachel’s trapezius muscles knotted. Rolling her shoulders to ease the tension, she continued toward her old room. The same floorboards creaked, but then she stopped in surprise on the threshold. Other than the furniture and the picture of her parents that she’d taken with her old camera, all traces of her stay here had been erased. The soothing sky-blue curtains, bedding and painted walls had been changed to deep plum with touches of lavender and lime.

      This room had been her prison and simultaneously her sanctuary from the town in which she did not fit. She forced her feet forward and dropped her bag on the bed.

      “What’re you doing in my room?”

      Rachel jerked around. “This used to be my room.”

      “It’s mine now.” Defensive. Territorial. “The guest room is that sissy pink one down the hall.”

      Only then did Rachel notice the nail polish and makeup in a plastic bin on the dresser. “Gotcha.”

      She backtracked to the ballerina bedroom, but she couldn’t help wondering if her things were gone because her sister had redecorated the room for Chastity or was it something more? Had Hope been trying to eradicate Rachel from Chastity’s life? She’d stopped Rachel’s visits five years ago, reducing contact to emails and brief phone calls.

      How badly had her sister wanted her gone?

      * * *

      MATT TOLD HIMSELF he was simply taking a shortcut home from the Cub Scout meeting. But he knew differently.

      It СКАЧАТЬ