A Time To Come Home. Darlene Gardner

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      “Chris just hired me.”

      “He’s such a dear, isn’t he?” The woman didn’t wait for her answer. “I’m Jake Wilson’s mother. You remember Jake, don’t you?”

      Diana faintly recalled a boisterous kid with strawberry-blond hair, but Mrs. Wilson chattered on before Diana could respond. “Jake’s an engineer in Baltimore. He’s married with two adorable kids. How about you?”

      Diana squeezed the stone tighter. “I have a daughter.”

      Mrs. Wilson’s expression softened. “I know, dear. It’s too bad about your fiancé dying in that car accident right after your brother died, God rest both of their souls. What a tough time that must have been, with you being so young.”

      Her fiancé?

      “Your mother was beside herself, poor dear, especially because she was the one who insisted it’d do you good to get away from Bentonsville. You went to live with an aunt, didn’t you?”

      Speechless, Diana nodded. That was the only true part of the entire story.

      “I’d love to meet your little girl one day,” Mrs. Wilson said. “Please tell your mother I said hello and that she should give me a call. Or, better yet, I’ll call her.”

      Diana had yet to inform her mother she’d returned to Bentonsville, a fact she wouldn’t have revealed even if her mind hadn’t been on the fiction the older woman had spun. Was Mrs. Wilson’s version of events what everybody in Bentonsville thought had happened? Is that what Tyler believed?

      Mrs. Wilson chatted blithely on for a few more moments before announcing she was off to a pottery-making class, stopping along the way to talk with Chris. Diana nearly rushed the pair so she could drag Chris away and interrogate him but waited to flag him down until he finished talking.

      “Tell me something, Chris,” she said before he reached the counter, not able to hold off another second. “What do you know about what happened to me after I left Bentonsville?”

      Confusion stamped his features. “A lot. Don’t you remember? We talked about it over coffee a few days ago.”

      “I don’t mean recently. I mean right after I left town, when I lived with my aunt.”

      He scratched his head, taking a maddeningly long time to answer. “Only what your mother told me. That you met a guy and got pregnant and that he died in a car accident. I didn’t ask you about Jaye’s father because I thought it still might be a sore spot.”

      “It is,” she verified, but for a different reason than Chris suspected. Jaye’s father wasn’t dead, but very much alive—and quite possibly sure he hadn’t gotten Diana pregnant.

      Chris anchored both hands on the counter, obviously believing she’d cued him to change the subject. “How’s the job going, Diana?”

      “Great,” she said, the wheels in her head spinning madly as the pieces of the past clicked into place. It had never occurred to her that Tyler wouldn’t have figured out she was pregnant when she left town.

      “I’m glad everything’s working out,” Chris said with genuine enthusiasm. “I got the feeling you weren’t too keen on manning the welcome desk.”

      She hadn’t been, fearing the people who recognized her would try to figure out who in Bentonsville had fathered Jaye. Because of the story her mother had concocted and spread, that wouldn’t be the case.

      “You got me there,” Diana admitted. “I’ll have to put on my tin-foil hat the next time I see you coming.”

      He laughed. “I don’t have to be a mind reader to tell you were nervous about running into people you used to know. Don’t forget, I knew you way back when.”

      But he didn’t know her secret. Apparently nobody except her immediate family members were aware that the father of Diana’s child was from Bentonsville.

      “I need you to do something for me,” Chris announced, drawing her attention back to the present. She’d think about Tyler and the implications of what she’d learned later. Chris might be her friend, but first and foremost he was her boss. “Remember how I mentioned the turnout for the teen program has been disappointing? Tyler Benton is planning some fund-raising so we can equip the study lounge with computers.”

      Surprise jolted through her even though she’d seen Tyler in the community center only a few hours before. “I didn’t know Tyler was involved with the center.”

      “People as ambitious as Benton get involved with places like this all the time,” Chris said, then remarked, “It looks good on their resumes.”

      Even as a teenager, Tyler had talked about surpassing the accomplishments of his very successful father and grandfather and one day becoming a judge. To that end, he’d taken the most advanced classes at Bentonsville High, read incessantly and applied to the best colleges. He poured himself into whatever he did, whether it was playing on the basketball team or taking an exam. Or kissing her. But something inside Diana rebelled at Chris’s comment.

      “Tyler wouldn’t use the community center to make himself look good,” she said. “He’s not like that.”

      Chris squinted at her. “I thought you said you didn’t know him that well.”

      “I don’t. I mean, I only know what I remember about him.”

      “People change, Diana. You’d do well to remember that. But I’m not going to question Benton’s motives. What I need you to do is let me know if he makes any progress on getting those computers.”

      “Okay,” she said, her heart beating harder at the prospect of seeing Tyler again. “I’ll see what I can do.”

      “You won’t need to try too hard. Benton’s a semi-regular at the basketball games that go on here at night. He mentioned he’s about to start a trial, so you might not see him for a couple days. But believe me, he’ll be around.”

      Diana’s stomach jumped with anticipation at seeing Tyler again now that she was armed with her newfound knowledge. A bitterness she hadn’t realized she harbored seemed to melt away from her heart as her mind formulated a plan.

      Maybe she could ask Tyler out for coffee, possibly at the same Starbucks where Chris had taken her. The establishment had an outside seating area, where they could talk in relative privacy.

      “Diana, are you listening to me?”

      Her head snapped up. “Sorry. What did you say?”

      “I asked if you figured out the filing system and familiarized yourself with the types of programs the center offers?”

      “I did,” she said.

      He lightly rapped the desk. “Great. Let me know if you need anything else, including the number of the Realtor who’s renting that place I told you about.”

      He’d mentioned the apartment enough times that she’d devised a tactful reply about being careful not to act in haste and repent in leisure. But that was before she’d learned the story her mother had invented about СКАЧАТЬ