Past Secrets, Present Love. Lois Richer

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      “I’ll go see Sandra if you’ll come to the church social tomorrow.” She met his gaze, her own implacable. “Well? You’re so big on me experiencing new things, how about walking your talk? Is it a deal?”

      Kelly looked like she expected him to refuse and normally he would have. Ross had steered clear of the church for years. There was enough guilt in the world, he didn’t need someone else telling him he was a mess. But in that moment he made a split-second decision he hoped he wouldn’t regret.

      He’d go to that church social for Sandra, because her faith was different than any he’d ever seen. She didn’t rail at God, or spend days and hours weeping for what she’d lost, as his own mother had. Sandra took what she was dealt and pressed on, made what she had into something better. She needed to meet her daughter, needed the closure it would bring to her aching heart.

      “Fine.” He lifted his head, glared at her. “It’s a deal.”

      “You’ll come?” Kelly’s surprised look was laughable.

      “That’s what I just said.” He gulped down the trepidation that filled him, pretended it wouldn’t bother him in the least to be around a bunch of goody-two-shoes. “What time should I pick you up?”

      Her eyes turned bittersweet, secrets fluttering through them.

      “We usually go skiing after church. By any chance would you consider coming to the morning service—”

      “Don’t push it, Kelly.” Next she’d be trying to suck him into thinking God cared whether Ross Van Zandt had paid for his sins.

      “Okay, I won’t push it.” She shrugged. “But you don’t have to pick me up. I can catch a ride with someone and meet you there.”

      Leaving him to walk into the hornet’s nest of church people alone? No way.

      “I’ll be here,” he reiterated. “What time?”

      They’d just decided on a time when the front doorbell rang.

      “Pretty late for callers,” he muttered, more to himself than her. He had a sudden replay of her hunched in that closet and made sure he was two steps behind when Kelly opened the door.

      A uniformed officer stood on the step, face peeking out from beneath her cap. “Glynis Barnes. Zach sent me over to stay with you tonight.”

      “Oh. How thoughtful of him,” Kelly murmured. “Please, come in.”

      “Wait a minute.” Ross stepped forward, blocking her path. “Do you have identification?”

      Officer Barnes nodded, pulled out her badge and waited until he’d studied it. Satisfied, Ross handed it back, caught a bit of movement from the corner of his eye and turned. Kelly’s eyes grew huge, then she seemed to waver. He grasped her arms, held her upright.

      “Hey! What’s the matter?”

      “I don’t know. All of a sudden I don’t feel very well.”

      “I’m the one who should be woozy after all that chocolate. You didn’t even have any.”

      “Yes.” But she barely smiled at his joke, her face blanching as her fingers clutched his arm. “Oh, my.”

      “You need to sit down.” He guided her back into the den, helped her into a chair. “Better?”

      She shook her head “yes” once, but that changed to a violent “no” as she lurched to her feet and headed out of the room as if on fire.

      “She’s sick. I’ll look after her,” the cop told him calmly, then followed Kelly.

      Left on his own, Ross paced the den for several minutes, wondering why she’d suddenly become so sick. Probably the gingersnaps, he decided with a grimace. That particular cookie had never been one of his favorites, though in his childhood years he’d never had a choice between the kinds of cookies he’d enjoyed. He’d considered it a good day if there was bread in the house. Treats of any kind were a luxury.

      He wasn’t sure how long he waited until Kelly returned. She was whiter than cotton wool and her eyes were glossy.

      “I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice wobbly. “I don’t know what happened. I don’t feel very well. I think I’ll go to bed.”

      “Probably the best thing,” he agreed. “Now that you’ve got—” he glanced at the cop standing nearby, raised one eyebrow, her name forgotten in the excitement.

      “Glynis,” she supplied.

      “Now that you’ve got Glynis here, I guess I’d better go, too. Take it easy, okay? If you don’t feel better tomorrow, we can cancel.”

      “You wish!” A bit of her fighting spirit had returned to those expressive eyes and Ross was glad to see it.

      “No, I don’t wish. I think I might even be looking forward to it.” Which was more truth than she needed to hear. But the simple fact was, something about Kelly Young made him want to stick around.

      She nodded, but her skin was turning that sickly shade of green again and Ross figured this was a great time to get out. He headed for the door, grabbed his coat, slid on his shoes and waved a hand.

      “Take care.”

      “Yes. Thank you for everything.”

      A moment later Glynis closed the door behind him. He walked into the chilly night air, climbed into his car and revved the engine, hoping it would warm soon and send out some heat. He decided to visit Sandra. She’d want to know what happened and he needed to see her, to let her know he’d told Kelly the truth.

      He wouldn’t explain that Kelly had been less than ecstatic about meeting her birth mother. Later, of course. But not now, not tonight. Tonight he just wanted Sandra to know that her daughter, Kelly, knew she had a mother nearby.

      The streets were deserted and Ross made good time. He’d phoned Sandra on his cell to make sure she was up to receiving guests and learned she’d been sitting by the phone, waiting and wondering. Several minutes later he pulled up in front of her pretty little house and walked up to the door. She opened it before he could knock, her face brimming with questions.

      “How did it go?” Sandra asked after she’d hugged him. He’d begun to enjoy those bursts of affection she showered on him.

      “Kelly was surprised but I think she took it okay.” He’d already decided not to tell Sandra about the rest of the events that night. She would only worry. “She’s going to need a bit of time to absorb it all.”

      “Of course.” Sandra perched on the edge of the piano bench and knotted her fingers together. “Did she seem upset?”

      Ross chose his words carefully.

      “Not upset. But it’s hard for her to understand. I think she’s fighting her feelings, as if getting to know her birth mother means somehow betraying her adoptive mother. When I told her you’d been pressured to give СКАЧАТЬ