Past Secrets, Present Love. Lois Richer

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СКАЧАТЬ She was firm about that. Her eyes darkened to bittersweet-chocolate drops. “Not now. Most of the festivities are over anyway. I—I’d rather go home.”

      “I’ll give you a ride, if you want.” He felt sorry for her then. Beautiful, composed Kelly Young looked so confused, as if she couldn’t quite make sense of her world.

      She opened her mouth to decline, then obviously realized that her car was still at the garage.

      “Thanks,” she murmured. It took her only a moment to say goodbye to her friends and retrieve the little bag she’d brought. She handed her ticket stub to the attendant and smiled her thanks when Ross held her cashmere coat open. “I’m ready.”

      “My car’s in the parking garage. Do you want to wait out front?”

      “I’ll go with you.”

      Despite the height of her heels, Kelly matched his stride with no problem. She offered little by way of conversation so Ross tossed around for something to say.

      “Was it a good wedding?”

      “Aren’t all weddings good?” she asked, one perfectly arched brow lifted. “But, yes, this was a lovely wedding. Choosing to marry on the third day of the new year was a great idea. A fresh start, a fresh year.”

      Once started, Kelly kept talking. Great food, great decorations, great music. Everything was great or wonderful or fantastic. Ross knew she was simply marking time until he pulled up in front of her house, filling the spot a sleek silver car had just vacated.

      “I’ll walk you up,” he offered, but she waved one hand in decline.

      “I’ll be fine. You probably have somewhere to be. Don’t worry about me.”

      He ignored that, lending an arm for her to cling to as she balanced precariously on the icy path. She flashed him a smile once they reached the door.

      “Thank you for saving me from a broken neck.”

      “You’re welcome.” He waited till she’d unlocked the door. “Are you sure you’ll be all right?”

      “Of course.” She kept her face averted, refused to meet his eyes. “Thank you very much. Good night.”

      “Take care.”

      Kelly responded in kind, then closed the door.

      Ross waited a few moments on the porch, leaning on a column as he watched the inside lights flare on. After a moment he slowly walked back to his car, his mind recreating the forlorn beauty of her face when he’d given her the news tonight.

      What was Kelly Young so afraid of?

      As he drove back to his apartment, Ross ruminated on Sandra Lange, pictured her sad green eyes peering at him, her newly grown silver-blond hair a shimmer of fuzz that feathered her scalp.

      “If I could just know for sure,” she whispered to him that first day when she’d hired him to find her child. “Then maybe I could let it all go.”

      Since then she’d become like a second mother to Ross, fussing with worry about the hours he spent on her case, the move he’d made from Richmond to Chestnut Grove to facilitate his work here, the time he’d spent following leads that ended in blanks. He’d never known concern like that, especially not now since his mother’s Alzheimer’s had made him a stranger to her. Maybe that’s why he felt an odd responsibility to Sandra, a need to be sure she was all right. She’d become closer to him than his mother and so he did whatever he could to help her realize her goal.

      It struck him that his part in this story was over, that he’d done what Sandra had asked, found the child she’d lost. He should be thinking about moving back to Richmond.

      But all he could think about was Kelly—a slim, pale woman who held her emotions inside as if she were afraid someone wouldn’t like her if they saw the truth.

      He’d just rocked her world with his news. She would need time to think and digest what the knowledge could mean. Ross decided to visit Sandra while he gave Kelly an hour to regroup. Then he’d call, check up on her. Sandra would want him to do that.

      But as he drove to Sandra’s, Ross knew that concern wasn’t all he was feeling. Something about Kelly’s reaction—as if she’d drawn her shields up, enclosed herself behind them—bothered him. She was hurting and it was his fault. He should have found a better way to tell her.

      Ross admitted what had been lurking in the back of his brain for weeks.

      He wanted to see Kelly Young without the shadows clouding her eyes, relaxed, carefree. He wanted to be there to see her when she’d been freed from whatever held her back, he wanted to be the one who saw behind that icy mask of tightly leashed control.

      Kelly Young had everything he’d been denied—two parents who had adored her, a job she clearly loved, friends who were nearby whenever she needed them. Her life was full, happy, the kind of tale children’s storybooks were made of. Reaching out to Sandra Lange would cost her so little.

      Yet she seemed terribly afraid of even meeting with Sandra now.

      Why?

      Chapter Two

      Kelly leaned against the door and listened to the engine of Ross’s car as he drove away. She was odd man out, alone. Again.

      Her friends each had someone special in her life. She had no one. It was a pathetic admittance, but the truth could not be denied. Kelly had no desire to return to the reception. Ross’s news had leeched away the spirit of fun she’d shared with the others. Now all she could think about was Sandra Lange. She was Sandra Lange’s daughter. Sandra was her mother.

      The knowledge filled her with unbearable angst that she couldn’t explain. It was fear, she knew that much. But the basis of it couldn’t bear exploring, not now. Kelly moved through the house slowly, scanning each room looking for something she could do to keep her hands busy, her mind occupied. But the big house was as neatly pristine as she’d always kept it. Just like the rest of her life.

      Except for this business with Sandra. She skittered away from that. What to do?

      Her mind flew to the storage closet she’d been cleaning at the office. Now there was a project that would take her complete attention. So what if it was ten o’clock at night—on a weekend?

      She thought about it for the space of two seconds then bounded up the stairs to change her clothes. Clad in a thick gray wool sweater and black pants, she tied on her hiking boots, pulled on her parka, beret, scarf and gloves, then reached for the doorknob. The winking light on her answering machine made her pause.

      “Hi, Miss Young. This is Vinnie at the garage. I took a look at your car and—well, I don’t know exactly how to say this. It looks like your steering has been tampered with. What I’m looking at had to be deliberate.” A sigh. “Maybe you better call me tomorrow or Monday. We’ll talk about it then. Bye.”

      Tampered with? Surely he was mistaken—overreacting, perhaps. Nobody cared about her car, or about tampering with it. Besides, she kept it in the garage when she was home.

      Still, СКАЧАТЬ