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She started walking away from him, rebuilding the distance she’d kept between them all these years. “Annie?”
He thought she’d pretend she hadn’t heard him and keep on walking, but then she turned. “Yes?”
“It was good to finally talk to you again.”
He supposed it was too much to hope that she’d echo the sentiment. She nodded once, then pivoted, as though eager to get away from him.
He didn’t stop her retreat. Not this time. But now that she was back in his life, he wouldn’t let her walk out of it again until he said his long-overdue piece.
A NNIE had never held the baby she delivered.
After a lengthy, tough labor, she’d heard a lusty cry and felt like weeping herself. The nurse had brought the infant close enough for Annie to see her, but she’d only gotten a brief look.
She’d been awed that she had helped create someone so tiny and perfect, but she’d tried to pay attention to the baby’s red, wrinkled skin. Anything to take her mind off the enormity of what she was giving up.
Even though her heart was aching, she hadn’t protested when the nurse claimed it was best for the separation to be immediate. From her experience with her own mother, who’d popped in and out of her life before finally disappearing for good, Annie knew the nurse was right.
The nurse had whisked the baby away, and Annie had fully expected never to see her again.
“You’re staring at me,” Lindsey accused.
Annie blinked, and the snack counter at the back of Abe’s General Store came into focus. They were sitting on red vinyl stools, their reflections bouncing back at them from the stainless steel of the old-fashioned soda machine. She smelled grease from the grill and the hot dogs on the rotating rack.
Annie had been taking a mental snapshot of Lindsey that she could call to mind in the years to come. It wouldn’t be difficult. The shape of Lindsey’s face, the spacing of her eyes, the arch of her eyebrows and the even whiteness of her smile were all reminiscent of Ryan.
Ryan, who brought out the nervous, insecure teenager in her that she’d desperately wanted to believe was gone forever.
She fought the feeling that she’d been unfair in not revealing who Lindsey was. It was better this way. If Ryan never knew Lindsey was the baby they’d given up for adoption, he wouldn’t have to lose her all over again.
The way Annie was going to.
“I can’t eat when you’re looking at me like that,” Lindsey complained.
They’d swung by the snack counter after leaving the pediatrician’s office. Annie had given Lindsey a ten-dollar bill, then stepped outside to phone the girl’s parents, nervously wondering whether they’d recognize her as Lindsey’s birth mother. The call had gone straight to voice mail.
“I’m sorry,” Annie said. “I didn’t realize I was staring.”
“Well, you were.” Lindsey set her nibbled-on sandwich back down on her bare plate.
Annie worried that the girl should have ordered something more substantial than turkey on rye bread and a Diet Coke. If the woman who’d prepared the food hadn’t left the counter, Annie would ask her to throw in potato salad or at least a bag of chips.
“You should finish that.” Annie nodded at the sandwich.
“It’s not very good.”
Of course it wasn’t. It contained no cheese, no pickle, no lettuce, no tomato and probably no condiments. Annie pursed her lips, unsure of what to do or say next. Uncertain how to get a teenager to do anything at all.
“Dr. Whitmore would tell you to eat your food,” Annie said, dismayed that she’d resorted to using his name.
Lindsey’s mouth twisted, but she picked up her sandwich and took a bite.
Was there already an invisible connection between Ryan and Lindsey? Is that how he’d succeeded in getting the girl’s phone number when Annie had failed?
How would he react if he knew the truth? Surely he’d noticed how edgy Annie was, so why hadn’t he guessed? A reason occurred to her.
“How old did you tell Dr. Whitmore you were?” she asked.
Lindsey didn’t look up from her food. “Fifteen.”
Now that Annie knew the truth, it was easy to see through the lie. “Is fifteen how old you need to be to travel alone on the train?”
“I don’t know,” Lindsey mumbled.
“I think you do know,” Annie said. “That’s why you said you were fifteen when you’re only thirteen.”
Lindsey’s head jerked up. “How do you know I’m thirteen?”
“My father told me.”
Lindsey swiped strands of her long hair out of her face and sat up straighter, an eager light in her eyes. “Is Uncle Frank back? Did you ask him if I could stay?”
Annie’s fingers clenched into fists. How could her father not have told her about Lindsey? She’d confided in him when she got pregnant and trusted him to handle the adoption arrangements. Her faith in him had been so absolute that she’d signed the papers severing her parental rights without reading them. She’d never dreamed he’d give her baby to someone Annie might possibly know.
“I talked to him on the phone,” Annie said. “He’ll be in Poland for at least another month.”
Lindsey’s head dropped again. “What else did he tell you about me?”
“Not much,” Annie said. If she was alone, she’d call her father back and demand answers, the six-hour time difference be damned. “I don’t even know what grade you’re in.”
Or if Lindsey knew she was adopted.
“I’ll be in eighth grade in September,” Lindsey said. “I’m almost fourteen, you know.”
Her birth date was in mid-March, which meant Lindsey wasn’t yet thirteen and a half. She wondered if Lindsey had written down her true birthday on the medical form or whether she’d tried to preserve the fiction that she was fifteen.
She also wondered how closely Ryan had looked at the form.
“And you live in Pittsburgh?” Annie asked.
“Not in Pittsburgh exactly,” Lindsey said. “We live in Fox Chapel. It’s near Pittsburgh.”
“Any brothers or sisters?”
Lindsey narrowed her eyes. “Are you going to ask my phone number next?”
Annie had been attempting to fill a desperate need to find out more about Lindsey, but that wasn’t what the girl had asked. “I already called your parents.”
“But…but how did you get the number?”
“The form in Dr. Whitmore’s office.”
From the shocked expression on Lindsey’s face, she hadn’t considered that possibility.
“I left your parents a message,” Annie continued. “They’re probably worried sick about you.”
“They don’t even know I’m gone,” Lindsey said. “Dad took Timmy and Teddy to Kennywood, and Gretchel’s working. She’s supposed to pick me up at a friend’s house at five o’clock.”
Kennywood, Annie knew, was a popular amusement park near Pittsburgh that was one of the oldest in the nation. “Who’s Gretchel?”
“My stepmother.”
“Are Timmy and Teddy your brothers?” Annie asked.
“Sort of,” Lindsey said. “I’m adopted. They’re not.”
Annie bit her lower lip to find it trembling. Lindsey had been matter-of-fact in stating she was adopted, but she considered Annie’s father to be her uncle and not her grandfather. Lindsey obviously didn’t know the truth about her birth, and it wasn’t Annie’s place to tell her.
“That doesn’t make them any less your brothers,” Annie said.
Lindsey blew air out her nose, but stayed quiet. Neither did it seem as though she planned to eat any more of her sandwich. Yet she needed nourishment. She was too thin and still pale enough that she looked as though she might topple off the stool.
“You could have another dizzy spell if you don’t eat,” Annie said. “You don’t want to go back to the doctor, do you?”
Lindsey’s blue eyes flashed. “At least Dr. Whitmore was nice to me. If I came to visit his father, he wouldn’t make me go back to Pittsburgh.”
Her words were like blows. Annie had tried to forget about the daughter she’d given up, but now that she’d met Lindsey she realized how miserably she’d failed. The clawing need to know the girl was as fierce as the unconditional love that nearly overwhelmed her. She couldn’t give in to that love without risking that somebody would figure out Lindsey was her birth daughter. If only the girl knew how desperately Annie wanted to keep her around. Annie swallowed, pushing words past the lump in her throat. “It’s for your own good.”
“Annie Sublinski,” a deep male voice announced from behind them. “What brings you off the river?”
Annie swiveled on her stool to see Michael Donahue moving toward them, his tall frame dressed in jeans and a work shirt, his thick, dark hair slightly sweaty. Since moving back to Indigo Springs earlier in the summer, he’d gone into business with the Pollocks, who owned a local construction company.
She’d always felt a certain kinship toward Michael because he’d been another of the outcasts of Indigo Springs High. An incident at this very snack counter had landed him in juvenile detention. Fathers, including hers, had warned their daughters to stay away from him.
He’d since redeemed himself in dramatic fashion, although very few people knew he was the hero who’d rescued a child from drowning during an Indigo River Rafters trip earlier that summer. “Hey, Michael,” Annie said, then turned to Lindsey, preparing to introduce her.
“Wait a minute. Don’t tell me why you’re here. Let me guess.” Michael placed three fingers on his forehead and closed his eyes before snapping them open. “It has something to do with a young brunette.”
Lindsey giggled at Michael’s antics, but Annie’s breath caught. Did he know about the child she’d given up for adoption? Could he? Surely there’d been talk when Annie had abruptly left town before her senior year of high school. Had somebody figured out that the real reason she’d moved in with her ailing grandparents was because she was pregnant?
“I’m Michael Donahue.” He jumped in with an introduction before Annie could untie her tongue. “And you are?”
“Lindsey Thompson,” she supplied. “I came to visit my uncle Frank, but he’s in Poland.”
“I heard something about that,” Michael said. “You took over your dad’s business, right, Annie?”
His question stopped Annie from denying her father’s relationship to Lindsey. “Actually, I didn’t. I’m just filling in while he’s gone.”
“My bad. Some people in this town like to talk even when they don’t know what they’re talking about.” He spoke from experience, Annie thought. At one point town gossip about him had been rampant. He winked at Lindsey. “Pretty soon they’ll be spreading stories about you.”
Annie willed her heartbeat to slow down. It had been an innocent remark.
She and Lindsey didn’t share a strong resemblance, and Annie was barely old enough to be the mother of a teenager.
“There’s nothing to talk about.” She forced her voice to sound normal. “Lindsey’s a family friend.”
Michael pulled open the glass door of the refrigerated unit beside the counter, then paused. “I thought she was your Dad’s niece.”
“We’re not really related,” Lindsey interjected before Annie could panic. “I just call him uncle.”
Michael nodded, accepting the answer. Some of the pressure inside Annie’s chest eased as he removed four bottles of water from the refrigerator.
“We’re finishing up a remodel job down the street and the crew is getting thirsty,” he explained. “Good seeing you, Annie. And a pleasure meeting you, Miss Lindsey.”
“He was nice,” Lindsey said as he walked away.
“Most people in Indigo Springs are,” Annie said.
Lindsey looked unhappy. “Then why can’t I stay here?”
So far three people who’d known Annie as a sixteen-year-old had seen her with Lindsey and none of them had put the pieces together. In all probability, nobody would, ensuring that Lindsey wouldn’t have her world inadvertently turned upside down.
“I’ve been thinking about that,” Annie said slowly. “Maybe you don’t have to go back just yet.”
“You mean I can stay?” Lindsey asked excitedly.
The thought of letting the girl go without spending at least a little time with her was like a dagger through Annie’s heart. Staying in Indigo Springs was clearly what Lindsey wanted, too. Annie simply wasn’t strong enough to fight fate and what she so desperately wanted anyway.
“Only if your parents say yes,” Annie said.
“They’ll say yes.” Lindsey smiled and took a big bite of her sandwich, unaware she’d agreed to a visit with her birth mother.
That was exactly the way Annie intended to keep it.
M AYBE SHE’D messed up in coming to Indigo Springs, Lindsey thought.
Uncle Frank had made it sound really cool, but the downtown was nothing but a bunch of old buildings. Once she and Annie had gotten back in her truck and headed out of town, all she’d seen was trees.
The parking lot they’d pulled into wasn’t even paved, and the building they were approaching looked like a grungy warehouse. A couple of dozen sturdy-looking bikes were parked in neat rows off to one side. On the other were nine or ten faded picnic tables.
Lindsey read the sign over the door: Indigo River Rafters.
“ This is your father’s business?” she asked Annie.
“This is it,” Annie said.
Lindsey slowed down but didn’t dare stop. If she did, the gnats that were flying around her hair might attack her eyes. She supposed the setting was okay, although there weren’t a lot of trees close to this part of the river and the grass around the shop was trampled down dirt. The water was maybe fifty yards away, with a flatbed trailer blocking part of the view.
“All our trips end here at base camp. That spot over by the flatbed trailer is the take-out point,” Annie said. “We load the boats so we can transport them to the put-in for the next trip.”
