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He nodded. “Dead end.”
“But surely you have the name of the biological mother on Giselle’s birth certificate?” Her head tilted to one side as she studied him. “You were a police officer. You must have a lot of contacts. Couldn’t someone track the name?”
He didn’t want to answer but Alicia kept waiting.
“I did track her.” Jack sighed. “Two years after the adoption, Giselle’s birth mother disappeared. There’s no trace of her.” Oddly, it felt good to discuss this with her.
“What about Laurel? Surely as a former social worker, your sister could—”
“Social workers are provincial employees,” he explained. “Laurel never worked in that province.”
“I see.” Alicia fell silent, apparently lost in thought.
“Can I ask you something?” Jack waited until she nodded. “How do you know about adoptions? You said you were never adopted so—” He let it hang, his curiosity about her growing.
“I wasn’t.” Her gaze moved to one side, avoiding his. “I, um, for a long time I’ve been looking for someone who was adopted. But the clues I had led to dead ends. I don’t have connections like you do so I don’t know where to look next.”
“My connections weren’t much help,” Jack told her. He dug in his pocket and pulled out the slip of paper he’d been carrying around since his last day of work. “But this might be. Someone gave me this website address. They said it’s been helpful to others. It wasn’t for me, but you’re welcome to copy the address and check it out.”
“I, um, don’t have a pen or paper,” she said after a moment’s hesitation.
“I do.” Jack pulled out the small pad and pen he always kept in his breast pocket and held them out. “Old habit from my detective days.” Surprisingly she didn’t take, either. “You already know about this site?”
“No.” Her cheeks darkened. “This is embarrassing. You see, I have really bad eyesight and my glasses are in the bag you put up top. Would you mind copying it out for me?”
“I can get the bag,” he offered, shifting to rise.
“No, no. Don’t stir yourself.” She laid her hand on his arm. “You’ll wake up someone.” She jerked her hand away. “If you could write it down for me, I’d be grateful.”
“Sure. Okay.” He scribbled down the web address, tore out the sheet and handed it to her.
“Thank you.” Alicia studied it for a moment then folded it and tucked it into her jeans pocket. “I’ll take a look when I get home.”
“I hope it helps.”
When Alicia merely smiled at him before turning her face to the window, Jack understood that was all the conversation she wanted for now. Suited him. He didn’t want her to think he was trying to get too friendly. He checked on Giselle then pulled his e-reader from the seat pocket in front and flicked it on.
But the novel couldn’t hold Jack’s interest. Instead he got hung up thinking about the woman next to him. There was something about Alicia Featherstone that intrigued him and it wasn’t only her quick rush to defend God.
Though she’d been friendly enough, she had a quality about her that said no trespassing. She seemed to not need anyone else. Self-contained, that was it.
Jack couldn’t help wondering why. Alicia was lovely to look at, had a nice figure and ran her own independent business. She appeared to have her life together. And yet when she’d crashed into him earlier, she’d jerked back, ready to protect herself. He remembered how she’d ordered him to let go of her arm. She’d tensed—an automatic response to a perceived threat.
Because she’d had to defend herself before?
As he’d told Laurel, Jack wasn’t interested in a romantic relationship with anyone. But his detective background made Alicia’s almost bristling reaction interesting, as had her response when he’d asked if she had kids. Suddenly Jack could think of a hundred questions to ask the lovely Indian woman.
She’s nothing to do with you. You and Giselle are on your own. Even if you could forget what you and Simone shared, are you really willing to risk loving again and losing again?
No.
In a rush, the lost, empty feeling he’d battled for two long years returned. He’d barely survived the pain of Simone’s death and that was only because of Giselle, because he was determined not to lose her, too.
Alicia Featherstone might become his coworker on the kids’ project, but that’s all she could ever be. He would not contemplate loving and losing again.
Jack twisted in his seat so his back was to Alicia. He forced himself to read the words on his screen. But despite his best intentions, every so often his glance slipped to the silent woman in the seat next to his.
Though he was tired, sleep evaded him.
Given his curiosity about Alicia Featherstone, he should probably refuse to work with her. But he wasn’t going to. He had too many questions that demanded answers.
Chapter Three
Alicia awoke feeling watched.
Sure enough, when she peeked through her lashes she found a dark brown gaze fixed on her. Self-conscious and disheveled, she swallowed and tried to think of what to say to Jack’s daughter.
“You snore.” Giselle flopped into the seat her father had obviously vacated while Alicia was asleep. “Delicately, but still. It’s snoring.”
“Good morning.” Alicia gave her a pointed look. “My name is Alicia Featherstone. And you’re Giselle, I understand. It’s nice to meet you.”
“Yeah.” The girl flicked her long hair over one shoulder. “I guess that was rude.”
Ignoring her unrepentant stare, Alicia said nothing. She pulled a brush from her purse, undid her braids and combed out her hair before swirling it into a topknot on her head.
“Sorry.” Giselle didn’t sound the least bit sorry.
“I hear you’re moving to Churchill,” Alicia said, cutting her some slack.
“So Jack says.” The chip on Giselle’s shoulder was huge.
“Jack?” Alicia tamped down her irritation at this cheeky child.
“Well, I can’t really call him Dad, now can I?” Giselle snapped in a sour tone.
“Why not?” Spoiled, Alicia thought to herself.
Yet her heart ached for the confused girl. Giselle’s world had been rocked, first by her mom’s death and then by learning nothing she’d believed about her family was true. Moving away from all that was familiar couldn’t be easy, either.
“Jack hasn’t been your dad for all these years?” she asked gently.
“Yes.” Giselle whooshed out a breath that blew her bangs all over. “He has. He’s been a really good father and I love him a lot. That’s why this is so hard. He lied to me.”
“I didn’t lie, Giselle.” Jack stood in the aisle. His face conveyed his hurt.
“Lied by omission then.” She jumped up and held out a hand. “Can I have some money to buy breakfast?”
“I guess I’m your father enough for that, huh?” Jack muttered with a sideways glance at his daughter. She simply shrugged. He transferred the two cups he carried into one hand then fished several bills out of his shirt pocket and handed them over. Giselle flounced away. “Nothing for me, thanks,” he muttered, staring longingly at her departing figure.
“Preteen. It’s a horrible age,” Alicia consoled. “She’ll get over it.”
“Soon, I hope.” He held out a lidded cup. “Coffee. I figured you could use some. You look great, but it wasn’t the most restful night I’ve ever had.”
“Thank you.” She accepted the cup, freezing for a moment when his warm fingers brushed hers. “Maybe I’m used to these chairs because I’ve ridden the train so often.”
“To get your store stock?”
“Uh-huh. The sleeper cars are always booked far in advance. Since I’m never sure when I’ll be on the train, I always sleep in the chairs,” she explained. “I don’t mind traveling at this time of year. The landscape is amazing. Seeing spring arrive from the train is far more interesting than watching snow drift in winter.” She sipped her coffee, enjoying the rich dark flavor. “Thank you for this.”
“Sure. My sister told me about a project you’re planning for her Lives boys. That’s what locals call her rehabilitation center, right?”
“Yes.” Alicia nodded. “It’s a shortened version of Lives Under Construction, which we use to refer to the army barracks she’s renovated, the outbuildings and all the land around.”
“I thought so.” Jack sat down, stretching his legs in front. “So—a sod house, right? Laurel asked me to help.”
“She did?” Alicia stared at him. “I didn’t know that.” She shook her head, uneasy at the prospect of having Jack nearby, watching her. “You don’t have to bother. We’ll manage. The boys are very responsible.”
“I’m sure they are. But I promised and I don’t break my promises to Laurel, ever. She’s the older sister and she makes me pay,” he teased. Then a frown flickered across his face. “It sounds like you don’t want my help.”
“It’s not that.” She bit her bottom lip, struggling to rephrase the truth.
“Don’t worry, Alicia. I know how to take directions.” He chuckled when she couldn’t mask her dubious expression. “I’ll help, but the hotel will have to come first.” He tipped his head to one side, studying her. “How did you come up with the sod house idea anyway?”
“From a display I saw.” She leaned her back against the window to put as much distance between them as possible. She would have moved across the aisle if Giselle hadn’t left her things scattered over both seats.
Oddly enough, Jack’s nearness didn’t make Alicia feel unsafe and it wasn’t just that he was a cop and also Laurel’s brother. Jack was still grieving for his wife. She couldn’t imagine he was the type to try to take advantage of her here on a public train. But mostly she wasn’t worried because he’d emphasized that he intended to remain single.
Still, his nearness caused a nervousness deep inside her that Alicia didn’t understand.
“What kind of a display?” Jack asked.
“It was held inside a caribou tent and it was amazing.” She tried to explain but cut it short when his eyes began to glaze. “Anyway, the presenters were descendants of an original settlement family. Their elder told stories about how their ancestors built sod houses to live in. I thought it would be fun to build one as a summer project for the boys. Kyle Loness—he’s the activities director at Lives—and Rick Salinger, our minister, have both promised to help.”
“Sounds interesting. Do you have a book about it, or plans?” Jack asked.
“No,” Alicia answered, slewing her eyes to the window, though there was nothing unusual in the muskeg pushing up to reveal the permafrost beneath. “All I have is a rough sketch an elder drew for me.”
“Well, I guess you could get the library to order some books.” Jack savored his coffee, his face thoughtful. “You can’t just go out and start digging. You’ll need some kind of plan.”
Alicia gulped, because that was exactly what she’d intended to do—start digging as soon as the town allocated the land. Now she realized how silly that was. Of course they would need a plan. Houses were built in stages.
Rattled by the thought of being asked to consult a book, she knew she’d have to be careful or else Jack and the rest of Churchill would discover she couldn’t read very well. Her mother had tried to teach her when their remote village lost its teacher, but her English hadn’t been great. When she’d been moved to Vancouver, Alicia had struggled and failed to catch up.
“Since you’ll be helping us, perhaps you wouldn’t mind contacting the library,” she said, crossing her fingers that he’d accept.
“I guess I could.” His forehead furrowed, he plied her with questions.
Alicia answered as best she could but his proximity unnerved her. She was grateful when Giselle finally returned.
“I hope you don’t mind if I ask this.” The girl stood in the aisle, leaning against the seat in front. “You’re an Indian, aren’t you?”
Jack choked on his coffee then glared at Giselle, clearly aggravated by her impudence.
“Native Canadian Indian, yes.” Alicia held her gaze as she said the words proudly, refusing to back down. “Why?”
“One of my teachers said you often have names that have special meanings.”
“You’re asking if Alicia is a traditional Native name?” she said.
“Yes, like Piapot.” Giselle frowned. “Do you know what that name means?”
“One who knows the secrets of the Sioux.” She hid her smile as Giselle’s eyes brightened. “I’m sorry to disappoint you. I’m afraid I’m just plain Alicia Featherstone.”
“Well, at least you have Featherstone, though I don’t know what meaning that could have. Feathers and stones are complete opposites,” Giselle complained.
“Sorry.” Alicia hid her smile. “If you’re interested in learning about Chief Piapot, every Thursday night I lead a campfire at Lives. I tell the boys stories of Native history. You’re welcome to join us.”
“Thanks.” Giselle’s smile lit up her face. She returned to her seat across the aisle. Moments later she was busy on her pink cell phone.
“I’m sorry,” Jack apologized. “Sometimes I have no clue what will come out of her mouth. I’m not sure she does, either.”
Alicia burst out laughing. “Forget it. That in-your-face attitude is what makes kids so refreshing.”
“I’ll try to remember that,” he said drily. “Hey, we’re slowing down.”
“Yes. We’ll arrive in Churchill soon.” She smiled. “Did I ever thank you for rescuing my packages?”
“I wouldn’t want Tansi’s stock to go missing.” He studied her for a moment. “I don’t know much about your kind of business, but Laurel says you’re doing very well. Have you ever considered expanding? There’s a much bigger market outside of Churchill that could use some education about your culture.”
Warmth exploded inside her. At last, someone who thought like her. She gazed at Jack with admiration.
“I dream about having a second store, maybe in Winnipeg, but I haven’t worked out how to do it.” Alicia hesitated, realizing she’d just shared her dream with a total stranger, a dream no one else knew about. Why was it so easy to talk to Jack?
Just as quickly her excitement drained away. There was no point in thinking about future expansion with him or anyone else. People like her with no sources of funding didn’t have second or third stores. And now that Mr. Parcet was asking questions about her, it was only a matter of time before he’d show up to get information. He wasn’t going to get it from her, of course, but she had to put her dreams on hold and concentrate on making sure her son was safe before Mr. Parcet found her.
How do I do that, God, when I don’t know where he is?
Alicia stared out the window, lost in ways and means she might employ. The first thing would be to talk to the social worker she’d been assigned when she was fifteen and had given up her son. What was her name? Mrs. End-something. Endecott? Enderby? Endersley, that was it. She silently repeated the name to fix it in her mind.
“I want to talk to Alicia, Dad. Can we change seats for a while?”
Alicia blinked out of her thoughts and found Jack studying her. He raised one eyebrow.
“Do you mind speaking with Giselle?” he said. “It’s okay if you’d rather rest.”
“She’s not old, Dad. She doesn’t have to rest.” Scorn laced Giselle’s shrill tone.
“Actually I’ve been up for about thirty-six hours and I am a bit tired, Jack.” Alicia smiled at him, deliberately cutting Giselle out of the conversation. She felt sorry for the child, but she wanted to make a point to Giselle to curb her attitude.
