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Past Secrets, Present Love
Lois Richer
To: Jared From: Kelly Re: More shocking news As director of Tiny Blessings adoption agency, I appreciate the unbiased way you've reported all the scandalous information that has come out recently. Well, I have another exclusive for you: investigator Ross Van Zandt broke the news to me last night - I am the missing baby, the child taken from her mother at birth.It was quite a shock, but with God's help, I can come to terms with this. I'm hoping Ross will help me uncover my biological father's identity, but he seems hesitant. And off the record the handsome PI has caught more than my professional interest!
Something about Kelly’s reaction—as if she’d drawn her shield up—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 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?
TINY BLESSINGS: Giving thanks for the neediest of God’s children, and the families who take them in!
FOR THE TWINS’ SAKE—
Jillian Hart (LI#308, July 2005)
BROUGHT TOGETHER BY BABY—
Carolyne Aarsen (LI#312, August 2005)
ON THE DOORSTEP—
Dana Corbit (LI#316, September 2005)
THE CINDERELLA PLAN—
Margaret Daley (LI#320, October 2005)
HER CHRISTMAS WISH—
Kathryn Springer (LI#324, November 2005)
PAST SECRETS, PRESENT LOVE—
Lois Richer (LI#328, December 2005)
LOIS RICHER
Sneaking a flashlight under the blankets, hiding in a thicket of Caragana bushes where no one could see, pushing books into socks to take to camp—those are just some of the things Lois Richer freely admits to in her pursuit of the written word. “I’m a bookaholic. I can’t do without stories,” she confesses. “It’s always been that way.”
Her love of language evolved into writing her own stories. Today her passion is to create tales of personal struggle that lead to triumph over life’s rocky road. For Lois, a happy ending is essential.
“In my stories, as in my own life, God has a way of making all things beautiful. Writing a love story is my way of reinforcing my faith in His ultimate goodness toward us—His precious children.”
Past Secrets, Present Love
Lois Richer
Special thanks and acknowledgment are given to Lois Richer for her contribution to the TINY BLESSINGS series.
This book is dedicated to moms all over the world who love above and beyond. You are reflections of the Father’s love for His children.
And this book is dedicated to my mom who never believed them when they said it couldn’t be done. You go, Mom!
You are the Lord, You alone; You have made heaven, the heaven of heavens, with all their hosts, the earth and all that is on it, the seas and all that is in them; and You preserve all of them; and the host of heaven worships You.
—Nehemiah 9:6
Ross—From the Scottish or Latin, which means “from the headlands.” It is a German variant of Roswald or the English variant of Roswell or Russell.
Kelly—From the Irish, which means “warrior or bright-minded.” It was originally a boys’ name.
Sandra—A variation of the Greek Alexandra, which means “defender of mankind.” A feminine form of Alexander.
Dear Reader,
Welcome back! I hope you’ve enjoyed visiting Chestnut Grove once more as Kelly deals with a lifelong insecurity that has kept her from relaxing in God’s love. In each of us there is a kernel of disbelief that, if not checked, can grow until it saps our trust and faith in God and His divine plan for our lives.
My prayer for you is that you will lean on Him when life gets too much, that you will trust even though the struggles seem too hard. Know that He is there, waiting for you to call on Him. He will answer.
Blessings,
CONTENTS
LOIS RICHER
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter One
You or Ben Cavanaugh may be the adult child of Sandra Lange.
The words echoed through Kelly Young’s brain with the rhythm of a marching band on Independence Day. No matter how furiously she worked at cleaning out the old utility closet, she couldn’t silence them.
“Aren’t you leaving to get ready for Ben and Leah’s wedding?”
She glanced up, saw Florence Villi scowling at her and nodded. Scour was a word that suited the cleaning lady at Tiny Blessings Adoption Agency to a T.
“I’m leaving soon,” Kelly assured her. “Just a few things to tie up first.”
“You’re getting to be a workaholic.” Florence’s brown eyes hardened as she noticed what Kelly was doing. “I’m not responsible for any messes you make, and I’ve already cleaned this hall.”
“I’ll clean it up—don’t worry, Florence.”
“You looking for something special?”
“Just a little more space.” Kelly lifted out yet another broom, held it up. “Do you ever use this stuff?”
“Not my job to clean out all the closets in this building,” Florence grumbled. “I keep my stuff in the basement. I’m not responsible for this.”
“I wasn’t implying you were, I was just wondering—” Kelly felt the anger emanating from the other woman and decided retreat was wise. “Never mind. Are you working late tonight?”
“Same as any other night, isn’t it?” Florence eyes narrowed. “Nobody ever had a complaint about that. I do my job and I do it right.”
She did, Kelly agreed. Usually not with a happy face, but Florence kept the place clean and minded her own business. Except for the time she’d leaked information to the Richmond Gazette about some botched birth records. As she watched the over-painted lips on that grim mouth turn down, Kelly decided not to remind her of that faux pas. Florence already didn’t like her, why make it worse?
“I suppose everyone else is gone,” she murmured, trying to ease some of the articles back inside the closet.
“They left long ago. Could be that they all have people at home waiting for them.”
Unlike you.
Having uttered her unspoken little dig, Florence pushed her mop down the hallway, nose in the air as she studiously avoided the mess Kelly had made.
“‘Be ye kind, one to another. Tenderhearted, forgiving—’ ” Kelly recited her mother’s favorite verse until some of her frustration drained away. Carol Young had loved life, refused to let someone else’s unpleasantness drain her joy. She’d set a good example for her daughter.
Thank goodness her mom had never known about Sandra Lange and this search she was conducting for her long-lost child. Of course Kelly wasn’t Sandra’s child. It must be Ben.
Kelly checked her watch, gasped. How had it grown so late? Ben and Leah’s wedding was important to her, there was no way she wanted to miss it. Fortunately her house was only minutes away. She could make it if she hurried.
“You are not watching me do this, Mom,” she muttered as she shoved the jumble of brooms back into the closet willy-nilly. Of course they wouldn’t go in as easily as they’d fallen out. Kelly wiggled and pushed, determined to get them inside, but something solid seemed in the way.
“What on earth is back here anyway?” she grumbled, standing on a gallon paint can to peer over the mess. “A filing cabinet? What’s that doing here? It can’t have anything in it.”
Kelly scoffed at the very idea. There was no way Tiny Blessings Adoption Agency kept its outdated files in a utility closet, not with her as director. Although stranger things had happened under the previous director’s orders. She stretched an arm over a pile of old rags and yanked on the handle to open it, but the drawer of the cabinet wouldn’t open.
“Figures.” Her watch bleeped the time. One hour and counting. “Rats!” She abandoned that effort and stuffed everything else inside. By using her body to hold the door closed, she managed to finally lock it.
“Later,” she promised the steel gray door. No doubt there’d been some reason to put a lock on a utility closet. To keep people away from the mops, maybe? Mocking her own foolishness, Kelly got her coat.
It took five minutes to get home and fifteen minutes to shower, fix her hair and change. A record by any standard. The ringing phone delayed her a few minutes more, but when no one answered, Kelly quickly hung up. Then she was out the door and on the road.
At least for ten minutes.
That’s when the ability to steer suddenly left her car. Without warning she found herself careening all over the road. Something was definitely wrong!
Kelly prayed for help as she tried to maneuver around a parked car with a combination of braking and intermittent steering ability. She touched the brakes just a little too hard and found herself sliding across an ice-slicked street toward a child with a sack of newspapers who was doing his best to skate his sneakers across the road in front of her.
Kelly held her breath, tapping gently on the brake pedal as she dragged at the stiff, unyielding wheel, afraid to honk lest she frighten him into turning into her path. As it was, he slid a little too close. She jerked the wheel hard right, begging it to obey.
At the last moment the car turned and skidded over the sidewalk. Kelly came to a shuddering halt smacked against a massive oak tree, right beside the busiest intersection in town. The little boy glared at her, then walked away, mouth pursed in an angry line.
Kelly switched off the key before resting her forehead against the steering wheel.
“That was close, Lord,” she whispered, her entire body weak with thoughts of what could have happened. What on earth was wrong with the steering? She’d checked with the dealer a few weeks ago, made sure she was prepared for whatever nature tossed out. Obviously her steering wasn’t okay. Maybe she’d bought a lemon.
Once she’d regained her equanimity, Kelly dragged her coat lapels over her best red silk dress and climbed out of the car to inspect the damage. Her silk-clad ankles stung at contact with the wet snow.
The front bumper was a mess, the tire on the passenger side was half-flat and the undercarriage was lodged against the cement curb, making it perfectly clear that she was going nowhere fast.
“Out joyriding, Miss Young?”
Kelly wheeled around, met the dark blue gaze of Ross Van Zandt. As usual, one hank of dark hair flopped over his left eye. More than a hint of dark stubble accented the rigid line of his jaw. He had the kind of jaw people sculpted—rock solid, determined.
He cleared his throat. Kelly realized she’d been staring at him. Her face flushed a hot embarrassing red.
“I’m sorry, what did you say?” It would have to be him, wouldn’t it? The one man in town she did not want to see.
“I just wondered if you’d begun living on the wilder side of life.” His voice held that hint of amusement that always made her bristle. One black eyebrow lifted as he took in her predicament. “Party dress, fast car—you know.”
“Oh, of course,” she muttered, gritting her teeth against the icy chill that her silk dress did nothing to block. “Party animal that I am, there’s nothing I like more than parking my car against a tree when I’ve just put on my best heels and a silk dress.”
“You’re on your way to the wedding.” It wasn’t a question. He leaned over and unlatched the passenger side door, thrust it open. “Get in. I’ll give you a ride. You don’t have much time.”
“But my car—” Kelly hugged into the warmth of her white cashmere coat while he pulled out a cell phone, dialed, then began speaking.
“Vinnie? Ross. Got a little problem.”
