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Chapter Three
Her silence wasn’t normal.
Ross glanced up from his drink, took one look at Kelly’s face and lifted away the receiver. He clamped it against his ear, but heard nothing.
“Who was it?”
“I don’t know.” She took the phone from him and hung it up. “They’re gone.” Her hand was shaking. “Before you ask, whoever it was said only one thing. Apparently I’ve been warned.”
Ross hated to see her so disturbed on what should have been a night for celebrating her friends’ marriage. Barricading her inside that closet had been no accident and a threatening phone call proved someone had malicious intent. But he wasn’t going to say it and add to her concerns, not now. He reached over, squeezed her fingers with his.
“I’ll call Zach.”
But Kelly stopped him. “Please, let it alone for now. Telling him in the morning will be soon enough. I don’t want to ruin the entire night for him.”
He didn’t like it but her tone was so beseeching that he finally nodded and let it go. “I guess they wouldn’t be able to set up tracers tonight anyway.” He hit * 69 and listened as a bodiless voice told him the call could not be traced.
“Probably used a cell phone. Or a pay phone.” She pretended lack of concern, though her cheeks were paper white. “Let’s take our food into the den. I’ll light a fire and we can reminisce about happier times.”
Though he followed her out off the kitchen and into the oak paneled den, cake and cup in tow, Ross knew he didn’t have a whole lot of memories he wanted to reminisce on. It was all right for Kelly, she’d had a happy childhood. His, not so much.
“Here we are.” She lit the fire then sank into a big armchair and waved him to a nearby seat. “Now tell me about yourself. You came here from Richmond?”
“Yes.” He knew from experience that not responding only elicited more questions in Chestnut Grove. “Originally from New York,” he muttered. “Brooklyn.”
“Wow! I’ve never lived in such a big city. It must be interesting.” She paused, waited for him to embellish, and when he didn’t she turned her attention to the fire. “Someone told me you used to be a cop. What was that like?”
“Ugly.” Her blink of surprise told him his one word had said too much to stop now. He took a sip of his drink while his brain organized his thoughts. “I was assigned to some pretty nasty areas. Too many drugs, too many weapons, too much poverty.”
“And you burned out?” She nodded, her brown eyes soft with compassion. “I can understand that. Sometimes I feel that way when an adoption doesn’t go through. The adoptive mom loves that child so much but all she can do is watch the child be taken away. It’s heartbreaking for both of them.”
Kelly fell silent, the cup still clasped between her hands though her mind was obviously on just such a case. Ross fidgeted, wished he could think of something to change the subject.
“Was there something specific that made you leave?” she asked several moments later. “I’ve heard that it usually takes a life-altering event for a police officer to move away from that line of work.”
“Private investigation isn’t that far off,” he murmured and sighed at her expectant gaze. “But yes, I did have a reason to get out. I almost killed a kid.”
He waited for the shock and horror those words always induced. Kelly Young displayed none of that. She simply sat in her chair, legs curled under her, watching him as if she knew there was more to the story.
Why was he telling her this when he’d kept it to himself for so long? Ross didn’t know but he blamed it on the fire and the intimacy it brought.
“He was strung out—crack, heroin, I don’t know which. Didn’t really matter. All of fifteen years old and he looked thirty.” He dragged a hand through his hair as his stomach knotted into a hard lump of anger. “He’d robbed a convenience store, assaulted the owner and taken his gun. When I got there the kid was strutting his stuff in the street, waving that gun like it was Excalibur and he was Arthur.”
Ross closed his eyes, relived the moment.
“I tried to talk him down, tried reason, control, everything I could think of. He was too high. A little girl came around the corner. He grabbed her, pointed the gun at her head.” He stared at Kelly, prayed she’d understand. “I had to take my best shot. I couldn’t let another innocent die. I couldn’t stand there and let it happen.”
“Of course you couldn’t. I understand that.” She leaned forward, her hair slanting over her smooth pale cheek as she set her untouched drink on the table. Then she reached out to touch his knee. “You did your job, Ross.”
“Yeah, I did.” He pinched his lips together. Some job. Shooting a fifteen-year-old addict. “It was the third drug call that night, all of them violent. By the time I got back to the station I knew I couldn’t do it anymore. So I handed in my notice, worked my time and left.”
It was a little more complicated than that, but she didn’t need to know.
“And came to Richmond.” A soft sweet smile tilted up her lips. “That was when?”
“Two years ago.”
“And you’ve never gone back?”
“A couple of times.” He did not want to get into this now.
“I suppose you miss your friends from the precinct. Or is it the fast pace of the work?”
“Neither.” He swallowed, sucked in a breath. “I went to see my mother. And my sister, Trista.”
“That’s nice. Your mother must love having you back to spoil.” The look in her eyes told him she’d shared a lot of happy times with her adoptive mother.
“Hardly. I doubt she even knew if I was there. She has Alzheimer’s. Most of the time she doesn’t even know who I am.” Ross couldn’t stop the rush of words. He’d have to get out more often. Maybe that would help him get control of his tongue.
Something, possibly pity, washed over Kelly’s face. He hated seeing it, didn’t want her to offer him that. Ross blurted out the first thing that came into his head.
“When are you going to see Sandra?”
Kelly’s alabaster skin lost some of the faint glow it had begun to regain and stretched a little tighter. “I don’t know.”
“Soon?”
“I told you, I don’t know when. Too much has happened, I haven’t had a chance to really think about it.” She stared at her hands, fingers threaded together. “I suppose after the holidays.”
“This is after the holidays. Tomorrow?” he persisted, knowing she hated being pressed but he was worried on Sandra’s behalf. She’d waited so long for that special moment when she’d finally meet her long-lost child. Surely Kelly could understand that.
Kelly shook her head. “I can’t tomorrow. I told you, we’re having a church social. We usually spend the afternoon at the ski hill. After that we go to the Morrow mansion. Lindsay Morrow—do you know her?”
“Know of her.” He nodded. “The mayor’s wife.”
“Yes. Around here she’s known for her big society events. Remember the Christmas tree lighting and reception? Well, every year she hosts a second event at her home a few days after the festive season is finished—to celebrate the New Year, she claims. It’s always a big deal, casual, but something we all talk about for weeks to come.”
“Talk about, why?” He couldn’t fathom what that odd little note in her voice alluded to.
“I guess you’d have to know Mrs. Morrow to understand.” Kelly nibbled on her fingernail, her smooth forehead furrowed. “They go to our church sometimes, but…well, she’s not a joiner. She’s more high society than most of us, moves in a different circle.”
“There are circles in little old Chestnut Grove?” he teased, then watched her cheeks flush a warm clear rose.
“Sort of. People like the Morrows belong to the country club set. You know, the wealthy, perfect people. I mean, have you ever looked at Lindsay Morrow? She could have been a model with that rail-thin body of hers. Makes the rest of us envious.”
“Really?” He thought Kelly was far more attractive. Judging by tonight, he’d found her comfortable to be around, friendly, the kind of person you could easily talk to. She was also gorgeous; the whole package was perfect. By contrast, Mrs. Morrow, whenever he’d met her, seemed cold, standoffish. “I guess she looks okay, but—”
“Okay?” Kelly laughed. “Lindsay Morrow is pure glam. The way her glossy black hair swoops across that aristocratic jaw, never a hair out of place. Those deep, dark midnight eyes, the straight confident set of her shoulders—she’s regal. Her clothes only reinforce her image—nothing but designer labels.”
“Huh.” He mulled it over. “Ambitious, powerful, privileged. It’s intimidating. She’s the opposite of Sandra, I guess. I think I’d feel like an overgrown oaf around Mrs. Morrow, but Sandra always makes me feel welcome. She gets this look, kind of a shy smile that makes you glad you came to see her.”
“Really?” The temperature of Kelly’s voice dropped several degrees.
“Really.” Ross frowned. “Why do you hate her?”
“Me? I don’t hate Sandra Lange. Not at all.” Bright red spots of color appeared in her cheeks. To hide it, she fiddled with her mug of hot chocolate, then rose to her feet with some excuse about cookies and rushed out of the room. When Kelly finally came back she carried a dish of gingersnaps and a glass of milk.
She held out the plate.
“These used to be my dad’s favorite,” she murmured, then froze, her eyes flying to his. “My adoptive father,” she corrected. She took a deep breath, met his gaze head on. “I just realized—if you know who my birth mother is, you must know who my biological father is as well?”
He hated lying to her, hated the secretiveness Sandra had insisted upon. But the secret was not his to share.
“You’ll have to ask Sandra,” he murmured. “It’s something she should tell you.”
“Of course.” She stared at the big round cookie, took a bite. After a moment she pointed to the bowl. “Help yourself.”
He moved to take one, then realized that the luscious piece of chocolate cake still sat on the plate on the table in front of him.
“I’d rather eat this,” he told her with a grin. “What’s with that glass of milk?”
“I’ve changed my mind. I don’t feel like hot chocolate tonight. Too much of a good thing at Christmas, I guess. Anyway, Dad always said gingersnaps and milk were made to go together.”
They sat together in front of the fire, he with his chocolate overload, she with her cookies and milk. She had the art of dipping down to a science, holding the cookie in the milk just long enough to saturate it, but not long enough for it to fall apart. Then she’d slip the sopping bit into her mouth. She caught him staring and grinned.
“Help yourself,” she offered. “I can get you a glass of milk if you want.”
“No thanks. The cake was great, more than enough.” Ross leaned back, watched her drink the last of the milk. She dabbed at her lips with a napkin covered with nutcrackers as she stared into the fire. That’s when he knew he had to press the issue, for Sandra’s sake.
“Why not tomorrow, Kelly? Just for a few minutes. Sandra would love to see you.”
“I told you, tomorrow’s busy.”
“The next day then.”
“I have to be at work. It’s a busy time, cleaning up details from the end of the year, some staff on extended holidays. Things like that.”
“So busy you can’t make time for Sandra—a half hour out of your busy schedule to see a woman who’s waited all these years?”
“Waited?” The anger on her face blazed at him, her voice altered, brimmed with outrage. “She gave me away.”
“But—”
Kelly held up a hand. “I’m not saying that was wrong, I don’t know her circumstances. But surely if she’d wanted me—”
He couldn’t let her go on. “Sandra didn’t give you away willingly, Kelly.”
“What?” Her frown was part puzzlement, part fury. “She signed the papers, she had to. It’s the law. Without her consent—”
“Yes, but she was under the effects of anesthetic when she did that. Once she woke up, she’d changed her mind.” He had to keep going, had to make her understand. “She wanted to raise you herself but she was manipulated into giving you up and then you were gone. She’s spent years regretting that she wasn’t stronger, that she didn’t argue to hang on to you. She’s always wondered about you, tried to find out who you were, where you went.”
“Wondered…about me?” The whisper slipped out from her white lips. Her eyes grew huge. “She didn’t even know me. She never looked before, did she?”
“No,” he admitted. “Because she thought it would be selfish to disrupt your new life. But she never forgot her child. And she dearly wanted that child back, in her arms.”
“Wait a minute!” Kelly jerked back. “You said she was manipulated. Are you saying my parents tried to persuade her? Because I will never believe that.”
“No, not your parents. From what I’ve been able to learn, they had no idea of your connection to Sandra, or that your adoptive mother ever wanted to know about you. That was deliberately kept from them.”
“By whom?”
“Barnaby Harcourt, for one.”
She stared at him. “Mine was the first adoption he arranged,” she whispered. “I knew he did some terrible things, changed official records, but—” She shook her head. Tears squeezed from the corners of her eyes, rolled down her cheeks. “My parents gave me my birth records years ago. They said my parents were deceased. He must have altered them, just like all the rest. That’s why there were two sets.”
“I’m sorry, Kelly.”
“I thought I was Kelly Young. That was my history,” she whispered, staring at him. “I liked my life, loved my parents, found a job in the town where I grew up. Taking on the directorship of Tiny Blessings, that was my way of giving back to the community where I belonged. And now you’re telling me that everything I ever believed was a lie.”
She wasn’t talking to him. Ross understood enough about Kelly Young to realize that her questions were directed toward heaven and the God she trusted. He’d seen this in others in Chestnut Grove.
“It isn’t all a lie. Your parents loved you, cared for you. That won’t ever change. You have that to hang on to forever.” She seemed frozen so Ross tried again, choosing a different tack this time. “Knowing about Sandra, that could be for the good. You could find out your real history.” That sounded lame. “Just see her—it only has to be a few moments. Talk to her. Maybe you’ll find the answers you need. Please?”
He’d tried everything short of begging, but Ross was even willing to go that far if it would get Sandra the meeting she craved. She’d been like an expectant child when he’d left her, hardly able to control her excitement as she planned and dreamed of that special moment in time when she’d finally get to meet her child as a mother.
What if it never happened?
A change seemed to come over Kelly. She drew herself erect, blinked away her tears.
“I suppose I can’t put it off forever.” Her dark gaze narrowed, fixed on him intently. “I’ll go on one condition.”
Uh-oh.
“What condition?”
“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.
