“No, he’s my—” Alexa gulped. “I’m with him. I’m all right.”
The man didn’t look convinced, but he straightened and sent a glance across the restaurant. Briley glanced, too. A dozen faces peered back, some curious, others seemingly amused. The manager turned to the two of them. “I’d appreciate it if you’d take your scuffle elsewhere.”
Briley wouldn’t have used the word scuffle to describe their behavior, but he bit back an argument and simply nodded. The manager strode off, his shoulders square. With his departure the patrons apparently decided the show was over, because they returned to their quiet conversations, although a few continued to observe Briley and Alexa from the corners of their eyes.
Briley released Alexa’s arm and leaned down. “Do you want to stay here and eat, or would you rather …”
She hugged herself. “Let’s just go.” Her eyes flew wide. “I left my coat and purse in the booth.”
His jacket was there, too. He aimed her for the front doors. “I’ll get our things. Meet me outside.” Carrying a lady’s coat and purse out of the restaurant couldn’t embarrass him any worse than their theatrics already had. He kept his gaze averted as he marched to the booth, dropped a couple of dollar bills on the table, and loaded his arms with their belongings. A few titters followed him as he exited, but he pretended he didn’t hear.
Alexa waited right outside the doors, her shoulders hunched against the cold and tears trailing down her cheeks. She offered him a penitent look. “I’m so sorry, Briley.”
She’d run away from him, made a spectacle of him in front of an entire restaurant full of strangers, and stolen the chance for him to enjoy a really good meal. But his heart turned over in compassion anyway. He draped her coat over her trembling frame, then chucked her under the chin. “Aw, it’s okay, little sister.” With his arm across her shoulders, he steered her toward his car. “Tell you what, we’ll find a drive-through, order some greasy cheeseburgers and fries, and have a long talk in the car.”
She looked up at him, her expression uncertain.
“You’ll feel better after you’ve filled your stomach and spilled your worries.” He opened the door for her and gestured for her to get in. “Trust me.”
A wobbly smile curved her lips. “Okay, Briley.”
She eased gracefully into the seat, and he gave the door a slam. He trotted around to the driver’s side, his heart thudding. Whatever she’d meant by her statement, his reporter instincts told him it was big. Really big. His instincts were never wrong. He could hardly wait to hear the story and then share it with Len.
He climbed behind the wheel and started the engine. He glanced over to teasingly remind her to buckle up, and his gaze met hers. All thoughts of teasing fled. Her face, still stained by tears, looked at him with complete trust. His stomach lurched. Come into my parlor, said the spider to the fly … The line from a children’s poem rose from his memory, and he knew exactly which roles they each played. Could he really treat her so callously, spinning a web around her for his own selfish purposes?
Alexa pulled in a long breath and then let it out slowly. “Thank you for being understanding. And for being willing to listen to me.”
He swallowed. “No problem.”
“I think you’re right. I think I will feel better after I’ve said it all out loud.”
He should tell her to forget it. He should tell her the secret wouldn’t be safe with him. He should—“Then let’s get going so you can feel better as quickly as possible, huh?” He put the car in gear and squealed out of the parking lot, determinedly keeping his gaze away from her sweetly trusting face.
The interior of his car would probably reek of grilled onions and grease for weeks, but it would be worth it. He’d pulled in to the first fast-food joint he encountered, afraid if he waited too long he’d talk himself out of prying information from Alexa.
With burgers, grease-splotched bags of french fries, and sodas balanced in their laps, they sat in the car at the back corner of the dark parking lot next to the trash bins. The dome light served as candle glow. Not exactly the evening he’d planned, but he wouldn’t complain. He was still getting what he’d come for. Because Alexa hadn’t stopped talking since he’d put the car in Park. His ever-present little voice recorder, hiding in the gap between his hip and the console, captured every word of her story about her mother giving up her real baby for adoption and then choosing to raise a baby girl abandoned by a stranger only hours after her birth.
“I didn’t find out until this past summer that Mom isn’t really my mom. But now that I know, I can’t stop wondering who my real mother is. Where she is. Why she left me in that box behind the garage at the unwed mothers’ home in Indiana.”
The pain in Alexa’s voice stabbed Briley. He understood abandonment. He’d never forgotten the day his mom had pulled up to the fire station, opened the door, and said, “Get out, Briley. Go see the firemen.” And he’d never seen her again.
He had no desire to reconnect with the woman who’d left him, but clearly Alexa wanted to know the woman who’d given birth to her. “You know, you could probably find her. There are lots of private investigators who go snooping around, unraveling mysteries.” Len had a half dozen on the payroll at the Real Scoop. “It might take some time, and probably cost you a pretty penny, but it could be done.”
Alexa hung her head. “I can’t.”
Recalling her grandmother’s comment about Alexa needing the money his stay would provide, he nodded. “Oh. Money woes, huh?” He wished he were independently wealthy. He’d buy an investigator for her.
“That, and …” She sent him a helpless look. “It would hurt my mom.”
After listening to her tell about the upbringing she’d received, all the things her adoptive mother had done to provide for her without the support of a husband or other family, he really believed the woman would understand Alexa’s desire to find her birth parents. “I think you’re selling her short. She’s been pretty unselfish up ’til now, hasn’t she, always putting you first? Why would now be any different?” Alexa remained quiet, so he added, “Look, lots of adopted kids search for their real parents. Your mom’s probably even considered the possibility that you’d want to look for them someday, and I bet if you told her, she’d—”
“I’m not adopted.”
Briley drew back, surprised by the panic in her tone. “But you just said—”
“I said I was raised by my mom. She found me, and she raised me, but she never adopted me.” The words poured out like a bucketful of water being emptied in one swoosh. “She even told the hospital that I was hers—hers by birth—and put her name on my birth certificate. But it was all a lie. She … she basically stole me. So I can’t look for my real mother. Nobody can know I’m not really Suzanne Zimmerman’s daughter. Mom could get in terrible trouble. Don’t you see?”
He did see. His scalp sizzled with awareness. He’d thought the story would be revealing an illegitimate birth within a Plain community. But this was deeper. Bigger. Much more scandalous. An Old Order woman had not only given birth to an illegitimate child, she’d then taken someone else’s child to raise as her own. He envisioned the headline: A Lifetime of Lies—Kidnapping and Deceit in Mennonite Mecca. He could imagine the buzz.
Alexa reached across the console and caught the sleeve of his jacket. Her fingers pinched down, the grip desperate. “And you can’t tell anybody. I only told you because I was upset, and because I know you’ll be leaving soon, and maybe even because you weren’t raised by your parents, either, so you can kind of understand my feelings. But you have to keep this a secret, okay?”
He stared at her, a glib assurance hovering on his tongue but refusing to leave his lips.
She shook his sleeve. “Please, Briley. Please promise you won’t tell anyone.”
Alexa
Briley offered to walk her from the barn to the front door, but Alexa shook her head. His gentlemanly treatment and big brother routine had alread
y enticed her to say much more than she should have. She wouldn’t give him a chance to weasel something else out of her.
She waved to Marjorie as she passed through the living room but didn’t pause to chat. She wanted to close herself in her room and pretend she hadn’t been stupid enough to tell Briley Forrester the truth of her parentage. Why hadn’t she refused to leave the car until he gave his solemn vow to keep the information to himself? His throaty chuckle and glib response—“Stop worrying, okay?”—hadn’t fooled her. Somehow her story would end up in his article, and she’d never be able to face her mom, her grandmother, or her uncle and aunts again. She’d just proven herself untrustworthy to the entire Zimmerman clan.
A band of light flooded the upstairs landing. Anna—Grace’s door stood open, and the light meant she was awake. Alexa stifled a moan. Why couldn’t the girl be asleep already? Alexa peeked around the corner. Anna—Grace sat propped against the headboard with a book in her lap. Hope flickered in Alexa’s chest. If Anna—Grace was absorbed in the book, maybe she wouldn’t notice Alexa sneaking past. She tiptoed onto the landing.
Anna—Grace glanced up. A smile broke over her face, and she set the book aside. “Hi! I’ve been watching for you.” She patted the edge of the bed. “Come, sit, and tell me about your evening.”
Alexa paused outside the door. She didn’t want to hurt Anna—Grace’s feelings, but how could she sit there and pretend all was well? She forced a laugh. “There’s not much to tell, really. Just a drive to Wichita, dinner, and home again.” Oh, such a blatant fib … Her conscience pricked.
“What did you eat? Something good?”
Anna—Grace’s open expression and lighthearted questions deserved a kind response. Alexa sighed, defeated. She stepped into the room and fingered the brass finial on the footboard. “Actually we just had cheeseburgers and fries. Nothing special.”
Anna—Grace burst out laughing. “He dressed up for cheeseburgers and fries? That’s too funny!”
Alexa didn’t find anything funny about it, but she made herself smile in reply. “Yeah, I guess so.”
“So no movie?”
Alexa shook her head.
“Oh. Too bad. I—” Suddenly she frowned and leaned forward, peering into Alexa’s face in concern. “Alexa, have you been crying?”
Alexa touched her face. Her cheeks were dry but felt stiff from the salty tears that had escaped earlier.
Anna—Grace bounced off the bed and came at her. “You have, haven’t you? Why? What did he do? Did he—”
Alexa held up both hands to stop Anna—Grace’s indignant flow of questions. “He didn’t do anything.” Except listen to me. “He was a perfect gentleman all evening.” And I trusted him way too much. “Honest, he acted like a big brother.” A conniving big brother …
Anna—Grace stared hard at her for several seconds. Her face finally relaxed. “All right. But then why were you crying? Is it because …” She touched Alexa’s hand, the gesture laden with sympathy. “He’s leaving soon? Good-byes can be hard.”
If he went back to Chicago and wrote about Mom taking a baby who didn’t belong to her, she’d have to face some serious good-byes. And they would be worse than hard. They would be heartbreaking. Tears threatened again. She sniffed. “You know how girls get sometimes—emotional for no good reason. I just had an emotional night. That’s all.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.” My, she had this lying thing down pat. Guilt smacked hard, but she didn’t dare tell anyone else the truth. She inched toward the doorway. “I’m going to bed. I’ll see you in the morning, okay?”
“All right. Good night, Alexa. Pleasant dreams.”
“Thanks. You, too.” She hurried out as fresh tears stung her sore eyes. After what she’d done tonight, she deserved nightmares.
In the middle of breakfast Saturday morning, Alexa’s cell phone sang with Mom’s ringtone. Saved by the bell … Sitting at the table and trying to act natural, as if she hadn’t been a blabby fool the night before, was torture. But she had to follow her usual routine. Grandmother’s legs didn’t work, but her mind was sharp—she’d wonder why Alexa hid in the kitchen. But now she had an excuse to escape.
She jumped up from the table and dashed out of the dining room. As she clattered up the stairs to her room, she answered. “Hello? Mom?”
“Good morning, sweetheart. I decided to call you before I went to sleep so you wouldn’t have to wait until late afternoon to talk. I know I worried you yesterday.”
Mom knew her so well. Alexa closed her bedroom door and sank onto the bed. “Yes, you did. I had a hard time sleeping last night, wondering why you’d give up your job and move to Arborville.” She’d also worried about other things, but she couldn’t bear to tell her mom how careless she’d been. Mom would be so disappointed in her.
“I’m sorry I ruined your sleep. And I don’t want you to worry, okay? Often a closed door is God’s way of moving us where He wants us to be, and I’m going to believe that’s what is happening now.”
The conversation was too cryptic for Alexa to follow. “What door is closing?”
“The doors to the hospital.”
Alexa almost dropped the phone. “Your hospital? But why?”
“For the past several years they’ve had a hard time making ends meet. Even nonprofits have to meet certification requirements and purchase up-to-date equipment. It’s a never-ending challenge.” Mom spoke calmly, assuredly, her voice as soothing as a lullaby despite the difficult subject. “But with recent government changes and more stringent insurance rules, it’s just become more than the church can handle. So they put the hospital up for sale. A corporation has already made an offer the church would be foolish to reject. We might close as early as the end of November. By the end of the year, for sure.”
“Oh, Mom …” Alexa’s chest ached. Mom had poured her heart into the patients at the small church-owned hospital. Leaving it would be like leaving a much-loved friend. She pressed her hand to her jumping stomach. “What about Linda? What will she do?” Mom had always called Linda the glue that held the entire hospital together. Linda would be rudderless without her job as administrator.
“She decided to take it as her time to retire. Tom retired last year already, and he’s pestered her to do the same, but she didn’t want to leave the place in a lurch.” Mom’s soft chuckle filtered through the phone. “She and Tom are already planning a lengthy road trip.”
Alexa released a sigh. “At least she isn’t in mourning.”
“You know Linda—as usual when trials have come our way, she’s encouraged me to see the silver lining instead of focusing on the dark cloud.” Briefly silence fell, and then Mom spoke again, her voice hesitant. “She also suggested I look for a job near Arborville, where I can be closer to you and the rest of my family. What would you think of that?”
“I wouldn’t complain if you were closer, and I’m sure Grandmother would be happy.” After Briley printed the story, though, they might have to change their names and move to Canada. Or Siberia. She swallowed the unpleasant taste of fear and regret. “I wish you could bring Linda and Tom when you come at Thanksgiving. I’d love to see them.”
“Oh, they’d love that, too. They miss their girl.” A yawn met Alexa’s ear. “Sweetheart, I’m bushed. We had three emergencies come in last night—not a minute to catch my breath between them. I need to get some rest. But please don’t worry, all right? We have to trust that everything will work out in the end. Good-bye now. I love you.”
“I love you, too, Mom.” Alexa set the phone aside, then sat staring into nothing, various scenarios forming in her mind. If Briley divulged their secret, Mom might face criminal charges for baby-stealing. Kidnappers faced stiff penalties. She might even go to jail. If he didn’t tell and Mom came here to stay, she’d be in the same town with Anna—Grace. Neither were pretty pictures.
A tap at the door pulled her from her reverie. “Who is it?”
“It’s me�
�Anna—Grace. Aunt Abigail wanted me to see if you’re okay.”
“Come on in.”
The door creaked open and Anna—Grace peeked in. “Are you all right?”
Alexa wearily pushed to her feet and crossed to the doorway. “As ‘all right’ as I can be, I suppose. My mom just told me the hospital where she’s a nurse has to close. So she’s losing her job.”
Dismay widened Anna—Grace’s eyes. “I’m so sorry. Does she know what she’s going to do?”
“Not yet. She’s coming to Arborville for Thanksgiving, and she’s thinking about looking for a job around here.”
“It would be so nice for you to have her here!”
Alexa wished she could catch Anna—Grace’s enthusiasm. She moved toward the stairs, and Anna—Grace followed. Suddenly the other girl gasped. Alexa sent her a questioning look.
Anna—Grace said, “I don’t suppose Cousin Suzy would want to be a teacher instead of a nurse.”
Alexa stopped on the stairs and frowned. “A teacher?”
“Mm-hm. Clete came in while you were upstairs and told Aunt Abigail the teacher from Arborville received approval to be published to a man from Weaverly, and they want to marry at the end of February. Apparently he’s a widower with two small children and doesn’t want a long courtship. So Clete and some others are searching for a new teacher to finish the term.”
“Mom has a nursing license, but she doesn’t have a teaching certificate.”
Anna—Grace shook her head. “She wouldn’t need one for the church-run school. The rules are different. At least it would be a job right here in Arborville.”
As much as Alexa enjoyed working at the grade-school cafeteria, Mom had never envied her position. “I don’t think she’d be interested.”
“Oh. Well.” Anna—Grace shrugged, her smile intact. “I’m sure the right person will come along for the school.” She squeezed Alexa’s arm. “And I’ll pray your mom finds a nursing position. Without a husband to provide for her, she must be worried about how she’ll support herself.”
When Grace Sings Page 29