The Secret Wife

by Susan Mallery

  Elissa didn’t believe her. If she told him the truth, it would give him an excuse to throw her out on her butt. As it was, they barely managed to speak without him getting angry at her. Even though he didn’t yell, she could see the anger in the coldness in his eyes. If he hated her so much, why had he stayed married to her all these years?

  She exhaled slowly. She hadn’t found an answer to that one in all the time they’d been apart, nor had she found it in the two weeks she’d been here. Eventually the truth would come out—for both of them. Until then, she was content to wait.

  “Do you have any more anonymous donations planned?” Millie asked.

  “I’m not sure. Why?”

  “No reason.” She glanced at her slim gold watch. “Oh, my, look at the time. I’d better head out. There’s some mail on my desk. I’ll take a look at that, then I’ll be gone. You have a nice evening.” The older woman rosé to her feet.

  “I will. Thanks, Millie.”

  “Thank you. You trust me, and that means so very much.”

  Elissa smiled. “I’m going to get something to drink, so I’ll see you in the morning. Night.”

  When she returned to her desk twenty minutes later, Millie had already left. There were a few letters for her to type. She read the top one. It was to the director of a science camp in Santa Barbara. Millie had written that despite the generous discount, the orphanage couldn’t afford to send the children to the program. There wasn’t enough money to send everyone, and Cole refused to leave any child behind. Underneath the letter was a brochure for the camp.

  Elissa looked it over. The camp ran four days, beginning the first weekend of next month. Although the children would miss two days of school, the program was recommended by their local school district as well as by the state’s education office. It wasn’t cheap, but with the discount offered to the orphanage, it was a bargain.

  Elissa glanced toward Millie’s office to make sure it was empty, then picked up the phone. What was that old saying? Better to be hunted as a wolf than live as a sheep. She laughed. No, that wasn’t the old saying, but it worked. She’d lived too many years as a sheep, and while she wasn’t exactly wolf material, she felt she’d made progress up the food chain.

  If Cole wanted her gone, she would be gone, even if she did everything perfectly. Besides, she wasn’t doing this for him, or even for herself. She was doing it for the children, and because it was the right thing to do.

  Chapter Five

  Cole sat in the dark auditorium and tried to concentrate on the performance. On stage, high school students delivered the lines from the Neil Simon play. When the audience burst into spontaneous laughter and Cole didn’t get the joke, he realized he didn’t have a prayer of focusing on anything but Elissa tonight.

  He shifted on the hard wooden seat. How many times had he sat in this particular building? There were dozens of assemblies while he’d attended the high school and dozens more activities since taking over as director of the orphanage. By definition, the children he took care of had no one to show up to watch them perform. He made it a point to be at as many events as he could, as well as assigning different staff members. Some came, even when they weren’t on duty. As Elissa had tonight.

  He thought about moving his arm, but he didn’t want her to know the soft pressure of her elbow against his was distracting. He refused to let her guess that the faint scent of her sweet perfume surrounded him in a cloud of arousal and memories. She might have grown up and become an independent, feisty temptress, but her perfume was the same. It made him think of pale skin and hot kisses. Elissa had many flaws, but her kissing ability wasn’t one of them.

  Without wanting to, he remembered the months they’d dated. He’d known she was a virgin and had tried hard to go slowly. Her request that they wait to make love until after they were married had made him grit his teeth, but he’d agreed. And because the need was so strong, he’d decided it was safer to do nothing at all. Nothing except kiss.

  He fought against the memories, trying to force his attention back to the play. Mindy, one of his kids from the orphanage, was second lead and he was really enjoying her performance. But lines from a play, however witty, couldn’t compete with the power of the past. Instead of high school students on a stage, he saw Elissa, her long curly hair tumbling loose over her shoulders as she laughed at him, bent forward and touched her lips to his.

  He remembered reading once that a scent memory was a total sense memory. That it could invoke the past completely, engaging all the other senses. Maybe it was the night, his weakened condition after having dealt with her for over two weeks, or maybe it was her perfume. Whatever the reason, he found himself drowning in sensation as the past overwhelmed him.

  Elissa kissing him, her hands on his shoulders, her mouth wet and warm against his. She rarely kissed back, preferring to let him invade. He hadn’t minded. Not when she tasted so sweet and sighed so deeply. He remembered how after the first kiss, she’d often sagged against him, as if he’d stolen all her strength, as if the feel of him next to her was too much for her to handle.

  Another burst of laughter recalled him to the present. He shifted again, this time because thinking about kissing Elissa had left him physically wanting to be with her. His arousal throbbed in time with his heartbeat and he was grateful for the darkness. His life was complicated enough without anyone knowing Millie’s new assistant turned him on in a big way.

  With a supreme force of will honed by years of wanting and not having, he studied the teenagers on the stage and forced himself to concentrate on the play.

  Mindy, just sixteen and a gifted performer, delivered her line perfectly. The audience laughed again. Not even by the hint of a smile did she let on that she knew she was acting a part instead of living a real life. Fierce emotion burned in his chest. Pride. He’d felt it before.

  At every parent-teacher conference, at every play, every recital, every spring concert, he sat and enjoyed a sense of pride for the children. They were the reason he wrestled with a never-big-enough budget, zoning, the state and an assortment of frustrations that made his days long. He’d been where they were and he knew how much they wanted to belong to something special. No matter the personal cost, he was determined to give that to them. In return, they grew up in ways that made him proud.

  He wondered if he would feel the same if he had children of his own. If. Would he? Ever?

  He shook his head. It was unlikely. He would never marry anyone again. He’d given Elissa his heart; he didn’t have it to give a second time.

  The play ended and the audience clapped loudly. Everyone rosé to their feet as cheers erupted. Cole whistled, adding to the cacophony.

  “Weren’t they wonderful?” Elissa said, smiling at him. “Millie said the cast started rehearsals a month before school started because they wanted the play to be perfect. All that hard work paid off.”

  “They were great.”

  She wore her hair pulled back in a fancy braid with the end tucked under. Makeup accentuated her green eyes and full mouth. As usual, a soft, flowing dress whispered over curves and teased her calves and his imagination. Tonight the filmy fabric was pale peach. A slender chain rested at the base of her throat. He was torn between wanting to kiss that delicate hollow and ripping the necklace from her body. It fit too perfectly not to have been purchased by a lover.

  “How do you stand it?” she asked.

  He stiffened, wondering how the hell she’d read his mind.

  She sniffed, then touched a finger to the corner of her eye. “I can’t believe I’m nearly in tears over this. I’ve only been at the orphanage a short time, but I’m so proud of these kids. You must be overwhelmed by it every time you see one of them perform like this.”

  He relaxed. She hadn’t known what he’d been thinking. If she stayed the full three months, she was going to be around several more weeks. He’d better learn to control his wayward thoughts. “The feeling never goes away,” he said. “I’m alway
s proud of them.”

  Overhead lights clicked on. The audience members started moving toward the rear doors. Elissa stayed in place, her gaze firmly fixed on his face.

  “I envy you,” she said. “You’ve created something very amazing here.”

  “Interesting. All this time, I’ve always envied you.”

  Her eyes widened in surprise, but he turned away before she could ask any more questions.

  The next few minutes were a whirlwind of activity as he and the other staff members rounded up children from the audience and the cast and put them onto the bus. Twenty minutes later they pulled on to the private road that led to the orphanage.

  As they rounded the corner he saw that all the lights were on in the dining hall. Millie’s Mercedes was parked in front. As the bus pulled up, the older woman walked out and waved.

  “I couldn’t make the play, but I did want to help celebrate,” Millie said as Cole stepped onto the driveway. “There’s cake and ice cream for everyone.”

  He hugged her briefly. “I couldn’t make this place work without you.”

  “I know,” Millie said. “Don’t you forget it, either.” She turned her attention to the children. “Come on, come on. There’s plenty for everyone.”

  She led the way inside. Cole stayed out in the cooling night air and made sure all the kids got off the bus. Elissa was last and she carried a sleepy Shanna in her arms.

  “But I’m not tired,” the eight-year-old insisted, then yawned. “There’s cake ‘n’ stuff. I want some.”

  “I’ll save you a piece,” Elissa promised, giving Cole a quick smile. “I’m going to put this one in bed.”

  “I don’t wanna go to bed,” Shanna protested, leaning her head against Elissa’s shoulder and closing her eyes. “I always miss the fun stuff.”

  He didn’t want to think about how right she looked holding the young girl in her arms, or how much he wanted to walk with her to the dormitory and share the domestic scene. Before he could offer, Tiffany came over.

  “I’ll help you, Elissa,” the preteen offered. “Don’t worry, Shanna. I’ll make sure there’s still cake for you in the morning.”

  “Can I have it for breakfast?”

  Elissa rolled her eyes. “Don’t even think something that gross. Come on. Bedtime.”

  “It’s not your night to work,” he said. “I can do it.”

  “Don’t be silly. Go have fun with the other kids. I won’t be a moment.”

  He ducked into the dining hall because the alternative was to watch her walk away. It didn’t take long to get caught up in the celebration. After passing out cake and scoops of ice cream, he walked around the room, making sure everyone was having a good time. Before he could settle down himself and grab a piece of cake, Elissa was at his side.

  “You’ve got to come quickly,” she said, her eyes wide and dark with worry.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked as he signaled for one of the college students to take charge. He followed Elissa outside.

  “It’s Tiffany. She went into her room to get a sweater and when she didn’t come out, I went to check on her.” Elissa walked quickly, twisting her hands together as she talked. “She’s curled up on her bed, sobbing. She won’t tell me what’s wrong. I don’t think she’s sick, but I’m not sure. She’s crying as if her heart is broken.” She pulled open the dorm door and headed for the stairs. “I know I probably should have been able to take care of it myself, but I didn’t know what to do. I’m sorry.”

  He took the stairs two at a time. The orphanage had a doctor on call. If Tiffany was sick, Cole could call, or take the child directly to the emergency room. Had she eaten something bad? Was it the flu? Was it…

  He paused at the entrance to the room. Four girls about the same age shared it, but Tiffany was the only one in there now. She lay as Elissa had described her, curled up on her bed, sobbing as if her world had been destroyed.

  Each choking sob ripped through him, as did a wave of helplessness. What did he know about raising children? Who was he trying to kid? He was the last person who should be in charge.

  He was about to ask Elissa to try to talk to Tiffany again when he spotted the crumpled envelope on the floor. He bent and retrieved it, then smoothed it flat. The feel of heavy paper told him it contained a greeting card.

  A name and address were carefully written in Tiffany’s handwriting. Stamped across that was the ink image of a hand with the index finger pointing to the left.

  Moved and left no forwarding address.

  Then he understood. He moved to the bed and pulled Tiffany into his arms. Her body shook with each sob. She clung to him as if she were in danger of falling and he was the only stable place in her world. He knew about that, too.

  “It’s all right,” he said. “I know what you’re thinking, but you’re not alone. I’m right here.”

  * * *

  Elissa checked the pot of coffee she’d made two hours before. It was at exactly the same level—full, less one cup. Should she toss it out and make fresh? Would Cole even bother coming to the kitchen when he had finished talking with Tiffany? Maybe he had gone straight to bed and she was waiting up for nothing.

  Maybe, but a voice in her head said he would be coming here for coffee. She wanted to be waiting for him. Not only to find out what was wrong with Tiffany, but to once again try to make a connection with the man she’d married. They might have lived in the same location for nearly three weeks, but he was as much a stranger as he had been the day she arrived.

  Footsteps in the hallway sent her hurrying to the door. Cole pushed it open before she could and stepped inside. She waited apprehensively, not sure what he would think when he saw her. But when his dark eyes met hers she saw nothing but exhaustion dilating his pupils. For once there was no anger, no suspicion.

  “I’ve made coffee,” she said, walking to the pot. “Let me pour you a cup.”

  “Thanks.”

  He pulled out a chair from the large table in the center and sat down. Elissa set the black coffee in front of him and took the seat on his right.

  The large kitchen had been cleaned for the night. There were huge empty pots on the counter. The ancient stove gleamed with obvious care. The tile sparkled and the food in the pantry beyond had been neatly arranged by size and type. There might not be a lot of extra money at the Grace Orphanage, but there was plenty of caring. Obviously Cole set the example for that; if Elissa had had any doubts, tonight had eased them.

  “How’s Tiffany?” she asked.

  Cole stared into his coffee mug. “Sleeping. It took nearly an hour for her to calm down. I guess I’m going to have to schedule her some time with the child psychologist.”

  “Is there anything I can do to help?”

  He glanced at her, his expression hard. “Are you going to ask what’s wrong?”

  “No. If you want to tell me, I’m happy to listen, but if it’s confidential, I don’t need to know. Either way, I’d still like to help.”

  “The last of the good guys.” There was a cynical edge to his voice.

  So much for them connecting, she thought wearily. She’d been a fool to try. “Who did you fight with before I arrived?” Elissa asked as she pushed to her feet. “You win, Cole. I’ll leave you alone. Good night.”

  She got all the way to the door before he called her back. “Elissa. Wait.”

  She paused, but didn’t turn around. Her stomach twisted painfully and she was way too close to tears. Why did he still have that kind of power over her? She hated it. Why couldn’t she have come to the orphanage, met Cole and found out the sparks had long since extinguished themselves? But no. That would make life too easy.

  “Tiffany’s mother is a drug addict.”

  “I know.”

  “For the past year or so, her mother has been in a rehab program. She’s had a few relapses, but she’s always gone back to the program. She’s been living in a halfway house on the premises of the rehab facility. Even though she knows
better, Tiffany was starting to hope that her mom might kick the drugs. When she got home from the play, Tiffany found that the birthday card she’d sent her mother had been returned. She’d left the rehab center without telling anyone where she’d gone. Which means she’s back on the streets.”

  Elissa faced him. “That’s horrible. No wonder she’s so upset. Her mother could be ill or dead. How can she stand not knowing?”

  “It’s worse than that.” Cole returned his attention to the mug of coffee on the table in front of him. “She hasn’t just lost her mom, she’s lost the dream.”

  Without wanting to, knowing full well that he was going to bite her head off again, or find something to blame on her, Elissa returned to the table. This time, instead of sitting next to him, she took the seat across the table. Somehow the distance made her feel safer.

  “I don’t understand,” she said. “Isn’t there a way to find out what happened to her mother? Can’t we call the police or something to trace her?”

  “Sure, and I will. But that’s not what Tiffany’s upset about. You can’t relate to this because you have family, but an orphan has no one. No parents, no family of any kind. Growing up that alone is very threatening, especially to a child. Everything they read or see on television is about mom, dad and kids.” He gave her a brief smile. “One exception is ‘The Sally McGuire Show.’ The children here watch it on cable all the time.”

  “Although I’m thrilled they can relate, it’s pretty humiliating to remember I used to do that. Go on.”

  He leaned back in his chair. “There’s a hierarchy. How old were you when you lost your folks? How much do you remember? Do you have any photos or other memorabilia? That kind of stuff. The more, the better. Then there are the few special children. Those with a living relative who for some reason can’t take care of the child. According to the rules of the orphanage, those are the lucky kids. They get the fantasy.”

  Elissa nodded slowly. “I understand. Everyone here has a dream about being adopted into a family, and the children with living relatives believe they have the best chance for making it come true. If only Tiffany’s mother will stop taking drugs, Tiffany can be rescued. Her world made right.”