But when she opened the door, she stopped dead. At the sight of her bedroom turned upside down, with everything topsy-turvy, her jaw dropped. It had been trashed.
Oh my God, they’d been robbed.
She started back to the kitchen to call the sheriff, but halted in Cindy’s doorway, caught by the sight of empty drawers.
Not trashed or turned over drawers, but empty drawers.
She stepped inside.
This was no robbery. This was Cindy leaving. Rachel checked the closet. Cindy’s one suitcase was missing.
Her mom had—
Rachel’s legs gave out, and she sat heavily on the bed.
Her mom had left.
There was no other explanation. She had packed her bag and had headed out of town without a single word to her family.
In the bathroom, all of Cindy’s toiletries were gone, including the expensive creams she’d taken to using lately.
Why had she ransacked Rachel’s room? Cindy owned a lot more clothes than Rachel did, and they were a lot prettier.
Back in her own room, the truth hit her like a wrecking ball, sending shards of Rachel’s life flying.
Rachel had been robbed after all, by her own mother.
The items from the top shelf of her closet, behind which Rachel had hidden her boxes of Mason jars full of the change she’d scrimped and saved over the years, were strewed on the floor.
Her money, five thousand dollars’ worth of sacrifices, was gone.
Dizzy, she stumbled before realizing she’d been holding her breath. She lay down on the bed. Stars danced behind her closed eyelids.
Before she could stop them, tears leaked from her eyes, little bits of ice shaking free of the iceberg her heart had become.
Rachel would have expected betrayal from a lot of people, but never her own mother. Not Cindy.
What on earth was she going to do?
She should have rolled every last coin and counted every single small bill and deposited it all in the bank. She’d gotten into the habit of hiding the money from Davey and had never changed that after his death.
She’d been a fool.
After Davey’s death, it hadn’t taken her long to realize she would need to use some of her down-payment money to support herself and her children after Beth was born.
Now Cindy was gone and had taken her money.
How would she buy food? How would she pay the hospital after she gave birth to Beth? Her limited health insurance wouldn’t cover everything, and her credit rating was still recovering from Davey’s extravagant spending habits. Would the hospital even accept her credit card?
Her head stopped spinning, but her breathing was still shallow. She made herself breathe deeply, evenly. She couldn’t manage normal, though. Not when her life had just been shattered.
It would never be normal again.
At least there was no mortgage on the trailer.
Her heart clenched.
Or was there?
Would Cindy have borrowed against the trailer before leaving? Surely the bank wouldn’t be that foolish. But she’d had a week since meeting that man to plan all kinds of weird and foolish things.
Was she even with him anymore? After all, that was only an assumption on Rachel’s part and the product of gossip in town.
A swift kick to her ribs alerted her to Beth’s discomfort. She stood carefully and paced, sidestepping the clothes and mess on the floor.
Thinking over Cindy’s actions at the dance, running away with the stranger was the only explanation.
A spot of bright pink on her bedside table caught her eye. A note.
It’s time for me to live for myself. You’re strong. I’m not. I need a man. Gerry’s good to me. You know how to live on less money. You’ll be okay.
Oh, Mom. Yet again, she was making a fool of herself over a man. The more things changed, the more they stayed the same.
Rachel swiped tears from her cheeks fiercely. She had to stop crying for Tori’s sake. Tears accomplished nothing.
Angry with herself and her mother and life, Rachel’s pacing changed to stomping.
With no other outlet, without the option to scream until her grief and rage ran dry, she stomped.
Oh, how she stomped.
If the floor of the trailer caved in, tough.
She stomped out to the front doorway, where she’d set a baseball bat in case she needed it. She clutched it and tramped back to her bedroom, closing the door so Tori wouldn’t hear.
This crappy trailer, this hollow life, Cindy’s dishonesty, Davey’s carelessness, came crashing in on her.
With the bat as her weapon, she pounded her mattress, keening low in her throat. She hit it again...and again...and again, over and over until her arms ached.
She’d been good. She’d been kind and thoughtful and giving. She’d been the best person she could possibly be, yet these people and this life had dumped all over her. And she was furious.
She pounded the mattress until her rage died, until she fell limply against the side of the bed.
Since his death, she had grieved Davey, had cried buckets with the pain of missing him, but hadn’t fully acknowledged her anger. What kind of woman would be angry with a man who had died far too young? Her. She’d been enraged, but had buried it.
“You should have cared more about me and Tori,” she whispered, swiping tears from her cheeks. “Now, we’re alone.”
If tears were bad, self-pity was worse.
Buck up. You have a beautiful daughter here and another on the way. Count your damned blessings.
What she wanted more was to count the money she’d put away for the next few months. What was she supposed to do now?
Drained, but strangely cleansed, she rested the baseball bat in the corner and trudged to the kitchen to make a couple of grilled cheese sandwiches.
* * *
RACHEL TRIED TO pull herself together for Tori’s sake.
Even though she didn’t know how they would survive, Rachel understood she had to do her best for her child. She stroked her belly. Correction, her children.
Outside, the wind howled and snow beat against the windows. The storm had hit fast and hard.
After cleaning up the mess Cindy had made of her bedroom, Rachel put Tori to bed.
Giving Tori an amazing Christmas became her top priority, but how? How could she buy presents?
She stiffened her resolve. There was always a way. She couldn’t purchase gifts, but she could make them.
Scouring the trailer for ideas, she found a stash of yarn left over from one of Cindy’s failed attempts at domesticity.
Rachel sat on the sofa and cast on to knit a pair of bright pink mittens for Tori. Cindy might not have had a talent for crafts, but her mother had. Rachel had learned many things from her grandma. Knitting was one of them.
The first mitten went quickly because Tori’s hands were so tiny. A couple of hours later, Rachel had finished it and was casting on to start the second one when a bad case of indigestion hit.
Funny. All they’d had for dinner was grilled cheese sandwiches and tinned tomato soup, a simple meal she’d eaten hundreds of times before without problems.
She rubbed her tummy. “Beth, honey, you’re messing with Mommy’s body.”
Her discomfort slowed her down.
A while later, it got worse. When her first contraction hit, she panicked.
The problem wasn’t her tummy. It was Beth. The baby wanted to come.
No.
Not now. No. The timing couldn’t possibly be worse. She was a week early. The storm was vast, moving down from the north across the entire state.
Another pain and she dropped her knitting.
In her bedroom, she woke Tori. Scrambli
ng with fumbling hands, she dragged her own small suitcase out of the closet, packed and ready for the trip to the hospital.
Another contraction tightened her belly, and she gasped.
“Hurry.” She nudged Tori. “Wake up, honey, please. Beth is coming.”
Tori sat up and rubbed her eyes. “From where, Mommy?”
“From my tummy. Remember I told you about it? It’s going to happen now.”
“I’m sleepy. Tell Beth to wait until morning.”
Despite her nerves, Rachel laughed. “I wish she would wait, too.”
Nervously, she glanced out the window. The wind lashed a solid film of snow against the glass. By morning, the storm might have abated, but the roads wouldn’t be any clearer. It would take days to clean up this mess.
Still, she had to brave the drive. She had no choice.
What to do with Tori now that Cindy was gone? Surely, she could depend on one of her friends. Maybe Honey? Yes. Honey would take her in a heartbeat.
Okay. First, Rachel would drive into town to drop her daughter off with Honey above the tavern.
Next she would drive to the hospital, but that was a twenty-minute drive on a good day. Tonight it would take—
Snow beat against the thin walls of the trailer. It could take hours, if she made it there at all.
She wasn’t too proud to admit she was scared. Terrified.
She tried to phone Honey, but there was no signal.
Another contraction hit. She bent over and held her breath until it passed.
“Please hurry, Tori. We need to go.”
“Go where?”
“I’m taking you to stay with Honey before I go to the hospital.”
Reacting to the tension Rachel couldn’t hide, Tori climbed out of bed and dressed.
Rachel threw her clothes into her little knapsack. “Do you want Puss?”
“Yes, Mommy, please. Puss likes Honey.”
Translation...Tori liked Honey. Rachel breathed a sigh of relief. Everything would be fine.
Her optimism lasted through getting them both into their winter clothes and stepping out through the front door, where the wind knocked them back into the trailer.
Dear Lord, it was a bad one.
With Tori’s knapsack on her back and her own suitcase in her left hand, she grasped Tori’s hand firmly and pushed them both against the wind.
“Hold on to my pant leg while I close the door.” The wind whipped the words out of her mouth. “Tori? Tori, can you hear me?”
Rachel bent over and wrapped Tori’s tiny fingers around her pant leg. Against the side of her hat, she yelled, “Hold on tightly. Don’t let go. Okay?”
Tori nodded.
“Look at me, Tori.”
Her daughter looked up, but closed her eyes against the snow buffeted by the relentless wind. “Don’t let go at all. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Mommy.” The wind carried off her voice, thin and sounding scared to be outside in a raging snowstorm, but Rachel was assured Tori understood.
Only then did she pull the door closed and retrieve Tori’s hand and hold it tightly.
Not only the wind, but also contractions robbed Rachel of breath. She figured they were only three minutes apart already—so much faster than with Tori.
How could this be happening?
She could only barely make out the car through the swirling snow.
The drive would be bad, slow and treacherous. Even if she managed to stay on the road, it would take her two, three times longer to get to town, never mind to the hospital miles away.
Did she have that long?
Another contraction hit, answering with a resounding no.
She looked around wildly. She couldn’t possibly give birth alone in the trailer. No way was her daughter starting her life in that tin can—but if not there, where? Rachel really had no choice. But what would she do with Tori? She didn’t want her daughter more frightened than she already was.
A light flickered across the road, hardly visible.
Travis was home.
Tori would be safe with him in the Victorian while Rachel gave birth in the trailer.
Rachel’s independence had carried her far, but it was time to ask for help for her daughter’s sake. She couldn’t think of a single person she would rather run to for help at this moment than solid, dependable Travis Read.
“Change of plans, Tori,” she shouted. “You’re going to stay with Travis.”
“’Kay.” Tori huddled against Rachel’s leg. “I like Travis. So does Puss.”
“Let’s go.”
By hook or by crook, Rachel was getting Tori safely across the road to Travis and into the Victorian where she had always found safety and solace.
They trudged across the road. It took forever. Rachel’s focus never swayed from that one yellow light in the living room window. She knew, even if her daughter couldn’t understand, that they were perilously close to getting lost out here in the storm. Without that light to guide them, they could easily veer off course and freeze to death just feet from shelter.
The snow was thickening and the wind becoming worse.
She didn’t relish the trip back to the trailer alone.
At last, they reached the porch. Rachel knocked, the wood hurting her frozen knuckles through her gloves.
The door opened and there he was, the man she knew would protect Tori with his life. Relief flooded her.
She’d been wrong to say all of those nasty things to him. Travis would never knowingly hurt another human being. He never would have come here if he’d thought trouble would follow him.
His dear face registered surprise followed by alarm when she gasped and grasped her belly.
“Rachel, what the hell?”
“Travis, I’m cold,” Tori said.
“Get in here.”
He lifted Tori into his arms, then grabbed Rachel’s hand and dragged her inside. When the suitcase banged against the doorjamb and she dropped it, he ordered, “Leave it. I’ll get it.”
Once he had them safely indoors, he went back for the suitcase and slammed the door against the wind that was forcing snow inside, even with the deep porch attempting to offer protection.
He carried Tori into the living room where a glorious fire burned in the grate.
Undressing her with care, he said, “What on earth are you doing out in this weather? Only a fool would leave home in this.”
“Then I’m a fool.” Rachel was so far past tired she didn’t have the energy to quarrel with him. The stress of her mother’s betrayal weighed on her like a ton of bricks, and she still had to get back across the street to give birth.
“You got that right.” Travis sounded angry, but he handled Tori with a gentle touch. He set her up in an armchair and hauled it right in front of the fire.
Ghost ambled over and jumped up beside her.
“Kitty!” Tori said around a huge yawn.
His startled gaze took in Tori’s pajamas.
To Rachel, he said, “You got her out of bed. Why?”
Rachel couldn’t answer, but leaned on the back of the sofa and breathed hard through a contraction.
In an instant, Travis was by her side rubbing her back. “What’s wrong?”
His hand felt so good, she ordered, “Harder.”
“What?”
“Press harder. Right there. Yes, that’s good. Press harder! Yesssss.”
“Rachel.” She caught a warning note in his voice. “What’s going on?”
“Can you take care of Tori for a little while?”
“Of course, but why? Where are you going?”
“Back home for a while.”
“Back home? Whoa. Wait.” He watched
her double over. “Are you—? Is the baby—? Sweet Jesus, you’re in labor, aren’t you?”
Rachel panted. “A bit early. Can’t drive to hospital in this. Don’t want Tori to hear if...it gets bad.”
“It already looks bad.”
She shot him a small smile. “This is nothing, Travis.”
“Does Cindy know how to deliver a baby?”
Rachel shied away from the truth. Travis didn’t need to know that Cindy had left. “She’s had a baby. I’ve had one. Everything will work out.”
Oh, she didn’t want to be alone—she really didn’t—but neither did she want Travis pitying her, or feeling responsible for her. He might be superdependable, but the guy had his hands full with a sister and two nephews coming to town.
Rachel meant nothing to him.
“Put Tori to bed if you have a spare one. Or the sofa is fine.”
She opened Tori’s knapsack and handed Puss to Travis. She picked up her suitcase and headed for the door.
“I’ll be back in the morning.”
Fingers crossed. She hoped it would be a fast labor. It sure felt like it would be.
With a deep, fortifying breath she stepped outside and pulled the door closed behind her. She climbed down from the veranda to start the loneliest walk of her life.
Chapter Eleven
Travis stared at the closed door.
What the hell had just happened?
He turned to Tori who was falling asleep near the fire and picked her up.
“We’d better get you into a bed.”
“’Kay.”
“Is your mom really having her baby tonight?”
“Uh-huh.” The child nodded against his shoulder. “She said Beth is coming.”
“Cindy knows what to do, right?” he asked, though why he expected a sleepy three-year-old to be able to answer that was beyond him.
“Cindy’s not home, Travis. Mommy said she ranned away.”
“She what?”
“Cindy ranned away. Mommy will be alone. Why did she putted me here and go back alone?”
Travis cursed internally. “Good question.”
He would give Rachel an earful about this later, but for now he had to drag her back here with him.
He plopped Tori into the armchair, said, “Wait here,” and shrugged into his sheepskin jacket.
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