Her Second Chance Family

by Christine Scott

  Something had stopped him.

  They’d come so far these past weeks. It had been a slow, uphill battle to win her trust. Now, he was afraid that she’d hear the guilt in his tone, that somehow she would know he’d betrayed her faith in him.

  “Chief?” Betty’s voice snapped him out of his troubled thoughts. Jason blinked into focus the curious expression on his dispatcher’s face. “You okay, Chief? I thought I lost you there for a minute.”

  “I’m fine,” he said. Forcing himself to move, he reached for the memo. “Thanks, Betty.”

  Crumpling the note in his hand, he strode to his office, closing the door firmly behind him. He tossed his cap on the desk and blew out a tension-releasing breath. Sitting down heavily in the swivel chair, he stared at the wrinkled memo.

  It was too late to change his mind. He’d already set into motion the steps that would bring him either peace or further discontent. Delaying the inevitable would accomplish nothing. He gave a mirthless laugh. Nothing but raise his anxiety level, that is.

  Jason scowled. What was wrong with him? Why was he ready to assume the worst? Who said the news would necessarily be bad?

  With that thought in mind, he pulled the phone toward him and punched in the digits for Tom’s number. Impatiently he drummed his fingers on the scarred wood of his desktop, counting off each unanswered ring—three, four, five.

  Then, on the sixth ring, just as he was about to hang up, the phone was answered. A gravelly male voice barked, “Meridia County Sheriff Department.”

  “Detective Tom Bums, please.”

  “One minute.”

  It seemed like an eternity before he heard a familiar voice answer, “Detective Burns, Homicide.”

  “Tom? Jason Gallagher here.”

  “Jason, I’m glad you caught me. Sorry I didn’t get back to you sooner. It’s been a zoo here today. We had a double shooting on a bus this afternoon. Can you believe it? We’ve got at least twenty witnesses, but nobody saw a thing. It’s gotta be gang related. Everybody’s too scared to put their necks on the line and make a statement.” He heaved a weary sigh. “I sure could have used your help, partner.”

  Tom and Jason had worked together in Chicago’s south side five years earlier. Since then, Tom had transferred to his home state of California, settling in Meridia County, one of the many districts making up the Los Angeles area. Jason’s life had been turned upside down, as well. With his son’s death, everything had changed.

  Except Jason hadn’t realized just how drastic that change would be. He made a mental list of the calls he’d had today. The most demanding of them was a dispute between two neighbors, culminating into a frantic call from one of the elderly gents. Once the man was calm enough to speak, he’d explained to the police that his neighbor of twentysome years was attacking his tree with a buzz saw. All because his neighbor had tired of the seed pods that fell into his yard every spring. The saw had been confiscated. The dispute had been settled with an agreement of a mutual cleanup.

  Not quite as exciting as a double homicide, but Jason wouldn’t trade the slower pace for anything in the world. He’d burned out on the senseless crime and violence of the city. He needed to know there was still a place in the world that a person could feel relatively safe.

  “Sorry, Tom. I’m happy right where I’m at.”

  “You’re happy in Podunk, USA? I can’t believe it.”

  “It’s true. I’m here for the long haul.”

  “Well, I can’t say I blame you. One of these days, my ulcer’s going to burn a hole big enough to drive a freight train through. Then I’ll be looking for a place to kick back and relax, too. Maybe I’ll join you in Podunk, and we’ll do a little fishing on our days off.”

  Jason chuckled, unable to imagine his old friend anywhere but behind the desk in a homicide division. He hesitated, then asked, “Did you come up with anything? On that name and social-security number I gave you?”

  “Yeah, I sure did.” Papers rustled over the phone line. Clutching the phone tightly, Jason waited, his heart thudding against his ribs. “It all checks out, the name, birthplace, social-security number...”

  Relief poured through Jason. He exhaled slowly, then refilled his burning lungs, not even realizing he’d been holding his breath. He almost smiled at the foolishness of his unwarranted fears.

  “There’s only one problem,” his friend said, the words catching Jason off guard. “Our Maggie Conrad died as an infant twenty-eight years ago.”

  The statement hit like a sledgehammer to Jason’s gut. He opened his mouth, but couldn’t form the words to answer. He felt poleaxed by the implications of the news.

  “Did you hear me, Jason? Whoever your lady in Wyndchester is, she’s using a fake ID.”

  “I heard you,” Jason said finally. His voice sounded strained, oddly hollow in the quiet office.

  Slowly Tom asked, “What do you want to do now?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “If you think this is a criminal case—”

  Jason’s head throbbed. He kneaded his temple with the tips of his fingers.

  “—we can always run a fingerprint check. If the lady’s on the run, we’ll probably have her on file somewhere. Why don’t you give me a description and I’ll run her through the computer, see what comes up—”

  “Dammit, wait a minute,” Jason said sharply.

  There was a stunned silence on the other end of the phone line.

  Jason muttered an oath beneath his breath. “I’m sorry, Tom.”

  His friend cleared his throat. “No problem.”

  “It’s just...I’m not sure how I want to handle this yet.”

  “I understand.”

  “No, I don’t think you do.” Jason swallowed the bitter taste of disappointment rising in his throat. “It...it’s personal.”

  Tom sighed. “I figured it might be. Look, I’ll leave this to you. Just let me know if I can be of any more help. All right?”

  “Yeah, thanks.”

  “And Jason...” Tom hesitated. Jason could almost see the worried frown creasing his friend’s face. “Take care of yourself.”

  “I will.”

  After saying their goodbyes, Jason returned the phone to its cradle. He stared at his hand, still closed around the receiver, struggling with the urge to pick up the instrument and toss it across the room. Slowly he released his grip and pushed himself away from the desk.

  He strode to the window, lifted the slatted blinds and stared across the street at Mel’s diner. Breathing in deeply, he tried to ease the pain gripping his heart. It was useless. He hadn’t felt this bad in years. Not since...

  Not since he’d lost Scotty.

  With the news of Maggie’s deception, something inside him had died. Hope.

  Jason closed his eyes, blotting out unwanted images of Maggie from his mind. Yet they still came, quick and hard, filling him with dizzying confusion.

  Maggie...the beautiful temptress whose smile was so shy and sweet, who looked so fresh and innocent with all those freckles dusting her skin, that he couldn’t resist her charms.

  Maggie...the frightened woman who’d shied away from even the slightest overture of friendship and who’d brought out a protective instinct in him he’d forgotten he possessed.

  Maggie...the loving, passionate woman who’d flourished beneath a steady diet of gentle patience. The woman who’d had his hormones tied in knots from the first minute he’d met her.

  Maggie...the woman who’d looked him in the eye and deliberately lied.

  Jason snapped the blinds shut with a decisive nick of his wrist. Turning his back on the view of the street, he leaned forward and gripped the edge of his desk, fighting the need to strike out, to hurt someone, to make them feel as badly as he felt at the moment.

  He closed his eyes and released a ragged breath. Dammit, what was he supposed to do now?

  How could he face her again and not demand to know the truth?

  Just who in hell are
you, Maggie Conrad?

  Maggie turned off the hall light and stepped softly down the wooden stairs, not wanting to disturb her sleeping son. Kevin had had a restless day and evening. His arm had ached with a relentless pain. The cast had been clumsy and difficult to maneuver. She’d given him a painkiller a few minutes earlier, and he had finally found relief in a drugged sleep.

  She only wished there was a miracle cure for what atled her—old-fashioned second thoughts.

  Since making love to Jason the night before, she hadn’t heard a word from him. He hadn’t phoned or stopped by to see her or Kevin. His lack of attention both surprised and worried her. Normally he was a very caring man. She couldn’t help but wonder if he might be regretting what had happened between them.

  Maggie entered the kitchen. The air felt hot, the room unbearably still. Her bare feet padded noiselessly against the linoleum floor as she crossed the room and stepped outside. Twilight had descended on the yards, yet it had brought little relief from the day’s heat. Summer would be here soon, reminding her that she hadn’t planned to stay this long in Wyndchester.

  She hadn’t planned on a lot of things.

  Glancing across the yard, a fist of unease tightened around her heart. Jason’s light shone brightly in his kitchen window, telling her he was finally home.

  There was no denying she wanted to see him again.

  If only she knew what his greeting might be.

  Gathering her courage, Maggie tiptoed down the wooden stairs of her back porch. The damp grass tickled the soles of her feet as she crossed her yard and stepped onto Jason’s property. Glancing down at her old denim cutoffs and faded shirt, she almost turned around, wishing to look her best for Jason.

  She forced herself to continue. A string of expletives salted the air as she stood outside his back door. The sound of a pan banging on the stovetop, followed closely by the distinctive odor of burned food, told her all was not well.

  Perhaps this wasn’t the best time for a visit. She almost turned around and left. But then the clatter stopped abruptly. Maggie’s breath caught as she spotted Jason standing stiffly in the middle of his kitchen, staring at her through the screened door.

  Swallowing hard over the lump of emotion in her throat, she forced a smile. “May I come in?”

  For a long moment Jason didn’t answer. He didn’t move, either. He just kept looking at her, as though seeing her for the first time. Then, with a curt nod, he said, “Of course. Where are my manners?” He opened the door and stepped aside, allowing her to enter.

  Her shoulder brushed his outstretched arm as she went past him. A shiver of awareness traveled the length of her body. Her breathing uneven, she stood awkwardly in the middle of the kitchen, not sure what to do now that she was there.

  Jason’s kitchen was stark, utilitarian. Missing were all the whimsical touches that make a home cozy and warm. The pan that held the scorched remains of a can of stew stood on an unlit burner. Noticing the direction of her gaze, Jason grabbed the pan and strode to the sink. With a grimace, he said, “Now you know why I eat at Mel’s diner so much.”

  Maggie smiled and watched as he dumped the stew in the sink and turned on the disposal. The fabric of his white T-shirt stretched and molded the muscles of his back as he moved. He still wore his uniform pants, but he’d shucked off his shoes and socks. There were dark circles under his eyes. Standing before her half-dressed, he looked tired, rumpled and irresistible. She desperately longed to reach out to him, stroke his temples and wipe away the lines of weariness, but she dared not.

  He finally turned off the disposal and looked at her. Maggie’s heart stuttered. His face remained impassive, devoid of expression. But his eyes told a different story. They were troubled, brimming with unspoken emotion.

  Her chest tightened. She should have trusted her instincts. She shouldn’t have come. Nervously she stammered, “Kevin and I...we had chicken salad for dinner. There’s plenty left over if you’d like—”

  “No,” he said, with a brusqueness that startled her. Sighing, he crossed his arms and leaned against the counter. “I’m not really that hungry tonight.”

  An awkward silence filled the room, the tension between them almost palpable. If Maggie had wondered before, she was certain now. There was something terribly wrong.

  Last night Jason had been a tender and gentle lover. He’d acted as though he never wanted to leave her. Now he acted as though he was uncomfortable being in the same room with her.

  “How’s Kevin?” he asked, forcing her out of her troubled thoughts.

  “Still hurting,” she said, glancing out the back window and across the yard to her own house, feeling the overwhelming urge to run to safety. “I probably should get back...in case he needs me.”

  “Was there something...?” He hesitated, shifting his weight from one foot to another. Rubbing the back of his neck, he gave her a look of utter defeat. It sent a shiver down her spine. “Why did you come, Maggie?”

  Emotion filled her chest, making it hard for her to breathe. Looking into his eyes, she saw the silent plea and knew she couldn’t lie to him even if she wanted to. “I...I didn’t hear from you today. I was worried that...that something was wrong.”

  His silence spoke volumes.

  “Obviously I was right,” she said, striving for a nonchalant tone but failing miserably. Embarrassed heat scorched her skin. Averting her gaze, she stepped past him toward the door. “I—I’m sorry to have bothered you. I won’t take up any more of your time.”

  “Maggie, wait.” He stepped in front of her, reaching a hand to stop her. His fingers felt hot against her skin. His grip strong, unrelenting, biting into the tender flesh of her upper arm.

  She glanced at his hand, then met his gaze, unable to hide the fear in her heart.

  Muttering an oath, he immediately loosened his grip, dropping his hand to his side. “I’m sorry. I don’t want you to leave. We need to talk.”

  His apology only added to the tension building in her. Despite the little voice in the back of her mind screaming at her to run—not walk—out that back door, she knew if she left now, it would be over. The fragile trust they’d built between them would be gone. There would be no chance for a future with Jason.

  Dragging in a deep breath, she said, “All right. I’ll stay, but only for a little while. I need to get home.”

  “Have a seat,” he said, motioning toward the round oak table and matching chairs. “What would you like to drink? I have soda, beer...plenty of water.”

  “Nothing, thank you.”

  “No, I insist.” He smiled for the first time. But even now, it seemed a forced and empty gesture. “What kind of a host would I be if I didn’t offer you something to drink?”

  “Soda, I guess,” she said, with a shrug as she slipped into a chair. The last thing she wanted was a drink. She wanted this conversation to be over. She wanted things to be the same between them as they were last night.

  Jason grabbed a glass from the cupboard and a soda from the refrigerator. He handed her the glass and set the soda on the table in front of her. Murmuring a thank-you, she placed the glass on the table beside the soda, leaving the drink untouched.

  To her dismay, Jason remained standing. He towered over her, making her feel vulnerable and even more uncomfortable. Unable to help herself, she blurted, “I know there’s something wrong. Just tell me what it is.”

  At first she thought he might deny the accusation. He looked down at his bare feet. When finally he raised his head, she saw regret shining in his eyes. “Things have been moving a little too fast. I need some time to think about...well, about us.”

  She sat stiffly in the chair, feeling the walls close in around her. “I see.”

  “We hardly know each other, Maggie.”

  It hadn’t made a difference last night, she wanted to scream. Instead, she remained silent, sitting like a stone in the middle of his kitchen.

  “I need to take things slowly, get to know you better,�
�� he explained, his voice so soft she almost didn’t hear.

  A familiar panic rose up inside her. She didn’t know what frightened her more—losing Jason or revealing herself to him. “Wh-what do you want to know?”

  “Everything,” he said. The hair stood up on the back of her neck as he moved closer. He squatted down next to her chair, bringing himself to her eye level. Maggie felt herself shrink back as his intense gaze searched her face. “Do you trust me, Maggie?”

  “Y-yes.” The word seemed to stick to the roof of her dry throat. “Of course I do.”

  “Then tell me about yourself.” His smile was gentle, encouraging. “I want to know the good and the bad—everything that’s made you the woman you are today.”

  The good and the bad. He sounded so sincere. The temptation to confide in him was overwhelming. Was it so much to ask? Didn’t he deserve to know the truth, all the sordid details of her past?

  And if she did confide in him, what would happen next?

  In the short time she’d known him, she’d come to realize that Jason was a man of uncompromising integrity. Asking him to keep her secret, that she was a woman on the run, would be like asking him to give up a part of himself. The part she loved and admired the most.

  Love. The thought sent a chill through her body. For the first time she realized just how deeply her feelings for Jason ran. They went beyond caring. Somewhere along the line she’d fallen in love with him.

  Her vision blurred as tears of regret threatened. She cared too much about him. She couldn’t allow him to be hurt by any of this. Not if she could prevent it from happening.

  Blinking away the emotion, she said flatly, “There’s nothing more I can tell you.”

  The tenderness drained from his face. A hard mask of indifference slipped into place. An unexpected anger flickered in his eyes. Without another word, he rose to his feet and stepped away, turning his back to her. She felt his withdrawal like a cold slap in the face.

  “I’m sorry, Jason,” she said, pushing herself from the table, stumbling to her feet. Tears clouded her vision as she stared at his stiff shoulders. She wanted to run her hands along their width and measure their strength. She wanted to rest her head against them and feel his support.