Hidden in the Heart

by Catherine West

  “Hello? Anybody up?”

  Silence greeted her as she pushed open the screen door and walked through the empty dining room, went down the hall, and knocked on the door to the den. Nobody answered. Claire opened the door and stepped back in surprise. Rick sprawled on the couch, his eyes closed, Jackson asleep beside him covered with one of Jessie’s colorful quilts, his head on Rick’s leg.

  “Rick?”

  The moment he stirred and met her eyes Claire knew something was wrong.

  He put a finger to his lips. Slowly he lifted Jackson’s head, placed a cushion under it, and moved off the couch in slow motion.

  “What’s going on?” Claire hissed. “Where is everyone? What are you doing here?”

  He took her elbow and led her out to the hallway. Claire’s mouth went dry at the pained expression he wore. Dark shadows sat under his eyes, like he hadn’t slept at all.

  Rick sighed and jerked his head toward the living room. “Come sit down.”

  Claire followed him into the spacious room and sat on the edge of a wingback, her pulse racing. “Are Mac and Jessie okay? Did something happen?”

  “Mac and Jessie are fine.” Rick sat opposite her on the chintz-covered couch. He wound his hands together and she watched him swallow. “It’s Darcie. She collapsed yesterday afternoon. Her fever was through the roof. They called an ambulance when she wouldn’t respond. They’ve admitted her to the hospital and they’re running tests. Nobody’s said anything yet. I spent the night here with Jackson. He got up early but fell asleep again.”

  “Darcie? That’s crazy.” Claire shook her head. Darcie couldn’t be sick. Darcie was young. Healthy. “I know she wasn’t feeling that great this week, but she thought it was the flu. What kind of tests?”

  Rick shrugged and pulled at the collar of his white T-shirt. “I don’t know. Could be food poisoning, some nasty flu bug…they don’t know yet.” His eyes veered to the mantle where the family portraits sat. Darcie looked down at them from behind the glass, her trademark grin set in place.

  Emotion crashed over her with the force of a tidal wave. Claire pushed her hair out of her eyes and tried to clear the rock-sized lump in her throat. “You think it’s serious, don’t you?”

  Rick turned to face her, pulling at his beard the way he did when he was worried. “She didn’t look too good when they left here, no.” The phone on the desk across the room shrilled and he pushed his lanky frame off the couch. “Maybe that’s Mac.”

  Claire slipped into the chair and waited while he took the call. When he hung up, he stood for a long time with his back to her. Occasionally he’d raise a hand to scratch his head, messing with his ponytail. His deep sighs were worrying, not to mention annoying. Claire willed him to turn around, but was half afraid of what he would say.

  Rick took slow steps back to where he’d been sitting and sank down. When he met her eyes, she knew it wasn’t good.

  “Darcie has Hepatitis.”

  “Hepatitis? What is that? Like cancer?” Claire allowed Rick’s words to sink in as he relayed their conversation. Claire vaguely remembered learning something about it in high school and wished now she’d paid more attention in health class.

  “No. It’s a blood disease. Darcie has Hepatitis B. She’s probably had it for a few years. It’s something that can be contracted through dirty needles, unprotected sex. I guess those years she spent on the streets have taken their toll.” Rick stared down at his sneakers and swore softly. It was the first time she’d ever heard him do so.

  “Is she going to be okay?”

  Rick lifted his head, his blue eyes misty. “She’ll recover for now. But the doctors say she has a high chance of developing complications later. The disease affects the liver, could cause cirrhosis of the liver, sometimes people can get liver cancer.”

  Words wouldn’t come. Claire leaned back against the couch and ran her hand over her face. Darcie was so young, her whole life ahead of her. A mother.

  “Jackson will have to be tested,” Rick spoke quietly, as if almost afraid to voice his feelings. “We can just pray she didn’t pass it on to him, which would be a miracle.” He coughed and looked at his watch. “I’d like to go to the hospital to make sure Mac and Jessie get home okay when they’re ready to leave. Do you mind staying with him?”

  “Sure. I’ll stay here. Call me when you get anymore news.” Claire stood and went to him as he got to his feet. She tried to find a smile but couldn’t. Rick gave her a quick hug, an odd gesture for him, but Claire found it comforting.

  “She means a lot to you, doesn’t she?” he asked.

  Claire nodded. “I don’t want anything to happen to her,” she whispered.

  Rick shook his head and squeezed her on the shoulder. “She’ll be okay, Claire. You have to believe that.”

  Claire turned from him and the words he spoke. “You know, I was just beginning to see some good in the world. Even beginning to believe again. But this…this isn’t fair. Why would God allow this?” She faced him again, angry and wanting answers.

  “I…” He took another step back as he stared at her, his eyes narrowing. His face lost a little color. Claire watched him take a deep breath but then he shook his head, giving her a sheepish grin. “Sorry.” He heaved a sigh and shrugged. “I don’t know, Claire. I don’t have all the answers. I wish I did. I’m sorry.” He grabbed his denim jacket and pulled it on. “Listen, answer the phone if it rings. Jessie’s been trying to get hold of Michelle since they left for the hospital.”

  Claire stood motionless, her feet unable to move. Blood rushed from her cheeks and she had to close her eyes as realization surged through her. Rick walked back to her and snapped his fingers, concern marring his features.

  “Claire? Did you hear me?”

  “I heard you. Michelle?”

  “Darcie’s mom.” He grunted and ran his fingers through his hair. “Not that she gives a care, but you know how Jessie is. Had to let her know. Okay, I’m outta here. You sure you’re all right?”

  “Fine.” Claire watched him go with a heavy heart. Fine as the prize turkey the day before Thanksgiving.

  She took faltering steps back to the den and gingerly lowered herself onto the couch beside Jackson.

  In slumber, his rounded face was perfectly peaceful. Long eyelashes almost touched his cheeks, pinked by the sun. A smattering of freckles rambled over his snub nose. Claire put a hand on his warm head, his hair damp with sweat.

  The little boy stirred and Claire smiled down at him. “Hey, buddy.”

  He rubbed his eyes and yawned. “Where’s my mommy?”

  “Mommy’s in the hospital. She got sick. But they’re going to try and make her all better, okay?” Her voice caught and fresh tears came as he sat and looked up at her through bleary brown eyes.

  Brown eyes identical to her own.

  ~

  The phone never rang. Claire spent some time with Mac and Jessie after they returned from the hospital and they seemed encouraged. Darcie was feeling better, but she needed to stay in hospital for a few days. Claire knew the timing wasn’t right to talk about Michelle. Not yet.

  After another restless night, Claire woke early, showered and dressed and planted herself on the back porch of the main house before the sun rose.

  A fine mist hung over the lake. Every now and then a loon called out, its mournful cry echoing across the glass-like water. The call was returned from somewhere along the shoreline. A lone canoeist appeared from the west, pushing through the water, breaking the stillness with methodical strokes that sent ripples across the lake.

  But Claire couldn’t focus on the beauty of the scene. The peace she thought she’d found here in this magical place was shattered. Just as she’d started to get her life back, the revelations she’d uncovered sent her spinning again. Her thoughts were muddled and she didn’t know where to turn or who to talk to.

  “Claire? For heaven’s sake! You’re up awful early for a Sunday.” Jessie pushed open the screen do
or and Claire got to her feet, picking up the cushion she’d been sitting on. Chance yipped and tried to scramble up the stairs but slipped on the damp wood. Claire scooped him up and placed him at the top of the stairs and he raced to Jessie.

  She gave him a pat, then tightened her thick purple robe around her waist and padded over to where Claire stood, slippers slapping against the wet porch. “How long have you been sitting out here?” Jessie’s forehead furrowed in concern and Claire felt the trembling start again. All night she’d fought the familiar craving, but she was determined not to give in. She could do this.

  She shoved her hands into the pockets of her fleece and shrugged. “I um…told Darcie I’d go to church with her today. Figured I should go anyway.” Hot tears pricked her eyes and Claire looked away. Jessie would think she’d lost it for real this time. “I didn’t know what time to be ready.”

  Jessie gave a soft chuckle and squeezed Claire’s shoulders. “Not at six in the morning, to be sure. Come on into the house. Mac’s making breakfast.”

  Claire followed Jessie into the kitchen. Jackson was perched on a stool at the counter. He turned when they entered the warm room.

  “Clayah!” Jackson put his arms out, a delighted smile lighting his face. Claire picked him up and held him close, needing his tight hug.

  “Action Jackson! What’s up?” She planted a kiss on the blond head and plopped him back on the stool.

  He played with the zipper on his red footie-pajamas, faded from many washes. His pj’s displayed an image of his favorite Disney movie, something about cars, she couldn’t remember now. “Papa’s making pancakes, see?”

  “Really, Mac? I didn’t know you could cook.” Claire straddled a stool beside Jackson and grinned at the look Mac gave her. Jessie laughed and excused herself, saying she needed to get dressed.

  “Ayuh. I was a cook in the army. Made the best grub in Vietnam.” Mac poured batter into a fry pan. The sizzle and tempting aroma of pancakes and sausages soon made Claire’s mouth water.

  “Sure smells good.”

  “Ayuh. You’re up awful early, ain’t ya?” Mac chuckled and winked at her.

  Claire laughed, pulling a stray thread off Jackson’s pajamas. “Figured I’d tag along to church with you, if you don’t mind.”

  “Yay!” Jackson gave a whoop. “We gotsa walk though. It’s far.”

  “No, it’s not. Just up the road a stretch.” Mac put two plates down in front of them, a small helping for Jackson and three huge pancakes for Claire, with a side of sausage and bacon. “Coffee?”

  “Please. Oh, I don’t think I can eat all this.”

  “No matter.” Mac poured two mugs of coffee and juice for Jackson. He settled across the worn counter with his own meal. Claire picked up her fork, but then hesitated. Jackson had smothered his food with syrup, but he hadn’t started eating yet, so she decided to wait. Claire had been invited to eat more than a few meals with them and knew they prayed before eating. Maybe they did it at breakfast too.

  Mac closed his eyes and gave a heavy sigh.

  Claire watched Jackson shut his eyes tight and clasp his hands under his chin. Mac prayed for Darcie, prayed for Jessie and Rick and Jackson and even for her. Claire couldn’t stop a smile as she Jackson opened one eye to see whether Mac was close to finishing. Mac was.

  “Geesus is name amen.” Jackson speared a piece of pancake and shoved it in his mouth. Claire burst into giggles and Mac’s tired eyes lit with a smile.

  “Dig in, Claire. Nice to have you here.” He kept his gaze on her for a moment and Claire felt heat rise to her cheeks.

  “Thank you.” She and Mac hadn’t spoken much since she’d come to Tara’s Place. He seemed to keep to himself. Claire sometimes got the feeling he wasn’t exactly thrilled with her presence here. Since her first thoughts about searching for her birth mother, Claire was becoming well acquainted with the feeling of being unwanted. She lowered her gaze and focused on her food.

  They ate while Jackson entertained them. The child enjoyed his food, but he also liked to talk. Mac scolded him more than once about speaking with food in his mouth. Eventually he finished his plate and was sent upstairs to get dressed.

  “Looks like you were hungrier than you thought.” Mac nodded toward Claire’s empty plate.

  Claire stared in surprise, almost embarrassed. “I guess I was.”

  “It’s good for you. You need some meat on those bones.”

  His eyes came to rest on her again and Claire shifted. “Have they said when Darcie might be able to come home?”

  “Maybe sometime this week, long as they get rid of the fever.” He pushed his fingers through his hair and gave her a warm smile. “You and Darcie got the same spirit. She’ll pull through just fine, same as you. Don’t you worry ’bout our girl.”

  Claire balled up a paper napkin, his words resonating. They had the same spirit all right. “Will Darcie’s mom come to see her?”

  Mac’s steady gaze faltered for an instant. He cleared his throat and began to stack the plates. “I doubt it.”

  “Has Jessie spoken to her yet?”

  “Not that I know of.” He walked across the kitchen and put the dirty dishes in the sink.

  Claire rose and grabbed the ketchup and syrup, going toward the fridge. “I’m sure it would mean a lot to Darcie if she came. And you and Jessie too.”

  “Oh, sure. But…” Mac let out a weary sigh and turned to face her. “We don’t get on. There’s good reason for it and I don’t blame her for staying away. But I don’t wish for the impossible. Not like your…Jessie.”

  Claire drew herself up and inhaled. Did Mac and Jessie have their own suspicions?

  She couldn’t ask him. Not now. Didn’t have the nerve.

  “Well, now.” Jessie breezed into the kitchen, pretty in a peach-colored pantsuit. Claire rarely saw her dressed up and couldn’t help smiling.

  “That’s a good color on you.”

  Jessie grinned and smoothed down the linen fabric. “Ach. This old thing. I really should get into town and buy a couple of new outfits. Darcie’s always after me about that.”

  Claire glanced down at her jeans and light cotton blouse. “Should I go change? I didn’t know what to wear.”

  “Oh, no. You’re fine. Our church doesn’t stand on ceremony.” Jessie went to the sink and shooed Mac away. “You go on and see what Jackson’s doing.”

  “Thanks again for breakfast, Mac,” Claire said as he made for the door. He looked over his shoulder, shook his head and flashed an almost shy smile.

  “My pleasure.” His voice sounded thick and he hurried away. Claire sighed and wondered if she should say anything to Jessie. There was no way for her to know whether Mac and Jessie knew their daughter had given a child up for adoption. She would hate to be the one to break it to them if they didn’t. Still, they were her grandparents. They needed to know the truth.

  And maybe, just maybe, that’s why she’d been brought her here.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  They hiked up the beaten path together. Jessie walked in step with Claire, Mac just aways ahead, with Jackson on his shoulders. When they rounded yet another corner and the church came into sight, Claire sucked in her breath.

  The round wooden structure sat at the crest of the hill surrounded by pine trees. A metal cross was secured in the middle of the gray slate roof. She recognized Rick’s handiwork at once. The cross was simple enough, but hung around it, carved out of bronze now green with age, was something that looked like a cloth.

  “Coming, Claire?” Curiosity made her stare longer than she’d realized, and Jessie’s voice startled her. She nodded and hurried to catch up.

  About ten people stood around in groups of two or three, chatting. Claire didn’t know any of them but they all smiled and greeted her warmly. She managed her own greeting and went into the church with Mac and Jessie. There were more people inside and soon they were surrounded, everyone enquiring after Darcie.

  Jackson ran off wit
h a group of children his age and older. Claire looked for somewhere to sit. There were no pews or regular chairs. Hollowed out tree trunks carved into benches or individual chairs were placed around the circular room. The homey smell of pine permeated through her. Brightly colored rugs lay on the floor, beautiful banners hung on the walls ablaze with color. Some were quilted, others embroidered, some made from flannel. They held messages like Jesus Saves and God is Love.

  Where was the one that said Exit?

  Three men sat on stools toward the front of the room strumming on guitars and singing.

  “This is a surprise.”

  Rick’s low voice made her turn. He nodded her way and she smiled. “I was supposed to come today with Darcie.” Sudden tears burned her eyes. She should invest in the Kleenex Company—they were making a fortune on her consumption alone.

  He returned her smile and stepped toward her. “So what do you think of our place?”

  Claire laughed. “It’s not like any church I’ve ever been in.”

  “That’s kind of the point.” Rick chuckled and rolled up the sleeves of his blue cotton shirt he wore un-tucked over jeans “Mac and a bunch of us built it a few years ago. We don’t have a pastor or any of the traditional ‘church’ type things you’d expect to find. Come have a seat.”

  Claire sat beside Rick in one of the tree chairs, which were surprisingly comfortable. She wound her thumbs around each other and wondered what would come next. After a moment the others sat, some around them, some on the floor. A middle-aged man made his way up to the front of the church.

  “Welcome friends. Let’s pray.”

  ~

  Claire sat silent through most of the singing. She didn’t know the words but she liked the music. When Mac got up to speak, she just about fell out of her chair. She listened intently to his every word. By the time he’d finished, she had a feeling he was talking directly to her.

  Mac closed his Bible and nodded his head. “I’ve made some terrible mistakes in my life. Most of you know our story. We founded this very church on God’s promises of restoration. We clung to the hope of forgiveness and we pressed on after Him, seeking His truth and His love. I’m still holding on to those promises. I don’t know how to explain things like cancer, babies dying and families being torn apart. But I do know we all have choices to make.”