Past Secrets, Present Love

by Lois Richer

  “Don’t you love the Antoine DeTaurer?” Mrs. Morrow asked, one hand sliding down the side of the metal Ross had plunked on her marble floor. “He’s up and coming, a local artist, you know. I’m sure it won’t be long before his work is shown internationally.”

  The sculpture—she was talking about the sculpture and its creator. Kelly made a mental note to bone up on the local talent.

  “It’s a very nice piece, Mrs. Morrow. Ross and I will have to work out an agreement to share it.” She didn’t dare look at him for fear she’d start laughing. “Thank you for a fantastic evening. We had a great time.”

  “I’m so sorry you weren’t feeling better. These after-New Year’s colds always seem to hit those who’ve let themselves get a bit run-down. You’ll want to take better care of yourself, dear.”

  It was so nice of her to be concerned, Kelly mused, flushing under Lindsay’s intent scrutiny.

  “Oh, I’m fine, don’t worry about me. Ross was simply entranced by the display around the pool. I guess that’s why we didn’t do very well at your game.”

  “I did notice he spent a lot of time looking at it.” Lindsay frowned. “Was there something wrong with the ice sculpture?”

  “Oh, no. The snowman is great. Really something to see.” He paused and looked at Kelly, who surreptitiously poked him in the ribs. “If I stared too long I guess it’s because I happened to notice someone out there.”

  “On the deck?” Lindsay frowned, glanced at her husband. “Did you let someone outside?”

  “Now, dear,” he placated, looping his beefy arm around her slender waist. “We all know not to tamper with your displays. I’m sure it was just a shadow or something that Ross saw.”

  “Perhaps.” Lindsay eased away from him, her smile a little stiff. “Anyway, I’m delighted you came, Kelly. Happy New Year.”

  “To you, too,” Kelly replied but the Morrows had already turned away and were involved in a whispered discussion with each other.

  “Come on. Let’s vamoose while the getting’s good.” Ross held her coat, pulled on his own, then picked up the sculpture once again. “I hope I can get this monster into my car.”

  “Shh! They’ll hear you.”

  “Those two aren’t going to hear anyone but each other. Looks to me like the mayor is getting bawled out. She’s a piece of work, isn’t she?”

  Kelly waited while one of the servants helped Ross load their prize into his car, that had been brought to the door. Once they were inside the vehicle and moving away from the mansion, she turned to face him.

  “What did you mean?”

  “About Mrs. Morrow?” He shrugged. “I don’t care for her much. She’s snarky and she makes those cutting remarks, like saying you’re catching something because you’re run-down.”

  “She was just being a good hostess, concerned for her guests.”

  “Ha!” He looked at her, shrugged. “Trust you to think the best of everyone. But I happen to know that the mayor was wrong. What I saw in that yard was no shadow. Someone was out there.”

  Kelly was getting a strange feeling about this. She took a second look at Ross, tried to judge whether or not he was serious.

  “Perhaps one of the people from the party went outside to get a breath of air,” she offered, thinking as she said it how strange that sounded. After all, the majority of the group had been outside in the cold most of the afternoon.

  “How did they get out there?” he shot back, his eyes dark with curiosity. “When you were working on that puzzle I tried the door. It was locked and there was an iron bench blocking it on the outside so you couldn’t have squeezed through the doors even if you could have jimmied the lock.”

  “There’s probably a side door, Ross.” She didn’t understand his fixation with this. “Anyway, even if someone was out there, what does it matter?”

  “There was someone and it matters because I’d like to know exactly who it was. I hate loose ends,” he told her, his forehead pleated in a frown. “That’s a loose end.”

  “Have you always been this obsessive?”

  He cast her a funny look, then nodded. “I guess so. My sister Trista once told me I asked too many questions.”

  “What’s she like?”

  “Sweet, innocent. Gentle.” He shrugged. “I used to think I had to protect her.”

  “From what?”

  “Life.”

  Kelly blinked at the vehemence of that word. She’d gathered from other things he’d said that their childhood had not been happy. Had it also been abusive?

  “You remind me of her a lot,” he added, glancing sideways while they waited at a stop light.

  “I do?” Was that good or bad? Since she didn’t know his sister, Kelly couldn’t judge. “How?”

  “I told you I used to think I had to protect her. I didn’t realize then how strong she really is. You and she are a lot alike in that you both have this spunk, the same kind of inner grit that propels you through life.”

  “No one ever told me I had spunk before.” She grinned. “I think I like it. Tell me more about this wonderful woman I resemble.”

  “She’s in law school in Atlanta. I don’t know how long she’ll be there though.”

  “Why? Doesn’t she like it?”

  “She likes it a lot. And she’s good at it.” He pinched his lips together. “She’s having a tough go of it now, though. Her husband walked out on her.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. He isn’t much of a loss. All talk, no substance.”

  Kelly flinched at the harsh words, thrust her chin forward.

  “I think it’s always a loss when a marriage fails. There’s something terribly sad about watching two people who’ve committed themselves to each other turn on the very ones they once professed to love.” She fiddled with her gloves. “It’s bad enough when teenaged girls come in to Tiny Blessings after making the decision to give up their babies. It’s heartrending to hear their stories of how they’d committed themselves, thought somebody loved them for better or worse and now they’re alone and scared, aching because they know they can’t care for the child they carry.”

  Ross didn’t say anything to that but she knew he was thinking about it. Kelly pressed on.

  “It must be infinitely harder when you’ve gone through the steps to marital commitment and then find out you made a mistake, that the person you trusted with your heart isn’t trustworthy at all.” She looked down at her hands, anxious not to show anything of her own feelings. “It must hurt so terribly.”

  “Yes.” He drove on through the winding streets. “I suppose you’ve gone through some of that yourself with your Simon.”

  “With Simon?” She blinked, peered at him through the gloom. “What do you mean?”

  “Well, you must have been committed to get engaged to him.” He frowned at her. “You said yourself that it was he who left. All I’m saying is that it must have hurt.”

  “Yes. It did.” But not for that reason. Not because her heart was broken. Kelly veered away from asking herself why and turned the focus back on him. “Trista is going to need her brother while she goes through this,” she murmured, thinking how nice it would be to have family to share life’s burdens with, to talk to when things got rough and you couldn’t tell anyone else.

  “She knows where I am, but I doubt she’ll come running.”

  “Why not?”

  “Trista thinks she dumped on me enough when we were kids. She carries this guilt thing.” He pulled into her driveway, turned to look at her. “What’s with all the questions?”

  “I’m sorry if you thought I was intruding. It’s just that it seems like you know so much about me and I know very little about you.” Kelly grasped the door handle as a little ping of hurt shot through her. “Thank you very much for coming with me.”

  “Not so fast, lady.” His hand on her arm made it impossible to get out of the car. “You’re not leaving without The Thing, are you?” He jerked a thumb
over his shoulder. His dark eyes sparkled with fun.

  “You can keep it.” She slid out of the car, then bent over. “But I would like my ski stuff.”

  “Oh, no. No way.” Seconds later Ross was digging in the back seat trying to free the metal golfer. “Okay, he’s out. Finally. Lead the way. I’ll carry him to your sunroom. It’s the least I can do.”

  Kelly grabbed her boots and ski pants and started up the walk, checking behind every few steps to make sure Ross was still making progress.

  “I should probably warn you that I don’t carry enough insurance to pay for back surgery,” she warned as he plunked the object onto the step.

  “Won’t need it,” he called as he returned to the car for her skis and poles.

  Kelly let herself inside, breathed the familiar fragrance of cinnamon candles she loved. Behind her, Ross handed over the ski equipment, then toted in the sculpture.

  “I’ll have you know I’m perfectly capable—” he paused to puff out a breath “—of carrying a few pounds of metal into someone’s house.”

  “I can see that. Let me take one end.” She grabbed the base and lifted, and together they moved the piece into her sunroom. “I’m going to need a very special pot to bury this in,” she muttered to herself.

  “Why don’t you just plant it somewhere in your garden outside? Preferably behind a bush. You could call it garden sculpture.”

  “Maybe.” She followed him out of the room, paused to straighten a pot of ivy that had tipped over. When had that happened?

  “Anything wrong?”

  Ross’s warm breath brushed her ear and it was as if a spring inside her wound a little tighter.

  “Kelly? Are you all right?”

  “Yes, fine. Thanks for asking.” She stepped away from him, forced a smile to her lips as she led the way back to the front door. “Just thinking. Would you like a drink, something to eat?”

  Ross shook his head, his expression giving away his puzzlement.

  “No, thanks. I had plenty at the Morrows’.” His gaze never left her face.

  “Well, then.” She didn’t want to ask him to leave but the day’s events had left her drained and her stomach was acting up again. Kelly only wanted to crawl into bed and go to sleep.

  “When is a good time to go to Sandra’s?”

  The question sent a shaft of fear through her. It had been waiting at the back of her mind, she realized. Perched there like a black cloud ready to dump misery on her head.

  “I’m not sure—”

  “It’s just a visit, Kelly. Nothing to get flustered over.”

  “Tomorrow evening,” she whispered. “After work.”

  “Done.” He feathered his fingers against her arm and gently squeezed. “She doesn’t want to change anything, Kelly. She just wants to talk. Don’t sweat it, okay? Good night.”

  With his leaving, Kelly felt a surge of panic billow inside her. For so long she’d managed to maintain her life on an even keel, tried to run her life like a ship by keeping the equilibrium constant. But now the ship was listing and she was losing control. She felt rudderless, prone to whatever someone else dished out.

  At that moment her stomach lurched wildly. She raced for the bathroom. When the retching spasm was finally over, she crawled into her bed and lay huddled under a mound of blankets.

  It seemed as if everything in her life had done a one-eighty and nothing made sense. This illness—she was never sick. Was it nerves?

  In slow motion, the events of the past few days rolled through her mind. Being shut in that closet, the accident, seeing someone in the garage, the phone message—those weren’t things she’d imagined.

  And Sandra Lange wasn’t, either. Maybe she could write the rest off as nerves, but Sandra—that was going to be difficult.

  Waves of tiredness rolled over her and Kelly closed her eyes. Hand it over to God, her mother had always said. He’ll help you.

  Good advice. Except things had changed. Her mother wasn’t really her mother anymore. Maybe God—

  She rolled over, buried her face in the pillow, too weary and worn out to puzzle it through anymore. Finally sleep came, but with it, horrible dreams. The ringing phone broke through one of those.

  Fighting her way through the grogginess, Kelly picked it up.

  “Hello?”

  No answer, only several soft breaths. The caller was letting her know someone was there.

  “Leave.”

  Then the line went dead.

  Chapter Seven

  For the third time Ross listened to the chime of the doorbell echo through Kelly’s house. For the third time he waited for the door to open, to no avail.

  Something was wrong.

  He tried the front door. Locked. Not that he’d expected differently. He was good at reading people and last night Kelly had been on edge. He pulled out his cell phone, dialed Sandra.

  “We’re going to be late,” he told her without preamble.

  “Something’s wrong.”

  “I don’t know yet. I’m at her house. Kelly isn’t answering the door or her phone. The lights are on so I’m sure she’s here, but—” He didn’t want to say any more.

  “She left work early,” Sandra told him. “I overheard Pilar at the diner this afternoon while I was making pies.”

  “You sure you’re up to that?”

  “I’m fine, Ross. The chemo was a bit hard to take, but I’m definitely on the mend and I need to make sure my business is on solid ground. The Starlight Diner succeeded because of my parents’ hard work. I don’t want it to fail because I wasn’t paying attention.”

  “Surviving cancer can hardly be called neglect. Besides, your parents wouldn’t want you to overdo it.” He didn’t like to think of her having to manage on her own. That’s why he was certain if Kelly would only talk to her, understand that Sandra didn’t want anything but to get to know her better, the two could begin to develop a closer relationship.

  “I’m fine, Ross. Really. But I am concerned about Kelly. Pilar said she seldom gets sick. She couldn’t even remember the last time Kelly had taken a sick day and yet today she left early.”

  “According to Lindsay Morrow, Kelly is run-down.” The woman’s words still grated on his nerves. Sandra muttered something and he realized she wouldn’t know what had happened at the mansion. “Yesterday. We went to the Morrows’ house after skiing, Kelly felt a little rough. Lindsay made some comment about her being run-down and susceptible to illness.”

  “That woman! Does she ever think before she speaks?”

  Ross almost smiled as Sandra the mother hen bristled on her daughter’s behalf. Then he sobered. “I think she thinks long and hard. On the one hand, she seems friendly enough but on the other, she’s always ready with her put-downs.”

  “That’s just Lindsay’s way. She’s all about her public persona. Any answer at the door yet?”

  “No. I’m going to try round the back, see if she’s left something unlocked where I can squeeze in. I’ll let you know.”

  “Thanks, Ross.”

  He clicked the phone off, stuffed it into his pocket then made his way around the house. To his surprise, the side door of the garage opened on the first turn of the handle. He stepped inside, looked around. Light from a window showed him a neat empty space and the way to the door into the main house. Now if only it was unlocked, too.

  Ross wouldn’t have said that it was God, but something was on his side. The door to the house opened without a problem and he stepped inside.

  “Kelly? It’s Ross. Are you here?”

  There was no sound. In fact the entire house was strangely silent. He checked the kitchen, den, living room, her sunroom, then moved upstairs. A faint moaning sound emanated from the end room. The door was open, just a crack. He rapped on it.

  “Kelly? Are you all right?”

  “I think so.”

  Propriety was one thing, but sickness was quite another. Ross didn’t hesitate.

  “I’m coming
in.” He pushed the door open, walked into her room, his eyes straining to find her in the gloom.

  “I’m over here. I’ll put a light on.” A second later a lamp illuminated the room.

  She was still in her work clothes, though the conservative black suit had certainly seen better days. Her hair was scraped back from her face and hung limply to her shoulders. Her face was paler than the cream duvet covering her bed.

  “Why were you sitting in the dark?”

  She touched her temple. “I had a headache,” she whispered. “The darkness seemed to help. I can go downstairs now, though. I feel better.”

  He watched her rise from the bed, noticed she’d slipped off her shoes. That was a good thing, the heels were way too high for someone in her condition. She walked slowly toward him until the light from the hall bathed her face. She seemed dazed. Maybe she’d taken something for the headache.

  “Hang on to the rail,” he ordered when he noticed her wobble a bit on the middle of the staircase.

  “Yes.” She paused on the bottom step.

  Ross squeezed past her, thinking she might need help, but when he touched her hand, he found her skin burning hot.

  “You’re not all right,” he chided, laying the back of his hand against her forehead. “You’ve got a fever, Kelly.”

  “Yes. But it will go down soon. I took something for that. Then we can go see Sandra.” She moved from the last step to the floor, eyes huge, her voice resigned. “I just need to sit down for a few minutes before we go. Maybe the kitchen. It’s warmer.”

  “Are you cold?”

  “At the moment. But that could change anytime. It’s a really weird flu.” She offered him a sad smile then sank onto a barstool. “Would you mind putting the kettle on? I could really use a cup of tea.”

  “Sure.” He switched on the element, then reached for the phone. “I’ll call Sandra, tell her not to expect us tonight.”

  “I’ll be fine. You said she wanted to see me, so let’s go.”

  “Kelly, you’re sick. You need to rest.” She looked about to protest so he found another argument. “You might give it to her. With her weakened immunity, the flu or a cold could make her really sick.”