Past Secrets, Present Love

by Lois Richer

  “I’m more concerned about keeping you up to par. You’re too stressed, Kelly. You have to relax a little.”

  “I’ll help with that,” Ross volunteered. “Dinner with me. No cooking, no cleaning. Just relaxing.”

  “Exactly what I’d prescribe.” Eli grinned. “Take it easy, you two.”

  “Thanks, Eli.”

  On the street outside the clinic, night had fallen, bringing with it a fine dusting of powdery snow.

  “Isn’t it pretty?” Kelly raised her face and stuck out her tongue.

  “I’m taking that as a sign that you’re hungry,” Ross told her. “Come on. I know just the place.”

  He chose the Starlight Diner for two reasons. One, the special tonight was Sandra’s meat loaf and he’d never tasted anything better. But more importantly, he had a hunch that because of their meeting last night, Kelly would avoid the diner, or perhaps feel she should. He wanted to go with her to help her realize that in spite of what she’d learned about herself and Sandra, nothing had really changed, that she was still Kelly Young and Chestnut Grove was still the place she called home.

  “It’s hard to believe there was ever a fire here, isn’t it?” Kelly’s big brown eyes were focused on the long chrome counter. “Even the jukebox with its Elvis songs seems authentic.”

  “That’s because it is.” He didn’t bother with the menu, he already knew what he wanted. “Thirty-three years ago there was still a lot of ’50s memorabilia available. Sandra said her father was able to replace the soda fountain from a bankrupt business and they collected the posters on a trip to Hollywood. Sandra has had the booths reupholstered since then, of course, and the walls repainted to keep things fresh. But overall she wanted to keep the diner much the same as her parents had it.”

  “It looks great. And I love this bright blue vinyl.” She ran her hand over the back of the booth. “But how can she keep it up? That stuff must be getting hard to find now.”

  “I guess. But don’t forget the retro look is back in vogue so things like that milk shake mixer have probably been replaced.” He watched her scan the menu. “See anything you’d like?”

  “I think I’ll have some soup and toast.”

  “That’s it?”

  “For now.” She grinned. “I don’t want to tempt fate, or rather my stomach, by giving it too much. Besides, I love vegetable beef soup. My mom—” She paused, swallowed. “My mother used to make the beef so tender your mouth would water. She always put in pot barley. I love pot barley.” She looked away from him, focused on the wall.

  “Don’t do that, Kelly. She was still your mom. She’ll always be your mom. Nothing can change that. And you don’t really want it to.”

  “No,” she admitted. “I don’t. But clearly you’ve done all the research, checked and rechecked your facts?” She lifted one eyebrow, silently asking for confirmation.

  “Yes, I have. The DNA says you are Sandra Lange’s daughter.”

  “Then you know who my father is, too, don’t you?” Her brown eyes dared him to deny it.

  “You know I can’t say any more than that, Kelly. I promised to keep Sandra’s confidence and I won’t go back on my word.” Why had he ever made that stupid promise? It wasn’t right or fair that he should know and she shouldn’t.

  “Fine. You know what? For tonight, just for a few hours, let’s forget about me and my problems. Let’s talk about you.” She paused, gave her order to the waitress, waited for him to do the same. “Milk shakes? As in plural?”

  “We’re in a diner. We have to have a milk shake.” He grinned, pleased that she’d lost that sad look. “Besides, you love milk. Every time I see you you’re drinking it. You have it in tea, dip gingersnaps in it, make hot chocolate with it. You—what did I say wrong?”

  “I didn’t make the hot chocolate with it,” she explained. “I used some packets of gourmet stuff I bought before Christmas. So call me lazy.” She frowned when he didn’t smile. “There’s something wrong with my gourmet chocolate? You seemed to like it before.”

  “No, nothing wrong. I was just thinking about something.” He pulled out his notebook, scribbling a memo to himself. “Anyway, one milk shake won’t hurt you.”

  “That’s where Eve got in trouble, if I remember my Bible correctly,” she teased. “Just one little bite—isn’t that how it went? And look what happened to her.”

  He did laugh then. “Your sense of humor sneaks out at the oddest times. Under all that sober responsibility I expect you’re rather a brat.”

  “How did you know? But we’re not talking about me. So don’t try to change the subject.” She accepted her vanilla shake from the waitress and sipped it. “It’s good. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome,” the waitress said, moving back to the counter where several diners were waiting.

  “Ross, last night you admitted you were angry with God. You said it was a long story.”

  “So?” He couldn’t look at her.

  “I’d like to hear it. It would do me good to get my mind off my problems and onto someone else’s.”

  He opened his mouth to decline and realized he didn’t have a leg to stand on. He’d poked his nose into her life big-time, was even keeping the name of her father from her. Clearly it was payback time.

  “It’s boring stuff. Somebody who grew up the way you did probably has no idea how rough life can be for kids.” Her brows drew together and Ross knew he’d said the wrong thing. “That didn’t come out right. I’m sure you hear of it all the time, in your line of work. What I meant was, it’s a different thing to experience it.”

  “Life can be tough in mansions, too, Ross. We get parents wanting to adopt and mothers wanting us to find good homes for their children from all over the country, from all economic stratas. If I’ve learned anything at Tiny Blessings, it’s not to judge a person by outward appearances. Scars don’t always show.” She reached out, touched his restless fingers. “Just tell me.”

  He stared at their hands, aware that this was the first time she’d actually initiated contact. And he liked it. A lot.

  “It’s not really something I’ve ever talked about.” He couldn’t figure out how to explain his doubts about God without hurting her feelings. Kelly was a woman of faith, it influenced her life. He, on the other hand, found it difficult to believe God cared one whit about him or his life.

  “Start with something simple then. Did you grow up going to church?”

  He laughed. “Sure. Christmas Eve, sometimes Easter, weddings. When my parents were sober enough and they weren’t verbally beating each other’s brains in. I even took Trista to a girls’ club at a church when she was in grade school. They had a boys’ club, too. I went once or twice.”

  “And you didn’t like it?” Kelly leaned forward, intent on what he was saying.

  Ross liked that about her. It wasn’t idle curiosity that brought on her questions. She really was interested.

  “I didn’t hate being there, if that’s what you mean. But I hated it when Trista started believing what they were saying, that God was interested in every detail of her life. That He’d be there for her.” He raked a hand through his hair, shifted his feet under the table as the old anger boiled just beneath the surface. “I’d see her kneeling by her bed, praying and praying that there’d be enough food in the fridge to take a lunch to school, enough milk to go on the three-day-old porridge I’d been meting out in bites.”

  “So you were angry at God for not removing you from that situation?”

  “Or maybe for putting us in it!” He pushed the milk shake container away. “How many times have you seen couples desperate to have kids? How many people have spent millions of dollars on any procedure they think will help them have a child? And yet here we were, two healthy kids stuck with two of the lousiest parents God ever created. Why?”

  “I don’t know. Why don’t you ask Him?”

  “What?” He paused middiatribe to glare at her. “What do you mean?”

 
; “Well, in any court of law, the defendant gets to question his accuser. You’ve condemned God without asking for His side of the story.” She leaned back against the seat, her face calm, her eyes intent.

  “Are you joking?”

  Kelly shook her head. “I wouldn’t joke about something that touches you so deeply, Ross.”

  “Then I don’t get it.” He leaned back to allow the waitress to serve them. The meat loaf he’d anticipated with such pleasure suddenly seemed less important than finding out what Kelly was talking about. “I know other kids had it tougher. My little sob story doesn’t compare with what I saw on the street when I was a cop. Our dump seemed like a mansion compared to some of the squalid tenements I’ve been inside. But none of that answers my question. Where was God? Kids, little kids shooting up on anything they could get their hands on just to be free of that hellhole for a little while—where was God then?”

  She’d lifted a spoonful of the rich tomato-based soup to her lips, but Kelly put it back in the bowl, met his anger with a soft smile. “He was there, Ross. He’s here, too.”

  “I’ve heard that before. But why didn’t He do something?”

  “How do you know He didn’t?”

  Her faith was just like everyone else’s—based on gullibility. She was kidding herself about God.

  “Don’t get mad at me for saying this, okay? But we’re going round and round in circles here. You’re not answering my questions, just asking more.” He took a bite of the meat loaf, chewed it long enough to cool down a little. “You claim to believe in this God of yours but you can’t explain Him to me. Is that about the gist of it?”

  “Ross, God isn’t like a package of instant pudding that I can open and say ‘add two cups of milk, stir and you’ll get pudding.’ He’s God. Big, all-knowing, loving, righteous—a whole host of things. But if you really want to, God is knowable. The reason He created us was to love us. Don’t you think a God who made you wants you to understand what He’s like?”

  “I…don’t know.”

  “Then take my word for it. God loves you, He wants to build a relationship with you. But in order to do that, you have to get to know Him. Personally. You can’t build a personal relationship with me by talking to Sandra. Why would you think you could do it with God?”

  She tasted her soup, added a bit of salt, then slowly began to eat, closing her eyes as she savored each bite. “This is excellent.”

  Ross decided to give her some space, let her enjoy her meal before he plied her with yet more questions. He had a thousand of them. Such as, would getting to know God bring the answers to his questions, would he finally understand why a pit of despair like the slums of Brooklyn was allowed to exist?

  He glanced up, stared at the figure lounging against the counter. He was almost certain it was the same person he’d seen in Lindsay Morrow’s garden the night of the party.

  “Ross?”

  “Yes?” He kept his attention on the counter, begging the person in the black coat, hat and boots to turn around so he could get a better look.

  “What are you staring at?” She twisted in her seat, trying to follow his stare. “Why are you so interested in Andrew Noble?”

  “Is that who it is? I can’t see his face clearly.”

  She took a second look, nodded. “I think so. It looks like him. I asked Rachel what he does. She said a lot of things, but she never did tell me what Andrew was doing in town, or what he does for a living. He’s a curious fellow, our Andrew. The prince of Chestnut Grove.”

  “Why do you call him that?” He glanced at the man, his curiosity whetted. But Andrew never looked his way, simply whipped up the take-out package, dropped a ten-dollar bill on the counter and left.

  “You know the Nobles are wealthy? Well it’s not just Rachel’s parents that have the money. The whole family is well-heeled. Hey!” She dropped the spoon she was holding, jerked back as it hit the dish with a clang. “I just thought of something.”

  “What?”

  “That night you picked me up—I don’t remember which night. Since I’ve been sick, the days kind of run together. Anyway, there was a person who ran out from the side of the house. Remember I told you I’d seen someone. Well that person was dressed head-to-toe in black.”

  “Him?” Her jerked a thumb the counter.

  “Maybe.” She bit her bottom lip, her forehead creased. “I couldn’t swear to it in court, but it is an odd coincidence that we’ve seen him several times in the last few weeks. Before Rachel’s wedding I don’t think he was in town for ages, a year or more, and even then only for a night.”

  It would look too obvious to take out his notebook now, but Ross made a mental note to check up on Mr. Andrew Noble. Something about the guy was off.

  He finished his mashed potatoes then leaned back against the booth seat and watched her carefully remove the crusty edges from her toast. She caught him and blushed a rich rose that lent her cheek a healthy glow and brought more color to her face than he’d seen in days.

  “My mother would lecture me if she was watching.” She slid the last piece away, popped a bite of the golden bread into her mouth. “She always insisted I eat my crusts. But she’s not here to see me so…” She frowned at him. “You probably think that’s an awful thing to say.”

  “Why would I?” He was curious about her sudden guilt. “If you don’t like crusts, why eat them? You’re an adult, after all. No reason you can’t make those choices for yourself. Isn’t that what parents are supposed to raise kids to do—make their own decisions?”

  “I guess.” She chose another of the delicately cut bits and chewed on it. “Is that what your parents did?”

  “You could say that.” He almost snorted with laughter at the question until he realized she was serious. “It wasn’t quite like that. When they got on the bottle, we pretty much had to fend for ourselves. I don’t recommend it as a child-rearing method.”

  He was trying to be flip but he was pretty sure Kelly wouldn’t let him get away with it.

  “I’m sorry you had to go through that,” she murmured. “It must have been very hard. Didn’t you have any grandparents you could turn to?”

  “No.” He didn’t want to talk about his past anymore. “Did you?”

  “My parents were both only children. They were older when they adopted me. Their parents died when I was a baby. I never met them. I used to wish I had.” Kelly’s voice dropped, grew a little husky. “All the children’s stories that talk about going to Grandma’s house, having Christmas dinner with cousins and aunts and uncles—I used to imagine that kind of idyllic life for myself.”

  “Sounds fun.”

  “That’s what I thought.” Her smile was self-deprecating. “Not that I had anything but lovely Christmases. I have no right to complain at all. But they were very quiet.”

  “This year must have been hard.”

  “It was a bit.” Her eyes grew too bright, glossy with tears. “But I don’t wish them back. Mother developed COPD. Chronic obstructive pulmonary disease. She’d always been so active and the disease stole all that from her. In the end she was really struggling. It’s actually a relief to know she’s not suffering anymore, that she’s in Heaven with Dad and that they’re with God.”

  There she went with that faith thing again.

  “You sound pretty sure about this Heaven thing.”

  “I am. The Bible says that if we are a follower of Christ, we can be assured that when we die our spirits will go to live with Him. It says there will be no more pain there.” She met his gaze. “My parents were strong Christians. They taught me so much and I miss them every day. But they weren’t healthy in their last years here and I can’t wish them back to a life of suffering. I know they’re at home in Heaven. Now I’m all alone.”

  “But you’re not alone, Kelly. You have Sandra now.”

  She glanced at him, her gaze pensive. “It’s not quite the same,” she said quietly.

  “You don’t have years of his
tory together, that’s true. But you could.” He saw the hesitation, knew she wasn’t quite ready to let Sandra into her heart. “It won’t be the same. Sandra can’t replace your mother, and she doesn’t even want to try. But she could be a friend.”

  “I know.” She pushed away her dirty dishes, planted her elbows on the table and set her chin in her hands. “It’s just—I never thought of myself as the child a father wouldn’t want anything to do with. That I’m the product of that kind of tawdry, sordid relationship is hard to accept.”

  “Do you blame Sandra?” A protectiveness burst up inside, which surprised him. He’d known he felt it for Sandra—but for Kelly, too? Ross couldn’t decipher it. He only knew he wanted these two women to find some common ground.

  “Of course I don’t blame her. I’ve heard her story too many times—young women used by unscrupulous men. If anything, I blame him. He was committed in another relationship. What right did he have to tell her lies and cheat her out of knowing her child—me?” She gulped, stared at him. “Why won’t you tell me who he is? I’d like to face him down, ask him if he knows what he missed out on by not being my father.”

  “I’m sorry.” He reached out and brushed a tear from her cheek but Kelly jerked away.

  “Yeah. Sorry. Aren’t we all, Ross?” She wiped away the tears, smoothed a hand over her hair, then met his stare. “I have to get back to the office. I want to get that closet cleaned out tonight.”

  “Okay.” He walked toward the cash counter, aware that he wasn’t her most favorite person at the moment. As he drove back to Tiny Blessings, Ross shuffled through a dozen subjects, none of which seemed appropriate conversation topics for this moment. He pulled in beside the curb.

  “Thank you for dinner. It was good.” She reached for the door handle.

  “Kelly?”

  “Yes?” She refused to look at him, kept her gaze straight ahead.

  “If I push you and Sandra together a little too hard, maybe it’s because I don’t want you to lose the chance I never had.”