by Lois Richer
“Someone’s out there,” she called as she hurried into the street. “I saw them turn the corner onto Main Street.”
“Go home.” Zach jumped into his car and raced down the road, lights flashing.
Ross accepted his jacket, his eyes on the disappearing police cruiser.
“Was it Andrew?” he asked, his mouth tight.
“I don’t know. I think the person wore black but he was far away and it’s not exactly bright out tonight.” She slid her arms into her own coat, raised her keys toward the door. “Should we go?”
“Might as well.”
Once she’d set the alarm and locked the door, Ross drove her home without saying a word. Kelly wasn’t sure what she’d expected, but it sure wasn’t this stony silence with only the hum of the car heater fan to break the chasm that seemed to yawn between them. Then suddenly he said the one thing she didn’t want to hear.
“I’m heading back to Richmond next week.”
“Already?” Could he hear how much she didn’t want him to go?
“I’m pretty much finished that infidelity case I took on when I wasn’t making much progress with Sandra’s. Tomorrow I’ll see the wife, tell her what I’ve learned, show her the pictures. After that it’s just a matter of closing up shop.”
“Oh.” Kelly gulped. “I’ll be sorry to see you leave,” she murmured. “I’ve enjoyed getting to know you.” The height of understatement.
The realization that Ross wouldn’t be there to call on the next time she needed someone to talk to, to help open a stuck filing cabinet or get her out of a closet, to bring her soup when she felt like death—it hit her fully in that moment with the horrible sinking lurch of loss.
“I thought you’d be celebrating that I’m not going to be pestering you about Sandra anymore.” His dark gaze rested on her.
Kelly forced herself to sound normal, hide the shock that she’d felt at his words.
“I know you were concerned for her. I think that’s rather nice.” She tried to keep her voice normal, her face impassive. “I’m sure she’s appreciated all you’ve done for her.”
“I don’t know about that but I’m really going to miss her when I go. She’s been like a mother to me. Or at least what I imagined a mother would be like.”
“Well that’s good,” she said, infusing her voice with a cheerfulness she didn’t feel. “Before you go I want to have you over for dinner. It’s the least I can do to repay you for feeding me so often.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I want to. Tomorrow night?”
“Sure.”
“Would you like me to invite Sandra?” Kelly hoped he’d say no. Maybe it was silly, but if she was going to be alone in this, she’d better learn to handle this new life on her own. She wanted to meet with and talk to the other woman on her own, without Ross watching. Maybe Sandra would give away something about her father, though why she felt this need to know was something Kelly didn’t fully understand. She certainly hadn’t wanted Sandra’s disruption to her calm, careful life. But wasn’t it better to know the whole truth up front instead of living afraid, as if something might fall on her head when she least expected it?
“I don’t think she’s in any shape to go out just yet.” Ross turned onto her street. “Tonight she looked pretty weak. I think the chemo left her more vulnerable than she lets on.”
“I hope she didn’t catch anything from me.”
“I doubt it. You don’t have a cold.” He pulled into her driveway, turned to study her. “Are you going to be all right?”
“In my own home?” She nodded, only half-certain herself. “I’ll be fine. I’ve felt much better today. Maybe it’s my cooking that’s making me sick.”
“Oh? In that case I might have to reconsider your dinner invitation,” he said with a teasing smile.
Ross Van Zandt could be fun when he wanted. She would miss that dry wit and the funny glint in his eyes.
“Come on, I’ll walk you to the door.”
He was around the car before she’d undone her seat belt and he insisted on carrying her bag of clothes. Kelly fumbled with her keys, nervous for some reason as he stood watching her. She shoved open the door and hit the light switch. Everything looked normal.
Ross leaned in to drop her bag on the floor. As he straightened, his face passed within inches of hers. Kelly froze, mesmerized by the look on his face.
“Actually, I’d like to join you for dinner. There’s nothing better than sharing a meal and you are a very beautiful woman, Kelly Young. Inside and out.” He tilted forward, pressed a butterfly-light kiss against her lips. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Yes,” she breathed, watching as he walked out of the house and down the walk. “Good night.” Suddenly she realized she was standing there like a moonstruck teen. She moved inside, closed and locked the door.
But she wasn’t ready for bed yet. There were too many things to think about—most of all why the disorganization that filled her neat little world suddenly didn’t seem so important.
Free of her coat, she moved into the kitchen, poured herself a glass of milk, then curled up in front of the fire as if it held the answers to her questions.
Knowing Ross was leaving meant a return to loneliness. There’d be no one forcing her to see a doctor the next time she was sick, no one to tell her she was smart and beautiful. No one to gather her up and hold her when life got scary. The future suddenly seemed bleak.
Kelly turned off the gas fire, emptied her glass and climbed up the stairs to bed. Her dreams were filled with figures in black peering around corners, holding her prisoner and dumping her in a land where she knew no one. She tossed and turned until five, then finally got up to make coffee.
She’d intended to water her plants but the sight that met her stopped Kelly cold on the threshold. The entire room had been ransacked, every plant stripped of its foliage and tossed to the floor. Nothing usable remained. Even the sculpture she and Ross had won at the Morrows’ lay overturned on the floor, the head dented and smashed.
But worst of all were the orange spray-painted words on her windows.
No past. No future. Leave.
Chapter Ten
“I’m sorry you’ve had such a horrible experience, but I’m delighted you suggested this impromptu lunch.” Sandra took another bite of the sandwich Kelly had bought from a deli near her office.
“I hope you didn’t feel you had to let me come over.” She’d deliberately kept the details of the breakin at Tiny Blessings from her. No point in worrying her when she already had so much to think about.
“I wanted to see you,” Sandra insisted.
Kelly watched her face closely, looking for signs that Sandra might regret having her here. “I could come another time if you’re not feeling well.”
“I have a cold, that’s all.” Sandra leaned back in her chair, her eyes pensive. “There’s the one thing about this disease that medicines can’t deal with—the fear. People look at you differently after you’ve had cancer. As if they’re afraid they can catch it.”
“I didn’t mean—”
“No, no. I didn’t mean you. I was speaking generally.” She nibbled on her pickle. “Do you feel vulnerable now, knowing someone was inside your house? You could always move into my spare room until they catch whoever did it.”
“Thank you, that’s very kind. But I’m sure I’ll be fine once the locks are changed.”
Sandra stared at her. “You think they had a key?”
Kelly castigated herself for letting that slip. “Truthfully, I don’t know. But the police suggested it and I decided it was a good idea. The locks are the same ones that were there when I bought the place. Someone the previous owners knew could have a key, or maybe there’s one floating around. I think it’s just safer if I get them changed. I should have done it long ago, but—”
“It never seemed necessary before. I understand.” Sandra leaned forward, placed her hand on Kelly’s knee. �
��You look tired, dear. Is something else bothering you?”
Kelly was tempted to brush off her concern but right at the moment she was weary beyond measure and having someone to listen was very tempting.
“A lot of things are bothering me. It’s not just the burglary,” she admitted after a long pause. “I don’t know what’s wrong but I feel lousy most of the time. I can’t seem to rest because I have terrible dreams at night. And on top of all that there’s a case at the agency that’s got me concerned.” She made a face. “I’m sure you don’t need to hear all this.”
“But I’d like to listen, if you want to tell me.”
“It’s just—a host of things seem to be going wrong. Nothing in my life is the way I want it to be and I can’t seem to get it back on track. Every time I turn around there’s something new to think about.”
“And then I came along and pushed my way in.” Sandra shook her head. “I’m sorry, Kelly. I was only thinking of myself when I asked to see you, not of the way any of this would affect you. I guess I’m not really mother material after all.”
“Don’t say that.” She debated whether to bring it up and decided she’d rather not skirt the issues between them. “It’s not your fault that I was taken from you.”
“Maybe not. But the whole idea of me as your mother is upsetting to you. I can see that. And I think I know why.” Sandra’s smile appeared. “In some ways you’re exactly like me, Kelly. You want to control your world, anticipate what could happen so you’ll be prepared. You like organization, routine. I was the same.”
“You’re not now?” Kelly stared at her, wondering what had changed.
“To some extent.” Sandra leaned her head back, stared at the ceiling. “The only way I could make sense of my world after the fire at the diner killed my mother was to regain control of it. I had to nail down every detail from the scheduling to the grocery orders. I guess I had this notion that if I could assess the situation and keep everything in check, nothing bad would happen to me again.” She straightened, looked at Kelly. “I think you’ve been doing the same thing.”
Had she? Kelly frowned. “What’s wrong with being organized, prepared?”
“Nothing. To a point. It’s when it spills over into a need to control, into a fear of what could or might happen—that’s when it becomes a negative.” Sandra laid a hand on the Bible that sat on a table at her elbow. “You see, honey, the hard truth I didn’t want to face is that I’m not in control. Neither are you.”
“But—”
“May I ask you something very personal, Kelly?”
“I guess.” Nervousness about what that question might be had her shifting on the love seat.
“When you became engaged to Simon, did you ever think about what might happen if it broke up, if the two of you decided to split before you got married?” Sandra’s stare seemed to burn through the barriers she wanted to erect. It was as if she could see her soul.
Kelly felt her cheeks burn, but she nodded anyway. “I did think about it, yes.”
“And you made some plans for that eventuality, didn’t you?”
“I didn’t plan to break up with him, if that’s what you’re saying. I thought we would get married.”
“I know. But did you ever consider a worst-case scenario? I mean, you bought the house so you obviously knew you wanted to live there with or without him. You were prepared for that.”
“Are you saying that was wrong?”
“No. You’re a sensible person and I’m guessing that you’ve always weighed your options, put some effort into looking ahead.” Sandra leaned forward. “What I’m getting at is a feeling I have that deep inside, maybe in the very back of your mind, you probably had some plan about how you’d handle things if your birth mother—me—ever showed up.”
Kelly opened her mouth to protest but Sandra continued.
“Maybe it was unconscious, maybe not. But I think a fear was there that your perfect world might be upset someday. When you couldn’t come up with a way to deal with it you tucked it away and kept everything else under control to compensate.”
“Maybe.” This was a time for truth. Kelly took a deep breath. “When I was seven or eight,” she whispered, “I used to have dreams that someone would come and take me away from my mother and father. I asked my mother about it and she said that it didn’t matter if anyone came, that no one could pull out the love we had for each other, no one could unmake our family.”
“But that secret fear didn’t leave you, did it?”
“I guess not.” She’d never told a soul that she’d harbored that worry. Until now. Until Sandra, who seemed to see into her heart as easily as she looked outside the window.
“And then Ross came along and told you I was your mother and your worst nightmare came true. No wonder it’s been so difficult for you to accept.” Sandra tossed her a grin. “I felt exactly the same when the doctor told me I had breast cancer. I’d done everything right—diet, exercise, vitamins, all of it. And it didn’t matter one bit. I had no control over the cancer. It was here,” she tapped her chest, “in my body and I couldn’t do a thing about it.”
Kelly felt a rush of empathy as tears filled Sandra’s green eyes. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” The words burst out of Sandra with a fierceness that surprised Kelly. “I needed to learn that lesson, I needed to understand that my security doesn’t come from eating the right things, walking on my treadmill, taking vitamins. My security comes from God. He and He alone decides how many days I’ll spend on this earth. The problems that come to me happen only because He allows them. And if I rest in His strength, I can do whatever He asks me to do.”
“But my father—what he did to you.” Kelly stared at her, frowned. “Aren’t you angry at him? Bitter?”
“Not as much as I was,” Sandra told her. “I blamed him terribly for what happened, but one day I looked at the truth and accepted that the fault was just as much mine. I was trying to control the future by demanding he leave his wife and marry me. I thought ruining someone else’s life would make my world more secure. I wanted to show my parents that I wasn’t the silly child they thought, that I had a plan. Your father was my means to an end.”
Sandra leaned back in her chair, closed her eyes.
“That isn’t love, Kelly,” she said sadly. “That’s using someone to get what you want. I wanted a home for my baby, legitimacy, a host of things. I wanted my own way. I didn’t love him the way a woman should love a man she intends to marry.”
“I’m sorry.”
“No, it’s good to face the truth, to let it cleanse you.” She met Kelly’s glance, nodded. “The hard truth is, I couldn’t have been the mother to you that Carol Young was. She understood the demands of a child, was prepared to sacrifice her own needs so that you would have the security and stability you needed.”
“She was a wonderful mother,” Kelly whispered.
“And you loved her dearly.” She smiled at Kelly’s surprise. “I don’t envy her that, my dear. She helped shape you into who you are today. If she were alive I could never thank her enough for loving you. She gave you a precious gift of motherhood that you’ll pass on to your children and they’ll pass on to theirs. God knew I couldn’t have managed that and so He worked it out so that you would benefit from my willfulness.”
“I never thought of it that way.” God had a reason for doing this? She mulled that over until Sandra began speaking again.
“Do you remember the Wednesday afternoons when Carol would bring you into the diner for a milk shake before your ballet class?”
Kelly nodded. “Very well.”
“I used to watch the two of you, chattering a mile a minute, and I’d think, there’s a woman who’s completely in tune with her child. She’s not thinking about what to make for dinner or how she’ll pay for the new carpeting. She’s let all of that go and she’s just basking in your presence.”
The memory was too poignant, Kelly couldn’t speak f
or the tears clogging her throat.
“That’s how our relationship with God is supposed to be, honey. We’re not supposed to fret about what could happen, what might take place next Thursday. We’re supposed to do the best we can with what we’ve got and give the rest to God. Then we can bask in His presence, really get to know Him and not just recite lists of what we need to keep our life exactly the same.”
“But I hate change, I hate not knowing what to expect.”
“But change is the only way we grow. Ross was telling me about a poinsettia you have. He thought it was so odd that you were disappointed it didn’t bloom at Christmastime when he couldn’t believe that it had actually bloomed at all. Do you see what I mean?”
“A matter of perspective.” Kelly nodded, her thoughts racing. “You mean I’m getting too caught up in the what-ifs and missing the what-ares.”
Sandra laughed. “Exactly.”
“I don’t know if I can let go of my need to control that easily,” she admitted. “It’s disconcerting to be tossed out of my comfort zone.”
“But my dear, what you’re really saying is that you can’t trust God to handle things, to be there when you need Him.”
“Am I?” She’d never thought of it that way before.
“I think so. And I think you do that because you fear change. Somewhere in your experience change became something to be afraid of. But look at the changes that have brought you where you are today.” She ticked them off on her fingers. “You had to leave home, go to college, take courses, pass exams, meet new friends, interview for jobs, learn how to run Tiny Blessings, get engaged, break it off. Those are all big changes, Kelly. But they’re also part of growing into adulthood, of leaving your mark on the world.”
“I never thought of it that way.” Kelly frowned as the ideas swirled in her mind. “You’re saying that moving away from home to go to college didn’t mean I was losing a home, it meant I gained a degree. Am I getting it?”