Banking On Love

by Anna James

This can’t be happening. Not after all her hard work. All the days, months, of late nights at the office and more hours on the computer at home after Emma went to bed. The countless school plays and choral concerts she’d missed. The relationships she’d forfeited to get the job done. She’d been willing to do all of it in order to achieve her goal, and where had the sacrifices gotten her? Out the door at the first sign of trouble. Why? None of it made any sense.

  Jarrod stood. “HR will be here in a moment to process your paperwork. In the meantime, we’ll need your computer and cell phone.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Rachel arrived at her home in Greenwich, Connecticut, at eleven that evening. She peered in the rearview mirror at the clothes and miscellaneous items haphazardly thrown into the backseat of the car and decided unpacking could wait until morning. She was too tired and still in a state of shock over losing her job to tackle the mess now.

  None of it made any sense. She’d never altered any documents provided to her for review, so how could the Board of Directors at Montgomery have proof she did? Why blame her, specifically? The line about her wanting to save her lover was a bunch of crap.

  Her conversation with Ethan the evening he’d come to Boston flashed into her mind. Was someone out to get her? No. Why would they? How could losing her job be related to the two car incidents and some bank account she hadn’t known existed?

  Yes, she’d finally come to the conclusion the bank account in question was probably hers. If what Ethan told her about Ryan’s illegal activities at the bank before his death was true, and the more she thought about it, the more she believed him, then Ryan opened the account in her name. But, who made those withdrawals? Did Ryan have an accomplice? Still, how did the account relate to the investigation at the bank and the documents she’d supposedly altered?

  She didn’t know, but needed to find out fast, and she knew just where to start her search for answers. The files she’d copied from Ryan’s personal computer. The jump drive was still in her purse.

  Rachel finally got out of the car, grabbed her handbag and entered the kitchen from the garage. She dropped her purse on the table and checked the answering machine for messages. While they played, she poured herself a glass of wine, swallowed down a mouthful and placed the glass down on the kitchen table.

  The next message played. “Are you there, Rachel?”

  The breath whooshed out of her and bile roiled in her belly. No damned way. For years she tried to make peace with her parents. They’d rejected every attempt. Now her mother wanted to speak with her. Why? What had changed since the last time she’d tried to clear the air? She ripped the ruby ring from her hand and flung it across the room. She didn’t care. They meant nothing to her.

  She reached for the machine to turn it off, not wanting to hear more of her mother’s message, and bumped into the table with enough force to jar the glass of wine. Liquid swirled and splashed everywhere. “Damn it!”

  Rachel grabbed the roll of paper towels to clean up the mess. Her jerky movements had the chair tumbling back and crashing to the floor. She tried to right the chair but toppled it over again when she moved passed. A strangled sob escaped. “Oh, no.” Exhausted and pushed beyond her breaking point, she sank to the ground and gulped in large gasps of breath. Tears burned in the backs of her eyes. No, damn it. She wouldn’t cry.

  Straightening her shoulders, Rachel stood and reached for the roll of paper towels. After wiping up the mess she picked up the ring and slipped it back on her finger, then hit the play button on the answering machine.

  “It’s Mom. Please give me a call as soon as possible.”

  The voice cracked, and Rachel heard the quick intake of breath before she continued.

  “Please, Rachel. Please call me,” she begged. “It’s your father… He’s dying of cancer.”

  Rachel stood in front of her childhood home and peered around. A lot had changed since she’d been here last. The lovely white wooden fence surrounding the homestead had fallen apart. Pickets had been removed or had simply rotted and fallen off.

  The once immaculate yard with lush green grass and large fruit trees lay unkempt. Dandelions long past their prime littered the ground. Hay-like patches of areas destroyed by grubs dotted the landscape.

  Paint chipped and peeled from the exterior of the white cottage, and the porch swing, which she’d loved to glide on during lazy summer afternoons, lay in a heap on the ground.

  What had once been a warm and welcoming home now seemed ugly and cold. Why had they allowed everything to fall into such disarray? Had her father been ill longer than her mother had known?

  She made her way to the front door, pausing on the porch. Would they even recognize her after all this time? Stop putting off the inevitable. She knocked. A middle-aged woman, whom she didn’t recognize, answered the door.

  The woman gazed at her with an inquiring expression on her face. “Can I help you?”

  “I’m here to see Frances and John Wilson.”

  “I’m sorry but they’re not receiving visitors at this time. They’ve retired for the evening. Please come back tomorrow.”

  The door began to close. A sea of red filled her vision. No way. Not after everything she’d gone through to get here. She stuck her foot in the opening. “Tell them Rachel is here.”

  The woman’s eyes widened and she drew in a startled breath. “You’re Frances’ daughter?”

  “Yes.”

  “Wait right here.”

  “I’ve been traveling all day, and I’d like to put my things down.”

  The woman frowned. “Oh, um—”

  “What’s going on?” a muffled voice asked from inside the house.

  The clip-clop of shoes echoed on the hardwood floors as someone inside approached. The woman at the door turned away from Rachel and spoke to the other person in hushed tones.

  “I’ll take care of this,” a frail voice responded.

  The woman stepped away from the opening, and Frances Wilson stepped in. She swung the door wide. A smile came over her face. “You’re here.” She gestured for Rachel to come in.

  Rachel stared at her mother. The years hadn’t been kind to her. She seemed older than her fifty-five years. Wrinkles etched her once smooth, youthful skin. Her shoulders hunched over, and her once vibrant energy had disappeared. Not the woman I remember. Lord, she hadn’t even recognized her voice.

  “Are you coming in?”

  She nodded and stepped into the hallway. Unlike the outside, nothing had changed in here. Everything remained the same as when she’d left, even the plants flanking each side of the sofa.

  Frances wrapped her arms around Rachel. “I’m happy you’re here.”

  Rachel stiffened and backed away. “Really?” She couldn’t help the note of skepticism in her voice.

  Frances grasped her hands and gave them a gentle squeeze, and it was everything Rachel could do not to jerk them away.

  “I understand your reluctance to trust me. Heaven only knows, I deserve your suspicion.” She kissed her cheek and guided her to the sofa. “But the answer is yes. Really. I love you, Rachel. I never stopped, and I meant what I said last night on the phone. I regret our separation. I always have.”

  Despite her sincerity, Rachel wasn’t buying it. “If you regret our estrangement, why didn’t you do something about it before this? It’s been almost thirteen years.”

  Frances turned away. “I let you down, and by holding up your father’s edict, I hurt you.” She turned back to face her. “For that, I’m sorry. More sorry than you’ll ever know. If I’d only prepared you better…”

  Rachel’s eyes widened as she absorbed the statement. Oh dear lord. “He blames you for the choices I made.”

  “I blame me.”

  She shook her head. “He blames you, too, and he shouldn’t. You weren’t responsible for my decisions.”

  Frances cringed. “He’s never said that.”

  Rachel stood and paced around the room. “He�
�s made us both pay for our so-called sins by keeping us away from each other. Do you realize how messed up that is?” When Frances said nothing, she asked, “Why did you stay with him all these years?”

  Frances let out a strangled laugh. “I’m from a different generation. We work through our problems. I love your father, in spite of his flaws. That may be hard for you to hear and understand, but I do. I love you too, Rachel—with all my heart. I want us to be a family again. Even if only for a short time. Can you forgive us?”

  Rachel gawked at her mother, astounded, she believed their issues would be resolved that easily. Yes, with time they could work through their problems, but to act as if nothing had happened… She couldn’t see how they’d do it.

  The woman from earlier walked into the living room. “Dinner’s ready.”

  “Are you hungry, Rachel?” Frances asked.

  The notion of putting anything in her stomach right now made her nauseous. “I’m fine. Don’t let me stop you and your friend from eating.”

  “Let me introduce you. This is Maris. She’s the hospice nurse who is caring for your father. Maris, this is my daughter, Rachel.”

  “Nice to meet you.” Rachel shook the outstretched hand. “How is he?”

  “He’s resting comfortably,” Maris replied.

  Rachel swallowed hard. “How much time?”

  Maris shook her head. “Not much, maybe another day or two at the most.”

  Rachel sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Can I see him?”

  “Sure. I don’t see why not.”

  She turned toward her mother, “Did you tell him I’d be coming?”

  Frances nodded.

  “And?”

  “He doesn’t want to see you. He—”

  Something inside her snapped. It could have been the stress piling up on her over the last few days, or maybe she was just sick and tired of the whole damned situation. One thing was certain. She wasn’t going to take his rejection lying down. “Well, that’s too damned bad because I’ve got something I want to say and I’ve come a long way to say it.”

  Frances placed a restraining hand on Rachel’s thigh. “Wait, I don’t want you to upset him.”

  Of course not. “But, you don’t care how upset I am?”

  “I didn’t say that. I realize this is hard on you.”

  Hard on me? Are you kidding? The man had called her a whore. Acted as if she didn’t exist for the last thirteen years and even on his deathbed he didn’t want to see her? “You have no idea.” She stood and strode to her parents’ bedroom. Darkness enveloped the small space except for the night light glimmering in the far corner. The sight of his frail body tore at her insides, and for a moment she wondered if the man lying in the bed was indeed her father. He didn’t resemble the man she remembered. His small, skinny frame laid lifeless on the bed. A wave of compassion washed over her. “Dad.”

  He coughed and wheezed. “Who’s there?”

  She twisted the ruby ring on her finger. “Your daughter.”

  He looked away. A long silence fell between them, then he spoke. “I don’t have a daughter. Not anymore.”

  The compassion evaporated. Her voice shook when she replied, “Yes—you—do. I’m standing right here in front of you and even though you refuse to acknowledge me, I am acknowledging you. I won’t live with the regret of not having tried to fix things between us one last time.” Rachel waited for him to say something, anything, but he remained silent. She placed her hand on his arm. “Dad—”

  “Go away.”

  “No. I’m not going anywhere. We need to talk before it’s too late.”

  “I told you to get out.” His chest heaved, and he started to cough. “I don’t have a daughter anymore.”

  Her mind drifted back to the night when everything changed.

  “I’m pregnant.”

  “No,” her father denied.

  “Yes. I took the test.”

  “No,” he shouted again. “You’re a good girl. I raised you to be a good girl. Good girls don’t do the things that can get them pregnant before they’re married.”

  “I’m sorry, Dad.”

  “Sorry isn’t good enough.”

  “Ryan and I will get married. No one will ever know.”

  “You’re right. No one will ever know that my daughter… sinned. As far as I’m concerned, I no longer have a daughter.”

  The last ray of hope she held winked out. He wouldn’t forgive her back then, and he wouldn’t forgive her now either, even on his deathbed. She turned her back on him and, with her head held high, walked out of the room. After closing the door, she leaned back against the wall. Silent sobs racked her body and she sank to the floor. Moments later warm arms enveloped her and rocked her gently.

  “I’m so sorry, baby,” her mother crooned. “I love you, and I never meant for you to come back and be hurt all over again. I really thought your father would want to fix things between you. Deep in his heart I know he loves you.”

  Rachel jerked out of her embrace. “No.” She scrubbed at her eyes and straightened her shoulders. “You don’t cut someone you love out of your life because they’ve made one little mistake.” An image of herself storming out on Ethan flashed into her head. Oh God. She’d done the same thing to him. A strangled sob escaped from her.

  Chapter Thirty

  Rachel walked into the living room the next morning and found her mother sitting on the sofa weeping.

  Maris held her close and offered comforting words. “He won’t suffer anymore.”

  “Is he gone?” she asked in a quiet voice.

  Both women looked up at her.

  “A few minutes ago,” Maris confirmed.

  Frances rushed over and threw her arms around Rachel. They held each other tight, and just like that the years of hurt, anger and betrayal melted away. She’d been wrong to believe they needed time to sort through their issues. It only took a willingness to forgive. A huge weight lifted from her heart. Finally, she had her mother back and for that she was thankful. She gave Frances a tearful smile. “I love you, Mom.”

  Frances trembled. “I love you, too.”

  Rachel wrapped an arm around her mother and turned to face Maris. “What happens now?”

  “I’ve contacted the authorities. They should be here soon. Why don’t you take your mother out for a while? She shouldn’t be here when they take him away.”

  Frances shook her head. “No. I want to be here. I need to say good-bye. Will you come with me, Rachel?”

  Rachel flinched. She didn’t want to see him again. Not after the way things ended last night. Lord, why had he been so narrow-minded, so inflexible in his beliefs? Why couldn’t he love me? That’s what it came down to for her. She’d been telling herself for years he didn’t matter. She didn’t need his love or approval, but it had been a lie. She stared down at the ruby on her finger, the ring her father had given her for her eighteenth birthday. Not only had she wanted his love, she’d craved it.

  For too long now she’d been seeing herself through his eyes—someone unworthy of being loved. That stopped now. He was gone, and even though he couldn’t forgive her, she didn’t have to continue living with the pain, resentment, and regret of the past.

  Rachel nodded and grasped the hand her mother offered. “I’ll go into the bedroom with you.”

  Frances sat on the chair next to the bed. She leaned down and whispered something Rachel didn’t catch, then kissed his cheek. She peered up at Rachel with tears in her eyes. “Okay, I’m ready now.”

  “I need a minute more.”

  “Take your time. I’ll wait for you in the living room,” Frances replied.

  Rachel sat in the seat her mother vacated. A memory from her childhood flashed into her mind. She must have been about five or six years old. They were running around in the backyard on a bright and sunny afternoon. Laughter filled the air. Her father had a big smile on his handsome face as he chased after her. “You can’t get me, you ca
n’t get me,” she’d chanted and danced out of his reach. He quickened his pace and wrapped his arm around her waist. She let out a squeal of delight when he lifted her in the air and tickled her. They’d been happy back then. Who would have guessed their relationship would end this way?

  “Oh, Daddy, I know I disappointed you, but Emma is such a blessing, and I’ll never be sorry for having her. I wish you could have known her. You would have loved her as much as I do. I’m not sure why you couldn’t find it in your heart to forgive me, but I want you to know I forgive you, and I love you.”

  She didn’t cry. There wasn’t any reason to. “Good-bye.” She lifted the blanket to cover him.

  Rachel returned to the living room and found her mother staring out the front window. “Let’s go for a short ride. It’ll do us both good to get out for a little while.” She guided her mother to the door.

  “You can come back in about half an hour,” Maris whispered into Rachel’s ear.

  Rachel nodded, grabbed their coats from the closet and led her mother to the car.

  They sat in silence for long moments, then Rachel started the engine and backed out of the driveway.

  “Tell me about Emma.”

  Rachel smiled. “She’s the light of my life.” She fished inside her purse, pulled out her wallet and handed it to her mother. “There are pictures of her inside. Take a look.”

  Frances opened the wallet and flipped through the photos. “She’s beautiful. Oh, and she has your eyes. But where did all that gorgeous brown hair come from? We only have blonds in our family.”

  “Her father.”

  Frances cast a curious expression in her direction. “How did you meet him?”

  “In my English Literature class.”

  “What was he like?”

  Rachel’s mind drifted back to the day they’d first met. Knowing no one, she’d come into the lecture hall and taken a seat in the back, away from the other students. Ryan came in a short time later. To her utter amazement, he sat down beside her and aimed a dazzling smile in her direction. “He was charming and sweet.”