by EMILIE ROSE
“Who’ll watch her when you’re at work? She’s too old for day care. Are you going to leave her home alone when she’s emotionally vulnerable? That’s a recipe for disaster.”
Rachel’s stomach sank. She worked two to three twenty-four hour shifts per week, then volunteered at the local clinic or picked up an eight-hour shift at the hospital on her days off. She was rarely at home. But leaving a teen home alone definitely wasn’t an option—especially not in her neighborhood. What would she do with Chastity? Rachel had chosen to live in the inner city and help those who didn’t get even basic medical care. Her volunteer work within the community bought her protection, but she couldn’t guarantee it would extend to Chastity. Her apartment was no place for a young girl. She’d never willingly expose Chastity to the seamier side of life that she experienced daily or send her to the tough school near the apartment. As much as Rachel hated to leave her neighbors, she’d have to move.
“I haven’t hammered out all the details.”
“You need a plan before you pack her up and move.”
True. Instantly becoming a mother to the child she’d given birth to thirteen years ago terrified her—probably more now than it had then when she’d been less equipped but naively eager to try. Back then Hope had convinced her that a baby needed a parent who was stable and reliable. Rachel hadn’t been either.
Could she be now?
Yes, damn it. Yes. She didn’t know how, but she would be.
“Cut me some slack. I just lost my sister. I haven’t had time to think. By the time I’ve packed up Hope’s house and put it on the market, I’ll have a plan for Chastity.”
Her thoughts reeled over the long to-do list. Dealing with Hope’s estate was only the tip of the iceberg, according to the lawyer she’d met with before coming to school.
Matt’s concern for Chastity’s welfare sounded genuine, even though he had no idea the girl shared his DNA. That only confirmed what Hope had said all those years ago—that Matt was too good for Rachel. Back then he’d been a star quarterback with a future in the NFL after college. Rachel had been self-destructive and in trouble more often than not. She and a baby would have held him back.
Staring into his disapproving face, she truly believed she’d done the right thing when she’d severed the connection between the all-American boy and the black sheep of the Bishop family. No matter how many second thoughts she’d had, neither Matt nor Chastity had deserved being tied to the self-centered twit she’d been back then. Corrupting a truly good person, as her parents had reminded her often, was a sin. Yet no matter how hard Rachel worked to make amends for her mistakes, she could never change the fact that she’d robbed Matt and his wonderful family of the opportunity to know his child.
Did he have others? She surreptitiously glanced at his left hand. No ring. But that didn’t mean anything. And neither did the relief coursing through her. His marital status meant nothing to her. Nothing.
“Does Chastity have any family on her father’s side? We wanted to notify them but couldn’t find a name or number in Hope’s paperwork.”
Matt’s question jerked her back to the present with heart-thumping alarm. Her otherwise virtuous sister had lied to cover Rachel’s mistake, and Rachel didn’t know all the details of the story Hope had concocted. Best to say as little as possible.
“No.”
“You’re all she has?”
“Yes. My parents died before Chastity was born.” Losing them and relinquishing her baby in the same year had seemed just punishment for her misdeeds. She was alone in the world now, except for the daughter she couldn’t rightfully claim. Grief blossomed, but she crushed the bud.
“I’m sorry about your folks.”
She’d been a total disappointment to them. “Thanks.”
The door whooshed open a sliver and a dark-haired girl’s overly made-up face appeared in the gap. Recognition hit Rachel with the force of a tsunami. Shock followed. Chastity had grown up. The round-faced child Rachel had known was gone, replaced by a young woman with heavily painted brown eyes and overly teased hair.
“Aunt Rachel?”
Chastity’s sullen face resembled the one Rachel had seen in her own mirror when she’d been a student here. The haunted look in the girl’s eyes tore at Rachel’s heart. Empathy and love swelled within her. Her mouth dried. Nodding, she devoured the sight of the lanky teenager squeezing past Matt.
“Hello, Chastity.” She opened her arms.
Chastity hesitated, and it felt as if an elephant settled on Rachel’s chest. She bit her lip to stymie the sob building inside her. Then the girl launched forward. The impact of her body against Rachel’s nearly knocked her over. Rachel hugged her. It felt so good to hold her again. It had been so long. Five years too long. She squeezed tighter, never wanted to let go. She inhaled a shaky breath and choked on heavy perfume. That brought a smile to her lips. She and Chastity had so much in common.
It had been the hugs Rachel had missed the most since Hope had ended their visits. The unconditional love had been a close second. Chastity had actually loved her when it had seemed no one else did. Happy tears burned paths down her cheeks. She rocked gently and stroked Chastity’s tangled hair.
Chastity jerked away abruptly, swiping her eyes and smearing blue mascara across her cheekbones. She sniffed and tried to look cool, as if she hadn’t nearly broken Rachel’s ribs or soaked her shirt. “Glad you came.”
“Me, too.” Rachel had to force the words past her constricted throat.
“I didn’t think you would. I would’ve been okay if you hadn’t.” Chastity’s voice wobbled, and her chin tipped up in false bravado. She wore an expression that said the world had done her dirty, and she was fully prepared for it to do so again.
Rachel had been that same defensive girl. She dabbed her own cheeks and hoped Matt didn’t notice. “Fat chance of me not coming, kiddo. I’m sorry it took so long to get here. I was out in the wild with unreliable generators and intermittent electricity, radios instead of phones, and no internet.”
Chastity shuddered dramatically. “That’s roughing it.”
Then Rachel realized she now stood eye to eye with the child—one who’d developed hollows in her cheeks and curves in her breasts. The gap-toothed eight-year-old she remembered was on the brink of womanhood.
“Chastity, you’ve grown a foot.”
Chastity grinned. “Yep.” Then she leaned forward. “Thanks for the bras,” she whispered. “Mom said I was too young for one.” She glanced over her shoulder as if to make sure Matt hadn’t overheard.
“You’re welcome.” Those emails had kept Rachel going, and being allowed to order and ship occasional gifts to Chastity had helped her feel connected.
“Can we go now?” Chastity pleaded.
Matt shook his head. “Your aunt will have to sign you out, and I’d like to talk to you both about what put you in detention in the first place.”
“Aw, c’mon, Coach Johnston. I know what I did and I’m sorry. Stuff has been shit—tough lately. I’ve had church ladies praying over me nearly every minute and somebody in my grill worrying about every little thing ’til I’m about to crawl outta my skin. I just want to be left alone.”
Matt’s expression softened slightly. “Taking your frustrations out on others is never the answer.”
Chastity rolled her eyes. “I know. ‘God loves a gracious and forgiving person.’”
Chastity’s chanted words plunged Rachel into the past. That phrase had been yanked out every time Rachel had strayed from the narrow path of her upbringing—which had been pretty frequently. She’d come to hate the verse. Apparently Hope had carried on their parents’ tradition. That was a practice Rachel intended to break. Guilt and a sense of failure were not good leverage.
She shook off the restrictive feeling and gave Chastity a wink an
d a squeeze. “How do I spring this delinquent, Ma—Mr.—Coach Johnston?”
Matt’s brows lowered at her levity. “In here.”
He reentered room 127. Chastity grabbed Rachel’s hand and dragged her along. “Hey, everybody. This is my aunt Rachel. She’s a Life Flight helicopter nurse in Atlanta. When she’s not flying to nasty wrecks and stuff she travels all over the world with medical teams to rat-infested villages trying to save people from floods, Ebola, tsunamis and other noxious stuff.”
Matt’s head snapped around. The bubbles of pleasure Rachel was experiencing over the fact that Chastity sounded proud of her popped under Matt’s scrutiny.
“Is that right?” His inspection made her feel like bacteria under a microscope. He leaned his hip against his desk, crossing his long legs in front of him. His thigh muscles rippled with the movement, distracting Rachel. Matt still had an athletic body.
“Yes. I...um...volunteer my vacation time to work with a traveling medical team.”
“Perhaps you’d like to share some of your experiences with us. Tell us why you chose to go into nursing. If I remember correctly, that wasn’t your plan when you were their age.”
Rachel snorted. “I wanted to be a rock star back then. The fact that I sing like a scalded cat might have something to do with my change of heart.” Truth was, she’d wanted to do something that would make people—specifically, her parents—sit up and take notice of Rachel Bishop.
Smiling faces looked expectantly at her. Being the center of attention—something she’d once sought with nearly religious fervor—caused her skin to flush and her ears to burn. “Some other time.”
“I’ll hold you to that, Ms.—is it still Bishop?” Rachel nodded. “Career day is the last Thursday of school. I’ll add you to the docket.”
Standing in front of a gym filled with bored kids didn’t appeal to her. It sounded downright horrifying. She was hardly a sterling example to hold up to anyone, and next month she and Chastity would be back in Atlanta anyway.
“It’d be really cool to have someone interesting for a change, Aunt Rachel. We usually suffer through a bunch of boring old farts—”
“Chastity!” Rachel and Matt reprimanded simultaneously.
Chastity grimaced. “Well, who wants to grow up and be a mortician anyway?”
Several kids muttered agreement.
Rachel felt cornered but at the same time compelled to respond. “Somebody has to do it and do it correctly. Otherwise disease and vermin become a problem. I’ve witnessed that more than once overseas and even in our own country after natural disasters—” She caught Matt’s raised eyebrows in her peripheral vision. “Well, anyway. Another time. I’ll, uh...see about next month. Where do I sign Chastity out?”
Matt scooped up a pen and a sheet of paper. Their fingers touched when she took them from him, and a spark shot up her arm. Static electricity. That’s all it was. All she’d allow it to be. But the fact that he’d startled proved he’d felt it, too. Not something she wanted to contemplate.
He turned to Chastity. “Did you finish your essay?”
“It’s right there on your desk, Coach.”
“Then you can go. Rachel? We’ll talk later.”
She stiffened. His tone sounded like a threat.
“See you around,” Rachel said, hoping she wouldn’t, and steered Chastity toward the door.
If she saw Matt first, she’d avoid him, and if she didn’t see him again before she got out of Johnstonville, that would be fine with her, too.
* * *
HELL-RAISING RACHEL, a nurse? Hard to believe.
Matt tried to make sense of the past ten minutes, but the woman with the baggy clothes, falling-down hair and pale, makeup-free face bore little resemblance to the sexual fantasy creature from his memory.
The Rachel he remembered had been a red-lipped, hip-swinging, irreverent femme fatale bent on having a good time. She’d charged into his life and blitzed him off his feet like a defensive linebacker. He’d been raised by parents who lived by structure, rules and a very strict moral code. His dedication to sports and learning had only reinforced his disciplined attitude. He’d had no idea how to handle her. But he’d tried.
To Rachel, rules had been hurdles to circumvent. She’d find ten different ways to do the same old thing while he’d chosen proved methods. Her adventurous nature had captured his attention, but what had sucked him under like swirling white water had been the vulnerability she’d fought so hard to hide. He’d tried to save her from herself and ended up losing—a lot.
From the moment she’d kissed him under the mistletoe at a church party during Christmas break his junior year of college—a hot openmouthed kiss in the fellowship hall of all places—he’d been hooked on her brand of excitement. He’d held on for the ride of his life and loved every minute of it.
Her disappearance without explanation and her refusal to answer his letters had stunned, hurt and confused him, as if he’d hit a submerged river boulder when he’d thought the stream clear and deep. Until Hope had enlightened him years later, he’d wondered what he’d done to drive Rachel away. Hope had told him that Rachel had been bored in Johnstonville, and he’d been a diversion, nothing more.
A pencil dropped, forcing his focus back to the students shifting restlessly in their seats while they wrote, but it didn’t stay there long. This mature Rachel, with squared shoulders and deliberate movements, spoke of a confidence she hadn’t possessed as a teen. Her looser clothes flowed over her body in a way that hinted at the womanly shape they concealed. He found her natural beauty ten times more attractive than the attention-grabbing outfits that had once done a number on his hormones. Back then she’d been testing her womanly wiles, and he’d felt like a sixteen-year-old with a Ferrari. But he was older and wiser now. There would be no rekindling of his romance with Rachel. The fact that she was a flight nurse revealed she was still an adrenaline junkie. She’d just found a profitable way to exploit her need for thrills.
Matt pinched the bridge of his nose. He was losing his mind. He’d been born in Johnstonville and intended to die here. He had a long-standing family legacy of community service to fulfill—one he could not blow for a woman. He had the house with the white picket fence and a dog. All he needed to make his life perfect was a nice, churchgoing wife who could accept him as he was and give him children.
The woman who’d blown into his life like a hurricane was not a likely candidate. Life with Rachel would never be predictable or uncomplicated. Life with her sister, Hope, on the other hand, might have been.
CHAPTER TWO
RACHEL FELT AT least three sets of curious eyes watching her from the school office window as she put the car in gear. The sensation resembled a spider climbing her spine. She could almost hear the condemning whispers.
She’s a bad seed, that one.
How could someone like Hope be related to someone like her?
Her dear parents must have been so ashamed.
“Cool. A Mustang.” Chastity pushed knobs and twisted buttons. The radio blasted loud enough to rattle Rachel’s teeth. “I love red cars,” the teen shouted over the noise.
Rachel lowered the volume, earning a pout from Chastity. “Don’t get excited. It’s a rental.”
“What do you usually drive?”
“I don’t own a car, so I take public transit. I ride the MARTA or the bus.”
“The bus? You ride a stinking bus?”
“Public transportation is very good in Atlanta.” And a car in her neighborhood might get stripped or stolen.
“You’ll need a car here, and Mom’s...” Chastity’s hair flew as she quickly averted her face to stare out the window, blinking fast. “It’s toast.”
The broken words squeezed Rachel’s heart. Hope’s car had been totaled, the police officer had said.
He’d offered to text pictures, but Rachel had declined.
“I have this one for now.”
“So we’ll shop for one? A red one?”
Rachel’s heart sank. “Probably not, sweetie.”
“But how will we get around?” Worry tightened Chastity’s features.
“We’ll use the bus and MARTA.”
“You’re going back to Atlanta? But...where will I live?”
Rachel reached across the console and covered a knotted fist. “You’ll live with me.”
“Your apartment only has one bedroom, and your neighborhood stinks. Mom said it wasn’t even safe for us to visit.” Chastity pulled away to dig a lipstick out of her pocket. She flipped down the visor mirror and slathered on a bold red color that would look good on her in about twenty years.
“We’ll find a bigger place near good schools. Maybe even a house with a yard big enough to have a garden.”
“Mom has—had a garden.”
“I know.”
“I hated working in it. Bugs. Sweat. Weeds.”
Rachel didn’t point out that Chastity had often bragged in her emails about her section of the garden. “Okay. No garden. But I’ve never found tomatoes as good as your mom’s anywhere in the world. I was hoping you’d tell me her secret.”
Silence reigned, then Chastity blurted, “I don’t want to move.”
Rachel’s heart clenched with empathy. How many times had she said that? “Change is difficult, but together we’ll find the perfect place.”
“My friends are here.”
“I know. But you’ll make new friends, and we’ll visit your old ones.” Maybe. That would be risky.
“Does Atlanta have good shopping?”
“Second only to New York.”
“Good, ’cause you need an intervention. You’re a fashion ‘don’t.’”
Ouch. “I’m dressed for the heat and the ethics where I was working—and for traveling.”
“Yeah, well...you look like a bag lady.”
“Thanks, so much. I love you, too, kid.”