Rachel Laine
The Women of Merryton – Book Three
By Jennifer Peel
© 2016 by Jennifer Peel. All Rights reserved.
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To my father-in-law, the best dad a girl could ask for.
Special thanks to my aunt Nancy, for her valuable insight into Colorado politics and for serving the people of my home state so well all these years.
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty- Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Epilogue
Chapter One
“Rachel Laine, Andrew Turner is here to see you,” Liza, our receptionist, informed me by phone.
“Andrew Turner?” I wasn’t expecting anyone that afternoon, and the name Andrew Turner sounded familiar, but I couldn’t place it.
“You know, the Andrew Turner?” She whispered, trying to be covert.
I still wasn’t getting it.
“Andrew Turner, the all-star pitcher for the Bears.” She made it sound like I was completely dense. I also detected a hint of excitement in her voice when she said his name.
I thought for a moment and remembered—he was the guy Cheyenne was after for awhile, or maybe still was. It was hard to tell with her. I wondered, though, why he would be here to see me. Perhaps he’d bought a new home in our lovely mountain town of Merryton and he needed it insured. Regardless, there wasn’t a good reason not to see him, so I told her to send him back.
Within a minute, there was a knock on my door. I opened the door to find very familiar eyes staring at me. So familiar, I almost gasped. There was no mistaking the liquid-gold amber framed with dark brown eyelashes. Those eyes had gotten Drew his way on more occasions than one. They were the reason we had a dog, a later bedtime, and a myriad of other things I’d said we would never have. But at that moment, they were staring right at me and they were making me feel anything but the love I normally felt when I saw those eyes.
My first thought was, why didn’t Sydney tell me that this was the Andrew? My second thought was to slam the door in his face.
He cleared his throat as I glared at him, unable to find utterance.
“Sydney—” He shook his head. “I’m sorry. I meant Rachel; it’s just, you look so much alike.”
I hadn’t been called Sydney in ages and it stung. After eight years, there wasn’t a day that went by that I didn’t think of her or miss her. Sometimes Drew would say something or make a face, and I would see her. It made me realize she hadn’t entirely left me, but sometimes in those moments, I missed her so much I physically ached.
Him saying her name, though, made me angry. He had no right to speak her name, like he had no right to be here.
“Yes, well that’s what happens when you share a placenta with someone for nine months.”
He cracked a smile. I recognized that crooked grin.
“Anyway” he said, “I’m looking for Sydney. I’m hoping you can help me find her.”
I began to tremble slightly. I felt my own face become pale. He didn’t know.
He must have noticed my reaction. “Is there something wrong?”
I motioned for him to come in. “Have a seat.” I pointed to my couch.
He sat on one end and I sat as far on the other side as I could. We stared at one another for a moment. I couldn’t believe my son’s father was Andrew Turner, and here he was sitting in front of me, clueless that I was raising the son he never knew or cared to find. He looked confused.
“Mr. Turner.”
“Andrew, please.”
I didn’t want to call him anything but foul names, but I refrained. “Sydney passed away a little over eight years ago.”
His tanned faced suddenly drained its color. “I’m sorry, I had no idea. How did she die? I’m sorry, that's none of my business.”
It was more his business than he knew. “In childbirth,” I responded coldly, with a knowing look. Yes, I wanted to say. I know it’s you.
He gave me a meaningful look as he pulled out a letter and handed it to me.
I took it carefully and unfolded it. I recognized the handwriting immediately.
Dear Andrew,
I’m going back home to Merryton. I know you don’t believe this baby is yours, but it’s true. Can’t you see by my leaving how much I care about you? I know I said some things I shouldn’t have, but I never wanted to ruin your career, or like you said, use you because of your fame. I only wanted you to care about me like I care about you. More importantly, I wanted you to love our baby.
I’m not sure where I will go after our baby is born, but if you ever want to know where we are, contact my sister, Rachel Laine. She always knows where I’m at.
With Love,
Sydney
I could barely read the last sentences through my tear-filled eyes. I remembered how depressed she was before Drew was born. It was so unusual for her, but I think she really had cared about this man in front of me. Our whole lives, she had been the life of the party. We may have looked identical, but in personality we were complete opposites. I followed the rules and she burned the rule book. I cried when I got a B in school and she rejoiced when she passed with a D.
I handed back the letter and stood up to retrieve a tissue from my desk.
“What happened to the baby?”
I tried to compose myself. I didn’t want to tell him about Drew. He didn’t deserve to know, and a sudden thought occurred to me. What if he wanted to take him away from me? Could he? Legally, Drew was mine, but could a biological father change that even after all this time? I felt ill at the thought and grabbed my desk.
“Rachel, please.”
I closed my eyes and breathed out. “Why do you want to know?”
“I’m contemplating running for office and I need to make sure there isn’t anything from my past that could impede my ability to win.”
I whipped around. “You’re only worried
he could be a liability to your campaign?”
“No, that sounds terrible. I meant …” He rubbed the back of his neck nervously as he tried to dig himself out of the huge hole he’d dug, but then I watched as what I had said dawned on him. “Did you say he?”
I turned and grabbed one of the many framed pictures of Drew off my desk. This particular one was his latest school photo, his huge grin showcasing his two missing front teeth. Teeth or no teeth, he was the most handsome boy with his sandy brown hair and dimples. He had a smile that melted my heart. I looked at the photo and then at the man in front of me. There was no mistaking it—Andrew Turner was my son’s father.
Andrew took the photo and studied it. I saw the spark of recognition in his eyes. He had to know it was his son.
“My son, Drew, is in third grade and he is the best kid to ever walk the face of this earth.”
Andrew looked up at me and slowly handed back the picture. “He looks happy.”
“He is.”
“I need to know if he’s really mine.”
“Why? Are you planning on being part of his life now?”
“No.” He shook his head. “I mean, I don’t know. It’s just important I know.”
I narrowed my eyes at him and he squirmed. “If you’re worried about whether or not Drew and I will adversely affect your precious campaign, let me put your mind at ease. Drew has no idea who you are. He doesn’t even know your name. I didn’t even know your full name until today. So you can walk out that door now and keep pretending like Drew never existed. I promise we will do the same for you.”
If I could have clawed his eyes out, I would have. How dare he come in here after all these years, and how dare he only be worried about himself. Part of me was relieved that he seemed to want nothing to do with my son, but what kind of man waits eight years to find out if he really fathered a child? From the looks of it, a selfish man.
He stood up and I wasn’t sure what the look on his face meant. Relief, perhaps?
“Would you allow a paternity test?”
The audacity. “I don’t see why that’s necessary.”
Again with the neck rubbing. “If he’s mine, I want to fulfill my financial obligation.”
“Your financial obligation?” I scoffed. “Don’t you think you should have thought about that when my twenty-one-year-old sister told you she was pregnant?”
“Look,” he raised his voice, “I know I’ve made some mistakes here, but I’m trying to right them.”
“No, what you’re trying to do is cover them up by writing a check. You can keep your money; we don’t want it or need it. Drew has always been well taken care of.”
“Rachel, I didn’t mean to imply that he wasn’t, I just want to …”
“Cover your tracks.” I finished for him.
He hung his head down.
“Don’t worry, Mr. Turner, your secret won’t leave this room, so feel free to announce your candidacy for whatever it is you are running for. From what I can tell, you already have the makings of a fine politician.”
He stared hard at me with those eyes of his. I wished he wouldn’t. I could read them well, and right now they were pleading for understanding. But I couldn’t understand a father not wanting to know his son, especially Drew. My Drew.
He didn’t respond.
“Excuse me, I need to leave. It’s time for me to pick up my son from school.” I pushed my way past him and left him in my office.
I seethed all the way over to Mountain Brook Elementary, but once in the car line, I began to worry. All of the what if’s began to accumulate. I didn’t like the fact he knew about Drew and where to find us. I also could no longer tell Drew that I had no idea who his father was. From time to time, he would ask, and I knew it was natural for him to want to know—even part of me was curious. I would have never guessed in a million years that Sydney had a famous secret. No wonder she never wanted to say. If I told Drew who he was, would he want to meet him?
Call me selfish, but I didn’t want to share Drew, especially with someone that obviously cared only about himself. Part of me had always felt like an impostor since I didn’t give birth to him. I knew it was dumb, but I couldn’t help it. Drew knew I wasn’t his biological mother. He knew I was really his aunt, but he had always called me Mommy or Mom. Since Sydney and I were genetically identical, he did look like my son, but he looked more like Andrew Turner’s son.
Andrew Turner looked a lot like I had pictured Drew’s father to be. He was tall and handsome with those unusual amber eyes. He wasn’t an unapproachable handsome. You know, the kind of man that was way too good looking and every woman was attracted to. No, he was only nice looking, but I bet his profession had women throwing themselves at him. Women like my sister and Cheyenne. I probably shouldn’t have been surprised Sydney chose someone like him. She loved the limelight, but she also loved the ridiculously attractive men, too. Andrew didn’t really look like her type. Truth be told, he was more my type, minus the self-centeredness. That is, if I had a type or the time.
I tried to forget about him, but seeing my little guy—who wasn’t so little anymore—was a glaring reminder. I didn’t need a paternity test to tell me that Andrew Turner was his father, my eyes and heart could do that.
I smiled at my son when he climbed into our Grand Cherokee. “Hey, big guy.”
“Hi, Mom.”
I loved that title more than any other, and today in particular it made my heart melt.
I watched and waited for him to buckle himself in the backseat. “What was your favorite part of school today, besides recess and lunch?” I could see him grin in the rearview mirror. I asked the same thing every day.
He thought for a moment before his eyes lit up. “Andy laughed so hard that milk came out of his nose.” The thought made him laugh. His laughter was contagious, so I had no choice but to laugh as well.
After we calmed down and were back on the road to the office, I asked my other usual, “Did you learn anything interesting today?”
“Nope,” he responded.
“Nothing at all?”
“Mom, I told you school is soooo boring. I already know everything.”
“That’s great, because I was hoping you could take over my job.”
“Mom …”
“Well, since you know everything.”
“Okay, maybe not everything.”
“Then I guess I’ll keep my job and you can keep going to school.”
He rolled his eyes at me. I knew he really liked school, especially the social part, but he was too smart for us both at times. The school had talked to me about moving him up a grade, but he was already one of the youngest in his class with a July birthday, so I declined. My only concession was to let him go to fourth grade for math.
I noticed my dad’s old truck in the parking lot when we pulled up. Drew did, too, and wasted no time in unbuckling himself as soon as I stopped. He was out the door and running into the office before I could make it to the curb. I credited him for my still slim figure—who needed diet and exercise when you had an energetic boy to chase after?
When I walked in, Liza gave me my messages and a mischievous smile. “So how was your meeting with Andrew Turner?”
“Nothing to report. Please forget he was ever here.”
I think she thought it was a personal call and was falsely interjecting her own misguided thoughts. She was around my age and constantly asking if I wanted to meet this person or that person, or double date with her and her boyfriend, Hank. I’d always declined. Drew was the only man I needed or wanted in my life at the moment. Liza found that hard to understand. She thought I was wasting my youth. I thought I was using my time wisely.
My dad and Drew were in my office waiting for me. Drew already had his things spread across the small conference table situated in the corner. Drawing was one of his and my favorite activities when I could find the time. I kept a drawer full of art supplies in my desk for him.
My dad gr
eeted me with a kiss on the cheek. “How’s my girl?”
“Eh,” I responded. I’d had better days to be sure.
His eyes narrowed. “Everything okay?”
“I hope so.”
He still looked confused.
I looked to Drew. “Let’s talk about it later,” I said for his ears only.
He nodded and left my side to join Drew.
As I looked at the two of them, I sighed. I wasn’t sure what to tell my dad. If I told him the truth, he would have no problem tracking down Andrew Turner and tearing into him. Both my parents partly blamed Sydney’s death on Drew’s previously unknown father. Before she delivered, they blamed it all on her, but when someone you love dies, all that remains is the good, and she left the best part of herself in Drew.
At times, I admit, my parents were almost comical when they reminisced about Sydney. Instead of being wild, she had unbridled passion that should be admired. She was no longer lazy, but knew how to savor the moments. I guess they forgot about all of the times she called begging for money, or when the dean from the community college personally called my parents and told them to quit wasting their money. How about when she came home eight months pregnant and they told her she wasn’t welcome so she came and stayed with me in Boulder? I was finishing up the summer term at Colorado University at the time. I only had one semester left before I finished my undergrad business degree with a minor in history. It was a weird mixture, I know.
I probably looked back with rose-colored glasses, too, but I will never forget the night she made me a mother. Sydney had practically zero prenatal care, so when she went into labor, we had no idea what we were in store for that night. Her placenta had grown too deep and had attached to her bladder. It’s a rare condition, and she should have been monitored, but Sydney never did anything by the book. It cost her her life. The doctors tried frantically to save her, but they couldn’t get the hemorrhaging to stop. She didn’t even get to see Drew. I was the first arms he was placed into, and there he stayed.
I don’t know if there was anyone to blame for what happened to Sydney. I was honestly torn how to feel about it. I missed my best friend and sister more than words could say, but that night I was given the greatest gift and joy I had ever known. I guess the joy could be blamed on Sydney. But what about Andrew Turner? Where did he fit into all of this? My hope was that his part was all said and done.
Rachel Laine (The Women of Merryton Book 3) Page 1
