Carrie Turansky

by Seeking His Love

  The sedan pealed out. Cam jumped back.

  Rachel gasped. Her mind told her to turn and run, but her feet felt frozen to the sidewalk. The car raced down the street and around the corner.

  Cam hustled over to her. “Do you know who that was?”

  She swallowed hard, her mind spinning and her knees quivering like a bowl of Jell-O. The shadows had hidden the man’s features. It might have been Kyle. But why would he take her picture? Was he trying to frighten her—prove he could find her no matter where she went? That thought struck her like a punch in the stomach, and her knees felt as if they might give way.

  “Rachel?” Cam reached to steady her. “Did you recognize him?” His voice held more concern for her this time.

  “No…no I didn’t.” That was true, but it wasn’t the whole truth. She stepped away from Cam and crossed her arms.

  “Well, whoever he is, he followed you all the way from the Arts Center, and it’s not the first time.”

  Her head jerked up. “What?”

  “He followed you before, that day you left the Arts Center early so we could go shopping and fix up Kayla’s room.”

  Her mind flashed back to that afternoon, and she remembered the strange way Cam had acted when she’d pulled in the driveway a few minutes late. “Why didn’t you say something then?”

  “I wasn’t sure. I didn’t want to scare you.”

  She stiffened. “Well, I’d appreciate knowing next time you suspect something like that.”

  He put his arm around her shoulder. “I’m sorry. I should’ve told you.” His gentle tone soothed her for the moment. “Let’s go inside,” he added.

  She handed him his keys, then walked with him up the porch steps, still feeling unsteady. He unlocked the door and led her into the living room. Sasha rushed forward to greet them, her tail wagging.

  “Why don’t you sit down? I’m going to let her outside. I’ll be right back.”

  Rachel sunk onto the couch, closed her eyes and rubbed her temples. Would Kyle really follow her all the way up here from Seattle? How was she going to explain this to Cam? If she tried, would he believe her, or would he turn his back on her the way so many people had when they heard Kyle’s accusations?

  When it came to children’s safety, no one wanted to take a chance. She’d been presumed guilty, and even after the charges were dropped most people didn’t want to have anything to do with her. If that information ever became known here in Fairhaven, she’d lose her position as director of N.C.Y.T. for sure.

  Cam returned to the living room and crossed to the couch, his stance tense. “I think we should call the police.”

  Panic flashed through her. “No! I don’t want to do that.”

  He took a seat and reached for her hand. “Rachel, this is serious. He followed you home at least twice, and I’m pretty sure I’ve seen that same car parked at the Arts Center a few other times.”

  Cam’s warm hand tightened around hers, but that only drove her panic deeper.

  If they called the police, she’d have to tell them about the investigation in Seattle. Cam would hear the whole story, and she’d end up looking like a liar, a fool or much worse. Her stomach twisted into a tight knot. She pulled her hand away. “I don’t want to get the police involved.”

  A tense silence stretched between them for several seconds. “Why do I get the feeling you’re not telling me everything?”

  Her throat burned. She got up. “I’m tired, Cam. I just want to go upstairs and go to bed.”

  He stood, and his piercing blue gaze pinned her in place. “I want to help you, Rachel. But I can’t do that if you won’t tell me what’s going on.”

  She looked around the room trying to buy some time. She had to tell him something, but she couldn’t admit her own humiliating part of the problem. “I…have an idea who it might be, but I’m not sure.”

  Cam tensed. “Who?”

  “One of the reasons I left Seattle was because a former student was…following me.”

  Cam scowled. “Why didn’t you tell me that before?”

  “The whole thing is embarrassing. And it might not even be him.”

  “So…this former student have a crush on you, or was he off mentally?”

  “Probably a little of both.”

  “Did you tell the police?”

  “Yes. But he never made any verbal threats, so they told me to ignore him and pretend his skulking around didn’t bother me.”

  Cam growled. “So it was fine with the police if he followed you around as long as he didn’t say anything threatening?” He lifted his hands. “That’s ridiculous!”

  “They told me I could file charges against him, but his father is a lawyer, so I didn’t think I’d win. And at the time I had no job and no money to take him to court.”

  “So that’s when you left Seattle and came to Fairhaven?”

  “Yes. I thought that would put enough distance between us, and he’d leave me alone.”

  “So how old is he?”

  “Nineteen, maybe twenty by now.”

  Cam frowned. “The guy in the car looked older than that.” He studied her, looking unsettled.

  She shifted away from him, unable to take his scrutiny any longer. She hated holding back the rest of the story, but she couldn’t risk his rejection. Not tonight. “It’s late. I should go.”

  He reached for her hand. “Rachel, wait. I’m sorry. I don’t mean to give you a hard time about this. I just don’t like the idea of some guy following you around.” He pulled her in for a hug.

  Tears burned her eyes.

  Tell him the rest. Don’t let your fear and pride build a wall between you.

  But she pushed that thought away and hugged him tighter.

  “I won’t let anyone hurt you,” he whispered and kissed the top of her head. “I promise.”

  A wave of guilt crashed over her heart. What would he say if he knew the rest of the story?

  Kayla stood and gave Rachel a hug. “Thanks for letting me come up and talk to you. I really needed another woman’s point of view.”

  Rachel held back a grin. “Any time. You’re always welcome.”

  “Uncle Cam is great, but he just doesn’t get guy-girl relationships.” Her face flushed and she bit her lip. “I mean, teenage relationships. He’s probably great with adult guy-girl stuff.” Now her face flamed. “Oh man, I better stop before I say something really awful.”

  Rachel laughed. “It’s okay. I understand what you mean.”

  “Now you can see why I have so much trouble talking to Ryan.”

  “Don’t worry.” Rachel gave Kayla a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “Just relax and be yourself.”

  “Okay. Thanks.” She glanced at the kitchen clock. “I better go. Uncle Cam said I have to unload the dishwasher before I go over to Lindsey’s. We’re having a chick-flick movie night.”

  “Sounds fun.” She followed Kayla down the steps.

  At the door, Kayla turned and looked up at Rachel. “One more thing …”

  “What’s that?”

  “Thanks for praying for my mom. Her last test results were a little better.” Her blue eyes shone as she relayed the news.

  Rachel touched Kayla’s cheek. “You hold on to hope. God will carry you through this.”

  Kayla gave her another quick hug, then stepped out the door. “Thanks, Rachel. See you tomorrow.”

  “Bye, sweetie.” Rachel followed her out to the side porch. She wished she could repeat her advice about being careful with her heart, but she didn’t want Kayla to think she’d get a lecture each time she came to visit. Keeping the lines of communication open by doing a lot of listening seemed to be the best way to strengthen their relationship.

  As Kayla trotted around the side of the house, a short bald man in a brown knit shirt and tan slacks approached the porch. He slowed and looked up at Rachel.

  Apprehension prickled along Rachel’s arms. Less than twenty-four hours ago, she’d realized someone wa
s stalking her again. This man didn’t look threatening, but she didn’t recognize him.

  He stopped at the bottom of the steps. “Rachel Clark?”

  She straightened. “Yes?”

  “My name is Allen Thayer. I’m a private investigator.” He mounted the porch steps, pulled a card from his pocket and handed it to her.

  She glanced at the card, confirming his name and occupation. His Chicago address sent a wave of uncertainty through her. “What can I do for you?”

  “I’ve been hired by John Harding to search for his daughter, Rose Marie Harding.”

  Rachel narrowed her eyes. “I don’t know anyone by either of those names.”

  “You might not remember him, but I believe John Harding is your father.”

  The shocking words hit Rachel like a jolt of electricity. She grabbed the porch rail. “What?”

  “Birth records show your name was originally Rose Marie Harding. It was changed to Rachel Marie Clark just before your third birthday after your mother moved from Chicago to Seattle and divorced your father.”

  “How do you know that?”

  He cocked his head. “Ms. Clark, I’m a private investigator. That’s what we do.”

  An idea flashed into her mind. She glanced past him to the street where a dark sedan sat parked at the curb. “You’re the one who’s been following me.”

  The cockiness faded from his expression. “I’m sorry about last night. I didn’t mean to upset you or your boyfriend.”

  She ignored his comment about Cam. “Why did you take my picture?”

  “I told your father I was certain I’d found you. But he wanted to see a photo first.”

  “You sent him my picture? What did he say?”

  A slight grin returned to Thayer’s face. “He said, ‘She looks just like her mother, but she’s got my eyes.’”

  Rachel gasped. “I don’t believe this.”

  “I assure you it’s the truth. Your father’s been searching for you for quite a while.”

  Confusing thoughts tumbled through her mind. “What does he want?”

  “He wrote a letter explaining everything.” Thayer pulled an envelope from his pocket and held it out to her.

  Her fingers trembled as she took it.

  “Don’t worry. He has good intentions. I wouldn’t take the case if he didn’t.” With that, he turned and walked down the steps. At the bottom, he stopped and looked over his shoulder. “I’d say this is your lucky day, Ms. Clark.”

  She leaned against the railing for support. How could this be true? Her father was an angry, dangerous man who had a serious drinking problem and a heavy-handed approach to getting his way. At least that was what her mother had always said.

  Rachel had convinced herself it was better not to know a man like that. Yet, in a secret corner of her heart, she’d always longed to know he loved her enough to come and find her.

  Now that she held his letter in her hands, she didn’t know if she had the courage to open it.

  Cam poured himself a glass of iced tea and set the pitcher back in the refrigerator. The front screen door slammed, and a few seconds later Kayla trooped into the kitchen.

  “So, you and Rachel have a good visit?”

  “Yeah.” The tense lines around Kayla’s eyes and mouth had disappeared, and her mood seemed much brighter.

  Having Rachel upstairs had worked out so much better than he’d ever imagined. Her input in Kayla’s life was priceless, and he certainly liked having her close by. He grinned and took a sip of his tea. “Hey, did you return that sweater you borrowed from her?”

  “Oh, sorry. I forgot.” Kayla popped the dishwasher door and lifted out the utensil rack.

  Cam downed the last of his tea. “That’s okay. I’ll run it up to her.”

  “Maybe you should wait. I think she’s got company.”

  He frowned slightly. “Oh yeah, who?”

  “Some guy I’ve never seen before.”

  Cam tensed, and his frown deepened.

  Kayla grinned. “Don’t worry, Uncle Cam. I don’t think he’s gonna steal her heart. He didn’t look like her type at all.”

  Cam headed toward the back door. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

  An uneasy feeling urged him on as he hustled around the house. He spotted Rachel sitting on her top porch step, alone. “Kayla said you had a visitor. Everything okay?”

  She blinked and looked up at him, her face pale. “I…I don’t know.”

  Cam sat down next to her. “Who was it?”

  She released a shuddering breath. “A private detective who was hired by…my father. He’s the one who’s been following me. He gave me this letter.” She looked down at the envelope in her hands.

  “Wow. What does it say?”

  “I don’t know. I’m afraid to open it.”

  Cam’s heart twisted, and he put his arm around her shoulders. “Hey, it’s gonna be okay.”

  She brushed a tear from the corner of her eye. “I don’t know why I’m crying. I should be happy. But this all just came out of the blue. I had no idea he was looking for me.” She pulled in a sharp breath and turned to him. “What if he wants to meet me?”

  He tucked a strand of her silky hair behind her ear. “Just take it one step at a time.” He nodded toward the letter. “Why don’t you open it and see what he says?”

  She fiddled with the envelope a moment more, then tore it open and pulled out the letter. “‘Dear Rose,’” she read aloud.

  “Wait, why is he calling you Rose?”

  “Apparently, that was my name until my mom changed it.”

  “Okay. Go ahead.”

  “‘I am thrilled this letter has finally reached you. Even though we have been apart for many years, you have always been on mind and in my heart. I’ve missed you very much, and I hope, now that you are grown, we will have an opportunity to get to know each other again.’” Emotion choked off her voice.

  His heart clenched, watching her. “You want me to read it?”

  “No. I want to do it.” She cleared her throat and started again.

  “‘I am sorry for all the pain and heartache I caused you and your mother. Thinking back and remembering how I treated you both is one of the biggest sorrows of my life. I was young, foolish and selfish, and I lacked the character and courage I needed to deal with my out-of-control drinking and abusive behavior. Losing you and your mother was a terrible blow, but it took three more years before I finally admitted my problems and asked for help.

  “‘By God’s grace and with the help of my friends at AA, I have been clean and sober for twenty years. I married a wonderful, caring woman named Nina eighteen years ago. We have a son, Jason, seventeen, and a daughter Courtney, fifteen. They are great kids who are doing well and making their old dad proud.

  “‘I worked in construction for a number of years, and now have my own company with more than forty employees. We build retail and office buildings all over Chicago.

  “‘Though I have had a good life, not knowing where you were or what was happening in your life has been very hard for me. I have searched for you several times over the years, hoping and praying I would find you.

  “‘I would love to hear how you are doing, and if you are willing, I would like to start rebuilding our relationship. But the choice is up to you. I will understand if you decide not to contact me. But I am hoping and praying you will.

  “‘With love from your father, John Harding’”

  She released a trembling breath, her gaze still focused on the letter.

  Cam gently rubbed her shoulder. “So what do you think?”

  “He certainly seems different than the way my mom always described him.”

  “Sounds like he’s changed a lot since you and your mom left.”

  She folded the letter, her face an unreadable mask.

  “So…are you going to call him?”

  She slipped the letter in the envelope. “I want to talk to my mom first.”

&nbs
p; Cam scanned her face. “You don’t need her permission to contact your dad. You’re an adult.”

  Her expression tightened. “I know. But she’s the one who raised me. She’s been there for me all these years. I think I owe it to her to listen to her perspective.”

  Disappointment coursed through Cam. “You are going to call him, though, aren’t you, after you talk to your mom?”

  She pushed off from the step and stood. “How do I know if he’s telling the truth? Maybe he made all this up.”

  “Why would he do that?” Cam stood and faced her. “He’s obviously sorry for the way he treated you, and he’s trying to make up for it.”

  “Why are you defending him?”

  “I’m not, I just think your emotions might be clouding the picture a little.”

  She crossed her arms and turned away, but not before he saw the hurt in her eyes.

  He touched her shoulder. “I’m trying to help. I don’t mean to push.”

  “Well, you are pushing, and I don’t appreciate it.”

  He was quiet for a few seconds. “I’m sorry, but it reminds me of what happened between me and my dad.”

  She glanced over her shoulder. “What do you mean?”

  “About three months before he died, we had a big argument. The next day my dad called, but I wouldn’t answer. I wanted to punish him for confronting me, and show him I was old enough to make my own choices. Then he wrote me a letter and apologized. But I didn’t return his calls or answer the letter. In fact, I never spoke to him again.” He stopped and swallowed, still feeling the terrible weight of that decision. “Then he died, and it was too late to tell him I was sorry and that I loved him.”

  He took her hand. “Don’t make that same mistake. I know it seems like a huge risk to put your heart on the line and contact him, but think about what you could gain if he really is the man he says in that letter.”

  Tears pooled in her eyes, and her chin trembled.

  “Call him and work things out while you’ve got the chance.”

  She pulled away. “You have no idea what his choices cost me or my mom, or the pain we had to live with for all these years. So don’t tell me what to do.” She dashed into her apartment and jerked the door closed behind her.