by Lois Richer
“Not yet. But I’ve found out some troubling things about her.” He sucked in a breath, hating to say the words because that would somehow make them real. “As I told you, there’s only a little information and that covers the two years after Giselle’s birth. After that there’s nothing, at least nothing I can uncover.”
“Only two years?” Alicia’s dark eyes fixed on something unseen. She gnawed on her bottom lip for a few moments before looking directly at him. “Tell me what you’re worried about.”
“I’m worried she might have lived on the street.” The way she stared at him told Jack Alicia was thinking along the same lines. “How can I tell Giselle that?”
“I don’t know, but I think you have to tell her the truth or she’s going to make up her own truth. In fact, she’s already doing it.” Alicia sighed. “Maybe you don’t realize this, Jack, but Giselle now sees herself as partly Native Canadian. She’s comparing herself with me and glamorizing my life into some kind of fairy-tale dream. It’s utterly unrealistic.”
“Because she wants to be like you,” Jack said, recognizing the truth.
“I don’t believe she understands who I am.” Alicia frowned, trying to figure out a way to make him comprehend. “She’s got this idealized image in her head, like a movie character that sails above life’s problems and biases.”
“I know.” Jack made a face. “When she was little she used to watch a video called Pocahontas. She watched it over and over. We probably fed into her fantasy by giving her an Indian maiden outfit for dress up.” He felt like an idiot saying this in front of a woman who’d struggled with her Native identity. “Neither I nor Simone knew a thing about your culture.”
“Jack.” Alicia smiled as she touched his arm with the tips of her fingers. “You don’t owe me any explanation.”
“No.” But that didn’t stop the memories from washing back like a tidal wave. “Simone was a great mother. She got into the spirit of the thing with Giselle, chasing her, playing bow and arrows in the backyard.”
“Tell me about Simone, Jack.” Alicia’s soft voice drew him in, reassuring, comforting.
It had been so long since he’d talked about her, shared the details of his loss. For a moment he got lost in reminiscing. With that came wrenching, gutting pain. They’d been solid, together, a family. Could he be that for Giselle now? It seemed impossible.
“Tell me,” she prodded.
“Are you sure?” He smiled with self-mockery. “Sometimes I think I talk about her too much.”
“You can tell me anything,” Alicia said. “Just let yourself talk.”
So he did. He told her how lucky he’d felt to be Simone’s husband, how beautiful she was and how she seemed to do everything with style and grace. But as he talked, Jack realized that the memories that had once caused pain had now lost their sting. He also realized he was beginning to forget her voice, her perfume, her laugh. That bothered him so much he let his voice trail away. When he looked back to Alicia he found her studying him, a faint frown on her lips.
“I’m sorry,” he muttered. “I’ve talked too long.”
“Not at all. It’s clear that you loved your wife very much.” She paused. “It’s just—”
“Yes?” He waited, puzzled by her hesitation yet sensing she had something important she needed to say. “What?”
“I don’t want to hurt you, Jack. I’d never want that.” Alicia cleared her throat. “But the way you talk about Simone, it’s clear you idealized her. Maybe that’s why Giselle is so determined to meet her birth mother— perhaps she’s afraid she could never meet the high standard you’ve painted of Simone.”
Jack felt a twinge of irritation. Simone had been amazing. He checked his emotion. After all, Alicia was only trying to help.
“Maybe the reason Giselle is so anxious about her birth mother is because Simone wouldn’t tell her the truth, because she kept the adoption a secret.” Alicia bit her lip, then spoke the words that had obviously been festering inside her. “I’m guessing that your daughter thinks Simone was embarrassed or ashamed of Giselle’s past.”
Jack stared at her. “We would never—”
“I know,” Alicia rushed to reassure him. “But that wouldn’t stop her from thinking it, from wondering if she has something to be ashamed of, if she needs to prove herself.”
A million little pieces of the puzzle called Giselle began to come together. Tidbits of things she’d said recently, comments she’d made about Native Canadians and their rights. Did she think she would have to defend herself because she was of Native ancestry? He’d seen the self-doubt creep into his usually confident daughter.
“I don’t know what to do for her, how to help her,” he said, feeling powerless.
“Giselle’s strong, Jack. Stronger than you realize. Tell her the truth. Get it all in the open.” Alicia’s fingers gently threaded through his. “Your daughter will be fine as long as she knows she’s loved. The rest is just background. Teach her that who she is depends more on what she makes of her life than where she came from.”
Jack absorbed it, nodding slowly as the sense of Alicia’s words sank in. But after several moments he glanced at their hands. Cradling hers between his, he stared into her eyes.
“How do you know all this, Alicia? You’ve never raised a child and yet you seem to have all the answers.”
Her laughter chased the intensity of the moment away. She drew her hands from his, but Jack saw something fleeting dance through her eyes.
“I don’t have all the answers,” she assured him. “I just know God and He does. Being Indian forces you to face the facts of life and come to terms with the way things are and the way you want them to be. Being a believer means you depend on God, not yourself. When I need help, I pray for direction and then I work on helping others. That always makes me feel better.”
“Maybe I need to try that more,” he said.
“Maybe you do.” Alicia lifted one eyebrow meaningfully and asked, “Does Giselle have any grandparents?”
“Simone’s parents still live in Vancouver,” he admitted quietly. “Giselle will visit them before the summer’s over.”
“You won’t go with her?” Alicia frowned when he shook his head.
“They blame me for Simone’s death,” Jack explained. “Simone was investigating police corruption. The investigation didn’t end with her death. I’ve been ordered to keep silent about the details. Her parents think my silence means I’m to blame for her death.”
Though he tried to mask the hurt of being misjudged, he knew Alicia understood.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “What a terrible position to be left in.”
“It’s fine.” He shrugged it away. “As long as they love and care for Giselle, I’m okay with whatever they feel about me.”
His cell phone rang a special sequence of notes that meant Giselle had texted him. He checked the message and quickly rose.
“I have to pick up Giselle at Laurel’s,” he said. Alicia followed him down the stairs and let him out the door.
“Drive carefully. And tell Giselle the truth,” she added. “It might ease her worries to know that you haven’t given up, that you’re still trying to find her birth mom.”
“You’re always helping me, Alicia,” he said quietly, peering into her lovely face. “When will you let me help you?” It was like a need deep inside him.
Quietly she said, “You already have. Good night.”
Jack walked a few steps, then turned to face her.
“I’ll think about what you’ve said,” he promised.
But all he could think about on the drive to Lives was that Alicia had the most glorious dark hair, shiny brown eyes and the gentlest touch he’d ever known.
Too bad Alicia hadn’t been Giselle’s birth mom. She was exactly the kind of woman he wanted for his daughter.
And for himself?
Chapter Eleven
“Have you heard a word I’ve said about these accounts?
” Lucy Clow demanded.
Alicia shook her head and offered a rueful smile. “Sorry.”
“It doesn’t matter. I was only explaining that Tansi is running so well, your loans should be paid off well before the five years you’d planned.” Lucy closed the ledger and laid her hands on top. “Tell me what’s bothering you, Alicia. I promise I won’t judge.”
It was so tempting to unload. Lucy had the same personality as her friend Nancy—strong, supportive but with a touch of kick start that wouldn’t let you brood. Lucy was her friend. She’d been nothing but help from the first day she’d arrived. But—
“You need to talk to someone, dear. You can’t remain an island forever.” Lucy tilted Alicia’s chin so she could look into her eyes. “Have I ever told anyone your business?”
“No. For which I thank you greatly.” Alicia sighed. “It’s just that I’m very confused right now. I guess I need time to sort myself out.”
“What are you confused about? Or should I say whom?” Lucy smiled. “Jack?”
“He’s such a nice guy. Truthful, honest, strong for his daughter.” It was those very traits that made it impossible for Alicia to tell him about the rape she’d endured, and her son.
Jack the lawman would judge her for not reporting Mr. Parcet so that no other woman would be hurt. Truthfully, Alicia wished she had done that. For years she’d wondered if her silence had caused another innocent girl to be hurt.
But it was too late now. Even if she did tell her story, who would believe her after all this time? She had no proof. Mr. Parcet would deny it and in doing so make her look foolish. All she could do now was to keep her secret and figure out how to find her child.
And figure out how to rein in her growing fondness for Jack.
“Jack Campbell is a nice guy, as you say.” Lucy held her gaze. “But since that talk you had with him two weeks ago, I’ve watched you push him away, keep him at arm’s length. I don’t think he means you harm, Alicia.”
“No, I know that.” Alicia sighed. It wasn’t Jack that had her worried. She’d had another phone call from Mr. Parcet and it was much worse than the first. He’d threatened to spread rumors about her if she didn’t tell him her son’s whereabouts. And he’d laughed at her threat to reveal what he’d done.
Who do you think will believe your word against mine? I’m a respected member of the community. I’ve sat on boards, volunteered time and donated money. My family has status and power. You don’t even have a family.
How that had hurt, because she didn’t have a family. In fact, she didn’t have anyone she could ask to help her stand up against Mr. Parcet, at least nobody with the kind of power and public voice he had.
I wonder what your friends would think if they knew you’d had a kid and given him away. You threaten me, but the only proof you have, Alicia, is that kid and I’m beginning to wonder if you even know where he is. I don’t expect you were a model mother.
But she’d wanted to be! How she’d wanted to love and care for and protect her child. But, at fifteen, it had been impossible.
Nobody in that town will let you near their kids if I tell them how you lived on the street.
Mr. Parcet could stop her from working with the Lives’ boys! Rather than argue with her attacker, she’d hung up, firm in her determination not to tell him anything about her lead on the adoption agency. But his threat had hit home. She couldn’t let Jack or Giselle, Lucy or Pastor Rick be touched by the scandal.
She especially didn’t want Laurel’s Lives Under Construction project damaged by negative association with her. The boys were almost finished the log house.
“Alicia?” Lucy touched her shoulder, pulling her from her thoughts. “Please tell me what’s wrong?”
“I just need to manage things on my own.” She smiled and hugged Lucy’s frail shoulders. “That’s what I’ve always done.”
“That’s why you can’t read,” Lucy said, her blue eyes piercing right through Alicia’s.
Alicia stared at her, aghast that she’d said the words aloud.
“I taught many people to read while we were missionaries. You’d be a very quick study,” Lucy coaxed. “You’re smart. You could learn. Let me help you.”
“I—I don’t know.”
For one tantalizing moment she considered it. She could do nothing about the rape, or her child or Mr. Parcet. But maybe she could change this. To be rid of the weight of it, to be able to stop making excuses, hiding the horrible secret, feeling confused and vulnerable…
“Are you sure you wouldn’t mind?” she asked. Tears welled in her eyes as Lucy embraced her, assuring her that nothing would give her greater pleasure.
“We’ll start tonight,” Lucy whispered as the bell above the front door tingled. “I’ll pray God will help you, Alicia. It’ll be our secret.”
“Something wrong?” Jack walked across the room and stood in front of the counter, his eyes shifting warily from Alicia to Lucy and back again. “Should I come back later?”
“No, of course not.” Alicia chuckled as she surreptitiously dabbed at her tears. “I was supposed to be at the site by now, wasn’t I?” she asked. He nodded.
“But if you can’t make it, there’s no problem. Hector’s helping us cut sod. When we run out of that we’ll make mud. You don’t have to be there.”
“I want to be. Making mud pies is the best part,” she teased. She bent and kissed Lucy’s cheek. “Thank you,” she whispered. Then she asked aloud, “Will you be okay if I leave for a while?”
“Of course. Get away with you now, the pair of you,” Lucy ordered. “People have been asking lots of questions about your project. You’re going to have plenty of visitors on opening day so you’d better be finished with that house on time.”
“We will be.” Jack’s voice blended with Alicia’s in unanimous affirmation. They looked at each other and laughed.
For the first time in a very long time, Alicia’s shoulders felt lighter, as if a tiny bit of the cloud she always felt looming over her had blown away. This morning Lucy had read her another letter from the adoption agency. They refused to answer any more of Alicia’s questions. Her only hope now was that somehow God would lead her to the child she’d never heard call her “Mom.”
With new resolve Alicia walked through the door Jack held for her and she experienced a tiny flutter of satisfaction as they headed toward the site together. How proud she felt to have him in her life, even if she couldn’t act on these growing feelings for him.
It was going to be hard to keep him at arm’s length until the sod house opening, but she had to do it. For his sake and Giselle’s. It was the only way to protect them from the ugliness of Mr. Parcet.
*
“I’m providing lunch today, did you know?” Jack made a face at Alicia’s surprised look. “Hey, I can cook. Sort of.”
“I’m sure it will be delicious.” She pretended repentance but couldn’t carry it off, and that made him laugh.
“Hamburgers on the grill are always delicious.” He tossed her a cocky look. “Especially when I put on my secret sauce.”
“Ketchup?” she guessed, chuckling when he couldn’t hide his chagrin.
“Who talked?” Jack rolled his eyes when Alicia made a zipping motion across her lips. How he loved it when she relaxed enough to tease and make fun of him.
Jack was so drawn to Alicia, and yet, some warning in his brain told him she was hiding something. If not hiding, withholding. It made him uneasy.
They made good progress on the sod, but slapping mud on the walls was very messy. So messy that Alicia insisted that since it was such a warm day, they should wash off in the bay before lunch. Alicia raced the boys and Giselle to the bay while he got things ready for lunch. Jack had barely put on the burgers when his phone rang. He answered, listened, then hung up with a moan.
When Alicia returned she took one look at his face and asked, “What’s wrong?”
Jack made a motion to wait until he served everyone
and they were seated at the picnic tables he’d placed to one side of the hotel. After she’d said grace he finally sat down beside her, the smallest, most charred burger on his plate. Didn’t matter. He wasn’t hungry now anyway.
“Are you sick?” Alicia asked him.
“No.”
“I would be if I had to eat that.” With quick economical movements she divided her burger and handed him one half. “Here.” When he didn’t take it, she set it down on his plate, placed her elbows on the table and cupped her chin in them. “Spill it, Jack.”
“You are a very bossy woman,” he said.
One of the boys asked her something and she answered, but her stare on Jack never wavered. Finally he gave in.
“I have a mother and two daughters who clean rooms for me. All three of them are sick with some virus and can’t come in to work,” he explained. “I can’t imagine how we’re going to be ready when the train comes in tomorrow morning. I’m fully booked. Giselle and I will have to opt out of your fireside story at Lives tonight, I’m afraid.”
“You can’t miss tonight’s story,” Alicia told him. “It’s especially for Giselle. Anyway, you won’t have to.”
“But—”
“We’ll chip in and help you.” Without pausing, she rose, got the boys’ attention and told them what had happened. “Are you up for giving Jack a hand?”
They agreed immediately.
“Great. Now go get your ice-cream treats from the coffee shop. Tell them I’ll be in to pay later.” As they rushed away, Giselle leading the pack, Alicia sat down, picked up her half burger and grinned at him. “Issue resolved.”
Jack couldn’t believe it.
“Alicia, it’s very hard work. You have your own business. You have to pay someone to stay at Tansi while you work on the sod house. I don’t think you need another expense.” He expected her to back out, but Alicia only smiled. “What?”
“Do you think Lucy would let me in the door if she knew I’d walked away from helping you?” she asked. “Anyway, I want to. Churchill is built on community. You need a helping hand so we’ll help. You helped me with my water cleanup.” She stole three chips off his plate and munched contentedly. “Now eat your lunch before that herd comes back.”
