by Jean Oram
Sabrina looked away, a flush tingeing her cheeks.
“Still stuck in the friend zone, huh?” Russell said to Scott. “Sorry, pal.”
Amber lunged at him, but Scott held her back. “Not worth it,” he stated. “I’m sure karma will have a heyday and do a more effective job than we ever could.”
When Russell stepped closer to the door, Scott widened his stance, arms crossed, blocking him. “You’re not coming in. Not now. Not ever.”
“I paid half the rent this month. Therefore, yes I am.”
“Do I need to issue a restraining order on Amber’s behalf? She doesn’t want you here. She’s removed everything of yours. You left, pal.”
“I need to make sure she got everything.” Russell laid a hand on Scott’s chest, trying to push him out of the way. But he had the writer’s arm twisted and pinned behind him in a matter of seconds, his face smushed into the doorjamb.
“Were you trying to assault a police officer?” Scott growled in his ear. “That’s a court appearance and wouldn’t be good publicity at this point in time. You might be a newscaster on sabbatical, but remember, Amber comes from a small town. She’s good friends with local reporters and a story like this wouldn’t stay local for very long.”
Amber bit her bottom lip so she wouldn’t smile. She loved Scott so very much at this moment.
“You know where your trailer is?” Amber was half excited, half nervous. She pointed to the edge of the cliff, her finger shaking. “It kind of became a lesson in physics for me. Sorry. I hope you didn’t have anything important in it. Other than everything of yours that I put in there first.”
Russell and Sabrina followed her finger, their faces pinched in confusion. Finally, comprehension dawned.
“You pushed my trailer off the edge of a cliff?” Russell’s voice was high and scratchy.
Amber crossed her arms. “It was an accident. However, I don’t think your lies, cheating, or basing a fictional character on me was.”
Scott released Russell and the man massaged his shoulder, moving down the front steps, putting a safe buffer between them.
“This isn’t over, Amber,” Russell said, his voice shaking with anger.
“I say it is,” Scott retorted.
Amber spoke over Scott’s shoulder. “You’re right. I think I still owe you one for all of the secrets you kept from me.”
As Russell and Sabrina backed up the Beemer moments later, Amber turned to Scott. “No more secrets. I’m going to find out who my father is. And if you’re the friend you say you are, help me.”
Chapter Two
Amber decided enough was enough. She’d hinted around for days about Philip and yet her mother had revealed nothing but obvious discomfort.
There had to be something there. There had to be more. And if Amber was going to get to the bottom of the secrets and figure out who she was, then she needed to somehow force Gloria to tell her the truth. Amber was a grown-up. She could handle it. Both of them could.
And then there was Scott. He had promised to help, but hadn’t come up with a thing she hadn’t so far. Which was nothing.
She’d half hoped he had a secret parental database he could hack into, revealing, with a lovely flourish, the name of her father. But apparently the police didn’t have one of those, and even if they did it wouldn’t be ethical or legal to use it for personal reasons. Blah, blah, blah. Scott and his sound morals. She loved him for it, but it was driving her crazy.
Her mother had finished her shift at the restaurant half an hour ago and Amber knocked on her door, knowing she would be home.
Sure enough, she answered, at first looking pleased to see Amber, then appearing cautious. “Everything okay?” she asked.
Amber debated the merits of going soft on her versus cutting to the chase. She decided for honest, but not super-blunt. “I thought we could chat.”
“Was Russell upset about the trailer? I heard he knows now.”
“Can I come in?”
As if realizing she was blocking the door, Gloria opened it wider, allowing her to come in. “I was just going to have a cup of tea. Would you like one?”
Amber waited for her to finish brewing the tea, then sat with her at the small kitchen table.
“Philip isn’t my father, is he?”
Her mother was silent for a long time and Amber thought she was going to refuse to answer. But finally she shook her head.
The truth struck Amber as hard as if she hadn’t been expecting it. She struggled to stay neutral, unemotional, but her voice cracked when she asked, “Who is he?”
Gloria studied the tabletop, lips pulled tight between her teeth. After a moment she opened her mouth as though about to say something, then closed it again. “I can’t tell you.”
“Why not?”
“It’s… complicated,” her mother said.
“I’ve become quite good with complicated.”
“It will change things, Amber, and I don’t think it’s a good idea.” She stood up, clearing away their cups even though they’d barely touched them. “Things are good enough the way they are.”
“Please, Mom.”
Amber needed to know.
Gloria let out a sigh, suddenly looking aged beyond her years, and for a second Amber saw the woman’s life in a flash. A single mom, a waitress, raising her daughter the best she could in a gossipy small town. It took a village to raise a child, and Blueberry Springs had definitely helped. Benny, her mother’s boss, acting like a father figure. His chef, Leif, taking her in and feeding her after school while listening to her chat about her day when her mother was busy waiting tables. Her friend Mandy Mattson’s mom taking her to extracurricular events on Thursday nights while Gloria pulled her weekly double shift.
It couldn’t have been easy. And now to have her daughter on the wrong side of an award-winning newscaster who was used to digging out hidden truths behind locked borders. Russell even still had a limp from being shot while working on an overseas cover-up. He was a public hero who would beat Amber to the punch when it came to defending herself and her character. What chance did she and her mother have of becoming more than what they were in this moment?
“Please. Just a name. I’ve always thought it was Philip, and it’s driving me crazy to think I believed something that was wrong my whole entire life. I feel like I don’t know who I am.”
“Amber…” Her mother’s tone of voice was a warning, but Amber ignored it.
“I can handle it. I can handle the truth.”
“I don’t…” Gloria sighed. “I’ll think about it.”
Her mother never said no, just “I’ll think about it,” which meant “go away and forget about it because I’m not saying yes.”
“Please? I can keep a secret. I won’t tell a soul, I promise.”
Her mom braced her hands on the counter and dropped her head. “This isn’t about you.”
“It was so long ago. Nobody will care.” Amber felt desperate. The more her mother blocked her, the more certain she became that knowing who her father was would help her understand why she had tricked herself into believing a man like Russell was The One. And if she knew who she was, she could prevent herself from falling into traps like that again.
“He’s going to care,” Gloria said, her voice hoarse with held-back emotion. “Believe me.”
Amber felt the slam of rejection all over again. Her father didn’t want her. He didn’t want anyone to know his mistake, and it didn’t matter if the man was Philip or someone else. Rejection was rejection.
* * *
Amber felt defeated and untethered. She no longer had the image of the mysterious Philip, her deadbeat dad, residing in the back of her mind. Now there was a big, open question mark. A man who would be bothered if Amber knew who he was.
Was he someone she knew? Was that why her mother was so intent on protecting him? In Amber’s books, he certainly didn’t deserve it, and she needed to know who she was supposed to direct her angst and
feelings of rejection toward.
Unable to concentrate on fixing a non-urgent bug in a work database, Amber closed her laptop. She would earn her paycheck by telecommuting later. Right now she needed to talk to her mother.
Daring to brave any gossip about her and Russell that might still be swirling through the atmosphere, she decided to head to town once again in a quest for information.
Her car started, then sputtered and died. She got the old beater running again, producing a cloud of smoke so black and thick that she feared someone would call the fire department. Amber tentatively put the car in reverse, coaxing it back a few feet before the engine died again. She was going to need a different set of wheels.
The backhoe was still parked near the cliff’s edge, as she’d been too afraid to move it, and she considered driving it to town, before discarding the idea.
Amber tapped her thigh, thinking, as she took in the craggy mountain view. How was she going to afford fixing her car and saving up to move back to the city, when she had to pay the full rent on the house now that Russell was gone? She hadn’t wanted to return to Blueberry Springs, but he’d insisted it was the place to write his book.
She turned her gaze to the machine shed. She’d had to climb over a motorized cart of some kind to reach the backhoe. Surely Rosalind wouldn’t mind her borrowing a vehicle to get around. Amber opened the building’s massive doors, allowing light to streak across the dirt floor, which smelled of spilled oil, earth, and stale air.
It was a golf cart. She kicked the tires while circling it. The key was in the ignition and she slid onto the cracked seat. Finding the choke, she pulled it out, then gingerly pumped the gas pedal twice and, holding her breath, turned the key.
A weak whine came from the engine.
She turned the key again and the motor let out a few halfhearted, unconvincing chugs, but refused to turn over. Keeping the key cranked to the right, Amber finessed the gas pedal with her toe, flooring it to drain the extra gas from the carburetor when it seemed flooded, then pumping it once more, hoping the battery would hold out through the effort. She pushed in the choke, then pulled it out halfway when the machine chugged and protested.
“Come on, baby. Come on.”
Finally the engine coughed and sputtered, almost leveling out before falling into a death-throe unevenness that had Amber yanking on the choke and pumping the gas pedal again.
“Don’t do this. Don’t make me walk.”
A few more sputters and the cart’s rumbling and coughing eased into a quiet hum and tick, punctuated by the odd hiccup and gasoline-laden fart.
Oh, thank goodness. There were bears out there. She wanted wheels.
A few minutes later she was gliding down the mountain toward town, wondering why she hadn’t thought of driving a golf cart as her get-around vehicle before. There was plenty of room for groceries and even a passenger, plenty of fresh air, and the fuel economy had to be excellent.
As she turned into town she caught Scott giving her a second glance from behind a hedge, where he stood with his radar gun.
A speed trap. Well. That was surely going to ruffle some feathers. She waved as she drove past, her heart skipping a beat as he popped up to watch her pass. But Amber was determined not to give him time to figure out whether her mode of transportation was street legal.
She parked in the alley behind Benny’s restaurant and entered through the back door, crossing the small staff room before peeking out to see if she could spot her mom serving the midafternoon coffee crowd.
“Amber, you look hungry.” The chef, Leif, ushered her into the kitchen. He cut her a slice of the semi-famous chocolate pie he made daily and had put Benny’s on the map for most women in the area. He poured Amber a glass of milk and his cologne reminded her of the hours she’d spent watching him cook while she waited for Gloria to finish her shift. Without a word Amber shoveled a large bite of chocolate into her mouth and savored its decadent richness. Nothing better in the world.
“Still your favorite?” Leif asked.
She broke off another piece with her fork and said, “Are you fishing for compliments? You know your pie’s up there with Mandy’s brownies.”
“Who do you think taught her to bake? She wasn’t just a waitress during her years here.”
Mandy Mattson had won the town’s Fall Fair for years with her old brownie recipe, but when she’d quit waitressing and opened her own Wrap It Up restaurant, she’d upped her game and changed her brownie recipe to a whiskey-and-gumdrop one that had solidified her status as an automatic blue ribbon shoe-in. The new brownies were responsible for at least ten of the pounds riding on Amber’s hips.
“My pie hasn’t won any awards,” Leif said thoughtfully.
“Have you entered it in a contest?”
He smiled and wiped his hands on a tea towel. Of course he hadn’t.
“Did you ever get your online recipe forum working properly?” Amber asked. “I’m making the chocolate chip squares in the squares section for the seniors’ bake sale.”
“Those are good. And no, I’m still getting some odd glitches.”
“The same ones?”
He nodded.
“I think I came across a solution the other day while doing some research for something else. Want me to try and fix it?”
“Free pie for life if you do.”
Amber laughed. “Sounds good.” She was already getting free pie just by being Gloria’s daughter. “Hey, can I ask you something?”
“Anything.”
“How long have you and Mom worked together?” Amber stuck her plate and fork in the commercial dishwasher, along with her empty milk glass.
The chef stared at the ceiling for a moment before replying, “Fifteen. No, fourteen years. You loved my pie even then.”
“Women love anything with chocolate, so don’t let it go to your head,” she joked, stirring a pot simmering on the stove. It looked like spaghetti was tonight’s special. Maybe if the place wasn’t too busy she’d stick around. She’d finished her mother’s casserole and didn’t feel like getting back into the habit of cooking for one.
“Get away from that. You aren’t wearing a hairnet.” Leif shooed her back, then snatched her hand, inspecting the fingernails she’d chewed down to the quick. “You need to relax. Look at your hands.”
Amber tucked her fingers and their lack of lovely nails into the pocket of her hoodie. “Did you know my mom before you started working here?”
“Nope.”
Nuts. “Did she ever say anything about the man she—”
Gloria entered the kitchen and froze. “What’s going on?”
“Hi, Mom. Just hanging out with Leif.”
Her mother addressed the chef. “We need a grilled cheese and a tuna salad.” She moved around the kitchen, slicing pie and scooping fruit salad into a small bowl as though everything was normal, but Amber could tell her mother knew what she was up to and wasn’t too happy about it.
“What’s up?” Leif asked, giving both of them a look. As an ex-police officer, he was good at catching undercurrents between the two of them.
“Amber, why don’t we go to the staff room,” her mother said. “We can chat for a moment before these orders are up. I’ll be back in a jiff, Leif. Call me if you need me.”
In the small room, Gloria hissed to Amber, “Not here and not now.”
“You don’t even know why I’m here.”
“I told you I can’t tell you.”
“I promise I won’t tell anyone. Please? I’m desperate.”
“I said no. Your father doesn’t know, so just drop it.” Her mother’s mouth formed a fine line as she hurried out of the staff room.
Amber blinked away the shock of that statement. “He doesn’t know?” she called, hurrying to the doorway. By the time she reached it, her mother was already gone.
How could he not know? How did you keep a secret like that in Blueberry Springs?
You didn’t. Which meant he didn’t
live in Blueberry Springs. That would also explain why nobody knew who he was. They weren’t covering for her mother—they simply didn’t know.
Hang on. If her father didn’t know Amber existed, then he couldn’t have rejected her.
She smiled. She hadn’t been rejected by him.
She let the feeling sink in. It felt good. Really good.
He could be somewhere right now, wishing he had a daughter… and here she was.
She had to find him. Had to.
She hustled through the back of the restaurant with renewed purpose. If he wasn’t in Blueberry Springs, no harm, no foul. She could find out who he was without him even knowing. Nothing more perfect than that.
Benny walked by and, seeing Amber, said, “Your mom’s working a double today. I think I just saw her take an order out.”
“Thanks.”
“You okay?” he asked, stopping Amber from entering the dining room.
“Yeah. Fine.”
“You sure? You look… happy.”
Amber did a double take. “Shouldn’t I be happy?”
Through the dining room’s swinging doors she spotted her mother handing a young couple crayons and coloring mats for their kids, settling people in, doing her job. She didn’t look happy. Far from it. She looked scared and worried.
Amber couldn’t ask her for more. She couldn’t push Gloria through this, but had to find another way. Which meant she had to keep a secret from her mom.
A secret for a secret.
“You didn’t have to turn that smile upside down,” Benny complained.
“Benny? My mom didn’t ever tell you who my father is, did she?”
The restaurant owner stroked his double chin, watching her. “Can’t say that she did.”
Amber sighed.
“In time, kid.” He squeezed her shoulder. “Say, did you hear Scott’s leaving town?”
“What?” Blood rushed in Amber’s ears.
“He’s applying out. A promotion of sorts. I’m surprised he didn’t tell you.”
Amber’s mind stuck in neutral. Secrets.
More secrets.
She’d even asked him if he had secrets and he hadn’t told her he was leaving.
