The Passions of Chelsea Kane

by Barbara Delinsky

  “From which direction?”

  “Won’t know that until we get a look at what the other end looks like. You stay here, okay? I want you safe.”

  “I want Abby safe,” Chelsea cried, because she suddenly envisioned worms and old bones and dirt all over the sweetest little baby on earth.

  “She’ll be safe,” Judd assured her. “We know where she is. We know she has food. We know she has Hunter. We’ll get them out.” He kissed her on the mouth and gave her a rib-bruising hug before climbing the stairs two at a time.

  He had barely gone through the door when Chelsea returned to the tunnel. She crawled in, rocked back and forth on her haunches, and listened.

  “I know what you got against me,” Hunter was saying. “You always wanted to have a son, and you couldn’t.”

  “I miscarried the boys! They wouldn’t live!”

  “So Katie had me, and I did live, and that made you mad.”

  “He said he made arrangements! He said she was giving the baby away, only he didn’t know there were two of you! She gave up the one, the girl, and kept the boy!”

  Chelsea’s heart stopped. She pressed a hand to it. It started back up, beating double time.

  There was an indistinct murmur, then silence. She put her hands to her ears, thinking for an absurd moment that she’d gone deaf. When she did hear a sound, it wasn’t that of a distant voice, but of human movement immediately to her right.

  She jumped. Silhouetted by the basement light, Oliver’s lean frame and sparse head of hair were quickly recognizable. He made his painstaking way into the tunnel and, with a grunt, eased himself back against the dirt wall no more than a foot from her.

  “Did you hear what she said?” Chelsea asked in a high, wavery voice.

  “I heard,” he said.

  “Is it true?”

  “I s’pose.”

  She pressed her hand harder to her heart, anything, to get it to slow down. It was beating erratically, bouncing around wildly, like her thoughts. She was trying to take in what she’d heard. “Katie Love had two babies?”

  “No one knew it. Midwife left with the first, she had the second all by herself. Five years later we found Hunter walkin’ down the road, found Katie dead, found the diary she kept and the pictures she drew, and we knew.”

  “Who knew?”

  “Me. My lawyer. The midwife. We knew there’d been a girl born and given away, b’cause we’d seen her. Then we saw Hunter, and we knew there’d been twins.”

  Twins. She and Hunter. She began to cry.

  “Margaret fell apart,” Oliver went on. “Katie Love’s pregnancy had been bad for her. She thought it’d end with the birth. Then Hunter showed up, and I couldn’t ignore him, he was my own boy, but I couldn’t tell the world that, it woulda killed her. She’s never been the same since. I’ve tried to make it up to her, but it didn’t seem to work. I swear, I never thought she’d do anythin’ like this.”

  Chelsea wept softly, rocking on her heels with her arms wrapped tightly around her calves.

  “Right off, when you called on the phone to see me, I knew who you were,” Oliver said. “I knew you’d been taken in by a family named Kane and that they named you Chelsea. Not many people in the world named that, and not many of those’d ever find their way to Norwich Notch. Then when I saw you I doubly knew. You got the same expressions. The nose is a little off, and the chin, but the eyes’re the same, and the mouth.”

  Chelsea remembered first coming to town and wondering if she would be recognized on the street.

  “Why didn’t other people see?”

  “They weren’t looking like I was.” He made a disgruntled sound. “Don’t know why Katie ever married that lout Henry Love. He didn’t do nothin’ for her all those years. She was better off without him.”

  “Better off?” Chelsea cried brokenly. “You made her pregnant, then abandoned her. You let the town make an outcast of her.”

  “Had no choice. Had no choice a-tall. I loved Katie, but Margaret was my wife. I had her to think about, and my daughters.”

  “And your position in town.”

  “That, too, and don’t go ridiculing it, missy, b’cause things like that matter.”

  “But if you knew who I was, why did you let me come here? Why did you let me get involved with the company?”

  “Had no choice there, either. Company was failing. No one else was offering to help put it back on its feet.”

  “Oh, God,” Chelsea breathed. She put her fists to her temples. Too much was coming at her too fast. She heard a wailing through the wall of dirt, a gut-wrenching sound, and cried out in return. At nearly the same time, a commotion came from the basement. Nolan and his men had arrived.

  “Get out of there, Oliver,” Nolan ordered. He held out a hand. “Come on, Chelsea. We have to drill in some air. Judd’s at the other end. They’re starting with shovels.”

  Chelsea took his hand and emerged into the light of the basement. She brushed at the tears that streaked her cheeks, temporarily pushing aside all she’d learned. The only thing that mattered at that moment was saving her baby. And saving Hunter. Her twin. Her eyes filled again. Worriedly she said, “One end of the tunnel has already collapsed. What if the whole thing goes?”

  “It won’t. Once we get an air pipe through, we’ll keep Hunter and the baby at this end while they work at that end. They’ll be shoring it up as they go. Trust them, Chelsea. They know what they’re doing.”

  Judd certainly did.

  Chelsea knew that he wouldn’t let anything happen to the baby. She guessed that he would sacrifice himself first—not that that thought brought her relief. If anything happened to him, she would die as surely as she would if anything happened to Abby, she loved him that much.

  Yes, she did. She hadn’t come looking for love when she’d come to the Notch, but she’d found it in Judd. Once she might have chalked up her feelings to an exquisite sexual compatability, but there was so much more now. She liked the way he handled the quarrymen, liked the way he handled the buyers, liked the way he hooked Abby in the crook of his elbow and spooned pureed applesauce into her mouth, liked the way he lay in bed at night with his arm around Chelsea, his breath in her hair, and his ear hers for the bending. No vacant hunk, Judd Streeter. He was competent and intelligent, sensitive and kind. He was everything she had ever wanted in a man. Everything.

  An arm slipped around her. It was Donna offering comfort—Donna, with whom Chelsea had clicked right from the start—Donna, the sister she had always wanted but never known—Donna, who, like Judd, was a precious find.

  They stood together with their eyes on the tunnel. When Nolan joined them, Chelsea asked, “Do they know we’re here?”

  “Hunter knows. Margaret’s babbling. He’s trying to get her to shut up.” He slipped an apologetic hand around Donna’s neck. “I think she’s lost it.”

  Donna clasped his hand. In a voice that was distorted with emotion, she said, “She needs help. She has for a while.”

  For Chelsea, so many things were suddenly starting to make sense. Margaret could have made late night phone calls to her. She could have set the barn on fire. She knew how to drive the company truck and had easy access to one without ever going near Moss Ridge. Likewise she had access to Oliver’s size twelve boots and tools that would cut a phone line, and Chelsea suspected she had the know-how.

  Margaret was one tough cookie when it came to hatred.

  Then it struck her. “My tea. She put something in my tea. She spilled it, she gave me a new cup, she must have put something in it. That’s why I was so sick.” Another thought hit. “I was pregnant then. The baby could have been hurt. How could she?”

  But she could. She was driven by demons that had probably been stalking her for years, which didn’t make Chelsea feel any better where the present predicament was concerned.

  “What’s taking them so long?” she asked Nolan.

  “They’re being careful. The earth’s been stable for
a long time, but given what happened at the other end, they’re not taking chances.”

  “How thick is the wall they’re drilling through?”

  “Five, maybe six feet.”

  “Is there a chance that the two tunnels aren’t connected?”

  “Not much. Runaway slaves were trying to avoid the law. They would want a way of leaving the house without getting caught. It makes sense that they’d go underground from here to the shack, then off through the woods.”

  It was a few minutes before a shout came from the tunnel, saying that the pipe had made it. The idea that Hunter and Abby wouldn’t suffocate gave Chelsea a small measure of relief, but she was desperate to know what was happening. Trembling, she climbed into the tunnel. She steadied herself by grasping an arm, a shoulder, a hand of whoever she crawled past. At the end, which was lit now with a portable flood, she yelled into the pipe, “Hunter?”

  “I hear you,” Hunter called back. “She’s okay, Chelsea. She’s okay. She didn’t like the bottled stuff much, but when she got hungry enough she took it. She’s asleep on my shoulder.”

  Chelsea didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Putting the back of her hand to her forehead, she did a little of each.

  Nolan crawled up. “What’s Margaret doing?” he called to Hunter.

  Hunter’s voice hardened. “She’s here. Christ, she set me up for kidnapping, she wanted me out of the way so bad. It was a half-baked scheme, but she figured the town would think the worst of me and go for it. She figured I’d go to jail, and Chelsea would be so traumatized she’d run back to Baltimore for good.”

  Chelsea leaned toward the pipe. “Why didn’t you tell me, Hunter? You’ve known about me, about us, for a while, haven’t you?” That finally made sense, too—his disappearance after he’d seen her license, his showing her Katie’s drawings, his hanging around so much, especially after Abby was born. And the key—she wondered what he knew of the key that he wasn’t saying.

  She was about to ask when he shouted, “I can hear picks at the other end.”

  “Stay where you are,” Nolan told him. “Wait ‘til they make it safe.”

  Chelsea had no intention of waiting, at least not there. Her arms were aching to hold Abby. She wanted to do it the instant the baby saw light.

  It was dusk when she and Donna ran through the meadow behind the farmhouse. They passed the spot where the old barn had stood, passed through the pine grove, and crossed the field to where men and vehicles were gathered. What had remained of the flooring of the old shack had been torn up to reveal a large earthen pit, one end of which narrowed into a tunnel. Floodlights were aimed in that direction, but Chelsea couldn’t see a thing.

  She slid into the pit. Murphy stopped her at the tunnel entrance. “It’s not safe in there. Don’t give him something else to worry about.”

  “I want to see her,” Chelsea pleaded.

  “He’ll have her out sooner if he’s not distracted.”

  So she waited. She bit her lip, then her thumbnail. She leaned forward to see what was happening, then stepped back. She folded her arms over her breasts to stem the flow of milk. She leaned against Donna, who was more than willing to let her.

  She was about to scream in frustration when she heard Buck’s bark, then shouts from inside the tunnel. She went as far as Murphy would allow and covered her mouth when Abby’s cries came, but they kept coming, closer and more clearly, and then Judd appeared, holding her safely in his arms. With a triumphant smile, very white in a dirt-smudged face, he passed her to Chelsea, who hugged her, and kissed her, and hugged her again. Her hair was sticking up at odd angles, her playsuit was snapped wrong, she was very wet and very dirty, but warm and alive. Chelsea felt she’d been born again.

  “She woke up and was frightened by all the fuss,” Judd explained, but the crying had already stopped, on Abby’s part, at least. Chelsea wasn’t as resilient. She cried and hugged Judd, cried and hugged an indulgent Hunter, cried and hugged Donna, and between each she cried and hugged Abby, who, now that she was in her mother’s arms, was observing the goings-on with a look of wide-eyed curiosity.

  Somewhere between the crying and hugging, Chelsea was aware of Margaret being led from the hole. Oliver had her arm. Donna joined them. Looking at the woman over Abby’s dirty little head, Chelsea tried to feel hatred but couldn’t. Margaret was old and defeated. She needed help.

  HUNTER WENT TO HIS PLACE TO SHOWER, BUT ONLY AFTER promising Chelsea he’d be back, and although Judd would have preferred to be alone with his women, he could understand Chelsea’s need. She had just learned that she had a brother—a twin brother. It was slightly mind-boggling.

  They took Abby to the farmhouse, where she was greeted by a round of applause and dozens of eager arms. There were relieved high-fives, triumphant smiles, and abundant thanks, then, at last, departures and a sweet silence.

  They went up to the master bathroom, to the tub that Hunter, bless his contrary hide, had given Chelsea grief about putting in, filled it with water, and, leaving filthy clothing in a pile, climbed in, all three together. It wasn’t the first time they’d done it, but it was the first time since Abby had been born, and there, with the dirt washed down the drain and a tubful of clean warm water soothing away the last of their tension, Judd settled Chelsea comfortably against him while she put the baby to her breast.

  She gave a long, contented sigh.

  Judd felt the same contentment she did, felt it deeper than ever. It was almost as though at the height of their fear for Abby, some membrane inside him had broken, letting feelings in to touch places that had never been touched before. He had known then that he had what he wanted in life. He wouldn’t be any happier if he was in Denver, or San Francisco, or Honolulu, and he wouldn’t, couldn’t, be any happier with any other woman. He sensed Chelsea knew it. More important, he sensed she returned the feeling, which meant that she wouldn’t leave him the way Emma had left Leo—and as for comparisons to Janine, there wasn’t a one to make.

  He fingered damp strands of hair away from her cheek and neck, then brushed her breast. Abby’s eyes were half-closed, her tiny fingers opening and closing on the swollen flesh. At the slightest touch, she took hold of Judd’s finger.

  “Isn’t she beautiful?” Chelsea whispered.

  Judd kissed Chelsea’s temple.

  She tipped her head back and met his gaze. “She’s beautiful, you’re beautiful, this is beautiful. I don’t want it to end. Not ever. I don’t ever want to lose you, any more than I ever want to lose her. I’m not leaving, Judd. Regardless of what happens next month, I’m not leaving. Do you hear me?”

  He grinned. “Can’t help but hear. You’re screaming.”

  “Are you leaving?”

  “Can’t. There’s too much to do here.”

  “The work doesn’t bore you?”

  “The work is good.”

  “You don’t want to live somewhere else?”

  He pretended to consider that, then shrugged. “I could spend a little time in Baltimore. Maybe a little in Newport. But I don’t know if life would be the same if I didn’t have this place to come back to.”

  She kissed him then, and when it was done, when they sat nestled together looking down over adult flesh and baby flesh, curves and hollows, dimples, freckles, and hair that distinguished one from the other, Judd knew that he wouldn’t be satisfied until his women had his name. Chelsea Kane Streeter. Abigail Kane Streeter. Oh, he’d give Chelsea time to say yes, but she would say yes, and if she balked, he could call in the troops. Donna would push it. Hunter would push it. Every man on the Plum Granite payroll who valued his job would push it. Even, Judd would wager, Kevin would push it.

  So. That was decided. He was pleased.

  IT WAS AFTER ELEVEN WHEN HUNTER RETURNED. DONNA WAS with him. Neither of them was bothered by the hour, any more than Judd and Chelsea were.

  Donna refused to sit, though. She wasn’t staying long.

  “I’m moving into the big house,”
she signed. “Dad is taking Mother away for treatment. He agreed that Joshie and I should live there while they’re gone.”

  “With Matthew?” Chelsea asked.

  “Without.”

  Chelsea thought of Nolan and let out a breath. “At last.”

  Donna nodded. She put her arms around Chelsea, and something in the way she held her said she had learned that they were related by blood. There was so much to say, but for another time.

  “Come for breakfast tomorrow morning?” Chelsea signed.

  Donna nodded. Then she turned to Hunter and said aloud, “I’ve been as wrong as my mother. I knew who you were. I should have said something.”

  But Hunter shook his head and, by way of forgiveness, said, “You couldn’t. Not living with them.”

  She touched his arm and smiled her thanks.

  Hunter watched her leave, and while he did that, Chelsea watched him. He fascinated her. The way he dressed in black, with his chestnut hair and his gold earring, fascinated her. The idea of his being her brother fascinated her. From the start she had liked him, liked his unconventionality and his daring. She thought of the nine months they’d spent together, thought of the times when, growing up, she had felt a sense of loss, and wondered if one had to do with the other.

  When he caught her studying him, she smiled. “Twins. Never in my wildest dreams did I guess it. So hard to believe.”

  “Not so hard,” Judd said, folding himself onto a kitchen chair. “You two are alike in lots of ways.”

  “But why didn’t I see it?”

  “You were looking for something else.”

  She came to him, folding a hand over the neck of his sweatshirt in search of the warmth of his skin, but it was Hunter she addressed. “Did Katie actually tell you you were a twin?”

  “No. She had secrets. I was one, but there were others. She often talked about a girl child. I thought there was an older sister. It wasn’t until you gave me the pieces—your being born here on the same day I was, then adopted—that I clued in. Then there was the key.”