by Becki Willis
“Maybe-Maybe they got a divorce. Maybe they split everything down the middle, including their children.”
“But the letter…”
“Now I know why I didn’t recognize the flowing handwriting,” Kenzie murmured. “Or the way she addressed it, My Darling Child. The woman who raised me didn’t talk like that or write like that, but she didn’t write the letter. Our real mother did.”
Silence settled between them as they tried to sort out the facts in their own minds. “You were right,” Makenna finally whispered. “You were afraid there was more to come, some other big change about to happen.”
“My past was already so full of lies. But this has to be the biggest one of all.”
“I don’t remember her, Ken,” Makenna admitted sadly. She was still surprised the realization hurt so much. “Do you?”
“No. I do have that one memory of her laughter, the one I told you about when we were having a picnic and our father was throwing me up in the air. I remember a woman’s laughter in the background and we all seemed so happy. I always thought the memory seemed out of character for the parents I knew. Turns out, I guess I was right.”
“We were three when our family broke up. When do your first remember that other woman?”
“All these years, I’ve tried so hard to forget,” Kenzie murmured. “I never wanted to remember my past.” She drummed her palms against her forehead, willing a memory to appear. “I-I remember when we moved to Colorado. It was sometime later that year, from what Travis and I pieced together. She was there then.”
“And she seemed familiar to you? Someone you were comfortable with?”
“I never felt comfortable around my mother. Around her,” she amended. “But I know what you’re asking. She wasn’t a stranger. I wasn’t afraid of her or anything.”
“So apparently you already knew her and trusted her. And at some point you accepted her as your mother.”
“But she never accepted me as her daughter,” Kenzie realized sadly. “That’s why she was so cold and distant. So stiff.”
“But that still doesn’t explain what happened to our mother. Or how that woman ended up in your life and I ended up at that church.”
“For once in my life, I wish I knew how to get in touch with my father,” Kenzie said. “He’s the only one with the answers.”
Chapter Six
The night was long and restless. Neither sister slept well.
Makenna mourned the mother she did not remember and the years spent separated from her twin, but she was not sorry about being adopted. The one thing neither sister regretted was the life Makenna had been given; the Reagans were the best thing that had ever happened to either of them. Makenna’s life was happy and filled with love and laughter and the support of family. Her life was normal. And when the women became friends in college, the Reagans honorarily adopted Kenzie into their clan. She even called Makenna’s parents Mom and Dad and thought of them as her own family. In all the ways that mattered, they were.
Tucked into her own bed, not even thoughts of her surrogate family could ease the raw pain burning in Kenzie’s heart. For whatever reason, her mother had left, depriving her of a happy childhood. She had been raised by that woman, and her life had been miserable. Emotionally abused and ignored, she was raised as a lonely, only child. Nothing could ease the ache in her soul. Worst of all, she could not even remember the first three years of her life, the only ones that had been happy and shared with a mother who loved her.
Morning light tinted the sky by the time Kenzie finally fell asleep. She awoke to an empty apartment, with a note from Makenna saying she had to run an errand and would be back soon. Kenzie indulged in a long shower and dressed in loose, lightweight sweats. She would never admit it to her sister, but her entire body was sore and achy from her car crash, especially her leg. Over two months since surgery, and it was still bothering her.
Curling up on the couch with a plate of leftovers and the television remote, Kenzie tried to lose herself in an afternoon movie. Her mind kept straying to the photograph lying on the coffee table. Her heart kept straying to a tall Texas Ranger who still had not called.
The telephone rang and Kenzie grabbed it eagerly, hoping to hear his voice.
Silence greeted her on the other end.
“Hello?… Hello?”
She shrugged and went back to her meal. Probably a wrong number or a bad connection. They would call back if it was important.
As predicted, the phone rang again.
“Hello?”
Still, no one replied.
“Hello? Is anyone there?”
An eerie silence vibrated on the other end of the line.
“Who is this?” Kenzie demanded.
A distinctive click told her when the caller hung up.
Kenzie drew a deep breath, telling herself not to over-react.
When the phone rang a third time, she hesitated before answering. The caller ID showed ‘unknown’. She let it ring four times before she finally answered. “Hello?”
Again, silence.
“If you have something to say, just say it,” she said testily. She waited a few seconds before anger overruled fear. “If you can’t talk to me, don’t waste my time.” She hung up without giving the caller a chance to respond.
Despite her brave front, the fear returned when she heard the doorbell ring. She hurried to the door, then hovered with indecision before daring to look out the peephole. It might be her unknown caller.
Or, she hoped against hope, it might be Travis. Maybe he was going to surprise her. It had been two weeks today since he left; an eternity since he had held her close and kissed her with that magical technique he possessed.
Praying for a miracle, Kenzie’s heart quickened as she peeked through the hole.
A handsome face smiled from the other side, but it was not Travis. She tried to bite down the bitter taste of disappointment, even as a part of her warmed at the sight of her visitor.
She had met Craven Shaw, Chief of Staff for Senator Harry Lawrence, when she had taken an assignment in Colorado four weeks ago. The Senator had specifically requested her when Now Magazine covered the story of the Big Thompson River Flood relief efforts, even though he only joined them for a few hours. In his stead, his top aides Craven Shaw and Bernard Franks acted as tour guides and liaisons during the two-day session. Kenzie and the tall auburn haired man hit it off immediately, but it was not until the job was over that he expressed his personal interest in her. While the others returned to Washington, the Colorado native stayed over a day to give Kenzie a personally guided tour of the Rocky Mountains and an enchanting evening in the small town of Evergreen. If her heart had not already belonged to another, Kenzie would have completely fallen for the Chief of Staff; a tiny part of her had, in fact. But Travis had always been between them, even when Craven kissed her. Craven knew he faced serious competition, and made no secret of the fact that he loved a good challenge. He had been horrified to know his colleague was involved in the Modern Power scam and had framed the Senator to take the blame; he was devastated to know the Press Secretary held a gun on Kenzie and threatened to kill her. Craven swore that if the man were not already dead, he would kill him himself, a task Travis had already taken care of.
Craven had been a good friend to her, even if he wanted more from a relationship than she was able to give. He had not said the words, but she knew he was in love with her. The fact was evident in his daily calls and his texts, in the flowers he sent and the thoughtful things he did for her, despite the thousands of miles that separated them. He was worried about her after the accident and he had cared enough to come.
Travis still did not know about the accident, because he still had not called.
For the first time, the mental comparison she always made between the two men tipped in Craven’s favor. Saddened by the realization, Kenzie unchained the door and tried to look happy.
“Surprise!” the handsome man grinned, pulling a h
uge bouquet of yellow roses and daisies from behind his back.
“I told you not to come, you incorrigible man!” She laughed in spite of herself, genuinely glad to see her friend.
“Then what should I do with these?” He whipped his other arm into view, presenting a plate of freshly baked cinnamon rolls. After sharing the decadent treat in Evergreen, he somehow turned the simple pastry into a seductive joke between them.
“You should get into this apartment immediately, before the neighbors come running and insist I share!”
His cologne teased her senses as he pushed his large frame through the doorway. A former football player in college, Craven was not quite as tall as Travis, but he was bulkier. A muscled chest and toned biceps proved he still worked out regularly. Dressed in jeans and tee shirt with a casual sports jacket, the blue-eyed man could have easily been a male model.
As Craven handed her the bouquet, his fingers lingered over hers. Kenzie lifted green eyes to his, aware of the tiny sizzle that zinged between them. It always reminded her of Travis, and the all-out jolt of lightening his touch sparked. Travis isn’t here, she reminded herself. Craven is.
“Are you sure you’re all right, Kenzie?” he asked solemnly. “You look like you didn’t sleep well.”
“I didn’t, but it had nothing to do with the accident. Not directly, anyway.” Somehow, everything came circling back to her father, and the fraud he committed against the government, the mafia, and his own daughter. How could he have lied to her all those years, letting her believe that woman was her mother?
Craven watched the emotions flicker over her face as she drifted into her own world. “Anything you want to talk about?” he offered.
Did she? She hesitated, torn between wanting to confide in someone about her painful past and wanting to ignore it. Other than Makenna, Travis was the only person she had ever told the truth of her past. It was a bond they shared. As crazy as it sounded, sharing it with Craven seemed somehow unfaithful to the tenuous relationship she and the Ranger were building.
“I don’t think so, but thanks for asking.” She smiled to soften the rebuke. “I’d rather talk about what you’re doing here, when I specifically told you not to come!”
“I was worried about you, Kenzie. You seem to be a magnet for danger. Have you always been this way, or is this a new trend you’re trying out?”
Kenzie laughed, taking her bouquet into the kitchen to find a vase. “Believe it or not, until three months ago, I’d never had as much as a dented bumper. Two cars later, however….” She shook her head with weary resignation. “I just hope my insurance company doesn’t drop me after this. Neither wreck was my fault, but I’ve totaled two cars in less than three months. That may be pushing the limits.”
“It was that bad?” he asked in alarm. “It actually totaled your car?”
“I don’t know that officially, but I think the engine is a goner. And the hood, the bumper, the undercarriage. Definitely the brakes. I don’t see much hope for it.”
“Too bad. You said you were secretly beginning to like this car.”
“I know, right?” She smiled ruefully, handing him the vase full of flowers. “Why don’t you take those into the living room? I’ll make coffee and we can sample those cinnamon rolls.” As she clanged around in the cupboards, she called over her shoulder, “So how long are you here for?”
“I have to be back in Washington Tuesday morning.”
“That’s only tonight and tomorrow.” She was surprised at the disappointment washing through her, knowing his visit would be so brief.
“I’ll be back in a couple of weeks for the Convention,” he reminded her.
As Kenzie carried the coffee into the living room, she glanced into the mirror beside the door. She wished she were wearing something other than black sweat pants and a loose pink zebra print sweatshirt. The boat-neck kept slipping from her shoulders to reveal the straps of her lacy pink bra. At least she had put on makeup and washed her hair, even if it had dried in a wild disarray of curls around her face.
“I see you still have your boring little slippers,” Craven said dryly, eying the ridiculous pair of green and pink fuzzy favorites.
“Can’t goof off around the house without them,” she shrugged, revealing more bare shoulder. She pretended not to notice how Craven’s eyes slid over her, his gaze hungry but respectful as he took in her full curves. Travis looked at her the same way.
Travis isn’t here, she reminded herself once again.
“What hotel are you staying at?” She addressed a safe topic as she handed him his coffee and took the seat beside him.
He named a luxury boutique hotel and picked up the plate of gooey delight. “Compliments of the hotel pastry chef, by the way.”
“Yum. I’ve heard they’re fabulous.”
“One way to find out.” He pulled apart a yeasty roll and touched it to her lips. He teased her with a swipe of frosting, pulling the treat away from her opened mouth.
There was nothing teasing, however, about the way he watched her lick the sugar from her lips. The moment charged with electricity. He licked his own lips, clearing wanting to kiss her. Awareness hummed between them, taking the form of a cinnamon roll.
He teased her with the treat once more, letting her get just a tiny taste, before he pulled it back again. Her eyes locked with his as he slowly pushed the treat into her mouth, letting his finger skim across her bottom lip. Kenzie swallowed hard.
Travis isn’t here, her body hummed. Craven is.
She closed her eyes, savoring the sweetness of the cinnamon roll. She knew Craven was an excellent kisser. She knew all she had to do was lean in just a bit in invitation, and he would take her into his arms and kiss her and take away all her insecurities and fears and loneliness. The thought was tempting. The pull of his body was inviting. But she knew indulging in sex with Craven would be like indulging in the decadent cinnamon rolls; tomorrow, she would regret her weakness.
Gathering her willpower, Kenzie thought of the one thing that made a relationship with Craven tempting but impossible: Travis.
“Mmm, delish!” she proclaimed. Her voice came out slightly husky, but she forced a light attitude into her words as she leaned back and pulled her coffee cup between them. Her eyes flashed brief regret as she met his gaze with a silent apology.
She saw the pained disappointment in his blue eyes. She hated to hurt him, but leading him on would hurt him even more. Always the gentleman, Craven pulled back and took her decision with grace. He reached for his coffee cup, his hand only slightly unsteady. “You’re right, these are good,” he said, biting into the other half of the cinnamon roll.
In spite of herself, Kenzie followed the movement with her eyes. Her body still hummed, wondering what might have been.
“So you’re only in town for the one day?” she confirmed.
“And this evening.”
“Hmm,” she said thoughtfully, drumming fingers sticky with cinnamon bun against her lips. “What to do, what to do… After all, you showed me your stomping grounds; it’s only fair I return the favor.”
“I was hoping you’d offer,” he grinned charmingly.
“We can go to Fredericksburg tomorrow,” she decided.
“What is this place you speak of?”
Even as she answered, one corner of her mind was busy appreciating Craven’s humorous inquiry and making the mental comparison between him and her oh-so-serious Ranger; Craven’s personality was so much better suited to hers!
Why, then, did her heart belong to the other man?
“It’s a really neat little German town in the Hill Country,” she told him, focusing on his question. “It was one of the early settlements in Texas history and named after Prince Frederick of Prussia. Nowadays it’s full of quaint shops and eateries and Bed and Breakfasts, but it still has that old feeling, full of old-world charm and lots of German culture. Many of the locals still have a heavy German accent.” She brushed icing from her mouth as s
he pondered more possibilities. “If that doesn’t suit you, there are tons of other things to do. Being in politics, you might like to go to the Lyndon B. Johnson Ranch and his birthplace in the tiny near-by town of Stonewall. They have wonderful peach orchards there and the best peaches you have ever tasted. Scattered all around the Hill Country are wineries and caves and lots of exotic ranches and wildlife. And of course there are all the rivers, where you can tube and raft. Or the Enchanted Rock, a humongous pink granite dome you can hike up.” More ideas popped into her head and she spouted a few of them off before stopping to ask, “Any of that sound fun to you?”
“You’ll be my guide, right?”
“Of course.”
“Then they all sound perfect.” His voice was as warm as the blue gaze that slid over her.
She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, flattered in spite of herself. “So tonight, we could go downtown. Watch the bats.”
“Excuse me?”
“I know it sounds a little weird, but it’s really quite entertaining. Every evening around dusk, thousands and thousands of bats come swarming out from under Congress Avenue Bridge. The sky turns totally black for a few minutes and they seem to go on forever. People bring blankets and picnics and make an evening of it. It’s really pretty cool.”
“I come all this way, and you’re just going to take me to see a bunch of old bats?”
“Not ‘just’. We’ll do the whole SoCo District thing and I’ll take you to the infamous 6th Street.” She took another bite of her gooey confection, smearing frosting on her face.
Distracted by the sight of caramelized sugar smudged around her mouth, Craven tried to stay in the conversation. “And that entails?”
“A very fun evening,” she assured him. “There are a ton of interesting shops and restaurants and cool art galleries, plus bars and clubs and ethnic food trucks. Live music everywhere. Dancers and street shows and a crazy wild nightlife. You’ll love it!” She tried to imagine Travis on 6th Street, but instinctively knew he would only go there while on duty, handcuffs ready.
