Sniffing, she got up, crossed his office, and set her mug on the table where he kept the coffeepot.
“So your mother took her,” Jack said.
She faced him. “Yeah. She said it was important that she immediately be the mother and I be the sister. It made sense to begin as we planned to continue. I knew if I’d simply given Madison up for adoption, if strangers had adopted her, I never would have seen her again. But in a way, it was so much harder watching her with my parents. The first time I heard her call my mother Mommy, I thought my heart would break.
“As I got older, matured, I wanted her back. I wanted my baby back, I wanted to be her mommy, but I knew that was wrong, would hurt Madison, hurt my parents. I’d made my choice, had to live with it. I went off to college, buried myself in my studies, came here to teach, had planned to bury myself in my work”—she gave him a wry grin—“until you distracted me from my purpose. And that’s the lurid and ugly tale.”
Only he didn’t think it was a lurid or ugly tale. Stephanie had given up her child as well, but self-love had motivated her actions. The strength of love that Kelley was talking about humbled Jack. Now that he had Jason in his care, would he give him up if he thought it was best for him? Kelley’s parents had been convinced they were doing what was best for Madison. But their unexpected deaths had thrown a kink into everything, shifting responsibility back to Kelley.
Jack wasn’t immune to the fact that she’d distanced herself from him as though she feared he might again distract her from her purpose. He was certainly going to give it his best shot. She was back in his life now, and he didn’t want her to leave.
“So you moved back home to forget me?”
“Yes. You think you probably see a pattern developing here, that I run away to escape facing things, but when I was running from here, I was also running back to Madison. I realized that I was missing all those precious moments: watching her discover her world, playing soccer, taking dance lessons. I was like a parent denied custody. Whenever she’d come to spend the night, I’d spoil her rotten. Take her to movies, shopping, dinner. We’d have so much fun. But I was always her sister, her friend, never her mother. I’d sacrificed the right for her to call me mother—for her own good. But I’m sure she wouldn’t see it that way.”
“Tell her the truth and find out.”
She stared at him as though he’d just suggested she do something illegal.
“That’s an absurd notion,” she finally uttered.
“Why?”
“She’d hate me.”
“She hates you now.”
“Don’t sugarcoat it, Jack. Tell me how you really think she feels.”
“All right, I will. I think she’s feeling lost—”
“And taking away her past will remedy that?”
He stepped toward her, needing to close the distance. “That night I saw her in the bar, with all that piercing, she struck me as a kid who was trying to hold herself together. All these things she does that make you crazy, she does because she’s trying to force you to be parental. So tell her the truth. Stop being her sister, start being her mother.”
“You make it sound as though it’s a simple solution. But it’s a complex problem. You have no idea how difficult it’s been watching you with Jason, a child who isn’t your biological son. Yet you acknowledge him as your own. And here I am, pretending to be my daughter’s sister.” She sighed softly, and tears welled in her eyes. “My daughter. I’ve never called her that before. I’ve never even thought of her as my daughter. I was afraid if I did that I’d slip. That I’d say something to give myself away.”
He studied her, the dark circles beneath her eyes, the hollow cheekbones. She was letting Madison worry her to death.
She peered up at him. “You told me that the first time you held Jason, you fell in love with him. From that moment on, he was your son. And now you expect me to tell Madison that I held her in my arms and then gave her away.”
He heard the derision in her voice, the disgust. Not with him but with herself, for what she saw as her own failings.
“You held her in your arms, and you did what you thought was best for her.”
“I’m on the brink of losing her completely, Jack. I honestly believe that the truth will send her over the edge. I can’t do it. She thinks her parents are dead. She grieved for them. Now, from the ashes of that grief, I’m supposed to resurrect her mother? I don’t think so. I made my choice, and now we all have to live with it.”
“If you change your mind, give me a call, anytime day or night. I’ll be there to lend you support.”
She lifted her eyes to his. “Why couldn’t you have been her father?”
He grinned. “Other than the fact that I didn’t know you, I was twelve and hadn’t yet discovered that sex was more fun when you had a partner.”
She laughed, a forced sound that bordered on edgy. “You are so bad, Jack.”
“I was, and that’s the reason I know that she’s crying out for help. No one heard my cries, Kelley, until I was a senior and my English teacher gave me a reason to straighten out my act. My God, I thought you were merciless. If I called you after I didn’t turn in an assignment, you hung up on me. You ignored me if I didn’t raise my hand in class. You were tough as nails and gave me every reason to hate you. Believe me, I tried to hate you. But all I could do was admire you for not backing down. Every decision I made in the past nine years, I’ve made with one criterion in mind: Would Kelley Spencer be proud of me if she found out that this was the road I’d decided to travel?”
Tears welled in her eyes. He took hold of her chin and rubbed his thumb over her lower lip. “For what it’s worth, after everything you’ve told me, I love you at this moment more than I’ve ever loved you. Sometimes I think I’ve been waiting my whole life for us, and if I have to wait a bit longer, I will.”
Chapter 21
No way, no how. Madison absolutely was not going to spend her Saturday painting a stinky old bathroom in a dumpy old gas station that should have been condemned years ago. What was it with this town and its refusal to move into the twenty-first century?
Madison knew Jack Morgan’s interest in Kelley was deeply rooted, the product of something that had started long ago. There were just too many clues. The sheriff wasn’t the only one who could gather evidence.
So now she was going through boxes in Kelley’s closet, looking for proof that Kelley and the sheriff had been involved when he was her student. She didn’t plan to make the information public. She knew it could hurt Kelley’s career. She didn’t want to do that. But she could threaten to expose their past.
That’s all she was looking for: a leverage tool. So she wouldn’t have to paint a smelly bathroom that probably harbored Ebola germs.
So far, her search hadn’t yielded anything significant. A black graduation cap that could have been anyone’s. Pressed wildflowers. She wasn’t exactly sure what she was searching for or what she expected to find. But there had to be something. A note, a diary, a journal. Kelley was an English teacher. She was always making students keep journals, had always encouraged Madison to keep one. Surely, Kelley practiced what she preached.
She seemed to do so in every other aspect of her life. Madison had never seen her drunk, and she’d certainly never caught anyone coming out of Kelley’s bedroom. Still, she knew something serious was developing between Kelley and Morgan. Kelley had practically admitted it at the beach house. And Madison didn’t care what Jack Morgan said. You didn’t do all those things for a teacher, no matter how much you’d liked being in her class.
Which left only one thing. A little hanky panky behind the overhead projector.
Madison put the lid back on the last box she’d searched and stuffed it back into the corner of the closet from where she’d retrieved it earlier. A horrible thought occurred to her. What if any incriminating evidence was still in Dallas?
It wasn’t as if Kelley had packed up everything and brought it to Podunk.
They’d both left anything they could live without in a storage unit. The question was: Could Kelley live without reminders of Jack Morgan? Would she have left things in Dallas?
Getting to her feet, Madison dusted off her hands, considered hopping into her car and heading to Dallas. This plan had the advantage of ensuring that she wouldn’t be anywhere in the area at the crack of dawn and therefore would miss her appointment with the paint can and brush. The disadvantage was that it was a temporary solution. Her butt would be hauled back, and the sheriff would probably make her paint every bathroom in town.
With mounting disappointment that her search had failed, she reached up to turn off the closet light. Her gaze fell on a metal box at the farthest corner of the top shelf. Kelley’s safe—a fireproof holder where she kept important documents that she’d temporarily moved out of the safety-deposit box because she knew she was going to need them, things like Madison’s birth certificate. She’d known she’d need it to get Madison enrolled in school. Madison had never actually looked at her birth certificate. Kelley guarded it as if it were an expensive piece of jewelry. She kept it in an envelope and was always the one to present it when it was needed. Not that Madison really cared.
But that metal box might also contain some personal memorabilia that Kelley didn’t want anyone to get their little hands on. Probably not, but maybe…
Madison reached for it, felt her fingers close around the cool metal, and brought the box down. She knelt on the floor and placed the box before her. She tried to lift the lid, but the box was locked. Her heart thundering, she carried it into her room, set it on the desk, and grabbed a paper clip. She unfolded it and began digging it into the keyhole.
The box’s main purpose was to protect items from fire, not from burglars. She couldn’t understand why the manufacturer even bothered with a lock or why Kelley had gone to the trouble to use it. She heard the click and smiled.
Taking a deep breath, she slowly opened the box. It contained a hodgepodge of items: photos, letters, documents. She began rummaging through them, ignoring anything that was official-looking and giving photos only a passing glance, since none caught her eye with an image of Jack Morgan on them.
Near the bottom, she found an envelope with a return address from J. Morgan, a postmark dated nine years ago. It was addressed to Spencer. She slowly brought it out of the box, her palms growing damp. With her luck, it would just be a student thanking a teacher.
She turned it over. So, how come it had been kept but never opened?
Sitting back in her chair, she tapped the edge of the envelope against her fingers. Wouldn’t a teacher immediately open a letter from a student, unless she feared it would contain something she didn’t want to read? She thought about steaming it open but decided against it. First of all, she had no idea how that approach worked. She’d heard of doing it but had never seen it done. Second, it seemed a little dramatic.
She studied the sealing. Time had eroded the glue somewhat. She slid a ruler beneath the edge of the flap and carefully worked the flap free. She hesitated, not certain she really did want to know what the letter said. On the other hand, it could save her from a fate worse than death.
She pulled out the letter, written on notebook paper, unfolded it, and read the scrawled words.
Dear Spencer,
I tried calling you before I left town, but you weren’t answering your phone. Reckon I can’t blame you for that. I joined the army. I’m in basic training right now. Not the hardest thing I’ve ever done, so I don’t figure I’ll fail here.
I think about you every night when I’m stretched out on my bunk. I know I’m not supposed to. I’m supposed to be thinking about my wife. I know that’s what you’d want me to do. But all I can think about is that one night I had with you. It was perfect. Don’t know what I did to deserve it. Hope it was more than just graduating.
I know you said you wouldn’t wait, but here’s the thing. I love you. I’ve never said that to anyone but you. I know I made a mistake with Stephanie. I’m just kinda hoping that what you and me had was as important to you as it was to me. If you think you can ever forgive me, write me back. And if you can’t…well, I guess if I don’t hear from you, I’ll know the answer to that.
All I can say is that I’m really sorry.
Jack
Madison dropped the letter onto her desk as though it had suddenly ignited in her hands. They’d had one perfect night together. But what did that mean, exactly? Did it mean what she thought it did? And what did it prove? What could she do with this information?
It read as if it were written by a kid, and she supposed nine years ago, the sheriff had been almost that. And Kelley had been equally young. And she’d been hurt. Madison was certain of it now. She remembered the stunned expression on Kelley’s face when she’d walked into Morgan’s office. She hadn’t expected to see him there. Hadn’t wanted to see him there.
He’d wanted her forgiveness. She hadn’t even opened his letter. The jerk had hurt her sister. And here Madison wanted to do the same thing. Kelley hadn’t deserved to be hurt back then, and she didn’t deserve it now.
Madison had been throwing tantrums, trying to be in charge. All she really needed to do was sit down with Kelley and tell her how she was truly feeling. She’d done it effortlessly while her parents had been alive. Kelley had always been her champion then. They’d been able to talk, whisper secrets in the dark late at night. Kelley had been not only her sister but her best friend.
Somehow, with their parents’ deaths, they’d lost that. But they could get it back. It wasn’t too late. If she and Kelley could get as close as they’d once been, they’d go back to Dallas. No problem.
Madison folded the letter up and stuffed it back into the envelope. She grabbed a glue stick out of a desk drawer and quickly sealed it. Kelley would never forgive her for reading this letter. Her sister had obviously forgiven Jack Morgan. Not that Madison could blame her. He was definitely hot. Still, he’d hurt Kelley once before, which meant he could do it again. There was that little matter of trust that Kelley had been telling her about.
She began sorting through the contents of the box again, trying to remember where the letter had been. Not on the bottom but close to it. Would Kelley remember exactly where she’d placed it? Probably not.
She slipped her fingers between random items, lifted them, and froze at the photo of Kelley sitting up in a hospital bed. In a hospital bed…holding a baby. She stared at the image. Kelley looked so young. Whose baby was she holding? And why was she holding it while sitting in a hospital bed?
She turned it over. The date—Madison’s birthday—and the inscription —me and my baby— didn’t make any sense.
Every shred of decency she possessed told her to close the lid on the box and put it back on the shelf where she’d found it. To forget everything she’d seen and read inside.
But, just like Pandora, she couldn’t ignore what she’d released. Slowly, she began sifting through the box, paying more attention to what was nestled inside.
Kelley pulled into the driveway, grateful to see Madison’s car in the driveway and a police car stationed at the curb. Mike got out and walked toward her.
“ Spencer.”
“Hello, Mike.”
He pointed toward Madison’s car. “I know the chief said that I was supposed to bring her here, but she promised to drive herself straight over here, with me following, so I didn’t see the harm in letting her do it.”
“I’m glad you did. It saves us having to go pick it up.”
“That’s what I was thinking. You need me to stick around?”
“No, we’ll be fine now. Thank you.”
“Not a problem. You take care now.”
As soon as he drove away, she walked to the front door. She was exhausted after her ordeal in Jack’s office, but she needed to face Madison, needed to make her understand that this behavior would not get her any results—if she even knew what results she was trying to get.
Walking into the house, she was surprised that she couldn’t hear Madison’s music blaring. A quick look in the living room and kitchen assured her that Madison wasn’t in either room. She tossed her purse onto the couch in passing. With the carpet muffling her steps, she headed toward the mother-in-law wing, surprised to see that the door to Madison’s room was open.
She took a deep breath to calm her nerves before striding into Madison’s room. She came to a grinding halt as though she’d slammed into a brick wall. Her heart began hammering with such force that she feared it might erupt through her chest.
Oh, God. Oh, God.
Looking like the stunned survivor of an explosion, Madison sat in the middle of her bed, the fireproof box in front of her, papers, documents, and photos spread haphazardly around her. Her cheeks were damp with tears, her glazed-over eyes seemed barely to register Kelley’s presence. She was releasing short little pants, her hands trembling as her fingers moved jerkily from one item on the bed to another, like someone searching for the missing piece of a jigsaw puzzle, the one piece that would bring the image into focus.
Kelley took a gingerly step toward her. “Madison?”
“I was trying to find proof that you and the sheriff…before…when he was your student. I…I found…all…this.”
Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God. Normally, she kept everything locked in a safety-deposit box at the bank. But she’d needed the birth certificate to enroll Madison, and she simply hadn’t had time to get it locked safely away. She’d thought in her locked box, hidden away in her closet, that it would be protected. Madison never went snooping into Kelley’s things. Why now? Why would she look for something involving Jack? And the answer hit her with startling clarity. Madison had been looking for a way to hurt Jack, maybe even to hurt Kelley, so she could get out of painting a damn bathroom. And what she’d ended up doing was hurting herself.
“Madison—”
“There’s a picture of you with a baby.”
The accusation hit Kelley hard, and she didn’t know whether to hope Madison had looked through everything, had sorted everything out, or to hope she hadn’t. Kelley’s best friend had taken the picture, and Kelley had hoarded it away because her parents had convinced her it was best not to take any pictures of her with the baby. “It’ll look strange,” her mother had said.
Hard loving man Page 22
