“There has to be a mistake. I didn’t take a dime from anyone for the baby.” She held Hunter’s gaze, praying he wouldn’t look away. “You need to believe me. I swear I didn’t take any money from those people. I wouldn’t have. I hated giving her up.”
Hunter leaned forward and tunneled a hand through her hair. “I believe you. I saw the closet in the attic. I know how much it hurt you to let her go.”
“But…” Liz sagged against Hunter. “The money…” She shook her head, dazed by the news that money had been exchanged over her baby. “Could my mother have been that callous? That conniving and money-hungry?”
Hunter kissed the top of her head. “Often adoptive couples will pay for a woman’s pregnancy and hospital bills. Maybe that’s what your mom did with the money the McHales gave her. Paid the hospital bills.”
“No.” Liz shook her head. “There were no bills. At least, nothing that major. Tina said insurance covered everything: the sonograms, the birthing room…” And she would have noticed if her mother had started waving money around. In their home, thirty thousand dollars would have been noticed.
Where could that money have gone? Hell, there never had been enough money in the house to buy groceries, much less any extra floating around. And Tina certainly hadn’t spent the money on her own daughter. The only time Tina had given her any cash was during college.
While Liz was in college, for the first time in her life, Tina had been a fairly decent provider. She’d taken on a second job and would send Liz a thousand dollars each month. That amount, in addition to the scholarships Liz had won, was the only thing that got her through four years at UC Berkeley.
Numbers jumbled in her brain, tumbling about until they formed a specific amount. Liz sucked in a breath and pressed a hand to her belly. Over the course of her college education, Tina had doled out well over thirty thousand dollars.
“Oh, God…” she whispered. “Tina paid for my college education with the money she took for the baby.” She let out a near hysterical laugh. “I got a college education for the price of a child.”
“Lizzie.” Hunter reached out a hand, which she slapped away.
She didn’t want to be touched. She wasn’t worthy of being touched.
A sob formed in the back of her throat. She’d been a sucker. She’d believed her mother when Tina told her the love of her life didn’t want her anymore. She’d believed Tina when she told her the father of her child wanted to give it up for adoption. Believed her when she said a nice family would give her baby a good home.
Believed that she could come back home to Meadowview and put the past behind her.
She’d lied. Tina had lied.
“She came to me. After I heard about you and Becky.” Waves of dizziness hit her as her mind wheeled, trying to capture and make sense of all the information. “Tina had an adoption form filled out with your signature. I saw in black and white that you didn’t want our daughter. You’d signed away your rights to our baby.”
“No.” He shook his head. “No, I did sign the adoption papers, but only after you had already done so. I didn’t sign them first. Tina lied about that, too. Faked one set of signatures, I guess.”
Liz dropped her head into her hands. “I don’t understand why she’d do what she did. Why she’d break us up. Make us get rid of our baby.”
Hunter rubbed her back, moving his thumb in concentric circles. “I think, Liz, that in her own fucked-up way, Tina was trying to be a good mom. She had such high hopes for you. The two of you were alike in so many ways but different, too. Tina wasn’t beautiful like you, she didn’t have your charm, and she certainly wasn’t the brightest bulb in the bunch—”
Liz laughed, shakily. “Tina balancing her checkbook was like a newborn foal attempting to walk.” She’d thought the humor might lift some of the pressure off her chest but she still felt as if a thousand sandbags held her to the ground.
“Tina saw so much potential in your intelligence,” Hunter said. “Before she fought with my mom, they used to talk all the time about what colleges she wanted you to apply to, how she hoped you’d become a lawyer or a doctor. Something better than what she’d become.”
“The town drunk,” Liz scoffed.
“Yeah,” Hunter said. “She’d fallen flat on her face. But she thought the world of you, and dreamed big for you. When you got pregnant, my guess is that she couldn’t let go of that dream. I think she did her dysfunctional best to make your life what it should have been.”
Dysfunctional was putting it lightly, Liz thought. Tina had fucked up to a level beyond what a merely dysfunctional mother could even dream of attaining. But Tina had been her mother. And Liz had been her daughter. A fuck-up, following in her mother’s footsteps. Save for the decision to attend college, every major decision Liz had made in her life had resulted in disaster.
She was Tina, next generation.
“So I got a college education but…” She couldn’t finish her sentence.
“But you got screwed. By Tina, and by me, most of all.” Hunter nuzzled her head. “I’m sorry. I’m more sorry than I can ever tell you. But I want to make it up to you. And to Abbie. And it seems to me,” he said, his tone lightening, a trace of excitement running through his words, “that Abbie wants to have a relationship with us, with her birth parents. That’s something we could explore.”
A cold ache settled in Liz’s gut at Hunter’s light and cheerful tone—at his hope of having a relationship with their baby. She stood and dusted the bottom of her jeans, then shoved her hands deep in her back pockets. She didn’t want Hunter to see her shaking hands.
She couldn’t have a relationship with her daughter. She didn’t deserve to have any kind of relationship with the girl. She was Liz Pritchard, after all. Town slut, daughter of Tina Pritchard, town drunk.
That’s what she was known as, and who’d she always be.
And there was no way would she pass on that legacy to the girl. She wanted her daughter far, far away from her and from Meadowview. And as soon as possible.
“You go right ahead and have a relationship with her if it matters that much to you, but keep me out of it. I’ll be here today to meet her, help her get back safely to her parents, but then that’s it. I go back to my regular life afterward.” She turned her back, unable to bear seeing Hunter’s shocked expression.
“Lizzie—”
“I can’t do what you’re asking. Just—just keep me out of everything, Hunter,” she said, and walked away, leaving him alone and naked in the meadow.
* * *
Hunter cradled the cup of coffee in his hands. Given the events of the day, a bottle of booze would have been his preference. But when he’d run into Dan outside Cuppa Joe, the man had pestered him into stopping for a cup of coffee. He’d agreed, telling himself that with Abbie still a couple of hours from arriving, he could spend some time and catch up on news with Dan.
Yeah, right, who was he fooling?
He wanted to stay the hell away from Liz.
Wanted to get the taste of her out of his mouth, the scent of her out of his nostrils. Liz walking away like that had rubbed him raw. He’d only asked her to think about a relationship with their child and she’d stuck her nose in the air and left him behind in the dust.
“Heard Liz Pritchard was back in Meadowview again. Twice in one week. Jenna Swinton over at the bakery saw her drive up Main Street around midnight last night. Then Mrs. Tuttle, who lives across the street from Liz’s, was woken up by noises and lights over at her place around two in the morning. She was all set on calling the sheriff to report a burglary when she realized Liz had come home and was cleaning the house. You see her yet?” Dan asked.
Hunter nodded, staring into the depths of his coffee as if it held the key to his future. “Yep. That I did.”
“And?”
Hunter looked up. Dan stared back at him expectantly. “And what?”
“And tell me more. What’s going on with you two? You haven’t com
e back to Meadowview since the day you graduated high school and suddenly Liz is showing up at all hours. The town’s buzzing with rumors.”
Hunter rolled his eyes. “Any good ones?”
Dan rubbed his forehead. “Let’s see…Mrs. Gregson keeps telling people who come into the library that she thinks you two robbed a bank and buried the money in 35 Nightingale Lane’s back yard. Mark, the guy bagging groceries at Dillard’s Grocery, told people he saw a car filled with men pull into Nightingale Lane early this morning. He suspects a sex orgy took place.”
Hunter shook his head. Yeah, the gossipmongers of Meadowview were at it strong.
“But Michelle and I think you two are dealing with something from your past. From when…you know. Am I right?”
Hunter leaned back in his seat and ran his palms over his thighs. He blew out a long, slow breath. “Bingo. The girl we gave up for adoption is looking for us. She’s stolen her dad’s car and is driving in from Colorado. I want to meet her. Liz doesn’t.”
Dan let out a low whistle. “I almost don’t know what to say. That’s intense. Seeing the kid you gave up for adoption and all, having her run away to find you.”
Hunter nodded, staring at the coffee cup wrapped in his hands.
“I don’t get it, though. Why doesn’t Liz want to meet the kid?”
A muscle spasm thrust a jolt of pain through his jaw. “Dunno. I keep getting mixed signals from her over that one. I’m the one who left all my contact information with the adoption agency, so when Abbie”— he looked up at Dan —“that’s our daughter, Abbie. When she hacked into the adoption agency’s Web site, she emailed me.”
“How’d she get your email, or your name?”
“I’d had left her a letter, the way the agency said we could, and would regularly update my contact info. I’ve been waiting since the day she was born for her to turn eighteen and come find me. But apparently, Liz wanted to shut the door to that part of her life. She hadn’t provided any means of communication for the girl. Too painful, maybe. Or maybe having a child interferes with her new life too much.”
He shouldn’t have said that last thing, but as hard as he was trying to understand Liz’s decision to stay out of Abbie’s life, he couldn’t. And he still hated Liz for shutting their daughter out.
The rumble of a low-flying airplane’s heavy engine overhead interrupted their conversation. Most likely an air tanker, Hunter figured. The planes would fill with the fire retardant and leave from Meadowview’s miniscule airport to fly for miles to a fire. He’d smelled the faint, acrid scent of smoke earlier that morning after leaving the meadow. A fire in the foothills. He felt a surge of energy, the adrenaline rush he always got before heading out to fight a fire.
The heavily pierced waitress who’d been hovering nearby refilled their coffee before dropping a bill on their table. Dan waved Hunter’s hand away when he reached out to grab the bill. “This one’s on me. Move back home to Meadowview and you can buy me a coffee sometime.”
“The fire chief is pushing me to take on the open position coming up. I’d have to apply, but it seems like the pool of applicants would be thin, to say the least. Not too many people choosing to move to Meadowview these days.”
Dan nodded. “We’re out in the boonies, but it’s a great place to raise a family, I gotta say. Not much negative influence coming in from the big cities, either. Kids around here get in trouble for smoking pot, or tipping cows, or getting preg—” He slammed his mouth shut and shot a guilty look at Hunter.
Hunter gave a rueful smile. “Yep, that was me, back in the day.”
“When’s your girl—Abbie—due in town?” Dan asked.
“This afternoon, I figure. We know she spent the night in Salt Lake City. She probably left around seven or eight in the morning. I tracked her course online at the B&B this morning,” he said. “According to the computer, the trip takes about eight, nine hours. She’ll be here later this afternoon. Liz and I will meet her at Tina’s old place.”
Dan stood, Hunter following his lead. “Then what?” Dan asked, tossing a few bills on the counter.
“Then I get Abbie back to her real father and Liz takes off and heads back to the high life and marries her rich fiancé.”
“And you?” Dan asked, shooting him a look from under a heavy brow. “What are your plans?”
Good question. What about him? He’d been drifting for so long, like floating ash on the wind. Was it time to settle down and get a real life? A picture of Liz’s face, tearstained and beautiful, came to him. He frowned. One thing at a time. First get Abbie home safely to her folks, then address the intense and hot desire for Liz that had flashed over him the minute she opened the door to 35 Nightingale Lane and told him to get lost.
He rubbed the back of his neck. He hadn’t made a gigantic success out of his life, the way he and the rest of Meadowview had thought he would. Hadn’t made it to the Super Bowl—an injury had him sidelined his second year in college. But he had plenty of savings and a newfound desire to settle down. Maybe it was time for him to do some growing up. Chief Brentwood’s suggestion to apply for the vacant firefighting position dangled like a baited hook in front of him.
He looked up at Dan, feeling a half-formed smile tugging its way to full blown on his lips. “Think Michelle can hook me up with a rental in town?”
Dan flashed him a smile and clapped him on the back. “Welcome back to Meadowview, Hunter. Welcome home.”
* * *
Liz swiped at the mantel with the dust cloth for what had to be the fifth time that morning. She’d already dusted, vacuumed, and tidied every inch of the creaking Victorian house. Any cleaning now would be superfluous. She twisted the cloth in her hands and gazed about the room.
Not bad, she thought. In fact, her former home now seemed cozy and inviting. Amazing how a little spit and shine could put a place to rights. The lace curtains covering the bay window had been washed and rehung, neat and tidy. The wainscoting and chair rail had undergone a quick polish, perking up the white enamel paint. On her way back from the meadow, she’d found some reeds and late blooming summer flowers. Now they decorated the living room, kitchen, and her bedroom, too.
At least Tina hadn’t sold off all the furniture. What remained were a few good pieces: antique side tables and bookcases, and a leather couch and matching chair and ottoman. Liz couldn’t do more to the front yard besides hose off the porch and walkway and prop the leaning picket fence up so it stood straight, but at least the interior of the house appeared warm and welcoming.
The house smelled good, too. Inspired by the decadent scent of her coffee earlier that morning, Liz had taken an entire canister of Holiday Bliss creamer and dumped it in a pot of boiling water. The scent of freshly baked cookies now permeated the air. She walked back into the kitchen and turned off the heat to the stove, then dumped the now gelatinous mass down the garbage disposal. Waves of Holiday Bliss scent washed over her.
Her stomach growled. After she’d left Hunter at the meadow, he’d followed her back to the house. He hadn’t said much, simply indicating he’d run a few errands and would be back later to meet Abbie and make sure she got back to the girl’s adoptive father. Without looking at him, she’d handed him her car keys and asked him to pick up some food. Teenagers liked to eat, she recalled.
The cranking buzz of the doorbell sounded.
Hunter, back with the groceries.
“It’s open,” she said, looking about the kitchen for a dishtowel on which to wipe her hands. “Hunter?” she called out when she didn’t hear him respond.
“Hello?” a soft, female voice called out.
Her heart gave a little jump, but then she realized the hour was far too early for her visitor to be Abbie. She gave up on finding a dishtowel. Wiping her hands on her skirt, she walked out of the kitchen and into the living room.
And straight back to her past.
Standing in front of her stood the exact image of herself, thirteen years before.
&
nbsp; Abbie knew she looked like a total idiot, gaping at the woman standing in front of her, but she couldn’t take her eyes off the image of herself. Only the woman in the white top and summery skirt was way older.
But the woman had the same bright green eyes, the same mouth, the same freckles. The same nose, too. Her hair was darker—auburn—probably dyed, from what Abbie could tell. But she also had really, really big boobs. Abbie resisted the urge to look at her own flat chest and gave herself a mental shake. She was here to meet her parents, not wonder about whether she’d get boobs that big when she grew up.
“I guess I found the right house, then. You have to be Liz, since you look just like me,” she said, trying to make her voice sound sophisticated and mature. Not the voice of the shaking little girl she suddenly felt like. She wiped her sweaty palms down the front of her jeans, wishing suddenly she’d worn something more professional. Somehow, jeans and a T-shirt with the Rolling Stones lips-and-tongue logo now seemed so juvenile.
The woman pressed her lips together tight and a vein popped out on her forehead. Way too skinny, Abbie thought. But beautiful. Liz Pritchard was beautiful.
“Will I look like you when I grow up?” Abbie blurted. She felt the heat of a blush creep up her neck. Idiot. What happened to the whole sophisticated speech she’d planned to give?
“We…we do look alike, don’t we?” the woman said, staring at Abbie like her eyeballs had been glued in that position.
Abbie blew out a breath, relieved. So she hadn’t completely embarrassed herself. She stepped forward, extending her arm as far as it could go, and said, “I’m Abbie McHale. I believe I’m your daughter.”
The lady grabbed the side of a leather couch, as if she’d been caught off balance, but she held out her other hand and shook Abbie’s.
“I’m Liz—Elizabeth—um…Picard. And yes, I do believe you’re…we’re…” She seemed to struggle for the right words. “I believe we are related,” she finally said.
Claiming The One (Meadowview Heat 3; The Meadowview Series 3) Page 12
