by EMILIE ROSE
“Will I get to buy cool clothes?”
“Sure.”
“You’ll let me pick out the house?”
“I’ll let you help.”
For nearly a mile, silence echoed in the car. “Could I be called Chaz there instead of Chastity? I catch a lot of grief over my name. Mom might as well have named me Perpetual Virgin or something equally lame.”
“You can be Chaz if you want. Or even Faith.”
“God, no. My middle name’s as bad as my first. Chastity Faith. I mean, seriously, who does that to a kid?”
“Faith is my middle name.”
“And you don’t use it, either. Can I get a dog? Mom always said no, but pets are important for teaching responsibility.”
Rachel laughed. The kid was playing all the cards. “We’ll discuss it when we figure out where we’ll live.”
“Moving might be okay. I’ll think about it.”
Chastity didn’t have a choice, but Rachel didn’t push the point as she turned into Hope’s neighborhood.
Chastity stroked the dashboard. “Can I drive the rest of the way home?”
Rachel did a double take. “You’re thirteen.”
“Jess Weaver drives her mom’s car sometimes.”
“You’re not Jess Weaver.” Rachel wanted to slap a hand over her mouth. How many times had her parents or Hope given her that patronizing kind of answer? She’d always sworn she’d never say that to a kid of her own. But she hadn’t planned to have any children—any more children, that is.
Logic might work better than argument. “Driving at your age is illegal. If you get caught, you can’t get your license when you turn sixteen.”
“That would suck.”
“We’ll find some go-carts somewhere.”
“Go-carts are for babies.”
This wasn’t getting them anywhere. “So...Matt Johnston is the detention officer? I didn’t know he’d moved back to Johnstonville.”
She wasn’t shamelessly milking information out of a kid. Okay, she was, but curiosity was killing her, and she needed to change the subject.
“He’s the athletic director and the varsity football coach, too. His team’s state champion. Sometimes he substitute teaches or does detention when there’s no ball practice.”
Matt had dreamed of playing professional football after college. What had happened to his plans? Rachel had always expected to see his handsome face on a cereal box or something. He’d been a gifted athlete, smart and driven. Not smart enough to avoid her, but still...the last place she’d expected to find him living was Johnstonville. He’d known exactly what he’d wanted out of life and had a plan to achieve his goals. She’d envied that.
She tamped down the thought. “You had him as a substitute?”
“Yeah. In English. I hate English.” Chastity directed her response to the nonjudgmental window.
As Rachel drove through the streets dappled by the sun peeking through an oak canopy, her thoughts circled back to those brief weeks with him fourteen years ago. Matt had been perfect in a way she could never be—like Hope. And Rachel had deliberately set out to lead Johnstonville’s golden boy astray. She’d tempted and teased him into taking a walk on the wild side, all in a bid to tarnish his halo. But she hadn’t expected him to be understanding, supportive and encouraging. She definitely hadn’t anticipated falling in love with him. Needing him. Wanting forever with him. Or conceiving his child. She’d never cared for anyone with that intensity before or since. She hadn’t let herself.
“He was dating mom.”
Chastity’s words hit Rachel’s solar plexus like a fist. Her foot went slack on the gas pedal. She struggled to regain her breath and balance. “Really?”
“They were gonna get married.”
Another hit. Bile burned her throat. She debated pulling off the road and hitting the ditch to empty her stomach. She reminded herself Matt wasn’t hers. She’d dumped him and walked away. But the image of him making love to her sister was more than her over-traveled nerves could handle. A sour taste filled her mouth. “Your mom was older than Matt.”
“Only by a few years.”
“She, um, never mentioned being...engaged.”
“They hadn’t announced it, but I heard them talking a couple times after they thought I was asleep.” Chastity fussed with the cheap beads on her wrist. “Coach would have been a pretty cool dad.”
Yes. He would have. Rachel couldn’t get a sound out.
“He’s a babe—for an old guy. And probably good in bed since he was a jock and all. They get a lot of practice. Girls always throw themselves at jocks.”
But some jocks tried to save themselves for marriage.
Rachel battled to conceal the chaotic tangle of shock, guilt and denial thundering through her. As nonchalantly as she could, she looked at her niece/daughter and caught the calculating gleam in Chastity’s dark eyes and realized the kid was trying to shock her. Since Rachel couldn’t think of anything to say, she kept her mouth shut. But she wanted to scream.
Hope had taken her daughter. Did she have to take the only man Rachel had ever loved, too? Not that Matt had ever really been Rachel’s. He’d have eventually realized Rachel was unlovable and dumped her. But for a short time she’d found someone who’d believed in her. Accepted her.
Chastity buffed her nails against her jeans. “I don’t think he and Mom were doing it, though. He never spent the night. Anyway, Mom wasn’t the type to get all hot and bothered, you know? She was like a prissy control freak.”
An apt description. Rachel exhaled the breath she’d been holding. She was not relieved. Really, she wasn’t. “Their private relationship was none of your business, Chastity. Or mine. And stop trying to shock me by talking trash.”
“Aw, come on, don’t you ever look at a guy and wonder what he looks like naked or what he’d be like in bed?”
Only Matt. Her other relationships had been more...cerebral. “Matt’s old enough to be your father.”
“Eeew, I don’t want to sleep with him.”
“You’re too young to sleep with anybody.”
Chastity fluffed her hair. “Oh, please. Do you think girls my age aren’t doing it?”
“I know they are. But are you ready to be a mother?”
“No freaking way.” Utter revulsion coated the words. “But there are condoms and birth control pills. I have friends using them.”
“No birth control is fail proof. Trust me. When I volunteer at the clinic I see more pregnant thirteen-year-olds than you’d believe. Let’s not forget the sexually transmitted diseases. Keep your panties on and don’t be in such a rush to grow up. And don’t turn sex into something as cheap and easy as picking up a pack of gum at the corner store. Making love should be...special. Meaningful.”
With Matt it had been both, despite her initial intentions.
“Yeah, yeah.” Chastity poked a wad of gum through her red lips. “You’re more like Mom than I thought.”
Rachel’s heart pounded, and her hands were sweat-slick on the steering wheel. She’d had dreamy visions of the mother-daughter chats she would have shared with Chastity if she hadn’t given her up. How she would have handled difficult conversations like this one so much better than her own mother had. But Rachel hadn’t expected that day to be today. She wasn’t ready. And she wasn’t nearly as eloquent as she thought she’d be. In fact, she had no clue what to say that wouldn’t sound like her mother’s preaching. Or Hope’s.
“Chastity, a lot of people claim to know all the facts about sex and end up in trouble anyway because there’s so much misinformation out there. You can ask me anything. Anything at all. Anytime. Okay?”
Chastity rolled her eyes. “Right.”
Disappointed by the lackluster response, Rachel steered the Mustang o
nto Hope’s quiet street. “I mean it. No judgment. Okay?”
“Whatever.”
Rachel hadn’t been to Hope’s house since her sister had packed them up just weeks after Rachel had discovered her pregnancy. As she drove down the street, the senior citizens working in their perfectly tended yards looked up from their spring flower beds to stare. Curtains twitched.
Nosy neighbors had been the bane of Rachel’s stay in Johnstonville. The phone lines had probably started humming with the news that Rachel Bishop was back the moment she identified herself at the lawyer’s office. The good citizens would wait with baited breath for Rachel’s next scandalous move. She’d disappoint them this time, though. She didn’t create havoc anymore. She brought order. And she definitely wouldn’t be corrupting any more golden boys.
As soon as they pulled in the driveway Chastity jumped out and sprinted toward the house. Rachel exhaled slowly. How was she going to become Chastity’s mother? She’d never measure up to Hope’s perfection. But she had to try. Chastity was her daughter, and she wouldn’t fail her this time.
Rachel grabbed her duffel bag from the back seat and followed the teen up the flower-lined walkway. By the time she reached the shady porch Chastity had retrieved the key from beneath a flower pot full of blooms and unlocked the door. In the corner of the yard Hope’s tiny vegetable garden was already green with the promise of summer fruits and vegetables.
“Matt said you’ve been staying with friends until I could get here?”
“His sister, Pam. I’ll have to go and get my stuff.”
Chastity had been staying with her aunt and didn’t even know it. Rachel sealed the thought in a vault with other taboo memories.
“In that case, the house will probably be musty and dusty and—” Chastity shoved the door open, and a waft of lemon polish–scented air cut off Rachel’s words. Not one dust mote had settled on the hardwood floors or danced in the sunbeams streaming through the sparkling clean windows. Goose bumps lifted Rachel’s skin. She almost expected Hope—the impeccable homemaker—to stroll from the kitchen at any moment with her apron on and her blond hair perfectly styled.
Chastity flounced down the hall, leaving Rachel frozen in the foyer. Maybe it was all a cruel joke. Maybe Hope wasn’t gone. Rachel’s gaze landed on an old family photograph hanging on the wall. Hope, their mother and grandmother were all blonde. Rachel, her father and Grandfather Bishop had darker coloring...like Chastity’s.
A tap on the open door behind her brought Rachel around. Alice Wilkins, the worst busybody on the planet and Hope’s next-door neighbor, stood outside. Small and birdlike, Alice had made a career out of chirping to Hope every time Rachel had sneaked out. She’d been friends with Rachel’s great aunt who’d originally owned the house and left it to Hope.
“Martha called from the school to tell me you and Chastity were on your way home. There’s nothing in the refrigerator, so I brought a casserole for your dinner and a salad. I grew the lettuce myself, and the dressing is my secret recipe.”
The thoughtful gesture was unexpected. Rachel didn’t know how to handle it, but then she stiffened her spine. No doubt Hope’s neighbors thought Rachel the Rebel incapable of feeding a child. But Rachel swallowed her pride, set down her bag, took the dishes and forced a smile. “Thank you.”
“The church women’s group and I have been keeping an eye on the place and straightening up a little since our dear Hope passed. She will be sorely missed.”
That explained the spotless house. “Yes.”
Alice showed no sign of leaving. The polite thing to do would be to invite her in, but Rachel couldn’t imagine Alice wanting to chat with the girl who’d rearranged her flower beds until the purple and yellow pansies spelled something vulgar.
“Chastity tells me you’re a nurse now.”
“I am.”
“She talks about you all the time. Wants to grow up to be just like her aunt Rachel and see the world. Of course, it used to break her mother’s heart to hear Chastity say she wanted to move away like you did. But Hope was quite pleased with the way you turned out after she convinced you to finish school and get a responsible job.”
Stunned speechless, Rachel merely stared. Hope hadn’t said anything, and one word of praise from her sister would have been more welcome than a winning lottery ticket. The only thing Rachel had known for sure was that she’d disappointed Hope and their parents on a regular basis.
Miss Wilkins pointed to the casserole. “Bake it at three-fifty for thirty minutes. Call if you need anything. I can pop over anytime. I left my number on the pad by the phone.”
“Thanks, again.” For more than the food. Rachel shut the door behind her. After all the effort Rachel had expended to make the woman miserable, she couldn’t fathom why she was being nice...unless she was fishing for information.
“Who was that?” Chastity had changed into jeans and a T-shirt and pulled her hair up into a ponytail on top of her head. Even though she still wore the heavy makeup, she looked more like a thirteen-year-old now than the thirty-year-old she’d been impersonating earlier.
“Miss Wilkins.”
Chastity grimaced. “Whatever she says, I didn’t do it. I’ve been at school all day.”
Rachel laughed. “I used to say those same words. She brought dinner.”
“Nah, she was checking up on us. Dinner is an excuse. What is it?” She peered under the foil. “Mmm, her chicken casserole. The old bat makes the best chicken casserole on the planet...even if she does make a career out of spying on me and making my life miserable.”
Grabbing the dish, Chastity headed for the kitchen. Rachel followed with the salad. A smile tugged her lips at yet another familiar refrain. She’d hated the neighbors who seemed determined to mind her business and offer unsolicited advice. It seemed she and her daughter had more in common than genetics. Rachel shoved the bowl into the empty and sparkling clean refrigerator.
“You can sleep in the guest room. I’ll help you unpack.” Chastity reached for the duffel bag Rachel had dropped on the floor.
“Thanks, but I’ll do it. I need to do my dirty laundry anyway.”
“This bag feels empty. Where’s the rest of your stuff?”
“I left most of it with the village women.”
“Why?”
How could she explain the horror of watching children sift through the dump for clothing, food and supplies? “Because they don’t have much, and there are no Walmart stores over there.”
A moment of silence passed. “I guess you could borrow some of Mom’s clothes. You’re taller, but otherwise about the same size.”
Stepping into her sister’s shoes or clothing wasn’t something she’d wanted to do if she could avoid it. “I’ll wash what I have.”
The phone rang, and Chastity bolted to answer it. While she chatted, Rachel headed to the laundry room. She dumped her soiled clothes in the washer and turned it on. While the tub filled, she opened the cabinet where Hope had kept the detergent. The box was empty. She searched every other cabinet and realized they were out. She turned off the machine, but it was too late. Her clothes were saturated.
Carrying her bag she headed toward her old room. The first room she passed was Chastity’s. It was decorated in ballerina pink with matching quilts on the twin beds and airy tulle bed skirts. It was every bit as adorable as the pictures Hope had sent.
Hope’s room was next. Her sister had redecorated the space in creamy white since Rachel’s time here. A pure room for the pure sister? Hope had been the unreachable ideal that Rachel’s parents had expected her to model. But now Hope was gone. Loss swelled in Rachel’s chest and tightened her throat. She swallowed, trying to ease the grip of grief. She and her sister had never been close. Even without their personality differences, the ten-year age gap had been too wide to bridge—and now it never would be.<
br />
And then an insidious, sickening thought slithered through her. Had Hope shared that bed with Matt? Had she been trying to give Chastity the father she deserved? The one to which she was entitled? Hope had always believed in family sticking together.
Rachel’s trapezius muscles knotted. Rolling her shoulders to ease the tension, she continued toward her old room. The same floorboards creaked, but then she stopped in surprise on the threshold. Other than the furniture and the picture of her parents that she’d taken with her old camera, all traces of her stay here had been erased. The soothing sky-blue curtains, bedding and painted walls had been changed to deep plum with touches of lavender and lime.
This room had been her prison and simultaneously her sanctuary from the town in which she did not fit. She forced her feet forward and dropped her bag on the bed.
“What’re you doing in my room?”
Rachel jerked around. “This used to be my room.”
“It’s mine now.” Defensive. Territorial. “The guest room is that sissy pink one down the hall.”
Only then did Rachel notice the nail polish and makeup in a plastic bin on the dresser. “Gotcha.”
She backtracked to the ballerina bedroom, but she couldn’t help wondering if her things were gone because her sister had redecorated the room for Chastity or was it something more? Had Hope been trying to eradicate Rachel from Chastity’s life? She’d stopped Rachel’s visits five years ago, reducing contact to emails and brief phone calls.
How badly had her sister wanted her gone?
* * *
MATT TOLD HIMSELF he was simply taking a shortcut home from the Cub Scout meeting. But he knew differently.
It was late. His knee ached. He should be in bed getting much-needed sleep. Why was he making an unscheduled detour by Hope’s house? Because Rachel had looked ready to bolt earlier today. He wanted to see if she’d packed up her niece and taken off. Would she selfishly put her wants above Chastity’s?
Turning onto Hope’s street, he slowed his pickup. He was surprised to see a car in the driveway, even more surprised to see a lamp burning in the den. A shadow crossed in front of the window. He braked involuntarily. Rachel’s? Had to be.
