by EMILIE ROSE
Of course he was.
“The church sponsors a thrift shop in town. I’ll come by tomorrow night and help you carry all this over there.”
Alarm bells rang in her subconscious. “That’s not necessary. The car’s a rental. I can probably trade it in for something larger.”
“Suit yourself. The offer stands.”
Why was he being nice when she’d done nothing to deserve it?
The bedroom door burst open behind her. “’Mornin’, Coach,” Chastity called out, then hustled through the kitchen, grabbed a breakfast bar, a small bottle of orange juice and joined them. She wore slightly less makeup than usual—a positive change.
“Good morning. Let’s head out.” His gaze locked on Rachel’s. “Later.” And then they were gone.
She sincerely hoped she wouldn’t see him again today. Adrenaline drained from her, and regret took its place. Matt was great with kids and generous with his time. He would have been the perfect husband.
For Hope.
* * *
THE HOUSE PHONE rang as Rachel stepped out of the shower. She grabbed a towel and hustled to the kitchen to answer it. “Hello?”
“Rachel, it’s Pam. I’m in a bind, and I need a favor.”
Why would Matt’s sister call her? “What kind of favor?”
“Matt probably mentioned I’m at home with a sick child this morning. Mom’s my usual backup, but she has an appointment she can’t miss. I need someone to run Dr. Miller’s office until Mom can take over for me here and I can get in to work. Lunchtime. No later.”
Getting involved with Hope’s community didn’t seem like a good idea. And one-on-one time with the townsfolk was risky. But how could she refuse? Pam had been so good to Chastity.
“Pam, I’m not licensed in North Carolina.”
“I know you can’t do a lot of things, but it would help tremendously if you could answer the phone, triage the patients and prep them. Stuff like that. Just the basics.”
Rachel cringed. Yes, she had done that plenty of times in the past both overseas and at the clinic. But still... “Doesn’t he have other staff who can pitch in?”
“It’s a one-man/one-woman office. Please, Rachel. He’s not busy this morning, but a male doctor shouldn’t see female patients alone and all that legal garbage. In return I’ll help you sort Hope’s stuff. Matt says you’re working on a donation pile for the church. I knew Hope well enough to know what she’d want to save for Chastity.”
Blackmail. And, unfortunately, it was effective. Admitting defeat, Rachel reached for the pen and paper. Matt’s name and number were scrawled on the top sheet beneath the neighbor’s. She fought an odd urge to brush her fingers over his writing and flipped to the second page. “Tell me where I need to be and when.”
She jotted down the address and directions, then checked her watch. In a town as small as Johnstonville she could be there in twenty minutes. “I’m on it.”
“Thank you! Oops. Gotta run. Johnathan’s heaving again.”
The line went dead. Rachel hoped she wouldn’t regret this.
* * *
RACHEL SAGGED IN relief when Dr. Miller hung the closed-for-lunch sign on the office door.
“Glad that’s over,” he said with an engaging smile. He was in his midforties and not unattractive. There was no Mrs. Miller in the picture—or so more than one of his patients had informed her. Rachel didn’t need to know that, and she wouldn’t speculate on why he wasn’t married. It wasn’t her business, and she wouldn’t be here long enough for that to change.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t more help. I didn’t even get vitals on most of the patients.
“No apology needed. I’m the one who told you I’d work anyone in who called. I never know when a patient will be a genuine emergency, so I don’t turn them away. You barely had time to take their names, pull their files and get them to the treatment rooms for answering the phone. Besides, I’m not so old that I’ve forgotten how to use a blood pressure cuff or thermometer, although I admit to being a little rusty,” he added with a rueful shrug. “You are certainly good for business, Rachel.”
A warning prickle crept up her spine. “You’re not usually this busy?”
“Not even close. We’re a quiet little office. Only two of today’s work-ins were actually ill. The rest were here to check you out.” He leaned a hip against the counter. “So let me see if the gossips got the gist of it right. You lived here before with your sister.” It was a statement, not a question.
Nerves snarled in her stomach. She should have known if the patients would gossip to her, they’d gossip about her. “For six months many years ago when I was in high school.”
“Then Hope moved to Atlanta and worked in a big firm. She rented her house because she couldn’t sell it and returned two years later, a widow with a baby, claiming big business wasn’t for her. But you weren’t with her.”
She tried not to let her uneasiness show. “I stayed to attend college.”
“Must have been hard for Hope, having a premature infant with no husband for emotional support. How early was Chastity?”
Rachel had no idea what Hope had told everyone. The lie had been a sore point for her sister, and she’d refused to discuss it. Making up something would be dangerous—especially with a doctor. Rachel had to be very careful.
“I don’t recall exactly.”
The door opened, and Pam rushed in. “Oh, good. Rachel, you’re still here. I brought lunch. We can share while you catch me up on the morning. I heard it was hectic.”
Rachel had never experienced claustrophobia in her life, but she suspected the desperate need to escape clawing through her right now might be how it felt.
“Thanks for lunch, but I promised to pick up something for Chastity today, and if I intend to be home before she gets there I need to get going.”
“That’s too bad.” Pam seemed genuinely disappointed. “I’ll come over as soon as I can, and we’ll sort Hope’s things, and you can tell me about some of your adventures.”
“Great.” She grabbed her purse and made a hasty exit. No doubt about it, the citizens of Johnstonville knew more about Hope’s cover story than Rachel did. She wanted more details and had no way to get them except by listening to gossip.
CHAPTER SIX
RACHEL HEARD A car turn into the driveway and headed for the front door eager to go through the pictures with Chastity again while they put them into the scrapbook she’d bought.
The door opened before she reached it. But Chastity wasn’t alone. Jessica was hot on her heels, and Matt shadowed them both. Her pulse leaped. What was he doing here?
“We have to work on our social studies project,” Chastity said before Rachel could ask.
“‘Beauty Around the World,’” Jessica added. “My mom said you might have pictures from your trips abroad that we could use about what women do to make themselves pretty in other cultures.”
Rachel mentally connected the dots. “I do.”
“You have them with you?” Chastity persisted. “You only brought a duffel bag. With three outfits in it.” She sneered at Rachel’s attire.
Rachel ignored the dig about her wardrobe. She pointed skyward. “My pictures are up there, in the Cloud.”
She’d learned the hard way that a remote server was the only way to guarantee her pictures and documents made it home. Flash drives got lost, broken or, in some cases, confiscated by paranoid governments. “But I don’t have a computer, and I need one to sign into my account and download the pictures.”
“You could use mine,” Chastity offered. “I’ll get it.” Then she darted toward her room.
Jessica followed, leaving Rachel alone with Matt. Tongue-tied, she stared at him and wished she had something intelligent to say, but her conversation vault was e
mpty. His blue eyes were alert and watchful. Was he holding something behind his back?
“While this is a school project, their underlying motive is to gain ammunition in their case for piercings, in case you haven’t guessed. Mom caught them looking at pictures of navel jewelry.”
“I suspected as much.” The album grew heavier in her hand. She had to get rid of Matt before Chastity brought out the pictures. If he saw them he might notice the resemblance between Rachel’s younger self and Chastity today. “Thanks for bringing her home.”
“I have strict orders to make sure you don’t mind Jess staying until Pam gets here. If you do, I’ll take Jess to my place.”
Where was that? So she could avoid it. But she couldn’t ask. “She’s welcome. Anytime.”
He glanced toward the dining room. “No progress on packing?”
“Nope. I covered for Pam this morning.”
Dark golden eyebrows hiked. “At Dr. Miller’s office?”
“Yes.”
One corner of his mouth lifted, sending a corresponding wisp of desire through her. “That must have been interesting.”
Not the word she’d choose to describe the interrogations she’d endured. “Yes.”
“Now I know why Pam insisted you’d need chocolate.” His wink made her pulse skip, then he produced a bakery box from behind his back. “Brownies. For you and the girls.”
She remembered the time he’d brought his mother’s homemade brownies on one of their long-ago dates, and an assortment of other small gifts on each meeting thereafter. It had been the first and only time anyone had spoiled her like that. Rachel snuffed the memories and accepted the box. “The girls will love them. Thanks for...everything. See you around.”
“Trying to get rid of me, Rachel?”
She willed herself not to blush, but the warmth in her face told her she’d failed. “You must have things to do...papers to grade or something.”
“I’m the coach, the athletic director and sometimes a substitute teacher or detention monitor. I don’t grade papers. And I’m forbidden to leave without inviting you to our church softball game tomorrow night.”
More time with the Johnstonville grillers, as she’d dubbed the nosy patients. “I appreciate the invite, but I can’t. Stuff to do.” She jerked a thumb toward the pile in the dining room.
“I can’t take ‘no’ for an answer. Chastity usually attends our games.”
“Softball games?” Chastity chirped as she returned with her laptop. “Love ’em. We’ll be there to cheer you on. I want to introduce Aunt Rachel to my friends. Ooh, you brought brownies?”
“Yes. Pam will be here around six,” Matt said. “Work hard, girls.” He tossed a wave and left.
“Is that the photo album?” Chastity asked.
“Yes. I bought pens and decorations, too. We can turn this into a scrapbooking project.”
Chastity squealed with excitement, set the brownies on the coffee table and took the scrapbook from Rachel. “Cool. Jess, you have to see these pictures!”
Nerves bunched in Rachel’s belly. Teens talked. A lot. “We can work on the scrapbook another time. Focus on your project today.”
“Pictures first.”
“Work first. Play later,” Rachel insisted. “Fix your snacks while I download the pictures.”
Groaning in chorus, the girls retreated to the kitchen.
Rachel sagged. Her plan to avoid Matt seemed destined to fail. So why did a prickle of anticipation over seeing him again flood her veins?
* * *
“THIS IS GOING to be the best presentation ever! Thanks, Aunt Rachel,” Chastity said as she closed her laptop and rose from the kitchen table.
“You’re welcome.”
“Some of those pics were nasty,” Jessica added, neatly stacking their papers. “We’d never let our belly buttons get infected like that. Would we, Chaz?”
Rachel seized the opportunity to test her parental skills. “If you’re going to a place that breaks the law by piercing underage kids, then how can you be sure they’ll follow the health department’s regulations?”
The girls shared a grimace, then Chastity said, “Good point.”
“So we’ll put off our piercings for a few years. No big deal,” Jessica added.
“Right. Let’s work on the scrapbook now,” Chastity said.
Rachel’s excitement overruled her reservations about sharing the pictures with Chastity’s friend. And cousin. She followed them to Chastity’s bedroom.
Chastity stopped in the doorway, blocking Rachel’s path. “Could you like...leave us now?”
Taken aback, Rachel stopped. “Don’t you want my help with chronology?”
“I think we can figure it out.”
Deflated, she considered insisting, but that could erase the points she’d earned by helping them with the project. She and Chastity had made progress this afternoon, but she couldn’t expect to recover years of lost ground in one day.
“I’ll start dinner. Call if you need me.”
“My mom’s bringing dinner,” Jessica called out. “She’ll be here any minute.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“She texted me that you needed her help with something.”
“Yes, I do. Well...I’ll leave you to your scrapbooking.”
Feeling excluded, Rachel returned to the kitchen and set the table for four. At least she wouldn’t have to worry about Matt dropping in since he had Scouts tonight.
By the time she’d stirred the last scoop of sugar into the freshly brewed iced tea, Pam was calling from the front door. “Yoo-hoo. Anybody home? Food’s here.”
Rachel met her in the den. “Hi. You didn’t have to bring dinner.”
“I owe you for this morning and for keeping an eye on Jess this afternoon. I brought fettuccine Alfredo and garlic roasted broccoli from the girls’ favorite restaurant.”
“Yummy,” Jessica said from the hall.
“Ditto,” Chastity added. “Can we eat in here and watch TV?”
“Sure,” Pam answered before Rachel could. The girls trooped into the kitchen, loaded their plates and disappeared.
Pam whispered, “Sorry for taking over, but I also brought a bottle of wine. I figured we’d need fortification to go through Hope’s things. If the girls are in there we can sip, chat and sort in peace.”
She pulled the bottle from her tote, went straight to the drawer for the corkscrew, then the cabinet holding wineglasses. She filled two to the brim. She caught Rachel’s look. “I’m making myself at home, aren’t I? It’s just that Hope and I often got together while the girls did homework if Brad and the boys were at practice.”
“So you and Hope were close?” Rachel asked, trying to be casual about it while they served themselves.
Pam paused. “As close as anyone got to Hope, I guess. She was kind, generous and pious, but she held something back, you know? Of course you do. You’re her sister.”
Rachel sipped her wine and didn’t correct her. Because she hadn’t known Hope well enough to know she’d been reserved with her friends. The wine was slightly sweet and a little tart, and the pasta was flavorful. Despite that, Rachel had no appetite. It was uncomfortable to befriend Matt’s sister and Hope’s friend, especially while lying to her. But she ate anyway, hoping to gain insight into the fictional side of Hope’s life.
“Did she ever talk about...her marriage?” Rachel ventured.
Pam shook her head. “No. Absolutely not. After she initially told me what happened, we avoided the topic. I think she might have been embarrassed by falling head over heels for a guy on a cruise, then impulsively marrying him as soon as they hit dry land. I mean, that wasn’t like Hope at all.”
“No,” seemed a safe response. Rachel had been the impulsive
one. She chewed and sipped, leaving Pam to carry on.
“It was tragic for him to die in the fire just days after they returned home and even before she knew she was pregnant or had time to change her name.”
More questions answered. She hadn’t realized her sister was so creative.
“I always thought she was more shell-shocked than grief-stricken over his death, if you know what I mean,” Pam continued without waiting for Rachel’s reply. “They barely knew each other. It’s not like they’d been married for decades, and she couldn’t imagine life without her soul mate.”
Rachel took it all in. “No. I guess not.”
“I mean, it takes years for infatuation to become true love—you know, accepting someone, flaws and all, and choosing to love them anyway.”
Did it? What she’d felt for Matt had seemed like love. The way he’d made her feel had certainly set the bar unreachably high for the men she’d dated since. “You could be right.”
“It’s a shame you weren’t on the cruise with her. You could’ve slowed down the relationship.”
Rachel made a noncommittal “Mmm” with her mouth full of pasta.
“What did you think of him?”
Caught off guard, Rachel chewed slower, giving herself time to think. She’d lived with Hope until moving into the dorm. If Hope and her pretend new husband had been home days—how many days?—before he died, then theoretically Rachel would have met him.
“Like you said, everything happened so quickly. I didn’t have time to get to know him.”
“No, I guess you wouldn’t. Not with school and all. It’s a good thing you weren’t there when the fire broke out or else Chastity might not have anyone now. Except us, I mean. She’s like another daughter to me.”
Hope’s story was coming together, but it still had too many holes for Rachel’s comfort.
“And Chastity is the spittin’ image of your father and grandfather, so I don’t have to ask you if she looks like Adam.”
Who was Adam? Rachel opened her mouth, then bit her tongue. That had to be the name Hope had given her pretend husband. “Chastity definitely resembles the Bishops.”
