Past Secrets, Present Love. Lois Richer
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Ross frowned. “Why do you hate her?”
“Me? I don’t hate Sandra Lange. Not at all.” Bright red spots of color appeared in her cheeks. To hide it, she fiddled with her mug of hot chocolate, then rose to her feet with some excuse about cookies and rushed out of the room. When Kelly finally came back she carried a dish of gingersnaps and a glass of milk.
She held out the plate.
“These used to be my dad’s favorite,” she murmured, then froze, her eyes flying to his. “My adoptive father,” she corrected. She took a deep breath, met his gaze head on. “I just realized—if you know who my birth mother is, you must know who my biological father is as well?”
He hated lying to her, hated the secretiveness Sandra had insisted upon. But the secret was not his to share.
“You’ll have to ask Sandra,” he murmured. “It’s something she should tell you.”
“Of course.” She stared at the big round cookie, took a bite. After a moment she pointed to the bowl. “Help yourself.”
He moved to take one, then realized that the luscious piece of chocolate cake still sat on the plate on the table in front of him.
“I’d rather eat this,” he told her with a grin. “What’s with that glass of milk?”
“I’ve changed my mind. I don’t feel like hot chocolate tonight. Too much of a good thing at Christmas, I guess. Anyway, Dad always said gingersnaps and milk were made to go together.”
They sat together in front of the fire, he with his chocolate overload, she with her cookies and milk. She had the art of dipping down to a science, holding the cookie in the milk just long enough to saturate it, but not long enough for it to fall apart. Then she’d slip the sopping bit into her mouth. She caught him staring and grinned.
“Help yourself,” she offered. “I can get you a glass of milk if you want.”
“No thanks. The cake was great, more than enough.” Ross leaned back, watched her drink the last of the milk. She dabbed at her lips with a napkin covered with nutcrackers as she stared into the fire. That’s when he knew he had to press the issue, for Sandra’s sake.
“Why not tomorrow, Kelly? Just for a few minutes. Sandra would love to see you.”
“I told you, tomorrow’s busy.”
“The next day then.”
“I have to be at work. It’s a busy time, cleaning up details from the end of the year, some staff on extended holidays. Things like that.”
“So busy you can’t make time for Sandra—a half hour out of your busy schedule to see a woman who’s waited all these years?”
“Waited?” The anger on her face blazed at him, her voice altered, brimmed with outrage. “She gave me away.”
“But—”
Kelly held up a hand. “I’m not saying that was wrong, I don’t know her circumstances. But surely if she’d wanted me—”
He couldn’t let her go on. “Sandra didn’t give you away willingly, Kelly.”
“What?” Her frown was part puzzlement, part fury. “She signed the papers, she had to. It’s the law. Without her consent—”
“Yes, but she was under the effects of anesthetic when she did that. Once she woke up, she’d changed her mind.” He had to keep going, had to make her understand. “She wanted to raise you herself but she was manipulated into giving you up and then you were gone. She’s spent years regretting that she wasn’t stronger, that she didn’t argue to hang on to you. She’s always wondered about you, tried to find out who you were, where you went.”
“Wondered…about me?” The whisper slipped out from her white lips. Her eyes grew huge. “She didn’t even know me. She never looked before, did she?”
“No,” he admitted. “Because she thought it would be selfish to disrupt your new life. But she never forgot her child. And she dearly wanted that child back, in her arms.”
“Wait a minute!” Kelly jerked back. “You said she was manipulated. Are you saying my parents tried to persuade her? Because I will never believe that.”
“No, not your parents. From what I’ve been able to learn, they had no idea of your connection to Sandra, or that your adoptive mother ever wanted to know about you. That was deliberately kept from them.”
“By whom?”
“Barnaby Harcourt, for one.”
She stared at him. “Mine was the first adoption he arranged,” she whispered. “I knew he did some terrible things, changed official records, but—” She shook her head. Tears squeezed from the corners of her eyes, rolled down her cheeks. “My parents gave me my birth records years ago. They said my parents were deceased. He must have altered them, just like all the rest. That’s why there were two sets.”
“I’m sorry, Kelly.”
“I thought I was Kelly Young. That was my history,” she whispered, staring at him. “I liked my life, loved my parents, found a job in the town where I grew up. Taking on the directorship of Tiny Blessings, that was my way of giving back to the community where I belonged. And now you’re telling me that everything I ever believed was a lie.”
She wasn’t talking to him. Ross understood enough about Kelly Young to realize that her questions were directed toward heaven and the God she trusted. He’d seen this in others in Chestnut Grove.
“It isn’t all a lie. Your parents loved you, cared for you. That won’t ever change. You have that to hang on to forever.” She seemed frozen so Ross tried again, choosing a different tack this time. “Knowing about Sandra, that could be for the good. You could find out your real history.” That sounded lame. “Just see her—it only has to be a few moments. Talk to her. Maybe you’ll find the answers you need. Please?”
He’d tried everything short of begging, but Ross was even willing to go that far if it would get Sandra the meeting she craved. She’d been like an expectant child when he’d left her, hardly able to control her excitement as she planned and dreamed of that special moment in time when she’d finally get to meet her child as a mother.
What if it never happened?
A change seemed to come over Kelly. She drew herself erect, blinked away her tears.
“I suppose I can’t put it off forever.” Her dark gaze narrowed, fixed on him intently. “I’ll go on one condition.”
Uh-oh.
“What condition?”
“I’ll go see Sandra if you’ll come to the church social tomorrow.” She met his gaze, her own implacable. “Well? You’re so big on me experiencing new things, how about walking your talk? Is it a deal?”
Kelly looked like she expected him to refuse and normally he would have. Ross had steered clear of the church for years. There was enough guilt in the world, he didn’t need someone else telling him he was a mess. But in that moment he made a split-second decision he hoped he wouldn’t regret.
He’d go to that church social for Sandra, because her faith was different than any he’d ever seen. She didn’t rail at God, or spend days and hours weeping for what she’d lost, as his own mother had. Sandra took what she was dealt and pressed on, made what she had into something better. She needed to meet her daughter, needed the closure it would bring to her aching heart.
“Fine.” He lifted his head, glared at her. “It’s a deal.”
“You’ll come?” Kelly’s surprised look was laughable.
“That’s what I just said.” He gulped down the trepidation that filled him, pretended it wouldn’t bother him in