Her Secret Daughter. Ruth Herne Logan
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She’d shoved that horrible night and the ensuing time into a deep, dark closet of her consciousness, and she kept it there, locked up tight. She’d moved through life making decisions in Addie’s best interests...
But were those decisions still in her daughter’s best interests? Because seeing her with a stranger and calling him “Dad” sparked too many mental red flags. She couldn’t research any of this with Kimberly around, so she kept her emotions at bay and her hands steady. “I just need time, Kimberly. That’s all. Time to get used to this.”
Unconvinced, Kimberly moved to her car. Josie followed, and when Kimberly turned and hugged her goodbye, Josie longed to spill her guts, but didn’t. She’d kept the secret for so long already. What use would revealing it do? But could she keep it to herself with Addie living so close?
The thought of her daughter nearby sobered her more.
What would that mean? Would she have to move away from the family and friends who’d helped build her business and her self-esteem over the years she’d spent here? How long would the Weatherly man be in Grace Haven?
The host of questions with no answers would hound her until she had time to do more research, and as Kimberly released her, a big part of Josie wanted to tell her everything.
But she’d promised herself and her baby daughter that no one would ever know about the crime associated with Addie’s conception. What child should ever have to grow up knowing that?
None.
She waited for Kimberly to pull away, and moved back to the apartment. She retrieved her laptop from a dusty shelf, opened it, typed in her password and then began a search. One way or another she was going to find out what had happened to her beautiful child in the past few years, and Josie Gallagher was pretty sure she wasn’t going to like any of it.
* * *
Josie stared at the Peachtree City obituary for Ginger O’Neill and fought the rise of emotion. Addie’s adoptive mother had died in an accident involving a commuter train. That was tragic enough, but there was no husband listed in the obituary, and no father for Addie. Ginger was survived by her parents and one brother, Jacob Weatherly.
Addie was being raised by her adoptive uncle.
Where was the father who signed all the paperwork to legally adopt her? Where was Adam O’Neill? And how could Josie find out without looking like a stalker? Regret grabbed hold and wouldn’t let go.
When she’d arrived in Georgia to be a living donor transplant for Addie, she’d seen Ginger. Not Adam. Was he already out of the picture at that time? When Ginger said Adam was too emotional to meet with Josie, she’d believed her. But maybe that wasn’t the truth?
She lifted her phone and dialed Drew Slade, Kimberly’s husband and the chief of police for Grace Haven. He answered quickly and she dived right in. “I need advice, Drew.”
“Mine to give,” he answered. “What’s up?”
“I can’t talk over the phone. Can I come by? Or can you stop out here?”
“I’m heading home around four, so how about I swing over there first?”
“Yes. Thank you. And, Drew...” He waited at the other end until she continued. “I can’t talk about this to anyone else right now. It’s got to be private. Okay?”
“Meaning don’t tell Kimberly because you know she’ll go ballistic?”
The thought of her family knowing how stupid she’d been...after she’d vowed to never be stupid again...
Her heart ached at the thought of disappointing people she loved, but worse, how could she mess up the innocence of a child who’d already gone through so much? “I’ll explain in person, but I might need your help looking into someone, making sure he’s a good person.”
“I’ll be there at four. And Josie?”
“Yes?”
“Whatever is bothering you, we’ll make it right. I promise. Okay?”
He had no idea what he was saying because as good and strong as Drew was, no one could ever make this okay, and she’d known that from the beginning. “See you later.”
She hung up the phone, grabbed her keys and drove a quarter mile south. The construction road leading to the new waterfront hotel was blocked. Jacob Weatherly had mentioned a three o’clock meeting. It was two thirty-five right now. She crossed through the construction tape, ignored the shouts of a couple of guys in hard hats and circled the newly finished concrete sidewalk rimming the stately hotel base. She pulled out her cell phone to call Jacob Weatherly, then nearly ran into him as she rounded the corner of the hotel.
“Hi!” Addie jumped up on the sculpted concrete edge of a raised garden and waved. “You came to find us!”
Addie looked excited to see Josie. Jacob Weatherly’s expression was more guarded. “Did you just walk through a hard hat area without permission?”
“I needed to see you.” She held his gaze, almost daring him to read more into the situation. “You said you had ideas on my relocation. I’d like to hear more about them, and I’m right up the beach, as you know.” She glanced north to emphasize the proximity. “But the beach is blocked off and the only way into this complex right now is by the road.”
“And permission.” He assessed her with a thoughtful look. “You had my number.”
She held up her phone. “I was just about to call you.”
“I see.” He breathed deeply, as if thinking, then took Addie’s hand. “I’ve got a meeting in a few minutes, so I can’t discuss this now, but if you’d like, I can come by tomorrow morning. How does nine o’clock sound?”
“Like breakfast time, and I make a marvelous French toast with fresh fruit and whipped cream.” She smiled down at Addie when she said it, and should have felt ashamed for enticing the girl, but she didn’t. Not even a little bit. Seeing Addie well and healthy after fighting cancer gave Josie a lift to her spirits, but deepened her concerns.
Had the O’Neills lied in their adoption application? What happened to Adam? Her preliminary internet search turned up nothing, so wherever he was, and whatever he was doing, it wasn’t out there for public viewing.
“We can have breakfast before we come over.” The project manager lifted his watch to show his diminishing time frame.
“But I love strawberries and French toast so much, Dad.” Addie tipped back her head and implored him with a beseeching look while thick copper curls spilled across the shoulders of her long-sleeved T-shirt. “And I’ll be so good!”
“There is a reason why my restaurant was voted number one in Southern fare and barbecue for two years running,” Josie noted. “And I’ve got a few supplies I need to use up before the move.” She left the offer sensible. If she pushed too hard, he might get suspicious. Clearly he had no idea about her relationship to the child clutching his hand. For now, she’d keep it that way.
“She does love French toast.”
Addie wrung his hand, grinning.
“All right, nine o’clock for breakfast. Although...” He turned her way again with a questioning expression. “I’m surprised, Miss Gallagher. And surprises raise questions in my head. I’m sure you can understand that, especially when your relationship with my employer has been adversarial.” He held her gaze, and Josie refused to blink or quiver. “But let’s see what tomorrow brings.”
“Perfect.” She turned to go, and he caught her hand.
Instant panic set in.
Her heart rate soared. Her hands went cold and her feet refused to move.
He didn’t seem to notice as he directed her to the small parking area alongside the finished portion of the hotel. “Let me drive you to