North Country Mom. Lois Richer
Читать онлайн книгу.
guessed.
“Yes.” His lips tightened into a line. “Two months ago she found her mother’s old diary and figured out we weren’t her birth parents.”
“It happens.” Alicia didn’t say any more but somehow Jack felt her empathy.
“She’s really angry that we didn’t tell her.” He sighed. “That’s natural, I guess. But she keeps demanding more information about her birth family.”
“And you don’t want to tell her?” Disapproval laced her voice.
“I can’t tell her more because I don’t know any more.” Jack’s jaw clenched. Why had he started this?
Alicia leaned against the window of the train, her gaze on him.
“I have so little information.” He raked a hand through his hair as helplessness gripped him. “There’s nothing to go on. Simone insisted on a closed adoption. That means that Giselle can’t find out anything more than what we already know until she’s eighteen. Then she can request the adoption agency in British Columbia to open her file.”
“Normal procedure.”
Jack nodded. Did Alicia know about adoptions? If she did, maybe she could talk to Giselle, help her understand it wasn’t his fault he couldn’t get the answers she wanted.
“I’m assuming her birth father’s name wasn’t listed or is a dead end?” Alicia asked.
He nodded. “Dead end.”
“But surely you have the name of the biological mother on Giselle’s birth certificate?” Her head tilted to one side as she studied him. “You were a police officer. You must have a lot of contacts. Couldn’t someone track the name?”
He didn’t want to answer but Alicia kept waiting.
“I did track her.” Jack sighed. “Two years after the adoption, Giselle’s birth mother disappeared. There’s no trace of her.” Oddly, it felt good to discuss this with her.
“What about Laurel? Surely as a former social worker, your sister could—”
“Social workers are provincial employees,” he explained. “Laurel never worked in that province.”
“I see.” Alicia fell silent, apparently lost in thought.
“Can I ask you something?” Jack waited until she nodded. “How do you know about adoptions? You said you were never adopted so—” He let it hang, his curiosity about her growing.
“I wasn’t.” Her gaze moved to one side, avoiding his. “I, um, for a long time I’ve been looking for someone who was adopted. But the clues I had led to dead ends. I don’t have connections like you do so I don’t know where to look next.”
“My connections weren’t much help,” Jack told her. He dug in his pocket and pulled out the slip of paper he’d been carrying around since his last day of work. “But this might be. Someone gave me this website address. They said it’s been helpful to others. It wasn’t for me, but you’re welcome to copy the address and check it out.”
“I, um, don’t have a pen or paper,” she said after a moment’s hesitation.
“I do.” Jack pulled out the small pad and pen he always kept in his breast pocket and held them out. “Old habit from my detective days.” Surprisingly she didn’t take, either. “You already know about this site?”
“No.” Her cheeks darkened. “This is embarrassing. You see, I have really bad eyesight and my glasses are in the bag you put up top. Would you mind copying it out for me?”
“I can get the bag,” he offered, shifting to rise.
“No, no. Don’t stir yourself.” She laid her hand on his arm. “You’ll wake up someone.” She jerked her hand away. “If you could write it down for me, I’d be grateful.”
“Sure. Okay.” He scribbled down the web address, tore out the sheet and handed it to her.
“Thank you.” Alicia studied it for a moment then folded it and tucked it into her jeans pocket. “I’ll take a look when I get home.”
“I hope it helps.”
When Alicia merely smiled at him before turning her face to the window, Jack understood that was all the conversation she wanted for now. Suited him. He didn’t want her to think he was trying to get too friendly. He checked on Giselle then pulled his e-reader from the seat pocket in front and flicked it on.
But the novel couldn’t hold Jack’s interest. Instead he got hung up thinking about the woman next to him. There was something about Alicia Featherstone that intrigued him and it wasn’t only her quick rush to defend God.
Though she’d been friendly enough, she had a quality about her that said no trespassing. She seemed to not need anyone else. Self-contained, that was it.
Jack couldn’t help wondering why. Alicia was lovely to look at, had a nice figure and ran her own independent business. She appeared to have her life together. And yet when she’d crashed into him earlier, she’d jerked back, ready to protect herself. He remembered how she’d ordered him to let go of her arm. She’d tensed—an automatic response to a perceived threat.
Because she’d had to defend herself before?
As he’d told Laurel, Jack wasn’t interested in a romantic relationship with anyone. But his detective background made Alicia’s almost bristling reaction interesting, as had her response when he’d asked if she had kids. Suddenly Jack could think of a hundred questions to ask the lovely Indian woman.
She’s nothing to do with you. You and Giselle are on your own. Even if you could forget what you and Simone shared, are you really willing to risk loving again and losing again?
No.
In a rush, the lost, empty feeling he’d battled for two long years returned. He’d barely survived the pain of Simone’s death and that was only because of Giselle, because he was determined not to lose her, too.
Alicia Featherstone might become his coworker on the kids’ project, but that’s all she could ever be. He would not contemplate loving and losing again.
Jack twisted in his seat so his back was to Alicia. He forced himself to read the words on his screen. But despite his best intentions, every so often his glance slipped to the silent woman in the seat next to his.
Though he was tired, sleep evaded him.
Given his curiosity about Alicia Featherstone, he should probably refuse to work with her. But he wasn’t going to. He had too many questions that demanded answers.
Chapter Three
Alicia awoke feeling watched.
Sure enough, when she peeked through her lashes she found a dark brown gaze fixed on her. Self-conscious and disheveled, she swallowed and tried to think of what to say to Jack’s daughter.
“You snore.” Giselle flopped into the seat her father had obviously vacated while Alicia was asleep. “Delicately, but still. It’s snoring.”
“Good morning.” Alicia gave her a pointed look. “My name is Alicia Featherstone. And you’re Giselle, I understand. It’s nice to meet you.”
“Yeah.” The girl flicked her long hair over one shoulder. “I guess that was rude.”
Ignoring her unrepentant stare, Alicia said nothing. She pulled a brush from her purse, undid her braids and combed out her hair before swirling it into a topknot on her head.
“Sorry.” Giselle didn’t sound the least bit sorry.
“I hear you’re moving to Churchill,” Alicia said, cutting her some slack.
“So Jack says.” The chip on Giselle’s