Книга - Second Chance Mom

Second Chance Mom
Emilie Rose


It’s the reunion she didn’t expectRachel Bishop’s reckless past is back to haunt her. Her sister’s death has made her the guardian of a sullen teen and has brought her home to the secrets she’d run from—starting with Matt Johnston. Matt was the good guy who’d cracked her rebel-rousing teenage veneer. Now the handsome high school coach could destroy her hope of peacefully raising Chastity, the baby she secretly gave up to her sister years ago. To protect Matt and their daughter, Rachel must lie to them…but the heart won’t be ignored. If Rachel wants a second chance at family and with Matt, she must take a risk on love.







It’s the reunion she didn’t expect

Rachel Bishop’s reckless past is back to haunt her. Her sister’s death has made her the guardian of a sullen teen and has brought her home to the secrets she’d run from—starting with Matt Johnston. Matt was the good guy who’d cracked her rebel-rousing teenage veneer. Now the handsome high school coach could destroy her hope of peacefully raising Chastity, the baby she secretly gave up to her sister years ago. To protect Matt and their daughter, Rachel must lie to them...but the heart won’t be ignored. If Rachel wants a second chance at family and with Matt, she must take a risk on love.


Matt yanked up the armrest between them and turned in his seat.

“Talk to me, Rachel,” he said. “Like you used to.”

“Can we just go?”

Her ragged breath filled the otherwise silent cab. She needed comfort, and that was all he was offering when he hooked an arm around her shoulders and pulled her body across the seat.

“It’ll be okay. You and Chastity will have each other to lean on.”

She tilted her head up. Worry clouded her brown eyes. “What if I fail her? What do I know about being a mother? Or teenagers? I had all these fantasies about how great we’d get along, but...it’s not going too well.”

“You need to be her parent not her friend. You’ll find your feet. We survivors always do.” Hope-filled eyes met his. And held. His pulse thumped in his ears and his groin. He should push Rachel away, but he couldn’t. Why did she affect him like no other woman?

Only one way to find out.

He pulled her closer. Her lips parted on a gasp a split second before he covered them. Then it happened. That shooting star sensation he hadn’t experienced since Rachel had kissed him fourteen years ago...


Dear Reader (#ulink_bc98849d-bc5a-54c1-ba01-6535ae92c98e),

What would you do if you had a chance for a “do-over” on the biggest regret from your past? Would you be willing to give up the good parts of your present life to erase that one bad decision?

Rachel and Matt’s story is the fruit from my writer’s brain which grew that idea. It led to more questions, such as how could something wrong also be right, and is it ever okay to tell a lie? Writers (especially me!) can spend hours debating issues like this.

Second Chance Mom is one of those stories that’s been slugging it out in my brain for a while. I only wish I’d had more pages! I feel as if I’ve only scraped the surface of Rachel, Matt and Chastity’s story. It will be interesting to hear what you think.

Emilie Rose


Second Chance Mom

Emilie Rose






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


USA TODAY bestselling author and two-time RITA® Award finalist EMILIE ROSE lives in North Carolina with her own romance hero. Writing is her third career. She’s managed a medical office and a home day care—neither offered half as much satisfaction as plotting happy endings. Her hobbies include gardening, fishing, cooking and traveling to find her next book setting. Visit her website, emilierose.com (http://www.emilierose.com), or email her at EmilieRoseAuthor@aol.com.


To my readers: without you,

I could not have lived my dream for 36 books.


Contents

Cover (#u308e62f8-6072-57f3-9e3b-4abae293d38d)

Back Cover Text (#ueef3f7f3-4c0a-593c-82c9-0bb65d04b75d)

Introduction (#ub728338e-0516-57a1-9b8e-14efd0a12292)

Dear Reader (#u1ae18d72-6d6a-5e51-9039-1a58bd62860c)

Title Page (#u1e7e1f3c-47a3-557e-865c-a521b0f33f95)

About the Author (#u391b7266-6c78-5950-a7c3-db7706b14ee7)

Dedication (#u0e5ac4d3-a242-5f7e-9bc8-a4ca5949bab3)

CHAPTER ONE (#ue26fc9e3-188f-5cc7-8708-68644844e20e)

CHAPTER TWO (#u337c4f9d-7af5-5cb2-823c-b5c6fe959986)

CHAPTER THREE (#ufaf24b02-cd59-5898-a381-838650f28ff0)

CHAPTER FOUR (#u5278c968-457a-501c-835a-b532888565d2)

CHAPTER FIVE (#ube6aaf05-0073-5976-b770-7421b92afc46)

CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SIXTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER NINETEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)


CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_6dcd37d7-3dc2-57f0-967d-34fa01ffab30)

RACHEL BISHOP RETRACED the path to the detention officer’s classroom that she’d taken dozens of times nearly fifteen years ago. Her anxiety level increased with each step, even though she wasn’t the one in trouble. This time.

She’d faced down inner-city thugs, armed militants and deadly diseases: none of which had terrified her as much as the huge responsibility waiting inside room 127.

A second chance at parenthood. Was she up to it?

She had to be. Moments ago she’d signed papers accepting full custody of Chastity. She’d failed the child once before. She couldn’t—wouldn’t—this time.

Her knees locked in front of the closed classroom door. She blotted clammy palms on her pants and endeavored to subdue her rampant nerves. It said a lot about the conforming citizens of Johnstonville that their combination middle and high school only needed one room for the troublemakers. The school had changed little since she’d left. Would prune-faced Miss Gentry still be sitting behind the desk wearing her perpetual scowl?

Time to find out. Rachel pushed the door. It yielded with a sucking whoosh. Through the six-inch gap Rachel saw the old maid wasn’t in the front of the room. Instead, Matt Johnston, the last person she wanted or expected to see, occupied the teacher’s chair. Rachel froze, her automatic fight-or-flight response engaging. Every instinct screamed run. But she couldn’t.

She had loved Matt with all the passion her seventeen-year-old heart could contain, then she’d wronged him unforgivably. She wasn’t ready—would never be ready—to face him.

In seconds, her adrenaline-sharpened focus registered that his hair was darker than the sun-bleached blond she’d run her fingers through. But then his mesmerizing, make-her-forget-her-own-name blue eyes swung her way, and her stomach dropped as if she’d flown into an air pocket.

A roar filled her ears, and dizziness swamped her. She wanted to blame her reaction on jet lag, but her racing pulse said otherwise. It was fear. Not of Matt. But of everything he embodied. He represented her greatest failure. One that had nearly destroyed her. Afraid she’d fold into a heap on the floor, she gripped the door frame tighter and forced air into her constricted chest.

“May I help you?”

His familiar deep voice sent a fresh wave of panic through her. The hairs on the back of her neck prickled to attention. Matt didn’t know. He couldn’t. Her secret was safe. Hope had been the only one who’d known the truth, and her sister would never have told anyone—doing so would have damaged her saintly reputation.

Matt’s politely curious expression turned into annoyance when Rachel didn’t respond. He rose and crossed the room, blocking her entry by gripping the door in one big, familiar hand—one that had touched her intimately and taught her so much about pleasure. His defensive position displayed the added breadth of the chest and shoulders on which she’d once relished resting her cheek. That combined with the golden late-day stubble on his square chin magnified his masculinity and made him far more handsome than the twenty-one-year-old college boy he’d been back then.

But his crisply pressed shirt and pants told her one facet of his personality hadn’t changed. Matt had always been a little too polished and perfect. His neatness had challenged her, and she’d loved mussing his thick, perfectly combed hair and yanking his shirttail from his pants to run her hands over his muscles.

Her fingertips tingled. She fisted her hands and shoved them into her pants pockets to keep them out of trouble. Matt hadn’t been the man for her then. He wasn’t now—never could be. She should have left him alone all those years ago. But she’d been too self-destructive to be smart.

That was then. She’d learned a lot of painful lessons since.

“May I help you?” he repeated in a firmer tone.

“Hello, Matt.” Her voice came out as little more than a whisper. Before she could clear her throat and try again, his eyes narrowed. Then he recoiled in recognition. That stung.

“Rachel?” His gaze flashed over her like wildfire, igniting dormant cells like a match to a dry savanna. When his eyes returned to hers she saw his surprise and understood it.

He might look the same—only better—but she bore little resemblance to the mischief-making teen she’d been. Her loose cotton shirt and wrinkled khakis were a far cry from the formfitting clothing she’d once worn to entice him, and these days she adorned her face with nothing more than sunscreen.

She touched a hand to her hair. Most of it was still in the haphazard knot she’d twisted it into before beginning her exhausting trek, but bits and pieces had escaped. After four different airports and three time zones, she probably looked a mess. A touch of her old vanity made her wish she’d spruced up before entering the building.

“Yeah. Long time no see.” Her feigned nonchalance sounded believable. To her anyway. She leaned to look past him and into the classroom where the office secretary had said Rachel’s dau—niece was supposed to be, but the solid block that was Matt obscured her view. She heard a buzz of whispers. Was Chastity’s one of them? Excitement fizzed through Rachel’s veins.

Distrust flickered in Matt’s eyes. Could she blame him? No. She’d earned it.

“We’ll talk outside.” He turned to the class. “Get back to work on those essays.” He moved forward, forcing Rachel to retreat, then he closed the door between them and the students.

His scowl could scare small children. “It’s about time you showed up.”

“I came as soon as I could.”

“Hope’s funeral was weeks ago.” Anger and condemnation tinged his quiet words and flattened those sexy lips.

Irritation washed over her. Instead of asking why she’d missed her only sibling’s funeral, Matt seemed to be passing judgment on her like everyone else in this unforgiving town had always done. No one had ever bothered to ask why Rachel had rebelled. They’d only condemned her for it. At one time Matt had been the exception, but now he seemed to have boarded the censure train with everyone else.

Reining in her temper, she glanced down the hall and fought for calm. The eerie silence of a school after hours surrounded them. The corridor seemed private and intimate. Fertile ground for trouble.

She met Matt’s disapproving gaze but decided not to waste her breath with explanations. “I’m here now. Is Chastity in there?”

“Yes. She’s striking out at everyone who tries to help with her grief and stirring up all kinds of trouble. Her schoolwork and behavior have suffered.”

“And the answer to her pain is to send her to detention?”

Matt’s lips curled downward. “The staff has been as helpful and patient as possible, but she cussed out a substitute teacher. That left us with no options except detention or expulsion.”

“Who’d she curse at? And what unfeeling sonofabitch would punish a grieving kid?”

His frown deepened grooves beside his mouth—grooves he hadn’t had when she’d kissed every inch of his face. “Me. I cut her some slack, but I can’t allow her to undermine my authority with my students.” His eyes narrowed. “Acting out to get attention is something you should understand all too well. It’s no surprise you’d make excuses for her. Or that you’d show up here days late.”

Guilt over her past behavior heated her chest, neck and cheeks, yet chilled her at the same time. She hugged her middle. Only Matt had understood that her rebellion had been a cry for her parents’ attention, but they’d been too busy saving the world to help one confused teenager. Rachel would have given anything to have them pay half as much attention to her as they had to strangers. Instead, they’d dumped her on her older sister. But Hope had been no substitute for her mother or her father.

Rachel squashed the memories. “I was in a flood-ravaged village in a third world country with minimal communication and access to the outside. I didn’t get the message about Hope until six days after her...passing. I came as soon as I could.”

She didn’t bother telling him that she’d had to wait for a rare supply flight because the countryside surrounding them had been controlled by rebels, and crossing by land was too dangerous. He wouldn’t want to hear it. Wouldn’t care.

Matt folded his arms across his impressive chest and narrowed his eyes. “Really.”

His skepticism sobered her. Matt had known her when deceiving people had been her MO.

“I was working, Matt.” She hated defending herself. There hadn’t been a need to do so since she’d left this narrow-minded town. Her dedication and the quality of her work spoke for itself. “I faxed Hope’s lawyer my power of attorney, so she wouldn’t have to lie in the morgue until I could get here.”

She’d seen too many morgues. The idea of her sister lying in one had been unbearable.

Matt’s expression hardened. “How considerate of you. Chastity needed you sooner. She’s struggling and afraid.”

That made two of them. “I’m here for her now. I’ll take her back home with me, and we’ll...we’ll get through this together.”

She had no idea how she’d fit a teenager into her life. She always threw herself into her work, exhausting herself each day so she could sleep at night. Suppressing one’s needs was a common fault in her profession, and she was as guilty of it as most. Maybe more so since she had a past she wished she could forget.

A gaggle of chattering cheerleaders rounded the corner. They snapped to attention when they spotted Matt, then eyed him as they sashayed past, but he seemed blind to their flirtatious smiles.

Rachel watched them, her heart heavy with the unjustness of life. That old song was right. The good were the only ones who died young. When Rachel had irritated her parents to the point they could barely stand the sight of her, Hope had generously offered Rachel a home so she could attend normal American school for her senior year. Rachel had jumped at the chance to escape the vagabond life of near poverty in which she’d lived in the mission villages. Hope had bailed Rachel out of countless disasters, culminating in relocating to anonymous Atlanta to help Rachel hide the shameful consequences of a teenage pregnancy. Hope had taken her kindness even further by adopting Rachel’s daughter when Rachel had voiced her fears of relinquishing her baby girl to strangers.

And then there were their missionary parents who’d devoted their lives to bringing goodness and religion to the world. They’d died for their cause in some dirty village because they lacked basic medical care. If it hadn’t been for Hope, Rachel would have died with them.

Of all the good people in her family, only she, the bad seed, lived on, and she was hardly qualified to raise an impressionable teen. But from the moment she’d looked into the eyes of her newborn baby girl she’d sworn to do whatever was best for the child—no matter the personal costs. And the cost had been living with the knowledge that she hadn’t been good enough for her own daughter.

The girls in their flipping short skirts disappeared around the corner, and Rachel’s gaze returned to Matt, only to find him observing her with frowning intensity. He rubbed a finger across his upper lip, drawing her attention to his mouth and flooding her with memories that did crazy things to her equilibrium. She jerked her gaze back to his. Remembering his kisses, how he’d listened and how special he’d made her feel, would get her nowhere good.

“Chastity’s had enough disruption in her life. There’s only five weeks left before summer break. Let her finish out the school year here. She just lost her mother. Yanking her away from her friends, home and support network would be too traumatic. Or did you even consider her welfare?”

The unjustness of his question hit Rachel like a hard slap. Rachel had always, always put Chastity’s well-being first. But the thought of staying in judgmental Johnstonville and having to prove to these people that she wasn’t the selfish brat she’d once been was unthinkable.

But the biggest risk in staying was having Matt uncover the truth or having Chastity tainted by her birth mother’s reputation if others discovered her secret. Both possibilities flat-out terrified her. The longer she lingered here, the greater the probability of discovery and disaster.

Sweat trickled down her spine. “We can’t stay.”

“It’s better for Chastity to come to terms with her mother’s death here in familiar surroundings. Give her a chance to find her feet and say her goodbyes.”

“Matt, I have to get back to my job.”

“What about Chastity? As much as you hated your childhood, are you going to subject her to the same nomadic lifestyle by hauling her all over the globe and back to...wherever you were?”

Never. “That was a one-time assignment. I live and work in Atlanta. She’s always loved it there.”

“Who’ll watch her when you’re at work? She’s too old for day care. Are you going to leave her home alone when she’s emotionally vulnerable? That’s a recipe for disaster.”

Rachel’s stomach sank. She worked two to three twenty-four hour shifts per week, then volunteered at the local clinic or picked up an eight-hour shift at the hospital on her days off. She was rarely at home. But leaving a teen home alone definitely wasn’t an option—especially not in her neighborhood. What would she do with Chastity? Rachel had chosen to live in the inner city and help those who didn’t get even basic medical care. Her volunteer work within the community bought her protection, but she couldn’t guarantee it would extend to Chastity. Her apartment was no place for a young girl. She’d never willingly expose Chastity to the seamier side of life that she experienced daily or send her to the tough school near the apartment. As much as Rachel hated to leave her neighbors, she’d have to move.

“I haven’t hammered out all the details.”

“You need a plan before you pack her up and move.”

True. Instantly becoming a mother to the child she’d given birth to thirteen years ago terrified her—probably more now than it had then when she’d been less equipped but naively eager to try. Back then Hope had convinced her that a baby needed a parent who was stable and reliable. Rachel hadn’t been either.

Could she be now?

Yes, damn it. Yes. She didn’t know how, but she would be.

“Cut me some slack. I just lost my sister. I haven’t had time to think. By the time I’ve packed up Hope’s house and put it on the market, I’ll have a plan for Chastity.”

Her thoughts reeled over the long to-do list. Dealing with Hope’s estate was only the tip of the iceberg, according to the lawyer she’d met with before coming to school.

Matt’s concern for Chastity’s welfare sounded genuine, even though he had no idea the girl shared his DNA. That only confirmed what Hope had said all those years ago—that Matt was too good for Rachel. Back then he’d been a star quarterback with a future in the NFL after college. Rachel had been self-destructive and in trouble more often than not. She and a baby would have held him back.

Staring into his disapproving face, she truly believed she’d done the right thing when she’d severed the connection between the all-American boy and the black sheep of the Bishop family. No matter how many second thoughts she’d had, neither Matt nor Chastity had deserved being tied to the self-centered twit she’d been back then. Corrupting a truly good person, as her parents had reminded her often, was a sin. Yet no matter how hard Rachel worked to make amends for her mistakes, she could never change the fact that she’d robbed Matt and his wonderful family of the opportunity to know his child.

Did he have others? She surreptitiously glanced at his left hand. No ring. But that didn’t mean anything. And neither did the relief coursing through her. His marital status meant nothing to her. Nothing.

“Does Chastity have any family on her father’s side? We wanted to notify them but couldn’t find a name or number in Hope’s paperwork.”

Matt’s question jerked her back to the present with heart-thumping alarm. Her otherwise virtuous sister had lied to cover Rachel’s mistake, and Rachel didn’t know all the details of the story Hope had concocted. Best to say as little as possible.

“No.”

“You’re all she has?”

“Yes. My parents died before Chastity was born.” Losing them and relinquishing her baby in the same year had seemed just punishment for her misdeeds. She was alone in the world now, except for the daughter she couldn’t rightfully claim. Grief blossomed, but she crushed the bud.

“I’m sorry about your folks.”

She’d been a total disappointment to them. “Thanks.”

The door whooshed open a sliver and a dark-haired girl’s overly made-up face appeared in the gap. Recognition hit Rachel with the force of a tsunami. Shock followed. Chastity had grown up. The round-faced child Rachel had known was gone, replaced by a young woman with heavily painted brown eyes and overly teased hair.

“Aunt Rachel?”

Chastity’s sullen face resembled the one Rachel had seen in her own mirror when she’d been a student here. The haunted look in the girl’s eyes tore at Rachel’s heart. Empathy and love swelled within her. Her mouth dried. Nodding, she devoured the sight of the lanky teenager squeezing past Matt.

“Hello, Chastity.” She opened her arms.

Chastity hesitated, and it felt as if an elephant settled on Rachel’s chest. She bit her lip to stymie the sob building inside her. Then the girl launched forward. The impact of her body against Rachel’s nearly knocked her over. Rachel hugged her. It felt so good to hold her again. It had been so long. Five years too long. She squeezed tighter, never wanted to let go. She inhaled a shaky breath and choked on heavy perfume. That brought a smile to her lips. She and Chastity had so much in common.

It had been the hugs Rachel had missed the most since Hope had ended their visits. The unconditional love had been a close second. Chastity had actually loved her when it had seemed no one else did. Happy tears burned paths down her cheeks. She rocked gently and stroked Chastity’s tangled hair.

Chastity jerked away abruptly, swiping her eyes and smearing blue mascara across her cheekbones. She sniffed and tried to look cool, as if she hadn’t nearly broken Rachel’s ribs or soaked her shirt. “Glad you came.”

“Me, too.” Rachel had to force the words past her constricted throat.

“I didn’t think you would. I would’ve been okay if you hadn’t.” Chastity’s voice wobbled, and her chin tipped up in false bravado. She wore an expression that said the world had done her dirty, and she was fully prepared for it to do so again.

Rachel had been that same defensive girl. She dabbed her own cheeks and hoped Matt didn’t notice. “Fat chance of me not coming, kiddo. I’m sorry it took so long to get here. I was out in the wild with unreliable generators and intermittent electricity, radios instead of phones, and no internet.”

Chastity shuddered dramatically. “That’s roughing it.”

Then Rachel realized she now stood eye to eye with the child—one who’d developed hollows in her cheeks and curves in her breasts. The gap-toothed eight-year-old she remembered was on the brink of womanhood.

“Chastity, you’ve grown a foot.”

Chastity grinned. “Yep.” Then she leaned forward. “Thanks for the bras,” she whispered. “Mom said I was too young for one.” She glanced over her shoulder as if to make sure Matt hadn’t overheard.

“You’re welcome.” Those emails had kept Rachel going, and being allowed to order and ship occasional gifts to Chastity had helped her feel connected.

“Can we go now?” Chastity pleaded.

Matt shook his head. “Your aunt will have to sign you out, and I’d like to talk to you both about what put you in detention in the first place.”

“Aw, c’mon, Coach Johnston. I know what I did and I’m sorry. Stuff has been shit—tough lately. I’ve had church ladies praying over me nearly every minute and somebody in my grill worrying about every little thing ’til I’m about to crawl outta my skin. I just want to be left alone.”

Matt’s expression softened slightly. “Taking your frustrations out on others is never the answer.”

Chastity rolled her eyes. “I know. ‘God loves a gracious and forgiving person.’”

Chastity’s chanted words plunged Rachel into the past. That phrase had been yanked out every time Rachel had strayed from the narrow path of her upbringing—which had been pretty frequently. She’d come to hate the verse. Apparently Hope had carried on their parents’ tradition. That was a practice Rachel intended to break. Guilt and a sense of failure were not good leverage.

She shook off the restrictive feeling and gave Chastity a wink and a squeeze. “How do I spring this delinquent, Ma—Mr.—Coach Johnston?”

Matt’s brows lowered at her levity. “In here.”

He reentered room 127. Chastity grabbed Rachel’s hand and dragged her along. “Hey, everybody. This is my aunt Rachel. She’s a Life Flight helicopter nurse in Atlanta. When she’s not flying to nasty wrecks and stuff she travels all over the world with medical teams to rat-infested villages trying to save people from floods, Ebola, tsunamis and other noxious stuff.”

Matt’s head snapped around. The bubbles of pleasure Rachel was experiencing over the fact that Chastity sounded proud of her popped under Matt’s scrutiny.

“Is that right?” His inspection made her feel like bacteria under a microscope. He leaned his hip against his desk, crossing his long legs in front of him. His thigh muscles rippled with the movement, distracting Rachel. Matt still had an athletic body.

“Yes. I...um...volunteer my vacation time to work with a traveling medical team.”

“Perhaps you’d like to share some of your experiences with us. Tell us why you chose to go into nursing. If I remember correctly, that wasn’t your plan when you were their age.”

Rachel snorted. “I wanted to be a rock star back then. The fact that I sing like a scalded cat might have something to do with my change of heart.” Truth was, she’d wanted to do something that would make people—specifically, her parents—sit up and take notice of Rachel Bishop.

Smiling faces looked expectantly at her. Being the center of attention—something she’d once sought with nearly religious fervor—caused her skin to flush and her ears to burn. “Some other time.”

“I’ll hold you to that, Ms.—is it still Bishop?” Rachel nodded. “Career day is the last Thursday of school. I’ll add you to the docket.”

Standing in front of a gym filled with bored kids didn’t appeal to her. It sounded downright horrifying. She was hardly a sterling example to hold up to anyone, and next month she and Chastity would be back in Atlanta anyway.

“It’d be really cool to have someone interesting for a change, Aunt Rachel. We usually suffer through a bunch of boring old farts—”

“Chastity!” Rachel and Matt reprimanded simultaneously.

Chastity grimaced. “Well, who wants to grow up and be a mortician anyway?”

Several kids muttered agreement.

Rachel felt cornered but at the same time compelled to respond. “Somebody has to do it and do it correctly. Otherwise disease and vermin become a problem. I’ve witnessed that more than once overseas and even in our own country after natural disasters—” She caught Matt’s raised eyebrows in her peripheral vision. “Well, anyway. Another time. I’ll, uh...see about next month. Where do I sign Chastity out?”

Matt scooped up a pen and a sheet of paper. Their fingers touched when she took them from him, and a spark shot up her arm. Static electricity. That’s all it was. All she’d allow it to be. But the fact that he’d startled proved he’d felt it, too. Not something she wanted to contemplate.

He turned to Chastity. “Did you finish your essay?”

“It’s right there on your desk, Coach.”

“Then you can go. Rachel? We’ll talk later.”

She stiffened. His tone sounded like a threat.

“See you around,” Rachel said, hoping she wouldn’t, and steered Chastity toward the door.

If she saw Matt first, she’d avoid him, and if she didn’t see him again before she got out of Johnstonville, that would be fine with her, too.

* * *

HELL-RAISING RACHEL, a nurse? Hard to believe.

Matt tried to make sense of the past ten minutes, but the woman with the baggy clothes, falling-down hair and pale, makeup-free face bore little resemblance to the sexual fantasy creature from his memory.

The Rachel he remembered had been a red-lipped, hip-swinging, irreverent femme fatale bent on having a good time. She’d charged into his life and blitzed him off his feet like a defensive linebacker. He’d been raised by parents who lived by structure, rules and a very strict moral code. His dedication to sports and learning had only reinforced his disciplined attitude. He’d had no idea how to handle her. But he’d tried.

To Rachel, rules had been hurdles to circumvent. She’d find ten different ways to do the same old thing while he’d chosen proved methods. Her adventurous nature had captured his attention, but what had sucked him under like swirling white water had been the vulnerability she’d fought so hard to hide. He’d tried to save her from herself and ended up losing—a lot.

From the moment she’d kissed him under the mistletoe at a church party during Christmas break his junior year of college—a hot openmouthed kiss in the fellowship hall of all places—he’d been hooked on her brand of excitement. He’d held on for the ride of his life and loved every minute of it.

Her disappearance without explanation and her refusal to answer his letters had stunned, hurt and confused him, as if he’d hit a submerged river boulder when he’d thought the stream clear and deep. Until Hope had enlightened him years later, he’d wondered what he’d done to drive Rachel away. Hope had told him that Rachel had been bored in Johnstonville, and he’d been a diversion, nothing more.

A pencil dropped, forcing his focus back to the students shifting restlessly in their seats while they wrote, but it didn’t stay there long. This mature Rachel, with squared shoulders and deliberate movements, spoke of a confidence she hadn’t possessed as a teen. Her looser clothes flowed over her body in a way that hinted at the womanly shape they concealed. He found her natural beauty ten times more attractive than the attention-grabbing outfits that had once done a number on his hormones. Back then she’d been testing her womanly wiles, and he’d felt like a sixteen-year-old with a Ferrari. But he was older and wiser now. There would be no rekindling of his romance with Rachel. The fact that she was a flight nurse revealed she was still an adrenaline junkie. She’d just found a profitable way to exploit her need for thrills.

Matt pinched the bridge of his nose. He was losing his mind. He’d been born in Johnstonville and intended to die here. He had a long-standing family legacy of community service to fulfill—one he could not blow for a woman. He had the house with the white picket fence and a dog. All he needed to make his life perfect was a nice, churchgoing wife who could accept him as he was and give him children.

The woman who’d blown into his life like a hurricane was not a likely candidate. Life with Rachel would never be predictable or uncomplicated. Life with her sister, Hope, on the other hand, might have been.


CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_c5ee34ac-f9bd-517b-b5dc-9ad7e1166c20)

RACHEL FELT AT least three sets of curious eyes watching her from the school office window as she put the car in gear. The sensation resembled a spider climbing her spine. She could almost hear the condemning whispers.

She’s a bad seed, that one.

How could someone like Hope be related to someone like her?

Her dear parents must have been so ashamed.

“Cool. A Mustang.” Chastity pushed knobs and twisted buttons. The radio blasted loud enough to rattle Rachel’s teeth. “I love red cars,” the teen shouted over the noise.

Rachel lowered the volume, earning a pout from Chastity. “Don’t get excited. It’s a rental.”

“What do you usually drive?”

“I don’t own a car, so I take public transit. I ride the MARTA or the bus.”

“The bus? You ride a stinking bus?”

“Public transportation is very good in Atlanta.” And a car in her neighborhood might get stripped or stolen.

“You’ll need a car here, and Mom’s...” Chastity’s hair flew as she quickly averted her face to stare out the window, blinking fast. “It’s toast.”

The broken words squeezed Rachel’s heart. Hope’s car had been totaled, the police officer had said. He’d offered to text pictures, but Rachel had declined.

“I have this one for now.”

“So we’ll shop for one? A red one?”

Rachel’s heart sank. “Probably not, sweetie.”

“But how will we get around?” Worry tightened Chastity’s features.

“We’ll use the bus and MARTA.”

“You’re going back to Atlanta? But...where will I live?”

Rachel reached across the console and covered a knotted fist. “You’ll live with me.”

“Your apartment only has one bedroom, and your neighborhood stinks. Mom said it wasn’t even safe for us to visit.” Chastity pulled away to dig a lipstick out of her pocket. She flipped down the visor mirror and slathered on a bold red color that would look good on her in about twenty years.

“We’ll find a bigger place near good schools. Maybe even a house with a yard big enough to have a garden.”

“Mom has—had a garden.”

“I know.”

“I hated working in it. Bugs. Sweat. Weeds.”

Rachel didn’t point out that Chastity had often bragged in her emails about her section of the garden. “Okay. No garden. But I’ve never found tomatoes as good as your mom’s anywhere in the world. I was hoping you’d tell me her secret.”

Silence reigned, then Chastity blurted, “I don’t want to move.”

Rachel’s heart clenched with empathy. How many times had she said that? “Change is difficult, but together we’ll find the perfect place.”

“My friends are here.”

“I know. But you’ll make new friends, and we’ll visit your old ones.” Maybe. That would be risky.

“Does Atlanta have good shopping?”

“Second only to New York.”

“Good, ’cause you need an intervention. You’re a fashion ‘don’t.’”

Ouch. “I’m dressed for the heat and the ethics where I was working—and for traveling.”

“Yeah, well...you look like a bag lady.”

“Thanks, so much. I love you, too, kid.”

“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 onto 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.

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.

There wasn’t anything to do in Johnstonville after ten, and Hope had refused to install cable TV. What was Rachel doing up at this time of night? Packing to hit the road at dawn?

The only reason he was out this late was because he’d had to clean up the volcano experiment he and the boys hadn’t quite pulled off as planned at the meeting. His mind had been on other things, and he’d measured incorrectly. The volcano had erupted with too much enthusiasm, spreading its fake lava all over the church basement. He’d sent the dripping kids and their fathers home and gotten out the mop. His mistake. His duty to clean it up.

Against his better judgment, he turned into Hope’s driveway. His headlights passed across the front of the house. A moment later Rachel’s face appeared in the window. Too late to wise up and go home now. He cut the engine. When he climbed out of his truck, she dropped the curtain. He tapped quietly on the door and waited. Silent seconds passed. Did she plan to ignore him? He was about to knock again when the porch light came on. His mouth dried. The door eased open a crack.

Her chocolate-brown eyes looked red-rimmed in the light, but Rachel had always been too tough to cry. Tangled dark hair tumbled over her shoulders. He couldn’t halt the memory of how it had felt when she’d dragged it across his chest and stomach when they’d made love. Not a thought he needed right now.

“What do you want, Matt?”

Her lack of welcome quenched the flickering ember of desire. “I saw your light. Is everything okay?”

She lowered her lids and rubbed her temple. She looked fragile. Fragile? Rachel? Impossible. Rachel was cast-iron tough. Hell on wheels. But the shadows beneath her eyes and hollows in her cheeks were impossible to miss.

“Jet lag. Can’t sleep.”

“May I come in?”

Her eyebrows shot up. “Are you sure you want to do that? By breakfast it’ll be all over town that you were with Rachel the Rebel at midnight.”

She was right, but he was a big boy now. And apparently not a smart one. “I’ll risk it.”

She stepped back, putting a finger to her lips, and the memory of her doing the same when they’d snuck out of this same house over a decade ago tackled him.

“Chastity’s asleep.”

Her whisper brought back a flood of emotions he didn’t need. Following her inside, he rubbed the back of his neck. It felt strange to be in Hope’s house without Hope. Stranger still to be here with Rachel. She wore the same clothes as earlier, only she’d untucked her baggy shirt. His mind immediately went to the last time they’d been alone together in the dark. Naked. Only then, he’d been the one to mess up her hair. God, he’d loved tangling his fingers in the silky strands and holding her close. Involuntarily, desire rekindled. He tried to snuff it out and failed miserably.

Focus. “Have you decided to let Chastity finish out the school year here?”

Rachel’s brow dipped, and she shook her head. “I can’t.”

“Bad decision.” He didn’t want her to go. For Chastity’s sake.

“Excuse me?”

Matt moved carefully as he approached her. The last thing he wanted was for his knee to buckle and dump him on the floor at her feet. All the kneeling from mopping and cleaning had strained the muscles. He needed his brace, but it was at home. Where he should be.

“Chastity doesn’t need another change right now. She’ll graduate from middle school in a few weeks and would be transitioning to high school for fall. Summer is the logical time to move her.”

Rachel jammed her fingers into her hair and paced toward the sofa. “I understand what you’re saying, Matt. I even agree with you to a point, but my job is very important to me. It would be difficult to get more time off.”

“Try. For Chastity’s sake.”

She faced him, looking torn, exhausted and a little...scared? His protective instincts kicked in, but he dismissed them.

“You don’t know what you’re asking.”

The fact that they continued to whisper like kids sneaking around only increased the southerly direction of his blood flow. Damn it, he was getting a boner. It irritated him that she still got to him.

“I’m asking you to put someone else’s needs ahead of your own for once.”

He couldn’t decipher the look she gave him, but tangled in all the other emotions chasing across her face, he thought he caught a flash of pain.

“Fine. I’ll call my supervisor in the morning and see if she can spare me a little longer. But don’t get your hopes up.”

“Good.” He searched her face. This wasn’t the sassy Rachel he remembered. This version looked as if she needed a hug. But he flattened the impulse to deliver one. He knew better. He came from a family of huggers, but holding Rachel definitely wouldn’t be like comforting his sister. Rachel was the only woman who’d ever made him lose control, and that wasn’t a trail he wanted to travel again. His relationship with her and her subsequent rejection had taken him to a moral low that he couldn’t forget.

They stared at each other, the silence stretching awkwardly. Questions charged through his head like the punt return team. A part of him wanted to ask why she’d dumped him, to hear the reasons from her lips instead of conjecture from townsfolk or Hope’s account. But Rachel’s reasons didn’t matter—water under the bridge and all that.

She’d left him when he’d been at the top of his game—so she definitely wouldn’t want anything to do with him now that his glory days were over. And he was okay with that. He’d come to terms with disappointing his dad and the citizens of Johnstonville. He’d rebuilt his life and made it a decent one. He loved his job.

She licked her lips, folded her arms across her chest and shifted on her feet. How did she manage to look vulnerable when he knew she was anything but?

Despite his attempt to reason with himself, the old attraction pulled at him. He wanted to kiss her—but only to see if she still packed the same punch or if his inexperience had been what made their chemistry so explosive. He was pretty sure it was the latter—no woman since Rachel had affected him as strongly. And there’d been a few too many—all in an effort to exorcise her memory. Those meaningless encounters had gone against every principle his parents had taught him, and he wasn’t proud of his behavior.

But one experimental kiss would answer so many questions. Did she taste the same? Feel the same? She’d always had the softest skin. All over. But especially her breasts. His heart slammed his rib cage as he erased the gap between them and lifted a hand to trace her cheekbone.

Rachel’s eyes went wide. Her breath hitched, and she abruptly dodged sideways. “Matt, go home.”

He should. But he didn’t want to and couldn’t pry his gaze from her flushed face and wide pupils. His lungs filled with her scent, something earthier and more exotic than he remembered.

“Please. Leave.” Her soft, breathless voice said one thing, but the way she visually gobbled him up said something else entirely. Her head-to-toe examination halted at his mouth. Her lips parted, and hunger gripped him anew. He leaned closer. A second before their lips would have touched she ducked and spun away, this time putting the coffee table between them.

Her mixed signals confused him.

Her breasts rose and fell. “There won’t be any of that this time. So if that’s why you’re trying to get me to stay—”

“It’s not.” He shoved his hands into his pockets and struggled with his misplaced disappointment. What in the hell had he been thinking? Rachel was right. Getting entangled again was a bad idea. She was counting the seconds until she could leave town, and he had a duty to Johnstonville.

“I’m sorry about Hope.” The words sounded empty, but he needed a minute to regroup after that kind of fumble.

“I’ll bet you are,” she snapped, then faced him, looking contrite. “I apologize. That was uncalled-for.”

She straightened a picture frame on the side table. It was one of him, Chastity and Hope taken at a Memorial Day picnic about eleven years back. He’d been home visiting his folks and had run into Hope. He’d asked her about Rachel, and he’d learned more than he ever wanted to about how easily she’d forgotten him.

“Chastity told me you and Hope were engaged.”

Matt startled in surprise. “Where’d she get that idea?”

“She overheard you talking.”

“We discussed marriage.” Twice. They were both lonely, and neither of them was getting any younger. They’d shared the same values, the same love of their quiet little town, attended the same church, and each of them wanted a large family. And time for that was passing them by. “We decided against it.”

Hope had known about his past and hadn’t minded that his future wasn’t as bright as it once had been. Coach of the Year was probably the best he’d ever be. A marriage between them had seemed like a good match on paper, but talking about it was as far as they’d gotten. They hadn’t even told anyone they were considering it. Part of it was that he’d wanted the fireworks he’d experienced with Rachel, and the few times he and Hope had kissed, they hadn’t generated any. Then Hope had died. He was sorry. But he was also a little relieved that he wouldn’t have to disappoint her.

Rachel’s expectant expression demanded more of an explanation. “Turning forty hit her hard. She thought she was...missing out on life.”

Rachel nodded. “Hope is—was—the kind of woman you deserve.”

Before he could respond Chastity shuffled into the room. “Hey, Coach. What’re you doing here?”

Good thing she hadn’t walked in a minute earlier. “I was on my way home and saw the light on. I stopped by to see if everything was okay.”

He looked at Hope’s daughter, noting that she actually looked like a girl her age should for a change. No war paint, no spandex, no surly attitude. If she’d dress like this for school, she might have more friends than just his niece.

Chastity glanced from one of them to the other, as if gauging the truth. “I’m thirsty.”

Rachel reached out to tuck a strand of Chastity’s dark rumpled hair behind her ear, and for a moment Chastity leaned into the embrace and rested her forehead against Rachel’s. The strands of their hair mingled, and it struck Matt how much they resembled each other.

He glanced at the photo of the Bishop family. Hope had always attributed Chastity’s coloring to the dominant genes from her father and grandfather’s side of the family. Hope had been fair, blonde and petite like her mother.

When Chastity twisted away, Matt thought he saw regret flash across Rachel’s face. “It’ll have to be water, kiddo. Our cupboards are bare. And we used the last tea bags with dinner. I’ll go to the store in the morning.”

Chastity’s expression turned sour. “Dogs drink water.”

She flounced off toward her room. Matt heard Rachel sigh and felt the need to make her feel better. “She’s been giving Hope a hard time for the past year or so,” he explained. “Hope blamed it on puberty. The bad behavior has escalated since Hope’s death.”

Rachel frowned up at him. “Did Hope spend a lot of time with her?”

“Hope spent all her time with Chastity when she wasn’t working or at a church function.”

“And there are always a lot of those.” Bitterness tainted her voice.

He had a sneaking suspicion where this was going. Rachel’s parents had devoted the majority of their time to their missions and little to their daughters. Hope hadn’t minded. She’d eagerly joined in her parents’ cause until she’d gone to college to get her accounting degree. Rachel had been a different story. She’d insisted the lands her parents visited didn’t need good ol’ American religion when they’d been getting by for hundreds of years with the native variety.

“Hope was a great mom, Rachel. Ask anyone.”

Rachel glanced at the photo, her expression sad. “I’m sure she was. She excelled at everything she did.”

That didn’t sound like a compliment. “Rachel—”

“Matt, it’s late and I want to go to bed.”

His lower unit throbbed at the image of Rachel in bed. A bed was one place they’d never been together. He inhaled, but it was shaky.

Cheeks flushed, she crossed to the front door and opened it. “I appreciate your concern, but we’re fine. Or will be after I make a grocery run.”

He wrote his name and cellular number on the pad beside the phone. “Call me if you need anything. Good night.”

It was a neighborly gesture, one he’d make to anyone, he told himself as he heard the lock click behind him. The past was over. And no amount of wishing things had been different would change their situation. He was okay with that.


CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_1aa82978-a69a-596a-b234-3f452c3b509d)

A PEPPERING OF knocks roused Rachel from a dead sleep.

“Breakfast! Come and get it,” Chastity called through the closed bedroom door.

Groggily, Rachel shoved her hair off her face. She’d tossed and turned most of the night, finally crashing around three in the morning. Matt’s visit had rattled her. She’d been pretty sure he’d intended to kiss her. And that could not happen.

She dragged herself from the bed and shuffled toward the kitchen. She’d kiss a frog for a cup of coffee right now. But Matt, not a frog, stood in the den holding a paper bag and a tray containing four tall cups from Johnstonville’s only fast-food restaurant.

Rachel stumbled to a halt, going instantly from bleary-eyed to alert. She hadn’t brushed her hair or her teeth. She was wearing one of Chastity’s oversize Mickey Mouse sleep shirts. It hit midthigh, and she hadn’t shaved her legs in... Ugh. Weeks. She probably looked even worse than she felt in her jet-lagged, coffee and razor-deprived state.

Matt’s sober gaze raked her from head to toe, confirming she looked like his worst nightmare. He, on the other hand, personified perfection. His jaw gleamed from a recent shave. His hair had been combed, and his eyes were bright. A white polo shirt molded to his muscles in a way guaranteed to give a woman an adrenaline rush.

Chastity stood beside him, also fully dressed with her too-heavy makeup on and her hair teased. It was too late to retreat. Rachel checked her watch. It was only six thirty. Early birds. Both of them.

“Matt brought breakfast.” Chastity grabbed the paper sack and a clear cup of orange juice from the tray and headed toward the kitchen.

“Good morning.” Matt’s voice rumbled over Rachel like an approaching thunderstorm. His amused tone did nothing to bolster her confidence.

Her skin prickled uncomfortably. She took a deep breath and tried to finger comb her hair into something less tangled than a mop. There was nothing she could do about the rest of her. “G’morning. Thanks for bringing breakfast.”

He nodded and offered the paper tray. “Coffee, juice or both?”

She might as well make the best of the situation. “Coffee. Please.”

“There’s cream and sugar in the bag with the biscuits.”

“Um...thanks.” Rachel shifted on her bare feet and dug her toes into the floor. She debated excusing herself to grab a bathrobe. But the only one available had belonged to her sister. Had Matt seen Hope in that robe...or taken it off her?

A coil of something unpleasant started deep inside her. She blamed it on hunger. “Don’t you, um...have to get to work, or something?”

“I have a few minutes. I wanted to see if you needed anything.”

“We need everything, but I’ll hit the grocery store after I shower. Uh...thanks again.”

“Sure. I guess I can just take my breakfast to go.”

Realization dawned. Embarrassment scorched her cheeks. “Oh. You’re eating here?”

“Well, only if you don’t mind. Then I can give Chastity a ride to school to save Pam the trip.”

She mentally smacked her forehead. She hadn’t even thought about how Chastity got to school. “She doesn’t take the bus?”

“Hope wouldn’t let her. Pam or my mom carpool the kids.”

Hope had insisted Rachel ride the bus. “That’s nice of you, Matt. You guys head to the kitchen. I’ll join you as soon as I dress.”

Her clothes—except for yesterday’s outfit—were all wet in the washer. Her underwear and bra were drying in the bathroom after the hand wash she’d given them last night. She’d have to borrow something of Hope’s after all.

Reluctantly, Rachel entered Hope’s pristine room. She kept her eyes off the bed that her sister might have shared with Matt and dug through the dresser drawers until she found something she couldn’t picture her sister wearing. Sure enough, the trendy blue jogging suit still had the tags attached. Rachel slipped it on and zipped the jacket, hoping the fabric was thick enough to conceal her lack of undergarments. It felt incredibly soft against her bare skin.

She detoured to brush her teeth and hair. One look at her pallor and the purple circles ringing her eyes, and she grimaced. The blue fabric did nothing to help her complexion, but the shade would have matched Hope’s eyes perfectly.

Unable to delay any longer, she removed the tags, then returned to the kitchen. Matt and Chastity sat at the table with their heads bent in identical angles over separate sections of the newspaper. The similarities between them stopped her in her tracks. Chastity had inherited her father’s mouth and chin. How could Matt not see that? Had anyone else in Johnstonville noticed? It seemed too obvious to miss.

Chastity looked up first. “You made the paper. Your homecoming has been officially announced in the community everybody-wants-to-know-your-business section.”

Matt glanced up, then did a double take. His gaze raked her from head to toe. His Adam’s apple bobbed, and his lips compressed. Ever conscious of her lack of underwear and borrowed clothing, Rachel slid into a chair.

Chastity jumped to her feet, pitched her trash into the receptacle, and then headed down the hall.

“Where are you going?” Rachel called in alarm over her chaperone leaving.

“To brush my teeth.”

Rachel didn’t want to be alone with Matt. He cleared his throat and studied his coffee, trying not to look uncomfortable when he obviously was.

“What?” Rachel asked, a tad defensively.

Matt cupped the back of his neck, then met her gaze. “I bought that sweat suit for Hope last Christmas. We were going to start working out together.”

She suddenly felt every inch of the fabric abrading her skin as if it were burlap. Picturing Matt and Hope together bothered her. A lot. She planted her palms on the table and rose. “I don’t have any clean clothes. I had to borrow something.”

He covered her hand. “Rachel, it’s all right. I doubt she ever wore it anyway.”

The heat of his flesh on hers stirred memories best left undisturbed. Her pulse hitched. She sat back down and grabbed the coffee. Her parents had never been much for physical displays of affection. She’d forgotten how much of a “toucher” Matt was. “I didn’t know—”

“It was stupid to give it to her. She hated exercise.”

“I know. I’m the one who was always working up a sweat.”

His deep blue gaze caught hers. “I remember.”

She hadn’t meant the comment sexually, but judging by the way his pupils expanded, that was clearly the way he’d interpreted it. Warmth pulsed through her.

Fourteen years ago, they’d spent their time together jogging, rock climbing and canoeing—all pursuits that led them to isolated places where not even the winter chill had kept them from getting naked and sweaty together. They’d planned to try a lot more outdoor activities when he returned home for spring break. But that had never happened.

Matt stood, breaking the spell, and gathered his trash. She thought she saw him wince.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, but Chastity and I have to go if we want to be on time. Tardy bell’s at seven fifteen.”

Rachel took a mental step back, suddenly overpowered by Matt’s presence, the memories and regret. “Thanks for...all this.”

“That’s what neighbors are for. We look out for our own. Chastity, let’s go,” he called out. “I’ll be in the truck.”

The front door closed behind him, and Chastity thundered out with a “See ya” thrown over her shoulder.

“Wait. Do you need lunch money or anything?”

She stopped. “Yeah.”

Rachel dug in her purse, handed Chastity some cash, then watched the pair drive away. Looking out for one’s own, Matt called it. He had no idea.

Then the emptiness of Hope’s house enveloped her. This had never been Rachel’s home, but it had been as close to one as she’d ever gotten. And she had to let it go.

* * *

JOHNSTONVILLE HAD GROWN, but there was still only one grocery store, and her shopping excursion was every bit as uncomfortable as she’d expected. Fellow customers studied her as if she were a new strain of bacteria in the petri dish.

A few women spoke to her, but mostly they watched in silence through narrowed eyes. It was almost as if they expected her to strip naked and dash through the aisles or, at the very least, open packages and start eating before she paid for the goods. The latter she’d done back in the day. The former she hadn’t, although she’d been tempted—just to see if the manager’s bad toupee would fall off when he chased her out of the store.

“Why, Rachel Bishop, I do declare.”

Rachel identified the sacchariney sweet Southern drawl and cringed. Debra Sue Jensen, one of the girls who’d done their best to make Rachel’s time here miserable. The nasty rumors Debra Sue and her besties had thrived on had only increased once Rachel had caught Matt’s attention. Wishing she could ignore her and walk away, Rachel instead pasted on a polite smile and turned to face the debutante witch of Johnstonville High.

“Hello, Debra Sue.”

“What a surprise to see you back in town.” She sneered at Rachel’s wrinkled clothing as if she knew it had come off the laundry room floor. “That’s a new look for you. Isn’t it?”

Rachel bit her tongue on a waspy comeback. She’d decided to wear her own dirty clothes rather than an outfit Matt had bought for her sister. But she couldn’t help feeling at a distinct disadvantage next to the Barbie doll perfection of her old nemesis.

“And you haven’t changed a bit.” Debra Sue was still a bitch who dressed like the beauty contestant she’d once been. How many other women donned four-inch heels and a designer outfit to buy a loaf of bread?

“I hear you’re Chastity’s guardian now? But then I guess Hope didn’t really have a choice, what with your parents gone and no man of her own. But for that poor child to be thrust upon a stranger—”

Anger sparked like flint. “I’m not a stranger. I’m her aunt.”

“I’m sure Hope thought she was doing what was best for Chastity to leave her with family, but—”

“She was. I couldn’t love Chastity more if she were mine, and I’ll always do my best for her. Hope knew that.”

A stenciled eyebrow rose. “Let’s hope your best is good enough. It never used to be.” With that parting salvo, Debra Sue hiked her nose in the air, pivoted on her fancy heels and stalked off, leaving Rachel with a stranglehold on her temper and her shopping cart.

People like Debra made lingering in Johnstonville impossible. If that gossipmonger even suspected the truth, she’d spread her tales far and wide, not caring that Chastity could be hurt in the process.

Rachel would have to pack the essentials and hustle Chastity back to Atlanta by the end of the week. Sometime this summer they’d come back, finish packing and put the house on the market. Chastity might hate it in the short run, but in the long run it was better than the truth getting out and imploding her world. If that happened, Chastity would lose her mother all over again, and she would hate Rachel.

* * *

DETERMINED TO USE the empty house to her advantage, Rachel dug out her phone and dialed her supervisor.

“Hey, Rachel, which time zone are you in?”

“Same one as you, Marcia. I’m in North Carolina. My sister...passed away.”

“So that’s why the hospital called looking for you. I’m sorry, Rachel. What happened?”

“A car accident. Single vehicle versus tree. Speed and alcohol were not factors.” She relayed the words the police officer had told her in a matter-of-fact tone and recognized what she was doing—distancing herself from the horrific event. She did a lot of that in her line of work.

“Is there anything I can do?”

Nervousness churned Rachel’s stomach. “Actually, I need your help finding an apartment or a house to rent by Friday. Any chance you know of one in an area with good schools?”

“Schools?”

“I gained custody of my...niece.”

“Wow. How old is she?”

“Chastity’s thirteen going on thirty. Do you think the school your kids go to would take her?”

“Hmm. It is a rotten time to transfer a kid with final exams just weeks away, but given your situation and a few letters of recommendation from the staff here who have kids already enrolled, they probably would. I’ll ask around about housing, and I’ll text you the school’s contact info.”

“That would be great.”

“If the private school can’t help you, then the public schools in my area are pretty good. You’re still coming back Monday, right?”

“That’s the plan. Thanks, Marcia. I’ll be in touch.” Rachel disconnected. Getting out of Johnstonville ASAP was critical. But she dreaded Matt’s and Chastity’s reactions to her plan.

* * *

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” Chastity asked from the doorway, her wide eyes fixed on the dozen cardboard boxes Rachel had picked up at the hardware store on the way back from the grocer’s.

Rachel’s heart skipped a beat. She hadn’t heard a car drive up. Was Matt here? She glanced out and saw a minivan pulling away from the curb. “I’m getting ready to pack. Want to help?”

“No.”

Rachel sat back on her haunches and sighed. “Chastity, I need your input on what you want to take with you right now. We’ll have to come back this summer for the rest.”

“You said we could stay here.” She thrust out her bloodred bottom lip.

“No. I said I’d think about staying temporarily. And I did. But it won’t work.” Rachel rose and crossed the room. She reached out to smooth Chastity’s over-teased hair, but the teen shied away. “My boss needs me to get back to work.”

“You can be a nurse in Johnstonville.”

“There are no helicopter crews here. I love the job I have and my team.”

“I’ll stay here.”

“That’s not an option. I thought you were excited about house-hunting and shopping. You’ll make new friends. The schools are really good in Atlanta and—”

“I like Johnstonville. I like my school.”

“Of course you do. They’re familiar and comfortable, but there are new and exciting adventures around the corner.”

“I don’t want adventures.”

Rachel’s frustration spiked. Her hands were tied. “We can’t stay here. I know transitions are hard, but we’ll make it work. You’ve always loved Atlanta.”

“If I move now I’ll be the new kid. I won’t know anyone. Don’t you remember how much you hated it when your parents moved you to new schools all the time? You’re turning into them.”

Rachel flinched at the direct hit. “You’ll only move once.”

“Then I’ll have to start a new high school in the fall. That’s two new schools in only a few months.”

True. Rachel sighed. “Chas—”

“I want to graduate middle school here with my friends. Can’t you wait until school’s out? Then I won’t be the only new kid when I start high school.”

“I can’t get five more weeks off work. I’ve already been gone almost four.”

“Have you even tried?”

Rachel hesitated. “There’s a shortage of Life Flight nurses because of the additional training and certifications required. I can’t leave my team in the lurch. It’s not fair to them.”

“It’s not fair to me to make me move now. We have a lot to do here. If we stay this summer we can take our time and do it right. And we won’t have to come back.”

She applauded Chastity’s mature logic, but she couldn’t risk staying. “We’re leaving for Atlanta Friday morning. We can visit the schools that afternoon and start house-hunting on Saturday.”

“You can’t make me go. I’ll stay with the Weavers. They said I was welcome. They’re my real family. They’ve been here for me through everything. You haven’t been around for five years. And you’re only here now ’cuz Mom’s dead, and you don’t have a choice.” Chastity whirled and raced outside. The screen door slammed behind her.

Rachel started after her, then stopped. Chastity needed time to calm down. Weighed down by guilt, she slumped into a kitchen chair. Every word Chastity had screamed had touched an exposed nerve. Rachel was nothing like her parents. Other than her working vacations abroad she was stable, established and involved in the same community year after year.

She knew what it was like to be torn away from friends and dumped into a situation where you were the odd one out. Her parents’ missionary work had meant moving from one assignment to the next whenever the call came. Rachel’s happiness had never been a consideration.

Hope’s offer to let Rachel spend her senior year in the same place and attend the same American high school had been a blessing. But Rachel had sabotaged herself when she’d discovered her pregnancy in early February. Rather than face the scandal in Johnstonville, Hope had packed them up and moved to Atlanta. In the impersonal metropolis, Rachel had finished her last semester of school the way she’d done every previous year—among strangers. Then she’d given birth to her baby girl.

Throughout Rachel’s pregnancy Hope had pointed out repeatedly that having a baby out of wedlock was the one sin their parents would never forgive and had urged Rachel not to tell them. Then her preachy sister had shocked and humbled her by offering to claim Rachel’s baby and raise it as her own. At the time, adoption had seemed like the best solution. At least she’d get to see her baby grow up.

With her parents living overseas, there had been little chance of them uncovering the truth. And then when they’d died right before Chastity’s birth, Rachel had taken the coward’s way out and let Hope clean up her mistake. She’d never ceased to regret it.

And now her weakness then was coming back to haunt her.

Protecting Chastity and giving her time to graduate in Johnstonville were mutually exclusive goals. She’d talk to Chastity, and they’d work it out. The teen would come around. She had to.

* * *

FIGHTING PANIC, RACHEL took another lap around the den, then paused by the phone and stared at the number written on the pad. Matt’s number. She didn’t want to call him. But Chastity had been gone five hours, and driving around town had turned up no sign of her.

Matt was the only one who could help her. It shamed her that he knew more about her own daughter than she did. Heart thumping with dread, she reached for the phone.

Headlights hit the front window, and her pulse lurched. Would it be the police with Chastity or news of her? Specters of Rachel’s past—all the times she’d put Hope through hell—danced in her head. She raced to the door and yanked it open. Chastity, scowling ferociously, stormed past her. Relief and anger, along with a mess of other emotions, tumbled through Rachel.

“Let her go,” Matt said from the steps, adding to Rachel’s turmoil. “I’ve already given her an earful about running off.”

Torn between going after her daughter and following Matt’s advice, she asked, “Where has she been?”

“Hiding out with Jessica. My sister called me. Chastity claims you’re leaving for Atlanta Friday.”

“I have a job and bills to pay. I have to get back.”

“You don’t own a car. You live in the slums. What kind of bills could you possibly have?”

Apparently Chastity had given him an earful, too. “I pay utilities like everyone else. I also have student loans and a retirement plan that are directly withdrawn from my account monthly. Not that it’s any of your business.”

“You can take four weeks off to go globe-trotting and care for strangers, but you can’t take five weeks for your own niece? What’ll it take to convince you to put her needs ahead of yours? That’s what parenting is about.”

He didn’t know what he was asking and didn’t understand that she was putting Chastity’s welfare first. And she couldn’t tell him the truth because it would destroy so many lives—his included.

“I’m out of vacation time.”

“Then use your sick days or take a leave of absence. She’ll only run away if you drag her to Atlanta. Pam heard her plotting with Jess. Are you willing to risk that?”

At the shelter, Rachel often worked with young girls who’d been living on the streets. Some were runaways. Some had been forced into prostitution via drugs. The churning in her stomach told her Matt was right. She would have to choose the lesser evil.

Against her better judgment she would have to stay in Johnstonville until she could convince Chastity that moving would be a good thing.

She hoped she didn’t live to regret it.


CHAPTER FOUR (#ulink_4b2a16a0-c288-5ec8-8edb-a97033ebb579)

RACHEL ROLLED OUT of bed before sunup. Tension knotted her neck muscles, and her skull felt tight—the precursor of a migraine if she didn’t intervene.

Committing to five more weeks in Johnstonville seemed like taking the first step on a very slippery slope. It meant risking her secret getting out. It meant seeing Matt. Her stomach swooped.

She had an hour before she had to wake up Chastity. That gave her plenty of time for a run to shake off the sense of doom hanging over her.

Her tank with the built-in bra and shorts with the sewn-in panty were the norm by Atlanta standards, yet who knew what was acceptable here? But she’d left her sweatpants with the village women, and she refused to wear Hope’s clothes again. Her shorts and tank top would have to do.

She yanked her hair into a ponytail and peeked in on Chastity. Her heart tugged. Chastity looked so innocent with her cheeks flushed and hair spread across the pillow. But she had Rachel’s short fuse—a lesson learned last night.

In the kitchen, Rachel scratched out a note and stuck it to the refrigerator before stepping outside to work the kinks from her limbs. Staying in Johnstonville was akin to sweating the incubation period after exposure to a dreaded disease. She would hope for a good prognosis, knowing full well that any hour a full-blown disaster could strike.

She finished her warm-up, then headed down Hope’s driveway. If it weren’t for Chastity, Rachel would donate everything her sister had owned, put the house up for sale and be gone by noon.

She couldn’t let the teen control her with threats of running away. But how could she tell whether Chastity was bluffing or serious? She and Chastity definitely had a few bugs to work out of their relationship.

Rachel’s soles slapped the asphalt as she tried to outrun her fears. The burn in her chest pulled her head out of the what-ifs. She stepped onto the grassy shoulder of the road, propped her palms on her knees and struggled to catch her breath. Scanning her surroundings beneath the pinkening sky, she realized she had no idea where she was. None of the landmarks were familiar. How far had she run? She hadn’t a clue, but she knew her pace had been too fast. How many turns had she taken? Two rights and a left? Or the opposite?

Great. She was lost. And she’d left her cell phone at home. She didn’t want Chastity to leave for school without seeing her—especially not after last night’s debacle.

The sound of fast footfalls caught her attention. Optimistically, she glanced up. Maybe the fellow jogger could give her directions. Then she recognized the runner—Matt—and groaned. He kept catching her at her worst. Not that she cared what she looked like since she wasn’t trying to impress anyone—especially him. But at least she’d shaved her legs.

He, on the other hand, looked fit and fabulous, of course. He reached her side. Blue eyes scorched over her, kicking her pulse rate back into the danger zone. “Good morning, Rachel. You okay?”

“’Morning. I’m fine. Just working in some exercise.”

He wore a tank and track pants. The damp fabric clung to an abundance of taut, tanned, muscled flesh and revealed impressive biceps. Golden chest hair showed above his neckline. The memory of how ticklish he’d been when she used to tease the silky strands beneath his arms and raked her nails over his rib cage blindsided her. Trying to banish the mental images of his bronzed body, she bent to stretch her tightening hamstrings.

“I’m glad I ran into you. My parents would like you and Chastity to come over after church Sunday.”

Rachel jerked upright, her gaze hitting his in surprise and dismay. How could she look Matt’s parents in the eye knowing she’d denied them their grandchild? “I don’t think—”

“Mom insists. Besides, Chastity always enjoys our cookouts. Pam’s and Jake’s herds will be there.”

Rachel vaguely remembered Matt’s siblings. “Pam and Jake have kids?”

“Pam has three. Jake has two. They’d appreciate the company to even the numbers for volleyball and touch football.”

Chastity had cousins. Cousins she could never claim. Guilt landed another punch in Rachel’s solar plexus. “I’ll check with Chastity.”

“It’s just lunch, Rachel. She already eats half her meals with Pam’s daughter, Jessica.”

Ahh, Jessica from last night. “Is this the same Jess who drives her mom’s car?”

“Only on the family farm. Can I tell Mom you’ll be there? Or do I need to send her over to invite you?”

She didn’t want that. “Yeah...we’ll be there.”

“One o’clock.” Matt looked as if he were waiting for her to move on.

She shifted in her shoes, reluctant to reveal her stupidity. She hated it even more when his gaze meandered over her sweat-soaked body again, making her feel as naked as she’d been the day she’d realized she loved him. “I’m, ah...not sure where I am. Could you give me directions?”

She gave him points for not laughing. “This is Barnhill’s Dairy Road. It’s been paved since you lived here, and neighborhoods have replaced pastures. But you’ve been down this road before. It leads to the creek.”

Where they’d often made out in his truck. Her cheeks burned. “Gotcha.”

“Go to the end of the street. Take the next two lefts. That’ll get you back to Hope’s.”

“Thanks.”

“You sure you’re okay?”

“Yes.”

“You have water?” He offered his bottle.

She didn’t. “I’m good, Coach.”

“Rachel—” he warned.

She couldn’t let her pride wipe her out. “Maybe a sip.”

He unscrewed the cap and handed the plastic to her. She drank, fully aware that his lips had been exactly where hers were now. It didn’t help that he focused on her mouth. She gulped, then handed it back. He took the bottle and drank from it. Sharing seemed...intimate. But they’d shared so much more.

She cleared her throat. “Thanks. See ya.”

“You’re welcome.” He nodded, then took off.

Rachel allowed herself a selfish moment to admire his backside and the strength of his long legs, then she yanked herself up by the hormones. It didn’t matter if Matt still had the best body on three continents. She wasn’t interested in resuming their relationship. And even if she were, she couldn’t chance it.

* * *

MATT GRITTED HIS teeth against the pain and continued putting one foot in front of the other. If he could fake it thirty more yards, he’d be out of Rachel’s sight.

He finally reached the corner, then checked over his shoulder to confirm the coast was clear and collapsed against the first big oak tree. What in the hell had possessed him to sprint and catch up with her? He shouldn’t have been running without the knee brace. But when Rachel had raced past his window as if she was running for her life, he’d dropped his free weights, grabbed his water bottle and hauled butt after her.

A high-pitched yap alerted him that he wasn’t alone. Mrs. Hines and her twin yippy dogs were coming his way. The sympathy in her smile and pity in her eyes wrenched his gut. Pity, for crissakes. He could handle anything but that.

“’Morning, Matthew. Where’s Buddy?”

He’d left so fast he’d forgotten his dog. “At home basking in the sun.”

“Knee bothering you today?”

He cursed his weakness and his need to conceal his limitations from people. Forcing a smile, he answered, “No. I’m good, thanks. You’re up early.”

“My babies wanted their walk. Are you sure you’re okay? That was a mighty fierce scowl on your face.”

“I’m fine. But thanks for your concern.”

“My arthritis acts up when a storm front moves in. Maybe your injury does, too. I can call your mother if you need a ride home. I’m sure she’s already up and in her garden.”

That was the last thing he wanted. Mom would kick into overprotective mode, and she’d lecture all the way home. “The exercise is good for me.”

“If you’re sure.”

“I am. Anyway, I have to set an example for my players. Have a good day, Mrs. Hines. I better head home if I’m going to make it to school on time.”

She patted his biceps. “You’re still our star, Matthew. Don’t you ever forget that.”

Humiliation scalded his neck. “Yes, ma’am.”

He waved and walked away fighting every step not to limp.

“Your house is the other way, son.”

He winced. “I’m going around the block, then cutting through the cemetery.” Otherwise he might run into Rachel again. He didn’t want her to see him like this. At least she’d dumped him before he’d crashed and burned on the field. The play had tangled up in his head that fateful day. Dyslexia was like that. Twisting things.

Usually, he could compensate, but sometimes when he was stressed, tired or distracted, things mixed up, and that day he’d thought he’d spotted Rachel in the stands. He’d been sacked, his knee destroyed, and just that quickly, his promising career had ended. Washed up at twenty-three. He’d returned to college for an advanced degree because he couldn’t bear going home a failure. When he had come back, the pity in the townsfolks’ eyes had burned him like acid. But he’d channeled his discomfort into being the best damned coach and athletic director he could be, and his team had made the championship again this year. He’d given the good citizens of Johnstonville another reason to be proud of him.

On the walk home the image of Rachel distracted him. Her body had matured well. Her legs were as sleek as he remembered, but she’d added lean muscles, and her breasts were larger. Not even a top that flattened them could hide her pebbled nipples.

His knee and crotch screamed for attention. He needed a cold shower and the ice pack he kept waiting in the freezer. Damn, he hated weakness. Almost as much as he hated realizing he wasn’t over Rachel Bishop.

* * *

RACHEL PALMED HER PHONE, knowing she was about to make her boss and the rest of her team very unhappy. She hoped Marcia wouldn’t fire her. She loved and needed her job, even if she hadn’t yet figured out who’d watch Chastity during her shifts.

Marcia answered on the first ring. “Hey, Rachel. Home yet?”

She took a deep breath, as if preparing to dive from a high cliff. “No. I’m going to need more time off.”

Silence. “How much more time?”

“Five weeks. Chastity isn’t taking to the idea of changing schools. She wants to finish here...to make the transition easier.” Empty air greeted her words. Rachel’s pulse pounded her eardrums.

“You’re putting us in a tough spot.”

“I know, and I’m sorry. It isn’t fair to ask others to pick up my slack. But this is important.” Marcia was a mother with children close to Chastity’s age. Maybe she’d have answers. “Chastity’s threatening to run away if I force the move. I know it’s a power play, but she’s only thirteen, and I can’t watch her 24/7 and make sure she doesn’t follow through with her threat. Marcia, I don’t know what to do.”

A heavy sigh filled Rachel’s ear. “You’ll learn. She’s at a difficult age. I’m there with my daughter, too. Chastity’s a smart kid to hit you with the one thing you can’t control. Let me think...” Marcia paused for just a few seconds. “Gaining custody is like an adoption. And I believe you can apply for family medical leave over the internet. That’ll keep your health insurance intact and free me up to hire a temp until you return.”

Relief flooded Rachel. She didn’t have a computer, but she’d find one, even if it meant hanging out in the public library. “Thank you for understanding. I’ll do it ASAP. And again, I apologize.”

“Do what’s best for your niece. We’ll muddle through until you get back.”

“I’m going to need another favor when we get there... I’ll need help finding someone to watch her during my shifts.”

“I’ll line up some possibilities.”

“You’re a lifesaver, Marcia.”

Weak-kneed, Rachel sank into a chair. She’d be stuck in Matt’s hometown for five more weeks. But not one day more.

* * *

CHASTITY’S HUMMING PROVED her excitement over the upcoming picnic. Rachel only wished she could share the enthusiasm. “You promise you won’t give me grief in five weeks’ time?”

“I promised like three times already. You don’t have to keep asking.”

Rachel had asked several times, but she was extremely nervous about the potential fallout if things went sour.

The Johnstons’ house came into view. The white home with its black shutters and wraparound porch, decorated with hanging baskets overflowing with blossoms, represented every fantasy Rachel had ever had of a happy, normal home. She couldn’t recall her parents ever having a permanent residence. When they’d lived in the States they’d been dependent on the church to provide temporary accommodations, because they were always waiting for the next mission, the next cause. They’d literally owned nothing except for their clothes and necessities.

Her stomach tensed and her hands tightened on the steering wheel. The Johnstons had always represented the perfect family—the kind she’d wished she had—and she dreaded looking them in the eye, knowing how she’d wronged them.

It always came back to the mistakes she’d made. No matter how many good things she’d done since that traumatic turning point in her life, she felt as if she’d always be the screwup who’d tainted everyone and everything in her path. She’d disappointed her parents, made her saintly sister lie and hadn’t been good enough to raise her own daughter.

She parked the car. Chastity launched from the vehicle and raced around the side of the house, leaving Rachel alone with her doubts. She forced herself to get out of the car and ordered her feet forward. They hesitantly complied. Then Matt came around the corner. Her heart crashed into her rib cage, and her courage fled.

With the sun glinting off his golden hair and the sky-blue color of his polo shirt accentuating his eyes, Matt looked every inch the all-American male, the hometown hero. Her mouth dried and her pulse raced. Apparently the old saying was true. A girl never forgot her first love.

“Glad you made it.”

Rachel forced a smile, pretending she was happy to be there. She tugged at the suddenly tight neck of her T-shirt and smoothed a hand over her shorts to wipe her sweat-dampened palms, then used the excuse of stuffing her key and wallet into her pockets to avoid his outstretched hand. “Chastity was as thrilled as you predicted.”

“You could have joined us at church.”

“We were packing.” She hadn’t set foot in a church since the day she’d given birth. That day she’d stopped by the hospital chapel to beg forgiveness for her selfish ways and vowed to put others first from that moment forward if God would look out for her daughter. He’d upheld his end of the deal, and she had hers.

“Come on back.” He held open the gate to a white picket fence. She sidled through the gap, being careful not to touch him. He represented everything she couldn’t have and didn’t deserve. No point in torturing herself. The gate snapped shut behind them, startling her with the finality of that clang.

A dozen people occupied the backyard, giving Rachel a serious case of stage fright. Chastity and a blond-haired girl sat poolside, dangling their feet in the water and leaning close to whisper. A couple of men, beers in hand, guarded the grill, and several giggling, squealing children played in a water sprinkler on the lawn.

Chastity fit right in here. But Rachel had denied her the opportunity to be part of this rambunctious, happy family. Would they have accepted “Rachel the Rebel’s daughter”?

A woman with the same golden hair as Matt’s, albeit glinting with silver strands in the sunlight, came toward them. Rachel identified Matt’s mother even though they’d never met. Carol Johnston had passed on her chiseled lips and determined chin to her son and granddaughter. How could they not see the resemblance? The knot of guilt tightened in Rachel’s belly.

“Rachel, welcome. I’m Carol, and I’ve been looking forward to meeting Chastity’s idol.” She grasped Rachel’s hand and patted the back of it.

Thrown by the comment, Rachel blinked. “Her idol?”

“Chastity talks about you nonstop. Practically every conversation is peppered with ‘Aunt Rachel this and Aunt Rachel that.’ You are her hero.”

Rachel’s joy was quickly doused by the knowledge that Hope must have hated that as much as Rachel had hated living in her saintly sister’s shadow.

Rachel stuffed her fists into her pockets as soon as Carol released her. “I guess it’s just her age. My job and travel probably sound exotic.”

“Or it could be she sees you’re out there making a difference in the world. It’s harder to do that here in Johnstonville.”

Matt frowned. “How do you know all this?”

Carol shrugged. “Chastity and Jessica are practically inseparable. When they talk, I listen like a good nana. It’s the only way to know what they’re plotting. And from the stories Chastity tells, you’re far braver than I am, Rachel.”

Chastity got to spend time with her grandmother even if she didn’t know it. Had Hope arranged that on purpose? “I’m sure Chastity enjoys her time here and that Hope appreciated your help.”

Carol’s smile fell. “We’ll certainly miss Hope. I’m not sure what the Church Women’s Auxiliary will do without her. She was a powerhouse of ideas and energy.”

Carol embraced her. Rachel froze in surprise. Hugs hadn’t been a part of her life. She wasn’t sure how to respond. Before she could figure it out, Carol withdrew. “I need to make sure the men aren’t charring our lunch. Matt will get you something to drink and introduce you to everyone. You might remember Pam. She graduated a couple of years ahead of you. And Jake was a year behind you.”

Rachel dreaded the introductions. Did Matt’s siblings remember the rumors? Debra Sue and her cronies had told anyone who’d listen that Rachel had slept with half the males in the senior class.

A slender blonde with pixie-cut hair met Rachel and Matt halfway across the lawn. “I’m Pam. We’re so glad you could make it.”

“Thank you, and thanks for taking care of Chastity last night and for all you’ve done since Hope’s...passing.”

Pam took Rachel’s hand and squeezed it. “My pleasure. Chastity is always welcome at our house. I know you’re both going through a tough time now. If you need an ear...just call.”

The sincere kindness in Pam’s eyes thickened Rachel’s throat. “Thank you.”

Pam linked her arm through Rachel’s, led her to the tables and introduced her to the other adults. Bill, Matt’s father, had given both Matt and Jake his tall, athletic build. Rachel vaguely remembered Jake from the one time he’d tried to tag along with them to the lake. She’d never met his wife, Leann.

The Johnstons’ warm welcome was overwhelming, given how badly she’d wronged them. To keep her mind off her guilt, Rachel studied the interactions between the Johnston siblings. She and Hope had never shared anything like the camaraderie and gentle, teasing barbs she observed between them.

Matt’s father refilled Rachel’s glass. “It’s amazing what kids will come up with to get a little attention. Take those two.” He nodded toward Chastity and Jessica now swinging on a wide wooden bench hanging from a massive oak branch. “They’re trying to decide between getting their navels or tongues pierced.”

Brad, Pam’s husband, nearly tipped over his chair. “Over my dead body.”

Rachel agreed. “Several of the native tribes I’ve worked with practice body piercing. I can show the girls pictures of the infections the medical team treated. That might change their minds.”

“I would appreciate that,” Pam said. “As we both know, forbidding them is the best way to guarantee they’ll find someone who’ll do it for them.”

No, Rachel didn’t know that, but she put the tip in her mental file cabinet. She had a lot to learn about being a mother. Then Pam’s eyes met hers across the table, and Rachel felt an unexpected kinship with Matt’s sister. But it was a friendship that could never develop. Friends didn’t lie to each other.

Carol intercepted their exchange. “Pam was our rebel. Like you, Rachel, she seemed determined to stir up trouble.”

Mortification stung Rachel’s cheeks. Foolishly, she’d allowed herself to believe that everyone had forgotten what an immature brat she’d been.

“Remember the Mohawk?” Jake said.

Matt’s father shook his head. “The one that got me was the tattoo on your—”

“Daddy, shush.” Pam looked panic-stricken. “The kids don’t know about that.”

“We probably wouldn’t have, either, if it hadn’t gotten infected,” Carol interjected. “But you refusing to sit down and the disappearance of my frozen bag of peas was a bit suspicious. And your insistence on going to a doctor out of town was even more telling.”

The family laughed, but for Rachel the idyllic mood had been shattered. No one seemed to consider Pam a bad seed. But Pam’s misdeeds hadn’t come close to Rachel’s, and Pam had only hurt herself.

Hope had always fixed Rachel’s mistakes, but she’d also troweled on the guilt, making sure Rachel realized the effort it took and how disappointed she was in her. Their parents had responded with oppressive silence. One thing had never been in doubt. Rachel’s recklessness had been a nuisance—such a bother her parents had sent her away.

“I’m proud of all my children. Jake works at the bank. Pam’s a nurse with Dr. Miller’s practice in town. Now that Matt’s back home, all I have to do is get him married, and my job will be done.”

Matt choked on his tea. Jake laughed and slapped Matt’s back until he stopped wheezing. “She won’t let up until you’ve given her a few grandkids, bro. Might as well bite the bullet.”

Another shard of guilt pierced Rachel’s conscience. She focused on Matt. “You’ve been away?”

Pam nodded. “Matt was a football star before—”

“In college,” Matt interrupted. “Rachel knows that.” The others around the table exchanged looks. What did Matt not want her to know?

“I moved home to take the job at Johnstonville High when my old coach retired. I might have stayed gone if I’d known Mom’s evil plan.” His teasing grin was a shade too tight.

“Do you follow sports, Rachel?” Jake asked.

“Baseball. I’m a Braves fan.”

“You catch many games?” Bill asked.

“I have season tickets.”

Pam’s husband whistled. “Expensive.”

“But worth every penny. I use them to motivate the kids in my neighborhood. If they stay drug free, out of gangs, and work hard to earn good grades, I reward them with tickets to a game.”

“Does that work?” Pam asked.

“It’s been so successful I’ve had to recruit businesses from the surrounding communities to sponsor blocks of tickets at progress report time.”

She caught Matt’s speculative gaze. “Inner-city kids?”

“They’re often the ones who can’t afford to attend.”

“You’re missing games while you’re here,” Jake said.

“I’ve left the tickets in good hands.”

“You’ve never followed football?” That earned Jake a fierce scowl, and from the way he jumped, Rachel suspected Matt had kicked his brother under the table.

“No. As a missionaries’ kid, I didn’t have an opportunity to watch or play sports. I didn’t get into baseball until I was older.” And after Matt, she hadn’t watched a single football game. She’d always been afraid she’d see him on the field, or worse, with some cheerleader in his arms after a game.

Bill’s cell phone rang. He glanced at it. “Looks like the mayor doesn’t get a day of rest even on Sunday. Excuse me.” He left to take the call.

Matt’s dad was the mayor?

The bantering continued, but the atmosphere had changed. Was it because of the phone call? Or the conversation before it?

By late afternoon Rachel was emotionally exhausted from being on guard. It was a relief when Pam rounded up her kids.

After she and Chastity said their goodbyes, Matt walked them to the car. He leaned in the window while she buckled her seat belt. His handsome face was close enough for her to see the silver flecks mingling with the blue of his irises, close enough for her to be overwhelmed by the scent of sunshine, aftershave and man. Close enough for her to lean forward and brush his mouth with hers—if she dared. But she didn’t.

“Thanks for coming,” he said.

Her heart and respiratory rates increased. “I— We had a good time,” she replied huskily and surprisingly, meant it.

Chastity pushed the button to lower the convertible top, making Matt spring back and breaking the connection between Matt and Rachel.

“See you at school tomorrow, Coach.”

“But not in detention.”

“No, sir. Second offenders get litter patrol, and I’m not real keen on picking up trash.”

“And third offenders get stuck cleaning the boys’ locker room after practice,” he warned.

“Eew. Gross.”

“You have no idea,” he added with a comical face.

He had an easy way with the kids that Rachel envied. Would she ever be that relaxed and comfortable with her daughter?

Rachel drove away, watching him in the rearview mirror. He was still standing where she’d left him when they turned the corner. Chastity deserved a family like the Johnstons, but giving her this one meant taking away so much more. Everything Chastity believed about herself was based on lies.

Why did doing the right thing feel so wrong?


CHAPTER FIVE (#ulink_21bf52f6-c12b-5e10-8449-51fc835ffc59)

CHASTITY BURST THROUGH the front door Monday after school and stopped to stare at the pile of boxes in the den.

“Hi. Have a good day?”

Rachel’s greeting earned her a drop-dead glare, then Chastity threw her book bag on the sofa and tromped off. Rachel’s excitement over their afternoon together crashed and burned.

She may be new at this parenting thing, but she’d had enough run-ins with teens at the center to know she must be firm and stand her ground. Girding herself for the encounter ahead, she rose slowly.

She walked down the hall and blocked Chastity’s bedroom door with her palm before it slammed in her face. “Chastity, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Chastity snapped back, then sat at her makeup table and turned her back.

“Listen, kiddo, I won’t tolerate disrespect. Either you adjust your attitude or all deals are off, and I’ll pack you up and move you to Atlanta today.”

The girl spun around, radiating defiance. “I’ll just run away.”

Rachel tamped down her panic. She’d learned from the counselors she’d worked with that threats to leave were often empty. She couldn’t back down again, or this would become a way for Chastity to control her. She’d have to talk tough and try to be convincing.

“If you run away I’ll report you, and if you’re lucky enough for the cops to find you before some thug rapes you or forces you into prostitution, then you’ll spend time in juvenile detention. That means you won’t be coming home to your friends. You’ll be locked up. And just so you know, asking Jessica’s family to help you would get them charged with contributing to the delinquency of a minor.” At least she thought it would.

Chastity’s eyes widened, then she gulped. “You wouldn’t report me. Or them.”

“Yes, I would. I love you. Your mother entrusted me with your care. I’m going to do my best to keep you safe—by whatever means at my disposal. Stunts like the other night’s when you took off without telling me where you were going, when you’d be home or how to reach you will not be tolerated.”

“You’d be able to reach me if I had a cell phone.” More defiance, but this time with manipulation thrown in for good measure.

“I’m not rewarding you for bad behavior. If you keep this up, you’ll get the opposite—grounded for the rest of our time here.” She inhaled slowly, then exhaled, grappling for patience, strength and the right words. “Let’s try this again. What’s wrong?”

Tense silence stretched until she believed she’d have to enforce her threat. “I had a shitty day,” Chastity blurted. “And then I came home and you were packing.”

Rachel debated reprimanding her for swearing but feared it would put up another wall. “You knew we’d be packing. So what went wrong before you got here?”

Chastity slicked on a fresh coat of black nail polish. “My English teacher is having problems with her pregnancy. She has to stay in bed, so today we got our new teacher for the rest of the year. He made me look like an idiot.”

The automatic urge to defend her child roared to life. But Rachel reined it in. She needed facts first. “Was it Matt?”

“No. Mr. Gold is some fresh-out-of-school weirdo who thinks he knows everything.”

“How did he make you look foolish?”

“He made me read out loud in front of the class.”

“Reading aloud is pretty standard stuff.”

“My other teachers never make me do it. I suck at it.”

“Suck how?”

Chastity shifted restlessly and wouldn’t meet Rachel’s gaze. “I just do.”

The reaction seemed over the top. “How did acting up here solve your problem at school?”

Chastity shot her a fierce scowl but remained mute.

“If reading aloud is an issue for you, then your best bet is to speak to the teacher privately. I’ll go with you if you like.”

“No,” she answered a little too quickly. “I’ll handle it myself.”

“If you change your mind, let me know. Now, I need help getting things down from the attic before you start your homework. Please.” She tacked on the last politely but firmly, letting Chastity know her assistance wasn’t optional.

The teen sighed as if greatly put out. “I’ll mess up my nails.”

“Then you can redo them after homework. If you have time.”

Chastity followed Rachel into the hall. Rachel ignored her sullen attitude and pulled down the attic stairs. “The attic is too hot and dimly lit for us to examine the contents up there. So I’ll pass the boxes down to you. Stack them along the wall in the dining room, then later, we’ll go through them and sort the contents into keep and donate piles.”

“Whatever,” Chastity muttered with zero enthusiasm.

Rachel ascended the ladder and headed for the neat pile of boxes in the far corner. She carried them one by one across the plywood floor and handed them down without doing more than a cursory check for spiders.

When she returned with the eleventh box, Chastity was gone. “Hey! Where’d you go?” No answer. “Chastity?”

“What’s all this?” came the muffled reply, the previous belligerence missing from Chastity’s tone.





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