Книга - Lies That Bind

Lies That Bind
Barbara McMahon


Home isn't always as you remember itHer foster mother's stroke brings April Jeffries back to Maraville, Mississippi, the town of her youth. It's a place of memories for her, good and bad. Memories that lead her to fulfill a long-standing dream–finding her biological parents. In her quest she enlists the help of Jack Palmer, a journalist recovering from injuries sustained overseas.As April and Jack work to uncover the mystery of her past, they begin to grow close in ways they hadn't expected. But two failed marriages make her wary of another commitment. Then they discover a shocking secret about her birth parents–a secret that forces Jack and April to reconsider everything. Including their feelings for each other….









“I’ll just pop in to say hi,” Eliza said as they walked down the hospital corridor. “Then you’re on your own.”


April wasn’t sure what she would say, but her nervousness fled when they entered the room, and she saw Maddie. The woman had aged, as Eliza had said. Her hair was gray and thin, her cheeks hollow, her skin wrinkled and parchmentlike. But Maddie’s eyes were bright, and they seemed to light up when she saw April. One side of her mouth rose up in a smile and garbled sounds came out.

“Hi, Maddie,” April said softly. How could she have been worried about seeing her foster mother again?

She leaned over and gathered the older woman into a hug, squeezing gently. “I’ve missed you so much,” she said, blinking back tears. It was true, April realized. She had missed Maddie. And Eliza and Jo. Only now that she was back could she admit it to herself.

It was good to be home.


Dear Reader,

Family has always been important to me. I was lucky enough to know my great-grandparents and grandparents. I “know” earlier generations through family history research. I even have one great-aunt in good health at age 104. The memories, family stories and feeling of connection are all precious.

How difficult it would be for someone to not have a single idea of her background. What if a woman had no identity except what was given her by Social Services? April is just such a person. All the time she was growing up in foster care, she tried to find a clue to where she came from, who her people were. But she ran into brick walls and unresponsive bureaucrats.

A dozen years later she’s returning to her childhood home, and another opportunity to restart the search--this time with the help of a man who loves to unravel mysteries. But there are no guarantees.

So maybe instead of searching the past for her family, April has to realize she has a family with the foster sister and foster mother who had once meant so much to her. And that she can make her own family present and future—if she can convince the man she loves to make that future with her.

To you who are blessed with family, cherish them. For those who don’t know your past, may you be able to accept the present and make your own future full of love and family ties, however you care to make them.

Happy reading!

Barbara




Lies That Bind

Barbara McMahon





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


To Kay Polk, friend, fellow genealogist and family historian.

Let’s find those connections!




CONTENTS


CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN




CHAPTER ONE


APRIL JEFFRIES HUNG UP the phone and crawled back into bed. She was more miserable than she’d ever felt in her life. Pulling the covers up to her ears, she closed her eyes, and tried to ignore her aching body and focus instead on the phone conversation she’d just had.

What a shock to hear from Eliza Shaw! They had been closer than sisters while growing up as foster children in the small Mississippi town of Maraville. Separated when they were teenagers, they’d had no contact in twelve years. April had put her childhood memories in storage—the good and the bad—and left the United States seven years ago to embark on a new life in Paris.

She’d thought she had it all back then, a wonderful husband, promising career, glamorous lifestyle.

One out of three wasn’t bad. She’d made it to the top in an increasingly competitive field. A well-known model who commanded high fees to showcase the latest creations of the world’s leading designers, April had to partially credit her playboy second husband, Jean-Paul Sartain, for her success. At least he’d done her some good before he’d broken her heart by turning to another woman.

Restless, she pushed away the covers, wishing someone was around to fix her some hot soup. But her friends all thought she was still in Marrakech. She should have called someone when she got back to Paris a couple of days ago.

But there was no way she was going to feel sorry for herself, not when Eliza had called her. There had been several messages on her answering machine when she’d returned home, and at last they’d actually talked to each other. The years had dropped away as if they’d been together only yesterday.

April smiled despite feeling so ill. It had been wonderful to hear from her foster sister. Not that Eliza’s news had been good. Maddie Oglethorpe, their former foster mother, had suffered a stroke and was in the hospital. While her doctor was cautiously optimistic, Maddie was still at risk for a second stroke. And recovery would be a long process.

Eliza had urged April to return to her former hometown. April’s initial inclination was to say no. Even under the best of circumstances, she had never envisioned herself returning to Maraville. She’d never felt she belonged there. But as Eliza kept talking, memories came rushing back. Maddie, Eliza and Jo, Maddie’s third foster child, were the only family April had ever known. Because of Jo’s lies, the family tie they’d tenuously shared had been broken. Now Eliza wanted them to reconnect.

But return to Maraville? April wasn’t sure she could face the ghosts.

She had told Eliza how sick she was. When she felt better she would make a decision. But how long would it take to get over this bug she’d picked up in Marrakech?

If she did go back to Maraville, she wouldn’t have to stay for long, a few days at most. Catch up with Eliza, pay a few visits to Maddie. Much as April had railed against the rules her foster mother had laid down when the girls were teenagers, she couldn’t deny Maddie had done her best for the three of them. April could make a quick trip and then resume her life in France.

For years she’d missed Eliza and Jo. Granted, she now had plenty of friends in Paris and Cannes, but not old friends who had known her as a child. Not close friends to whom she could tell anything.

And if she were honest, she missed Maddie, too. The thought surprised her. April remembered the endless arguments she’d had with Maddie about her hair, her clothes, her makeup. Maddie had been older than most of her friends’ mothers, and April had constantly brought up the age difference. Maddie was from the dinosaur age. She didn’t have a clue what everyone was wearing.

April had also resented Maddie for a deeper reason. When she was very young, April had blamed the woman for taking her mother’s place. April didn’t know who her parents were, but she’d believed that if Maddie hadn’t taken her in as a foster child, maybe her own relatives would have stepped up to claim her.

As an adult, April could see that possibility was unlikely. One foster home was as good as another to the state of Mississippi. If she hadn’t been sent to Maddie’s, she would have gone elsewhere.

April cringed a little as she thought back to arguments. Maddie had done her best in dealing with girls who resented her kindness and fought against the system, Maddie and even each other from time to time.

In retrospect, April had to admit that often Maddie had been right. She would have regretted dying her blond hair purple, or piercing her nose.

Snuggling back down beneath the warm duvet, she frowned. Living with Maddie had not been awful. There were a lot of fond memories. Slowly she let the images unfold. The happy times when the three girls were younger, their early years in school, picnics along the riverbank, learning to ride a two-wheeler.

No, it hadn’t been bad, and April might have been happier if she hadn’t focused so much on yearning to discover who her real family was instead of appreciating the one she had. She had desperately wished that one day a happy couple would drive up in a luxury limousine and claim her. They’d tell her the separation had been some horrific mistake, and they’d been searching for her all her life. How many hours had she spent dreaming that fantasy? And resented Maddie for keeping her from her parents.



ELIZA HAD KNOWN her parents were dead. Her mother had died when Eliza was four, and her father before that. Jo’s parents had been druggies, her father in jail for attempted murder of her mother. Maybe it was better to have the fantasy than reality, April thought.

She’d been abandoned as an infant, and Maddie had taken her in when she was only three months old. Taken April in and raised her until the State of Mississippi had abruptly moved the three girls to separate foster homes.

April had missed Eliza and Jo so much when they’d been separated. She rubbed her fingertips, remembering the day they’d become blood sisters. Whose dumb idea had that been? Yet it had sealed their own friendship as nothing else could have. How could she have let so many years go by without making an effort to find them?

Despite the close tie with her foster sisters and her reluctant respect for her foster mother, April had always felt a compelling need to find her biological family. She was registered with several Internet sites of adopted children looking for biological parents. Not that she’d been adopted, but if there was a chance her mother might be looking for her, she wanted to be out there.

It was harder to do research from France. Her schedule was hectic, and beyond the adoption sites, her knowledge of tracing people was very limited. Over the years, she’d learned to deal with the disappointment of reaching dead ends, but always in the back of her mind was the question of why her parents had left her behind.

Maybe it was time to go back to Maraville and reconnect with the only family she had known. Now that she’d talked to Eliza, April longed to see her again.

Of course, if she decided to visit Mississippi, she’d have to rearrange her schedule, have her agent clear her calendar so she could spend a few weeks in the U.S.

Too exhausted to worry about details, she turned over and drifted to sleep, thinking about Maraville. Whoever would have thought she’d feel nostalgic for a place she’d never liked.



TWO WEEKS LATER April stepped off the airplane in New Orleans, the closest airport to Maraville. Walking into the terminal from the gate, she glanced around. Eliza had said she’d look for her at the baggage carousel.

“April!” An excited voice called her name.

A smile lit April’s face as she turned and recognized her old friend, the sister of her heart.

“Eliza.” April rushed over to hug her. The years dropped away instantly, and they were once again like two teenagers, hugging, pulling back to look at each other, squealing. April felt close to tears.

“Oh my God, I can’t believe you’re finally here,” Eliza said. “You don’t look any different from the last time I saw you. You’re gorgeous! It’s so good to see you.” She hugged April hard.

“What have you been doing all this time? I like your shorter hair. You look fabulous. I can’t believe I’m here, either.” April felt like laughing and dancing and holding on to her friend so they’d never be parted again. They had had several transatlantic telephone calls to catch up on the highlights of their lives, but that hadn’t been enough. April knew they’d be talking for days.

“Welcome back to Mississippi,” a deep male voice said.

April looked beyond Eliza and saw Cade Bennett. He’d been Eliza’s main squeeze when they were in high school. That had ended right before the three teenagers had been separated. Now they were back together.

“Cade? Cade Bennett!” Releasing Eliza, she reached out to hug him. “You’re looking fine.” She’d always thought he was one of the best-looking guys in their high school. Eliza had been lucky to date him back then.

He hugged her back, then let go. A slow smile lit his face as he looked at Eliza.

“I drove Eliza in to get you,” he said.

“We’re engaged.” Eliza flashed a diamond ring in April’s face.

“I thought you said—”

“As of a couple of days ago,” Eliza broke in. “Let’s get your luggage and head for home. It’s a long story. I’ll tell you all about it later.”

“Glad you’re sparing my ears,” Cade said, taking Eliza’s hand in his, lacing their fingers.

When they were on the highway heading for Maraville, April leaned forward from the back seat. “Tell me about Maddie. Your last phone call said she was out of the ICU and into a regular room. How much longer before she gets out of the hospital altogether?”

“A few weeks, according to her doctor,” Eliza told her. “They’re still trying to find the right dose of blood-pressure medication to reduce the chance of another stroke. The physical therapist is working to get her mobile again, and she also has a speech therapist. She really can’t talk at all, only garbled sounds. It’s called aphasia,” Eliza explained. “But she seems to understand everything we say.”

“She’s doing better than originally expected,” Cade added.

“I know,” Eliza agreed, “but it’s still awful to see her so ill. Remember how indomitable she seemed?”

“Of course, General Attila,” April said drily.

Eliza smiled. “She’s older now. Seems frail. You’ll be surprised when you see her.” She squeezed April’s hand. “But tell me about you. Are you better?”

April leaned back and sighed softly. “Not entirely. I have no energy. The doctor said I’m fine, but what does he know. Anyway, I figure I can laze around and do nothing here as easily as Paris. My agent rearranged some of my assignments, got me out of a couple due to illness. I may have to take a few naps. Darn it, I hate being so lethargic all the time.”

“There’s not a lot to do here except visit Maddie,” Eliza said. “It’s when she comes home that I may need help. So rest up. You can stay awhile, right?”

“For a few weeks anyway. When are you two getting married?”

“When I know Maddie will be okay on her own.”

“Unless we move up the date and take care of Maddie together,” Cade said.

April watched as Eliza gave him a loving smile. For a moment envy struck. She had never had that kind of devotion from either of her husbands. When Cade’s sister committed suicide, something had driven Eliza and Cade apart, but it looked as if that rift was totally mended.

April couldn’t picture anyone else with her friend. She wondered what had happened to Eliza’s fiancé from Boston as she let her head fall back on the seat cushion and closed her eyes. She smiled to herself. Maybe being married twice wasn’t any more egregious than being engaged to two men in the same month.



“APRIL?” Eliza shook her gently. “Wake up, we’re home.”

Slowly April came awake and looked out the window. They had reached the old house she’d grown up in. She stared at the place, noting the peeling paint, the riotous flower gardens, the freshly mowed grass. Surprisingly, tears came. She was home.

“It needs work,” Eliza explained when April climbed from the car and cast an appraising glance at the front of the house. “Especially to get the clearances and approvals we need to open the home for unwed pregnant teens that Cade and Maddie are planning. Renovations have started inside. Not on the bedroom floor yet, but downstairs. It’s a mess, but Cade assures me it’ll look great inside and out when the work is finished.”

Eliza had told April in one of their phone calls that Cade had a successful construction firm. “I hope he knows what he’s talking about,” April said a few moments later as she stepped over drop cloths and dodged scaffolding. The front room and hallway were crammed with construction tools, wood and paint. “You said Maddie took out a loan to look for Jo and me. Couldn’t she have used some of the money to keep this house up?”

“I think finding her girls was more important,” Eliza replied. “Come on, you have your old room. It didn’t take much to get it ready for you. Seems Maddie kept our rooms pretty much the way they were. Yours will soon have a bathroom between it and Jo’s room. In the meantime, we have to share the one bath at the end of the hall.”

“Just like the old days,” April murmured, following her up the stairs.

Once April’s suitcases had been deposited in her room, Cade pulled Eliza aside. “I’m heading out. You two can visit to your heart’s content. I’ll call you later.”

“Don’t leave on my account,” April said. Despite the nap in the car, the bed beckoned.

“I have things to do. And I know Eliza’s been dying to talk to you. You two will do better with me gone.”

“You just don’t want to listen to us reminisce,” Eliza teased.

“That, too.” He kissed her—a hot, erotic kiss, definitely that of one lover to another.

April looked away. It had been a long time since anyone had kissed her like that. She had been very popular with the boys in high school and had enjoyed a healthy physical relationship with her ex-husbands. But there had always been something just beyond her grasp. Something that Eliza and Cade had, she thought.

When Cade finally left, Eliza bounced on the bed and grinned at April.

“Okay, give. I want to know everything that you’ve done since we were separated.”

“After all our phone calls, you know most of it already, but I can fill you in on the details. And I want to hear your news, too. All of it.” She sat on the bed, leaning against the headboard. Unpacking could wait. She wanted to catch up with Eliza.

“Deal. I probably know even more about you than you think. Maddie hired that private investigator I told you about to find you and Jo. He succeeded with you. One of the things he was able to do was get clippings from the French newspapers. Maddie has a whole scrapbook devoted to you. Wait, I’ll show you.”

Eliza jumped up and left the room. April couldn’t help smiling. It was hard to believe twelve years had passed since she’d last seen Eliza. She hadn’t changed that much. She looked a little older, and her clothes were certainly nicer than when they were kids. But her shining happiness hadn’t dimmed at all. April wished she could be as happy.

Funny how three girls raised by the same woman could turn out so differently. She wondered where Jo was, and what she was doing.

Eliza had mentioned on the phone that Maddie was the only mother she really remembered. But at least she knew who her real parents had been. Maybe that private detective could help April find information about her own parents. Why had she thought she had to do it on her own? Given enough time and money, a detective could probably unearth anything. And money was something she had plenty of.

Eliza hurried back into the room, carrying a scrapbook. “Here, you can probably read it all. I can’t believe you speak French.”

“I took it in high school, remember? One of the few courses I did well in. I seem to have an ear for languages. Of course, there’s nothing like living in Paris to perfect your French. I also speak German, Spanish and a little Italian from trips over the years. German was hardest to learn.”

“I barely mastered English,” Eliza said, plumping a pillow behind her back and sitting beside April. “I took these to Tulane University to have them translated.”

She opened the book and April looked at the first clipping. It was six years old, when she was just starting out in modeling. Taped to the opposite page was a type-written translation.

“These clippings couldn’t have been easy to get,” she murmured, leafing through the scrapbook. “Some of them are ancient.”

“The detective is very thorough. That’s why he’s so expensive. Is there any chance you could lend Maddie some money? Cade and I paid down the overdue amount on her bank loan so she wouldn’t lose this house, but I’d love to get the whole thing cleared by the time Maddie’s out of the hospital.”

“I might,” April hedged. Over the years she had learned to be careful about money. “What’s wrong with just making regular payments?”

“I thought I told you on the phone. Maybe not. Remember the assistant vice president back when we were kids? Allen McLennon? He was dating Maddie right before we left.”

“Vaguely. Wasn’t he always staring at us? Like we had the plague or something.”

“I don’t remember that. Anyway, he’s now president of the bank, and he was going to sell the house and property to some consortium that wants to build a golf and country club on Maddie’s land. He’s against the home for unwed pregnant teens that Maddie and Cade proposed. The City Council has granted provisional approval, so Cade has to make sure he can do all that’s required to get final approval. We stalled foreclosure by bringing the overdue part of Maddie’s bank loan as close to current as we could. But I don’t have the money to pay off the loan and Cade’s money is tied up in his construction firm.”

“How much are we talking about?” April asked.

Eliza told her. April shrugged. It was a relatively small amount compared with what she’d banked over the years. “Sure, I can pay it off.”

Her friend stared at her. “You can pay it off? Really? That would be wonderful. But don’t run yourself short. I was able to get work here to make sure I had an income, but I don’t think there’s much call for super-models in Maraville.”

“Relax, I have enough. You said Maddie used the money for the detective. What did he do, gold plate every report?” She wondered how quickly the detective had run up the bills. Maybe she’d rethink hiring him to trace her parents.

“He’s been searching for you and Jo for three or four years. I think the overseas connection probably added a lot to the cost. I’m not sure why Maddie got so far behind on the payments. Anytime I try to bring it up, she gets agitated, so I’ve stopped asking her. It really doesn’t matter. Anyway, she can’t wait to see you. I thought we’d go to the hospital later this afternoon. She has physical therapy in the morning and takes a nap after lunch. Then we can stop in and visit.”

“I wouldn’t mind a nap myself,” April said.

“You’re in luck. The construction crew isn’t here today. When they are, it’s bedlam.”

“I bet. Still, the way I feel, I could sleep through anything.”

“Traveling all the way from Europe must be tiring. Tell me how you wound up in France. And how you managed to get married twice. Oh, I want to hear it all.”

“Too bad Jo isn’t here. We could take turns telling what we’ve done.” April remembered the day Jo reported to the authorities that Maddie had beaten her. It had all been lies, but when Jo finally told the truth, no one in authority had believed her. As a result, Maddie had lost her foster care license and the three girls had been sent to different homes throughout the state. Everything had happened so quickly and April still didn’t understand why. People in town had known Maddie all her life. How could things have turned as they had? Especially in light of Eliza telling her recently that formal charges had never been filed against Maddie.

April considered where to begin. “When we were separated, I got moved to Jackson. Where did you end up?”

Eliza told her briefly about her new foster parents in Biloxi, Mississippi, and how she’d moved to Boston with them when they were transferred. Even though Eliza had grown close to Al and Dottie Johnson, April could hear the old hurt in her voice. She herself had been inconsolable when she’d left the house on Poppin Hill for another foster home, in Jackson.

“I came back here when I read about Maddie’s stroke in the newspaper,” Eliza said softly. “To reconnect.”

April nodded. “I know how you feel. I came back the weekend after I graduated from high school. Maddie was less than welcoming. She said she didn’t know where you two were, so that was a dead end. I think I got on my high horse at her attitude and stormed away. I went straight back to Jackson and married Billy Bob Thompson.”

Eliza looked startled. “Because Maddie was difficult?”

“That was one of the reasons. He was also hot. And he asked me. Whatever, he and I were not soul mates. But I was scared of being alone. My foster parents couldn’t wait for me to leave when I turned eighteen. I was lucky they let me stay until the end of the school year. Nothing had prepared me for finding a place to live, trying to get a job without any skills. Billy Bob seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“Only he wasn’t,” Eliza guessed.

“You got it. His idea of a wife was someone to show off to his friends. And get him a beer while he watched football. His glory days were on the high school football team, and he’s never done anything else. At least I guess he hasn’t. He was still talking about all his touchdowns when I filed for divorce and headed for Manhattan. I haven’t heard from him since.”

She pushed aside the remembered hurt of being wanted solely for her looks. There was more to April Jeffries than a beautiful face, corn-silk hair and blue eyes, though most people never bothered to search for it. The few who did had become true friends. April had grown used to the attention that came from being a model, but sometimes, deep inside, she wished she hadn’t been blessed with such beauty. She wanted people to like her for who she was, not what she looked like.

“So you were in Manhattan when I was in Boston,” Eliza sighed. “I could have driven down to see you.”

“How did you like Boston?”

“Okay. It was as good a place as any other. How did you like New York?”

“I loved it. I worked as a clerk in a deli near the garment district. There’s so much life in the city. I would still be there if I hadn’t moved to France, which turns out to have been a good thing. I don’t think I would have hit it as big modeling in the States.”

April yawned and snuggled down onto the pillow a little more. “Tell me how you got into cooking,” she said, wanting to hear more about Eliza. There was no hurry, she realized. She’d arranged her schedule so she could stay through the end of June.

“Later,” Eliza promised. “I can tell you’re half-asleep. I’m so glad to see you again, April. I’ve missed you so much.”

“Me, too,” she said. “Blood sisters, remember?” She held up her finger.

Eliza touched it with her own scarred fingertip.

Smiling, April closed her eyes and was soon asleep.



WHEN SHE AWOKE, it was late afternoon. The sun shone in her window, dust motes dancing in the beams. She lay there for a while, letting her eyes roam around the familiar bedroom. It looked the same as the day she left. There were old rock posters on the walls, jumbled books in the bookshelves. April loved to read. Books had taken her away from the small Mississippi town and swept her into adventure. Her grades in school had never been as high as Eliza’s, because if a subject didn’t interest her, she hadn’t bothered doing more than the minimum to get by. She had excelled in English literature, however. And French.

Recognizing favorite books, she vowed she’d reread some of them while she was here.

As she got out of bed to freshen up, April was touched to see that Eliza had unpacked for her. Her clothes were put away and her suitcase tucked into the closet.

After she’d changed her clothes, April went downstairs. The phone sat on the table at the foot of the stairs. She remembered how she’d argued and argued for an extension, one located somewhere a little more private. Obviously, Maddie still felt that one phone was enough.

Wandering into the kitchen, she stopped in the doorway. Eliza was cooking and the aroma made her mouth water.

“That smells divine. What is it?”

“Gumbo. We’re having it for dinner, but I want it to simmer all afternoon. Cade’s coming.”

“Am I going to be in the way?” April asked.

“Not at all. We’re mature adults,” Eliza teased. “We can behave around others.”

“Hmm, like that kiss earlier?”

Eliza beamed. “I love him so much I ache with it.”

“He seems to feel the same. Tell me what happened to split up high school’s couple-most-likely-to-succeed.”

“He blamed me for Chelsea’s death.”

“Hey, wasn’t that the same day Jo got beaten so badly? And Maddie had a fit because I was caught smoking in school and was suspended? And you cut classes? The day we were separated.”

“The day from hell,” Eliza agreed, stirring the gumbo. “Cade and I have cleared things up…finally.”

“Yeah, I guess so, from that kiss.”

“Want something to eat before we go to the hospital?” Eliza asked.

“A sandwich will hold me. Maybe we should wait until tomorrow to go to the hospital.” She felt oddly nervous about seeing Maddie again.

Eliza put down her spoon and shook her head. She went to the refrigerator and pulled out cold cuts and mayonnaise. “Maddie is so looking forward to your visit. I told her the minute I knew you were coming. She can hardly wait.”

“How do you know that? I thought she couldn’t talk.” April sat at the table, in the place that had been hers so many years ago.

“She has limited mobility in her right hand, so she squeezes once for yes and twice for no. It’s hard coming up with conversation that requires a yes or no response, but it’s the best I can do. The speech therapist is working with her. She says Maddie’s making progress, but I don’t hear it.” Eliza quickly made a couple of sandwiches, cut them and handed one to April.

“Thanks. I’m still not sure about this.” It was silly of her to feel so scared of seeing Maddie again.

“She wants to see you.”

“I know. I want to see her, too, but I’m nervous.” There, she’d admitted what was bothering her. Their parting hadn’t been amicable. Her aborted visit to Maraville a year later had not gone well. Would their reunion be any better? April hoped so. Otherwise she wouldn’t have made the trip from Paris.



“I’LL JUST POP in to say hi,” Eliza said as they walked down the hospital corridor a little while later. “Then you’re on your own.”

April wasn’t sure what she would say, but her nervousness fled when they entered the room and she saw Maddie. The woman had aged as Eliza said. Her hair was gray and thin, her cheeks hollow, her skin wrinkled and parchmentlike. But Maddie’s eyes were bright and they seemed to light up when she saw April. One side of her mouth lifted up in a smile and garbled sounds came out.

“Hi, Maddie,” April said softly. How could she have been worried about seeing her foster mother again?

She leaned over and gathered the older woman into a hug, squeezing gently. “I’ve missed you so much,” she said, blinking back tears. It was true, April realized. She had missed Maddie. And Eliza and Jo. Only now that she was back could she admit to herself it was good to be home.

Just for a visit.




CHAPTER TWO


“WHAT I CAN’T FIGURE is what you’re doing in this backwater town. If you had to leave New Orleans, why not choose a city that at least offered some diversions? What do you do here for fun—watch trees grow?” Jack Palmer leaned back in the rocking chair—rocking chair, for God’s sake—on Sam Witt’s front porch. Maybe when he was eighty he’d want a rocker, but not now. He looked at his friend in bafflement. What had happened to change the man so much? Sam used to have a fire in his belly that only constant work could assuage. Now he was content to sit on a blasted porch in a bucolic town as unlike New Orleans as Jack had ever seen.

Sam smiled. “The town grows on you.”

Jack sighed loudly. “Maybe. I won’t be here long enough to find out. I came to see you, hoping for some action. If I wanted to sit around and do nothing, I could have stayed with my parents.”

“Why didn’t you?” Sam asked. He took a long drink of his beer and studied his friend.

“Too much coddling,” Jack growled. He had hated every moment his mother had fussed over him. Sure he’d been injured by a land mine, but injured wasn’t dead. And he was mobile. What more could they expect when he’d been covering Iraq?

“Probably scared them to death when they got word you’d been blown up,” Sam said reasonably.

Jack wasn’t in the mood for reasonable. He was antsy.

“I was injured, not blown up.”

“The guy with you died,” Sam reminded him.

He hardly needed reminding. Not a day went by that Jack didn’t think about Pete and fate and that blasted mine. Why had he been spared and not his cameraman?

“Anyway,” Jack continued, “until I’m one-hundred percent again, I’m grounded. No reporting.”

“Relax, Jack. You’ll heal at your own pace. Once you’re fit, you can head back into the line of fire.”

“In the meantime, I’m supposed to do what?”

“Did you visit your sister?”

“Yes. Alice said to tell you hi if I saw you. And her brood was wild. If she and Ed don’t rein in some of that energy, they’re going to have a pack of hellions by the time the kids are teenagers.”

“So, can’t stay at your mother’s, can’t stay at your sister’s. I’m next best, right?”

“I thought you were still in New Orleans.”

“I told you after Patty died that I was leaving. I should have done it before her death. She hated my job. She wouldn’t have minded it so much here in Maraville. It’s a quiet, slow-paced town.”

“She’d have been bored to tears,” Jack said, looking across the lawn at the street. He hadn’t seen a car drive by in twenty minutes. “And you’re happy here?” he asked with some skepticism.

“Content, I’d say.” Sam took another swallow of beer.

For a split second, Jack envied him the cold beer. Still on medication, he wasn’t drinking. He’d tried to kick the pills a week ago, but the knife-sharp pain in his foot and ankle had kept him up all night long. He’d cut back, but sometimes the meds were the only thing that helped.

He hated being dependent on drugs of any kind. Or on the hospitality of friends, no matter how far back they went. And he and Sam went back to early childhood. They’d started elementary school together in Baton Rouge. They’d enrolled in college together, and enlisted into the military as a team. Then their paths had separated. Sam had married Patty and become a New Orleans cop.

Jack majored in journalism in college, and used his military experience as a springboard to reporting news in foreign countries. Lately, all he seemed to see was death and destruction. He rubbed his hand across his eyes. He continued to see it in his dreams at night. But if he didn’t keep going, he might take time to rethink things. Who knew where that would lead? Look at Sam. From a detective in New Orleans to a sheriff in a backwater town in Mississippi.

Losing his wife must have been hard. Jack had liked Patty a lot. How had Sam stood it?

“Contentment?” Jack said, just to prod his old friend. “You sound like you’re ancient. What happened to the fire you had for righting wrong?”

“Hey, I can right wrongs here as well as in New Orleans,” Sam replied easily. “I know my neighbors. I’ve made some good friends over the last couple of years. And I don’t see the drug dealers or killers like I used to in the city. It’s realigned my thinking about mankind.”

“Don’t you get bored?”

Sam shrugged. “Not as much as I thought I would.”

“So what am I supposed to do while I’m here?” Jack knew he was whining, and didn’t like it. The thought of moving elsewhere didn’t help. Who else would put up with him while he convalesced?

“I’d suggest we go dancing, but with your bum leg, I don’t think that would work.” Sam laughed at Jack’s dour expression.

“I don’t go dancing even when my leg isn’t banged up,” he groused.

“I know. Tomorrow you can ride shotgun with me, see the town, meet some folks. Maybe you’ll find something to do. If not, you’re on your own. I’m not your keeper.”

Not like his mother or sister, Jack thought, who fussed over him every moment he was awake. They hadn’t wanted him to do anything more than sit in front of a television all day to rest his leg. That had driven him nuts. He wasn’t an invalid, just temporarily sidelined.

Maybe he was still a little nuts. He couldn’t settle down for a minute. He was restless sitting on the porch. Sam, on the other hand, seemed content to linger in the twilight and talk with an old friend.

Was he destined to seek that adrenaline rush all his life? Jack wondered. If he didn’t find some diversion soon, he’d head back to New Orleans.

To what? A motel room and television? He didn’t even have an apartment to call his own. Since he traveled all the time, it made no sense to have one. Mail was sent to his folks’ house, where they held it until he made one of his infrequent visits, or to the office in Atlanta to be forwarded to his latest posting. Any bills were paid through his bank.

He looked at the porch, at the yard. Not a lot to see in the gray of evening. “You buy this place?” he asked.

“Yep,” Sam said.

“So you’re staying.”

“I’ve been here a couple of years. Like what I have. I’m staying.”

Two years in one place. A house. Jack looked at his friend, feeling the gap widen. They’d been close as boys, even as young men, talking big, living for adventure. But their paths had diverged, and now Sam seemed to belong to another world, unlike the one Jack was familiar with.

Or was he the one who lived in another dimension? Risking life and limb daily to get the story. Seeing the hot spots in the world. Making a difference. God, he couldn’t wait to get back.

He stretched out his left leg, wincing at the pain that shot through it. His foot had all but been blown off. Only the skill of the surgeons at the military hospital in Germany had saved it. Whether he would ever regain full function was still questionable. He could walk, though, using a cane. That was what mattered now. He’d work on the mobility once the cast came off. With any luck, he’d be back on the front lines in only a few months—if he survived this interval in Maraville, Mississippi.

“Okay, I’ll give it a shot,” Jack said, knowing he didn’t have any choice.

They were silent for a while. Then Jack looked at Sam. “Been dating lately?” Patty had been dead for more than three years. He was curious as to whether Sam was moving on.

Sam shook his head. “You?”

Jack shrugged. “The front lines of a war aren’t exactly conducive to meeting women. Any prospects in Maraville?”

Sam laughed softly. “Not unless you like them really young. Anyone our age is already married, or has long left for brighter lights.”

“See, I was right. This town is dead. No one stays here if they can go elsewhere.”

“So I’m getting to be an old fogy, is that what you’re saying?”

“If the shoe fits.”

“I’m not ready,” Sam said softly. “I still miss Patty like she died yesterday.”

“At least you had five years together. I’m sorry as hell, Sam. She was the best.”

“You ever think about settling down?”

“Never. I’ll be reporting to you live from the next trouble zone when I’m in my eighties.” Jack hoped it was true. If his foot didn’t heal properly, he might never go on that kind of assignment again. He didn’t want to think about it.

“I told Etta Williams you were coming to visit,” Sam said.

“Who is Etta Williams?”

“The local librarian. She wondered if you would do a couple of talks at the library about being a foreign correspondent.”

“I don’t see myself talking to a bunch of gray-haired old ladies about the death and destruction in Iraq.”

“Etta seems to feel younger people would be interested in how to get into journalism, how to get into foreign reporting. The basics of the business, with an occasional personal story thrown in to showcase your unique style.”

Jack laughed. “My unique style?”

“Standing in front of firing artillery to report the latest developments,” Sam said drily.

“Hell, why not? It’s not as if I have a lot of other pressing engagements.”

“Yeah, I thought you’d feel that way.”

“So you already accepted for me?” Jack asked.

“No, it’s still your choice. But it’ll give you something to do. How about Wednesdays for a few weeks.”

“If I stay here that long.” Jack wondered if the medication was dulling his senses. He wasn’t used to giving speeches or answering questions. He reported news—hard news. He wondered when the last thing of any interest had happened in Maraville. Probably during the Civil War.

“Stay, or go,” Sam said. “But if you stay, try to fit in, don’t find fault with everything you see. I know we’re not Baghdad or Cairo. But this is a nice town. The people are real. These are the folks the soldiers are fighting for.”

“So maybe I can do a human-interest story.”

“Or maybe you can just live here for a while and not do a story,” Sam suggested. “When was the last time you lived your own life and not a news story?”

Jack frowned. It was what he was made for—getting the news out to the rest of the world. He couldn’t imagine doing anything else.

Until then, he might as well regale people with the realities of reporting. It wasn’t all glamour and excitement. A lot of it was drudgery—digging for facts, verifying each one, cross-checking references and sources. Making sure the report was as unbiased as possible.

“I’ll tell Etta in the morning,” Sam said.

A pickup truck drove down the street, passed the house, then braked. After backing up, it parked in front of Sam’s place. When a man got out and headed for the porch, Sam rose and went to the steps.

“Evening, Cade,” he said.

“Sam.” He glanced at Jack. “Am I interrupting?”

“Come on up. This business?”

“Not really. Just wanted to see if you had narrowed down the search for Jo Hunter.”

“No.” Sam made introductions and offered Cade a beer, which he took as he settled in a chair.

“April showed up today,” he said. “She and Eliza are talking a mile a minute, so I left right after dinner. It would be great if we could find Jo while April is here. Those girls were close. I know Eliza’s talked about nothing else since April said she’d come.”

“I’ll see about sorting through the lists we have and narrowing the search,” Sam said. “I didn’t think it was urgent.”

“Someone missing?” Jack asked, his curiosity aroused. Was there a story in this?

Cade explained about three girls who were raised by one of the local residents. “They lost touch when they were sent to separate foster homes twelve years ago. Two of the girls are back in town now and would like to locate the third.”

“One’s engaged to Cade,” Sam interjected. “Eliza Shaw.”

“Yeah, guess that’s my main reason for coming by,” Cade admitted. “I’d love to have Jo show up and surprise both her and April.”

Sam told Jack about the search he’d started for Jo Hunter and the lack of leads he’d turned up so far.

“She could be dead for all we know,” he finished.

“Or married, or living underground,” Jack said. Maybe there was no story after all.

“Do I know you from somewhere?” Cade asked. “You look familiar. Not from Maraville, but New Orleans maybe?”

“From CNN, probably,” Sam said. “Jack’s been in Iraq until recently.”

“You’re that Jack Palmer. I should have recognized you immediately. Sorry about that.” Cade looked at Jack with new interest. “Sometime, if you’re in the mood, I’d like to hear more about what’s going on over there.”

“Jack plans to give a series of talks at the library, starting on Wednesday,” Sam said.

“A series sounds long-term,” Jack growled. “I don’t know how long I’m staying.”

“Okay, one or two talks,” Sam amended. “I want to hear them myself.”

“Let me know the time, and I’ll do my best to be there.” Cade stood up to go. “Thanks for the beer. Call me if you hear anything that might help us locate Jo.”

Jack needed to rethink his approach to the library talks. Maybe his audience wouldn’t only be gray-haired ladies after all.



BY WEDNESDAY MORNING, April was feeling more acclimated to the Mississippi spring. The hot, humid days zapped her energy—what little she had—so she rested as much as possible. The nights were cooler, and she and Eliza stayed up late talking. They had so much to share. April couldn’t believe she’d been here several days and they still talked nonstop from dinner to bedtime.

This morning she had helped Eliza dust and vacuum the rooms they were using. The renovations seemed to spread dust everywhere. There’d been four men working on the project the past couple of days, and every time she walked by, they stopped to stare, strike up a conversation, make an excuse for her to stay and talk. She didn’t mind talking with the workmen, but whenever she was around they seemed to compete with each other for her attention. Maybe she should mention it to Cade, but on second thought she decided against it. There was no sense making a big deal time, and she’d do her best to be friendly but not encourage their flirting. She’d had to deal with situations like these before.

She’d gone to visit Maddie both days. April wasn’t sure who had changed, her or Maddie, but their visits were going well. Maybe that was partly due to the fact Maddie couldn’t talk, but April didn’t think so. She skimmed over her marriages, focusing on her life in Paris. Maddie seemed to love hearing about her flat, about the fresh baguettes from the boulangerie, and the lively cafés on the Left Bank. April tried to give her career a bit of a spin, glossing over how hard it was to maintain her slim figure by constantly watching what she ate, and getting enough sleep to keep circles from beneath her eyes.

Today Maddie had been tired from her physical therapy, so April had stayed only a few minutes. She should stick to late afternoon or evening visits, rather than right after lunch. With nothing else to do, she walked down the main street of town, reminiscing as she went. Passing Ruby’s Café, she glanced inside, debating whether to stop for a cup of coffee or not.

Before she made up her mind, the door burst open and a waitress came rushing out.

“April Jeffries. Eliza said you were here. I’m glad to see you.”

April was embraced in a friendly hug.

“Betsy?” She hugged the woman back. Betsy had been more Eliza’s friend than April’s. She and Eliza had embarked on a fledgling catering business in Maraville, though Betsy was keeping her regular job until their new company was financially secure. She was the first friend from school other than Cade that April had seen in the two days she’d been in town.

“You look fantastic,” Betsy said. “I can’t believe you’re a supermodel in Europe. All I’ve ever done is stay in Maraville and marry Dexter Bullard.”

“Sounds like as good a way to live as any,” April said diplomatically. Truth to tell, she’d once hoped to do something very much like that. After two failed marriages, those dreams had changed.

“Come in and have something to eat,” Betsy said.

“Not just now. Maybe tomorrow. I ate lunch before I went to see Maddie.”

No matter how glad she was to see Betsy, April didn’t feel up to talking with an old acquaintance. Tomorrow, she promised herself.

“Okay, then. Maybe I’ll stop by the house later and we can catch up.”

April nodded. She’d heard a lot about Betsy from Eliza already. She’d have to look up some of her own friends—if any had remained in Maraville. But not today.

Continuing her walk down the main street, she passed the library, noticing a poster with a picture of Jack Palmer, CNN correspondent, prominently displayed on the door.

She did a double take. Jack Palmer here in Maraville? She often saw him on television at home, where her satellite connection pulled in both CNN and his feed to the BBC. What in the world was a reporter of his reputation doing in Maraville? According to the poster, giving a series of lectures starting today.

Intrigued, she walked into the cool building. The scents of old books assailed her and she smiled at the once-familiar smell. She’d spent many afternoons in this place as a child. Fewer afternoons as she grew older.

Following the signs to the public meeting room, April wasn’t surprised to find it almost full. Glancing at her watch, she saw Jack was scheduled to begin his talk in a few moments. Taking a chair in the last row, she leaned back. She was tired, but she might as well rest here as at home. At least she’d be entertained and feel less guilty for not helping Eliza more.



JACK HOBBLED to the chair before the small table and sat down. He’d walked over from Sam’s place and his leg was throbbing. The librarian introduced him and he nodded, letting his gaze travel around the room. It was crowded. He wouldn’t have thought this many people in Maraville would be interested in anything he had to say.

There were the older people he’d expected. Sam had stopped by. He saw several other men their age, and some teenagers. In the back of the room his regard paused a moment on one of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen. Blond hair seemed to float around her head. Even from this distance he could see the deep blue of her eyes. Probably a wife of one of the town’s leading citizens.

“Thank you for coming,” he began. “I didn’t expect such a turnout. Television often portrays news reporting as glamorous and exciting. I can attest to the exciting part, on occasion. But glamour is often missing.” He launched into the talk he’d roughed out the night before. He didn’t need notes. He knew what he had to say. He wanted these people to know how difficult it was to get unbiased information, and the hardships reporters and camera crews faced. He provided insights into what drove the men and women who reported the news, interspersing his lecture with incidents he or one of his friends had experienced. Sometimes he drew laughter. Sometimes he saw tears in the eyes of his audience. One teenager seemed to hang on his every word.

Finishing up, Jack asked if there were any questions.

“When are you giving another talk?” the teenager asked eagerly.

“Same time next week. I’ll cover a different aspect, so if you come back, you won’t hear the same thing.”

“Awesome,” the kid said, grinning.

He quickly answered other questions. Until Etta Williams announced the talk was over and the audience began to rise from their seats.

The librarian hurried over. “Thank you so much, Mr. Palmer. That was fascinating. I do appreciate your coming today. I can’t wait for next week.”

Jack nodded, wishing his foot didn’t hurt so much. Sitting still for so long only made it worse. Next week, if it wasn’t better, he’d have to request a stool or something to elevate it.

Sam came over to the table.

“Need a ride home?”

Jack nodded, and Sam said he’d pull the car around in front. Once he left, Jack rose and prepared to hobble outside. The teenager who had hung on his every word came up to ask more questions. Then one of the older men stopped him to talk about the way news was reported these days. Another woman thanked him for risking his life so Americans could know what was really going on.

The blonde from the back of the room hovered near the door. Jack made his way slowly toward her.

“Mr. Palmer,” she said, when he drew level with her.

He nodded. By this time, the two of them were the only ones left in the room.

“Yes?” He leaned heavily on his cane, willing the pain to go away.

“I was wondering if you’d like to have coffee with me. I want to talk to you about something.”

“Someone’s waiting to give me a lift home,” he said, wondering how anyone could have eyes so clear and blue. She was on the thin side, almost as tall as he was. Was she interested in a reporter’s job? With her looks, she could be a TV anchor even if she didn’t have two thoughts to rub together. If she only read the reports, audiences in America would lap up the news.

“Another time then?” she said.

“What’s this about?” Despite her beauty, he couldn’t help her get a job.

“I’m April Jeffries.”

“Friend of Cade’s?” he asked, making the assumption. How many Aprils lived in Maraville? He’d noticed how people in the audience had eyed her, as if she wasn’t quite one of them. A certain level of curiosity would be normal if she’d been gone for twelve years and only returned for a visit.

“That’s right. How did you know?” She seemed startled.

“Instinct. What can I do for you, Miss Jeffries?”

“Call me April—everyone does. I want help in finding someone.”

“Jo?” He couldn’t do more than Sam could.

“You are tapped into the local grapevine. No, not Jo, as it happens. I understand Maddie already has a private detective working on that. I want help finding my birth parents.”



APRIL HAD MADE the decision to ask for help as she listened to Jack Palmer describe some of the ways he researched facts. She knew he reported from foreign locales, but the basics of investigative methods would be the same. Maybe he’d have some pointers for her on how to expand her search for her parents. She wasn’t sure what contacts reporters had, but if he could tap sources unavailable to the general public, it might help with her search.

She could tell from his expression she’d surprised him. What—had he thought she was some groupie wanting to cling to a famous reporter?

“I’m not into finding missing persons,” he said abruptly. “Try the sheriff’s office or Social Services. A private detective. Those are the kind of agencies who can help.” He headed out the door.

Stung by his curt response, April watched him go. “Don’t you think I’ve already tried all those avenues?” she muttered.

She was annoyed she’d asked him for help. He probably thought she was some dumb blonde who didn’t have a clue about anything. If so, he wouldn’t be the first to misjudge her that way.

As soon as he was out of sight, she left the meeting room. Returning to Maraville had awakened her longing to find out about her parents. She thought she had dealt with that issue years ago, yet here she was again, hoping for some clue that would lead to their identity. She realized now that the only closure would come from finding them.

She had her birth date to start with. It was listed on the state-issued delayed birth certificate she’d had to get when she first applied for a passport. Social services had registered it. The parents’ name fields had been “Unknown.” But from some of the stories Jack had told, he’d often started with less.

Maybe she should reconsider contracting the private detective who had traced her for Maddie. She’d have more confidence in the man’s abilities if he’d found Jo.

April headed for the main desk of the library. While she was here, she’d stop to speak with Etta Williams. The librarian had recommended books for April to read when she was younger. Would Etta remember the little girl she’d befriended so many years ago?

Etta was delighted to see her.

“I recognized you the minute you walked into the room, but didn’t have a chance to greet you. You look lovely, April. What have you been doing?”

April filled her in briefly and said she had come back to be with Maddie.

“It’s a shame about Maddie Oglethorpe. She didn’t deserve all the hardship she’s had in her life. I’m right glad you and Eliza have rallied around when she needs family. I do hope she makes a complete recovery. Tell her I asked after her, will you?”

“I’ll do that.”

“Need any books today?” Etta asked with a smile.

“I have a bunch of classics on my old bookshelf at the house,” April said, “so I thought I’d start rereading them. But if I get the urge for a mystery or something more recent, I’ll come back.”

“Anytime.” Etta smiled warmly. “I’m always glad to see you.”

Feeling a bit as though she’d stepped back in time, April left the library and continued her walk home. Family, Etta had said. Eliza had said that, as well. The three girls and Maddie made a family. Not a conventional one, not a biological one, but a family nonetheless.

However, April had always railed against Maddie’s restrictions, longing to see what was beyond the horizon. Now she’d done that, and found it was pretty much the same as anywhere else—still lonely without a family.

All her life she’d missed having relatives of her own. Why hadn’t she just appreciated the family she did have? The old saying, blood was thicker than water, wasn’t always true.

As she approached the house on Poppin Hill, her annoyance with Jack Palmer grew. He didn’t have to be so rude, dismissing her before he’d heard her out.

Okay, he had no obligation to help her. And at least he hadn’t tried to put the make on her the way most men did. She could almost respect him for that. But his attitude sucked.

Eliza was out when April reached home. She tried to remember whether her friend had a catering event, but there were so many she couldn’t keep them all straight. Bypassing the men working in the hall, she headed for the kitchen. An iced tea sounded perfect. As she was getting a large glass, she saw the note on the counter. Eliza and Betsy would be back soon and cook dinner on the grill. They’d gone to scope out the location for their next assignment.

April shook her head, still amazed her friend had started a business in Maraville when she’d only come back for a visit. She took her tea and headed for her room, doing her best to ignore the construction workers.

She could start reading one of her books, but she knew she’d fall asleep. If she didn’t get back to feeling like normal soon, she was going to see a doctor here in Maraville, or a specialist in New Orleans. She hated not having any energy.

Starting up the stairs, she glanced at the phone. Maybe she should try that private detective. It wasn’t as if she couldn’t afford him. And there was a chance he would be able to help her. It was worth a shot.




CHAPTER THREE


CADE WAS THE FIRST to show up later that afternoon. He rang the doorbell, but before April could get downstairs, he opened the door and walked in.

“Hi, Eliza home yet?” he asked when he spotted April.

It was late afternoon. Work had stopped on the renovations. The house was quiet and covered in dust.

April shook her head. “No, she and Betsy had to check out the location of some job coming up. She said they’d be home for dinner.”

“Sounds good. I think we’re grilling outside. Maybe I’ll start the coals.”

April followed Cade out to the backyard. There was a new stainless-steel barbecue grill on the worn, uneven brick patio. She knew Eliza or Cade must have bought it. Maddie would never use something like that.

“What did you do today?” Cade asked as he began to work.

“I went to see Maddie, then stopped at the library to hear Jack Palmer.”

“I wanted to get to that but got caught up in a meeting in New Orleans. I met him at Sam’s the other night.”

“Sam is the sheriff?” April remembered the old sheriff who had questioned Eliza and her years ago.

“Right,” Cade said. “He’s been here two years. Came from New Orleans.”

“Quite a change. Is he as stupid as Sheriff Halstead was?”

Cade glanced over. “Eliza doesn’t hold the old sheriff in high regard, either. Sam’s younger, seems smart enough to me. After he read the files, he told Eliza he thinks Maddie got a raw deal.”

“Well, duh.”

Cade laughed softly. “Can I get you something to drink?”

April looked at him and smiled. “Sure. I’ll go in with you. I’d love some iced tea.”

It was obvious Cade knew his way around the kitchen. He took down four glasses, filled two with ice and then poured tea from the large pitcher in the refrigerator.

“Sugar already in,” he said, handing her the drink.

Taking a long sip, she sighed. “Delicious. Hard to get it this good in France.” She glanced around. “How long will this renovation take?”

“The men should be finished the first floor by the end of next week. We’re starting the second floor next. Depending on how much work we find we need to do on the plumbing, that could take a while. Sooner or later you and Eliza are going to have to vacate your rooms so I can have bathrooms built. I want one en suite between every two bedrooms.”

“So tell me more about this project, and why Maddie is involved.”

“Remember my sister?” Cade asked.

April nodded. She was the one who had committed suicide the same day Jo had been beaten so badly.

Cade explained something that hadn’t been common knowledge at the time. His sister Chelsea had been pregnant when she killed herself. He thought part of her desperation was due to fear of the future and lack of support. He surprised April when he said he’d told Maddie about his proposal for a home for pregnant teens and the older woman had immediately latched on to the idea, offering the house on Poppin Hill as the perfect facility.

“Not everyone in town wants the home,” he added.

“Like the banker. Eliza told me about him. What I don’t understand is why he’s opposing Maddie. They were dating when I last lived here. What happened?”

“No one seems to know. Remember Edith Harper, Maddie’s friend?”

“I do.”

“She might know more, but if she does, she hasn’t told Eliza. Maybe you can get something out of her.”

“I’ll have to go visit her,” April said, looking at her glass. “It’s funny a lifelong spinster like Maddie would be interested in a home for unwed teens.”

“I think it gives her a purpose again. I want her to run it.”

“Even now? After the stroke?”

“If she can recover enough, sure. If not, then we’ll have to cross that bridge when we come to it. The place should be ready by end of July. I’m hoping to get all the permits and approvals by August, so we can open for business.”

April asked him a few more questions, trying to get clear in her mind the scope of the project. She thought of Maddie raising three girls all the same age. Almost like raising triplets. Had she wanted to foster more children? Would the past accusations prevent her from taking charge of the home? She and Eliza were adults now. They could make new statements, and try to clear Maddie’s reputation.

She hoped the stroke wasn’t permanently incapacitating and that Maddie had her chance to run the home, but she had a long way to go before she’d be up to the task.

April heard a car in the driveway and went to the back door. It was a sheriff’s vehicle, pulling to a stop just as she reached the screen. A tall man climbed out, his dark hair gleaming in the sunshine. He looked tanned and fit. A deputy or the sheriff himself, she wasn’t sure, but a far cry from Sheriff Halstead and his paunch.

Cade joined her. “It’s Sam. I asked him if he could speed up the search for Jo. I hoped maybe he’d locate her while you were here.”

“Cops are looking for her?”

“As a favor only. They’ve got contacts unavailable to the rest of us.” Cade walked down to meet the man. “Hi, Sam.”

April stood in the door and watched. She glanced at the patrol car. Jack Palmer sat in the front seat. She turned and went back to the table. She’d had enough of that man to last her forever.

A moment later Cade and the sheriff entered the kitchen.

“April, Sam Witt,” Cade introduced. “Sam, April Jeffries.”

“Pleasure, ma’am.”

“Hello,” she said, wondering what his relationship was with Jack Palmer. The reporter had been in the front seat, so he couldn’t be under arrest. Too bad.

Sam put his hat on the table and pulled out a chair. Cade placed a full glass of iced tea in front of Sam a moment later.

“Guess you heard I’m searching for Jo Hunter,” Sam said to April after taking a swallow of the tea.

She nodded.

“Got any ideas where she might be?”

“I don’t even know where she was sent when we were split up.”

“She went to Meridian,” Sam told her. “Seems strange all three of you were sent so far apart, especially after being raised together most of your lives.”

“Seems strange we were sent anywhere,” April returned. “Jo blamed Maddie initially, but she said she told the truth later and no one would believe her.”

“Who did beat her?” Sam asked.

“I don’t know. She never told us, but she was really angry with Maddie. The next day Social Services came in and we were shipped out. I never knew what happened to either of the others until Eliza called me a few weeks ago.”

“Doesn’t the official report say?” Cade asked, straddling a chair and studying Sam.

The sheriff shook his head. “The entire file is skimpy. Poor practices seemed to have been the norm with my predecessor. The notes only say Jo’s accusations grew more outrageous the more she talked.”

“Did anyone contact her foster family in Meridian?” April asked.

Sam nodded. “Seems Jo ran away within two months. They thought she’d tried to return to Maraville, but there isn’t anything in the records I could find to show that.”

“Maddie said she didn’t,” Cade said. He looked at April. “We talked about you girls a bit before she had her stroke. I didn’t know she’d hired a detective to find you, but I knew she regretted the way things had turned out. And she wanted to see all three of you again.”

“Any special place Jo talked about, where she might have gone?” Sam asked April.

“We all talked about leaving Maraville when we were younger. But New Orleans was our mecca in those days. Could she have gone there?”

Sam shrugged. “Maybe. But if she did, she changed her name or married or something. There are no records for a Jo Hunter in New Orleans that come close to Jo’s description or age. Or anywhere in Mississippi or Louisiana for that matter.”

“So where does that leave us?” April asked.

“Guess we’ll keep trying.” Sam finished his drink then rose. “Thanks for the tea, it hit the spot.”

“Sorry Jack didn’t want any,” Cade said.

“I need to get him home. He gave that talk today, and then did rounds with me. I think he’s tired, though he’d never admit it.”

“From a talk?” April asked.

“He was injured pretty badly in Iraq. He’s still recovering, so he tires easily.”

That explained the cast and cane. She could relate to getting tired easily. Her own recovery from this bug was taking longer than she’d expected.

The sound of tires crunching on the shell driveway could be heard. Cade went out the back door.

“See you around,” Sam said to April as he prepared to leave.

“I hope you can find Jo before I have to return to Paris.”

“I don’t hold out a lot of hope,” he said, “but we’ll keep looking.”

Eliza and Betsy came into the kitchen, laughing. Eliza was holding Cade’s hand.

“Sam, I thought that was your car. Stay for dinner. Cade’s cooking on the grill, and Dex is coming over. We’ll have a party.”

“Thanks, but I have company.”

“I saw the guy in the car. He’s invited, too. The more the merrier. We’re having barbecue chicken, ribs and plain steaks. I’m whipping up a terrific salad and Betsy has the most delicious yeast rolls. And there’s chocolate torte for dessert.”

“I’ve heard about that dessert from Suzanne Canaday,” Sam said with a grin. “I’ll ask Jack.”

April frowned. She didn’t feel up to a party of any kind, much less one where that man would be present.

“April, be a sweetie and help me,” Betsy said, already pulling flour from a cupboard. “I need the oven set at three seventy-five and some muffin tins, please.”

As she rose to help, April hoped Jack would refuse the dinner invitation.

Unfortunately, her luck wasn’t running that way. A couple of moments later he entered the kitchen, leaning heavily on his cane. From the frown on his face, she didn’t think he was enthused about staying, but had gone along for his friend’s sake.

Sam made the introductions and then gestured to the table. “Take a seat and put your foot up.”

“I’ll get you some tea,” Cade said, going to the counter and stopping to give Eliza a quick kiss on the way.

For the next few minutes confusion reigned as Cade and Eliza prepared the meat for the grill, Betsy and April worked together on the rolls and then carried dishes, silverware and citronella candles outside to the picnic table on the flagstone patio.

Glad to have something to do, April was conscious of Jack’s dark mood as he sat and watched the others. He didn’t contribute to the conversations flying around, and looked as if he wished he were anyplace but here.

Feeling perversely uncomfortable about his isolation, April went to sit at the table. She didn’t like the man, but felt sorry he was so alone.

“Need anything?” she asked.

“No.” He didn’t even look at her.

“I have some pain meds if you need them for your foot,” she offered.

“I’m fine.”

The bracket of lines on either side of his mouth belied that statement. The man was in major discomfort. But if he wanted to macho it out, let him.

April watched as Eliza and Betsy worked together in harmony—as if they’d been doing it for years instead of a few short weeks.

She’d have to call some of her old friends in the morning, see if any were still in town. None of them had been as close as Eliza and Jo, however.

By the time Betsy’s husband, Dex, arrived, the preparations were well underway and the group had moved to the patio. At this time of year, the mosquitoes weren’t as bad as later in the summer. Jack leaned heavily on his cane as the men stood around the grill and the women set the table.

“Reminds me of my folks,” Betsy said, glancing at the grill. “As long as I can remember, whenever Mom and Dad had friends over, the men all stood together talking about fishing or bowling or something, and the women got together to talk about children.”

April looked at Eliza. Their childhood had been very different from Betsy’s.

“Reminds me of junior high school dances, boys on one side, girls on another,” April said.

Betsy laughed. “That, too. But they’ll join us when it’s time to eat. I can’t believe Jack Palmer is recuperating here in Maraville. You’d think he’d be in Manhattan or somewhere more exotic than this town.”

“Avril is recuperating here,” Eliza said dramatically, referring to April’s professional name, making Betsy and April laugh.

True to Betsy’s prediction, once the meal was ready, the men joined the women at the table. Cade sat next to Eliza, Dex next to Betsy. April was grateful Sam and Jack sat at the opposite end of the table from her. If she grew too tired, she’d slip away to her room. But to her surprise, she enjoyed the lively conversation, which focused on all the changes in Maraville over the past ten years.

At one point Cade leaned over to address Jack. “Sorry I missed your talk today, Sam said it went well.”

“Good enough.” He flicked a glance at April. “Or would you disagree?” he challenged.

“The talk was excellent. You brought the entire situation in Iraq alive for all of us.” There was no denying he was an inspiring speaker. It was his personality that could use some improvement, April thought.

“I admit I was surprised to see the mix in the audience,” Jack said. He looked at Cade. “The crowd ranged from old-timers to teenagers. They probably cut classes to attend.”

“Probably worth it,” Cade said. “What did I miss?”

“Tell us the highlights,” Betsy urged. “We couldn’t be there, either.”

Jack hesitated a minute, then nodded and began to repeat some of the things April had heard earlier.

A wave of fatigue hit and she whispered to Eliza, “I’m going inside. Stay and listen—he tells a powerful story.”

Eliza nodded, her attention on Jack.

April picked up her dish and utensils and headed for the house. She wanted to get to bed before she collapsed. Ten minutes later she was under the covers, lights out. She could hear the soft murmur of voices from the backyard. It had been an interesting dinner, unlike the ones she’d shared with friends in Paris in recent years. No loud music, no fancy clothes, just friends sitting down to eat together. It had been nice.



“YOU OKAY?” Sam asked Jack as they drove away from the house on Poppin Hill.

“Tired, that’s all.”

“Leg okay?”

“Yeah.” It wasn’t, but that wasn’t Sam’s fault. He’d done too much. Dammit, how much longer before he was back in shape?

“Thanks for giving your talk again. I know Dex and Cade appreciated it. Betsy asked some intelligent questions, I thought.”

“Yeah.” April had left as soon as he started. Was that because she had already heard it?

“What’s the story with April?” he asked.

“She and Eliza grew up together. The detective Maddie hired to find the girls located her some months ago. When Eliza contacted her, she came home. She’s a model in Paris. Ever hear of her? Avril is her French name.”

Figured. With her looks, modeling was right up her alley.

“I don’t associate with models,” Jack said.

“Far as I can tell, old son, you don’t associate much with anyone,” Sam said easily.

“Never in one place long enough.”

Sam turned into his driveway, his headlights briefly illuminating the house. Jack could count the minutes now until he’d be prone, and could take the medication that would ease the pain in his foot. Today had proved how far he was from being ready to return to work.

When they got into the house, Jack looked at Sam. “Thanks for including me. You have good friends.”

“Settle down someplace and you’ll make your own. What are you going to do tomorrow?”

Nothing, was the first thing to come to mind. But he wasn’t going to get better by letting his muscles atrophy. “Take a walk, check in with the news bureau. You don’t have to entertain me, remember?”

“I remember. Stop by the office and I’ll show you what I’ve done so far searching for Jo. You might be interested and catch something I’ve missed.”

“What is this? Do I look like a damn missing persons bureau?”

Sam’s eyebrows shot up. “Whoa, where did that come from?”

“April asked me earlier if I’d help her find her parents.”

“Maybe with your background, we’re hoping you’ll have suggestions for digging out the facts we want. You have more time to devote to the search. As far as I know, Jo hasn’t done anything wrong. Hard to justify spending taxpayers’ money on an extensive search.” Sam looked at Jack with curiosity. “What did you tell April?”

“No, of course.”

“And my request gets a negative, too?”

“I’ll stop by. But if modern police science can’t find a person, I doubt I can.”

Jack headed on to bed, glad to get off his foot. He lay in the darkness, though, unable to sleep. The ache was only part of the problem. His wakefulness had to do with his future. Or perhaps lack of future. If his foot didn’t heal properly, he’d never go on assignment again.

What would he do then?

Maybe he should give some thought to working on locating this Jo Hunter. It would give him something to fill the time until he was in fighting shape again. And keep him from dwelling on what the future might hold.



THE NEXT MORNING April walked into town to go to the sheriff’s office. She wanted to ask Sam if he could help in her search for her parents.

To her surprise, Jack Palmer was ahead of her, ready to enter the building as she approached. She hesitated, but he turned and saw her and held the door for her to enter.

She walked past him into the dimness of the old building. The tall ceilings held lazily rotating fans. The walls needed to be repainted and the wooden desks were gouged and scarred. Artificial lights cast a yellowish gloom over everything, and the few windows were covered with closed venetian blinds.

“Here to see Sam?” Jack asked April, following her to the counter where an officer sat.

“Yes.” Not that it was any of his business.

“He’s in the back. I’m heading that way myself.” Jack gestured toward the rear of the building. He nodded to the man at the desk and held the swinging gate for April to enter.

She matched her stride to his halting one as they silently walked down the long hallway. Rounding a corner, they came into an open area with several more desks. April was surprised to find Maraville had such a large force. There had to be at least a half-dozen desks all told. The sheriff’s department acted as law enforcement for the town and surrounding county. Still, she was surprised there’d be that much crime to deal with.

Jack approached the desk near a partially opened door.

“We’re here to see Sam,” he told the woman seated at the desk.

She smiled at him, then looked at April, her eyes widening. “April Jeffries, as I live and breathe!” She jumped up and came around the desk to hug her.

“It’s me, Marjorie Tamlin. How are you. Wow, aren’t you gorgeous.”

April felt Jack’s gaze, but she avoided looking at him as she hugged Marjorie.

“It’s been too long,” she said, smiling at her former classmate.

“I’ll say. Hold on, I’ll tell Sam you two are here. I have a break at eleven-thirty. Have lunch with me and we can catch up. Remember Lulu? She told me she heard you were back. Staying long?”

“Just a few weeks. I came because of Maddie.”

“How is she? I heard from Sam she was doing better.”

“She is.” April didn’t care to talk about her foster family around Jack, so she smiled brightly, promising to fill Marjorie in when they met for lunch.

“I’ll see if the sheriff is free,” Marjorie said, hurrying through the open door.

April eyed Jack. “You go first.”

For a moment, she thought she saw amusement in his eyes. “Afraid to say something in front of me? I’m not here to report Maraville’s news.”

“What I have to say doesn’t concern anyone but me.”

“You’re looking for help locating your parents,” he said.

“Lucky guess. Didn’t you suggest I try the sheriff?”

Marjorie came out of Sam’s office.

“He’s free. Come on in.”

Neither April nor Jack moved.

“After you,” she said.

“You go first,” he countered. “I’m here to help look for Jo, so I expect to be a while.”

That caught her by surprise. So he’d help out Eliza and Cade, but not her. Fine, she didn’t need his help!

Lifting her chin, she headed into the sheriff’s office, aware that Jack Palmer followed right behind her.

Sam glanced at April then Jack. “You two working together?” he asked.

“No,” April said quickly, frowning over her shoulder at Jack. She looked at Sam and smiled. “I was hoping to see you alone. But some people don’t seem to know when they’re barging in.”

Jack leaned against the door frame and said nothing.

“What can I do for you?” Sam asked, looking back and forth between the two of them.

“I’m hoping you can help me in a search of my own—for my birth parents.”

“Have a seat.”

Sam waited until April sat down before resuming his seat. He flicked another glance at Jack, who had moved beside one of the file cabinets, leaning against it so he could see April better.

“It’s personal,” she said, glaring at Jack.

“Which means she doesn’t want me here,” Jack explained.

“If you don’t mind, it is personal,” April insisted, wishing she could ignore the man. Or that Sam would kick him out.

“I’ll do what I can, but we don’t conduct family searches if no crimes have been committed,” Sam said slowly. “What do you have to go on?”

“Just my birth date. It’s from a delayed birth certificate—one I got when I first applied for a passport. No parents’ names, just Jane and John Doe.”

“The date may not be accurate,” Jack murmured.

“What?” April swung around. “You think that’s not my birth date?”

“If you were abandoned, it’s likely no one knew your birth date. They just estimated how old you were and assigned you the closest date.”

She blinked. She’d never thought of that. So even her birth date could be a dead end.

“Seems to me a hotshot like you could handle this before lunch,” Sam said to Jack. He looked at April. “You might try Social Services. They have the records of your particular case.”

The phone on the desk rang. Sam picked it up. From the one-sided conversation, April knew he had to go somewhere—fast. He stood even as he was talking, and reached for his hat on the hatrack behind him.

“Sorry, I have to leave,” he said as soon as he hung up. “Jack, take care of April, will you? And here’s a copy of all I have on Jo.” He thrust a slim folder at Jack. In a second he was gone.

April could hear him give rapid instructions to Marjorie as he left. A moment later there was only silence.



JACK TOSSED the folder on the desk. The slap it made startled April. Rising, she turned to the door.

“All right, I’ll see what I can do to get you started,” he said. It was clear the news about her birth date had hit her hard.

She studied him for a moment. Jack could tell she didn’t like what she saw. He’d been acting like an ass and wouldn’t blame her if she wanted nothing to do with him. But he was a good bet for finding information about her past. And maybe she’d remember something about Jo that he could check out for Sam.

“Don’t do me any favors.”

“Hey, I’m doing it for Sam.”

She was quiet a moment, then rose.

“Thank you,” April said primly.

He knew she didn’t want to accept his offer. She must want to find her parents badly to put aside her animosity and agree to his help.

“Let’s get a cup of coffee, start over and see where we begin the great parent search,” he said, trying to lighten the mood. He grabbed the folder and headed for the door.

A few moments later they were seated in a quiet corner of Ruby’s Café, Jo’s folder in front of Jack. Coffee had been ordered. He glanced around the room.

“People are staring,” April said, her eyes on the folder.

“You’re a beautiful woman. They probably like looking at you.” He would, if he didn’t feel she was the type to trade on her looks. There was a certain something about her—an air of vulnerability—that had him looking despite his efforts not to.

When the coffee arrived, Jack pulled out a small notebook and tiny pencil. He never went anywhere without it.

“Do we start with Jo?” she asked, looking at the notebook.

“No, I’ll check out the folder later. See what Sam’s done. Between his searches and the detective Maddie hired, I bet they’ve covered all bases. You and Eliza can help by reminiscing to see if you can remember anywhere Jo really wanted to see. Sometimes when life gets too hard, people will bolt for a special place—even if they’ve never been there—in hopes it’ll prove to be the one place on earth that’s right for them.”

“New Orleans was the only place we ever talked about. We couldn’t wait to get there when we were teenagers.”

“Yet neither you nor Eliza settled there after leaving school.”

“True. Do you think there’s a chance Jo did?”

“Sam said he checked the neighboring states. Dead end.”

April sipped her coffee, studying Jack.

“Tell me all the facts you know about yourself,” he said.

“Maddie told me I was abandoned and she stepped in to act as foster mother. I was born twenty-seven years ago on May seventeenth. At least I always thought I was, until you put that doubt in my head.”

“You have a birth certificate, you said.”

She nodded. “A delayed registration they called it. I can dig it up if you need to see it. It doesn’t give much information beyond my date of birth. No parents listed.”

“Born where?”

“The certificate says Maraville.”

He tossed his pencil down. “Too easy. If you were born here in town, we’d be able to locate your parents in no time. Even if the day is wrong, the month has to be close. We could check all live births from April through June of that year and see who’s unaccounted for. Are you sure you were born here?”

“No. I told you it was a delayed birth certificate. Filled out when I was nineteen. Social Services filed it when I needed one for a passport.”

“First stop, then, Social Services.”

“I tried to get them to help me when I was a teenager here,” she said. She took another sip of her coffee. “Dead end.”

For a moment he saw that vulnerability again. It bothered him, since it didn’t fit the mold he’d assigned her. Maybe he needed to do some more digging around to find out exactly who April Jeffries was.

“First of all, I doubt they’d talk to a minor.”

“They acted like they never gave out any information. I was totally stonewalled.”

“I have a different technique,” he said smugly.

“I can hardly wait to see the mighty reporter in action.” She fiddled with her cup, turning it around on the saucer. “How long are you staying in Maraville?”

He shrugged. “Depends on how fast my foot heals.”

“What happened?”

“Land mine.”

“Ouch. You’re lucky it wasn’t blown off.”

He saw the sympathy in her expression and frowned. He didn’t want pity.

“I didn’t step on it, I was just a bystander. But it did enough damage.”

“You’ll be fine again, right?”

“Yeah, as soon as it heals.” He hoped to God that was true.




CHAPTER FOUR


“WHAT ARE THE CHANCES the people we’ll talk to at Social Services will just give me my file?” April asked. “They refused before. Maybe if Maddie had pushed, they might have done more, but she wasn’t willing to.”

He was quiet for a moment. Then he asked her about the decision to remove the girls from Maddie’s care. She explained the matter had been handled quickly, with no input from the three of them. One day they were living with Maddie, the next they were in different homes.

“Odd,” he said.

“Why?”

“You girls had been together for years, raised as sisters essentially. I’d think the court would initially try to place you together. Or if not, at least make sure you were able to maintain contact. It was cruel to make you sever all ties. Sam said the investigation was handled poorly. Now I’m wondering if there was more involved.”

“Like a conspiracy?” She half smiled. “I doubt it. We were three foster kids. There aren’t a lot of foster families in Maraville, or there weren’t back then, and not many people are willing to take on three teenagers. Probably the easiest thing to do was send us to the first homes available, which just happened to be in different towns.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. But why not tell you where the other girls were sent? Eliza said you couldn’t contact each other. There was nothing in the file about that, according to Sam. Maybe Social Services will give us some information.”

“If there was some hidden agenda, do you think they’ll tell us at this late date?”

“Good point.” He was quiet for a moment. April could almost see his mind turning over all possibilities.

“Anyone there know you personally?” he asked.

“I haven’t had any contact since my case was transferred to Jackson years ago. Maybe they have new staff.”

“Unlikely in this town. Seems to me the only chance for advancement comes when someone dies.”

“So maybe Mrs. Savalak died. She looked a hundred and three when she was my caseworker. Even older than Maddie.”

“What do you mean?”

April explained that she and the others had thought Maddie’s ideas old-fashioned and considered her ancient. “In retrospect, I think she just had high standards and tried to instill them in all of us,” she said slowly.

“Would Maddie be any help to us?”

“I doubt it. If she could talk, she might tell us how she came to get me, but unless you can word all your questions to take yes or no answers, we’re out of luck. Besides, I tried to find out more when I was a child, and she wasn’t any help then.”

“Asking yes/no questions is easy enough to do. But let’s see what else we can find out first. You finished?”

“Just about.” She drained her coffee cup. “What about Jo?”

“I’ll see if there’s anything else I can come up with, but if people don’t want to be found, they usually aren’t.”

“Why wouldn’t she want to be found? I’ll bet she’d like to know Eliza and I are looking for her.”

“If she ran away, she might have thought the law was after her. Which it should have been. From what Sam said, that was something else that wasn’t handled according to policy. If she changed her name to avoid detection, she could still be living under that name. Did she have any other family?”

April shook her head. “Her mother died when we were all about thirteen. Jo’s father was in prison. Still is for all I know. Or maybe he died, but she sure wouldn’t have gone to him.”

“Why not? What was he in prison for?”

“Trying to kill her mother.”

Jack whistled. “Okay, let’s go check out Social Services.”



AS THEY WERE USHERED into the office of the director of Social Services a short time later, April held back, letting Jack run the interview. She’d smiled when he’d flashed his reporter’s card at the receptionist and asked for an appointment. The woman had recognized him immediately. Apparently lots of people watched CNN.

“Jack Palmer, I’m Roberta Nelson,” the director greeted him when they entered her utilitarian office.

“Thank you for seeing us without a prior appointment, Ms. Nelson,” he said smoothly, shaking hands and introducing April.

“How do you do?” she said to April, then gestured to the visitor chairs. “Please, sit down, both of you. I can’t imagine what I can do for you. I’ve seen you so many times reporting from Iraq, Mr. Palmer. You will be going back, won’t you?” She eyed Jack’s cast and cane. Roberta Nelson was an older woman with graying brown hair. Her dress was more functional than stylish, and a pair of glasses rested on the desk in front of her.

“That’s still up in the air,” he replied as the three of them were seated. “Until then, I’m keeping my hand in. I’m doing a proposal for a story idea to my boss about foster care, how it works, and the benefits it affords children who would otherwise have to go to an orphanage. I want to research what happens to some of these children. How many make a success of their lives, how many end up in trouble.”

April looked at him. What a cover. The man was good.

“Oh?” Roberta was caught, April could tell.

“I’m staying with Sam Witt, Sheriff Witt. I thought I’d get started right here in Maraville. There are several local success stories that piqued my interest. Combined with those from other locales, such as New Orleans, Atlanta, even New York, we can present a broad canvas that will capture America’s attention and give credit to hardworking foster parents who open their doors to homeless children.”

“Why, I think that’s a wonderful idea,” the director enthused. “We only have a few qualified families here. But then, we don’t have a lot of homeless children, either.”

“Actually, April Jeffries is a foster child who was placed here in Maraville. She’s now a successful model in France. She’s agreed to allow me to start my interviews with her while she’s here visiting.”

“I see.” Roberta looked at April and smiled. “You’re certainly beautiful enough to be a model. In Paris?”

“I’ve lived there for seven years. But Maraville will always be home.” She hoped her tone was the one Jack was looking for. Would the woman really buy his story?

“How can I help you?” Roberta asked.

“We’d like to discuss the basics of how the foster-care system works,” Jack explained. “How you place children, maybe look at April’s history as a case study. Of course, once we’re further along and know if this will make it to the network, we’d ask if you were willing to be taped for broadcast on national television. The film crew would do its best not to disrupt your daily routine,” Jack assured her.

“National television. Oh, my.” Roberta Nelson seemed to have stars in her eyes.

“The whole concept is still in the planning stages, right now,” Jack added.

“Of course. I’m happy to help however I can.”

Jack settled back and pulled out his notebook. “I thought I’d ask a few questions to get the ball rolling, jot some notes, if that’s okay with you?”

The director nodded eagerly.

“Then we’ll formulate how we wish to proceed. And maybe you can go over April’s file with us, to show us an actual example of how the system works.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that. We don’t make that information public.” She looked apologetically at April.

“I understand,” April said. “But if I’m here to give my permission, wouldn’t that make a difference?”

“For the broadcast, we’ll blank out any personal details,” Jack added.

“I’ve seen how that works,” Roberta told him. “Everything gets fuzzy inside a certain area.”

“Exactly,” Jack agreed. “Now, can we begin with a brief history of your own background and how you got started in Social Services?”





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