Читать книгу Second Chance Mom - Emilie Rose - Страница 11
ОглавлениеRACHEL 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.
