Читать книгу Past Secrets, Present Love - Lois Richer - Страница 12

Her silence wasn’t normal.

Ross glanced up from his drink, took one look at Kelly’s face and lifted away the receiver. He clamped it against his ear, but heard nothing.

“Who was it?”

“I don’t know.” She took the phone from him and hung it up. “They’re gone.” Her hand was shaking. “Before you ask, whoever it was said only one thing. Apparently I’ve been warned.”

Ross hated to see her so disturbed on what should have been a night for celebrating her friends’ marriage. Barricading her inside that closet had been no accident and a threatening phone call proved someone had malicious intent. But he wasn’t going to say it and add to her concerns, not now. He reached over, squeezed her fingers with his.

“I’ll call Zach.”

But Kelly stopped him. “Please, let it alone for now. Telling him in the morning will be soon enough. I don’t want to ruin the entire night for him.”

He didn’t like it but her tone was so beseeching that he finally nodded and let it go. “I guess they wouldn’t be able to set up tracers tonight anyway.” He hit * 69 and listened as a bodiless voice told him the call could not be traced.

“Probably used a cell phone. Or a pay phone.” She pretended lack of concern, though her cheeks were paper white. “Let’s take our food into the den. I’ll light a fire and we can reminisce about happier times.”

Though he followed her out off the kitchen and into the oak paneled den, cake and cup in tow, Ross knew he didn’t have a whole lot of memories he wanted to reminisce on. It was all right for Kelly, she’d had a happy childhood. His, not so much.

“Here we are.” She lit the fire then sank into a big armchair and waved him to a nearby seat. “Now tell me about yourself. You came here from Richmond?”

“Yes.” He knew from experience that not responding only elicited more questions in Chestnut Grove. “Originally from New York,” he muttered. “Brooklyn.”

“Wow! I’ve never lived in such a big city. It must be interesting.” She paused, waited for him to embellish, and when he didn’t she turned her attention to the fire. “Someone told me you used to be a cop. What was that like?”

“Ugly.” Her blink of surprise told him his one word had said too much to stop now. He took a sip of his drink while his brain organized his thoughts. “I was assigned to some pretty nasty areas. Too many drugs, too many weapons, too much poverty.”

“And you burned out?” She nodded, her brown eyes soft with compassion. “I can understand that. Sometimes I feel that way when an adoption doesn’t go through. The adoptive mom loves that child so much but all she can do is watch the child be taken away. It’s heartbreaking for both of them.”

Kelly fell silent, the cup still clasped between her hands though her mind was obviously on just such a case. Ross fidgeted, wished he could think of something to change the subject.

“Was there something specific that made you leave?” she asked several moments later. “I’ve heard that it usually takes a life-altering event for a police officer to move away from that line of work.”

“Private investigation isn’t that far off,” he murmured and sighed at her expectant gaze. “But yes, I did have a reason to get out. I almost killed a kid.”

He waited for the shock and horror those words always induced. Kelly Young displayed none of that. She simply sat in her chair, legs curled under her, watching him as if she knew there was more to the story.

Why was he telling her this when he’d kept it to himself for so long? Ross didn’t know but he blamed it on the fire and the intimacy it brought.

“He was strung out—crack, heroin, I don’t know which. Didn’t really matter. All of fifteen years old and he looked thirty.” He dragged a hand through his hair as his stomach knotted into a hard lump of anger. “He’d robbed a convenience store, assaulted the owner and taken his gun. When I got there the kid was strutting his stuff in the street, waving that gun like it was Excalibur and he was Arthur.”

Ross closed his eyes, relived the moment.

“I tried to talk him down, tried reason, control, everything I could think of. He was too high. A little girl came around the corner. He grabbed her, pointed the gun at her head.” He stared at Kelly, prayed she’d understand. “I had to take my best shot. I couldn’t let another innocent die. I couldn’t stand there and let it happen.”

“Of course you couldn’t. I understand that.” She leaned forward, her hair slanting over her smooth pale cheek as she set her untouched drink on the table. Then she reached out to touch his knee. “You did your job, Ross.”

“Yeah, I did.” He pinched his lips together. Some job. Shooting a fifteen-year-old addict. “It was the third drug call that night, all of them violent. By the time I got back to the station I knew I couldn’t do it anymore. So I handed in my notice, worked my time and left.”

It was a little more complicated than that, but she didn’t need to know.

“And came to Richmond.” A soft sweet smile tilted up her lips. “That was when?”

“Two years ago.”

“And you’ve never gone back?”

“A couple of times.” He did not want to get into this now.

“I suppose you miss your friends from the precinct. Or is it the fast pace of the work?”

“Neither.” He swallowed, sucked in a breath. “I went to see my mother. And my sister, Trista.”

“That’s nice. Your mother must love having you back to spoil.” The look in her eyes told him she’d shared a lot of happy times with her adoptive mother.

“Hardly. I doubt she even knew if I was there. She has Alzheimer’s. Most of the time she doesn’t even know who I am.” Ross couldn’t stop the rush of words. He’d have to get out more often. Maybe that would help him get control of his tongue.

Something, possibly pity, washed over Kelly’s face. He hated seeing it, didn’t want her to offer him that. Ross blurted out the first thing that came into his head.

“When are you going to see Sandra?”

Kelly’s alabaster skin lost some of the faint glow it had begun to regain and stretched a little tighter. “I don’t know.”

“Soon?”

“I told you, I don’t know when. Too much has happened, I haven’t had a chance to really think about it.” She stared at her hands, fingers threaded together. “I suppose after the holidays.”

“This is after the holidays. Tomorrow?” he persisted, knowing she hated being pressed but he was worried on Sandra’s behalf. She’d waited so long for that special moment when she’d finally meet her long-lost child. Surely Kelly could understand that.

Kelly shook her head. “I can’t tomorrow. I told you, we’re having a church social. We usually spend the afternoon at the ski hill. After that we go to the Morrow mansion. Lindsay Morrow—do you know her?”

“Know of her.” He nodded. “The mayor’s wife.”

“Yes. Around here she’s known for her big society events. Remember the Christmas tree lighting and reception? Well, every year she hosts a second event at her home a few days after the festive season is finished—to celebrate the New Year, she claims. It’s always a big deal, casual, but something we all talk about for weeks to come.”

“Talk about, why?” He couldn’t fathom what that odd little note in her voice alluded to.

“I guess you’d have to know Mrs. Morrow to understand.” Kelly nibbled on her fingernail, her smooth forehead furrowed. “They go to our church sometimes, but…well, she’s not a joiner. She’s more high society than most of us, moves in a different circle.”

“There are circles in little old Chestnut Grove?” he teased, then watched her cheeks flush a warm clear rose.

“Sort of. People like the Morrows belong to the country club set. You know, the wealthy, perfect people. I mean, have you ever looked at Lindsay Morrow? She could have been a model with that rail-thin body of hers. Makes the rest of us envious.”

“Really?” He thought Kelly was far more attractive. Judging by tonight, he’d found her comfortable to be around, friendly, the kind of person you could easily talk to. She was also gorgeous; the whole package was perfect. By contrast, Mrs. Morrow, whenever he’d met her, seemed cold, standoffish. “I guess she looks okay, but—”

“Okay?” Kelly laughed. “Lindsay Morrow is pure glam. The way her glossy black hair swoops across that aristocratic jaw, never a hair out of place. Those deep, dark midnight eyes, the straight confident set of her shoulders—she’s regal. Her clothes only reinforce her image—nothing but designer labels.”

“Huh.” He mulled it over. “Ambitious, powerful, privileged. It’s intimidating. She’s the opposite of Sandra, I guess. I think I’d feel like an overgrown oaf around Mrs. Morrow, but Sandra always makes me feel welcome. She gets this look, kind of a shy smile that makes you glad you came to see her.”

“Really?” The temperature of Kelly’s voice dropped several degrees.

“Really.” Ross frowned. “Why do you hate her?”

“Me? I don’t hate Sandra Lange. Not at all.” Bright red spots of color appeared in her cheeks. To hide it, she fiddled with her mug of hot chocolate, then rose to her feet with some excuse about cookies and rushed out of the room. When Kelly finally came back she carried a dish of gingersnaps and a glass of milk.

She held out the plate.

“These used to be my dad’s favorite,” she murmured, then froze, her eyes flying to his. “My adoptive father,” she corrected. She took a deep breath, met his gaze head on. “I just realized—if you know who my birth mother is, you must know who my biological father is as well?”

He hated lying to her, hated the secretiveness Sandra had insisted upon. But the secret was not his to share.

“You’ll have to ask Sandra,” he murmured. “It’s something she should tell you.”

“Of course.” She stared at the big round cookie, took a bite. After a moment she pointed to the bowl. “Help yourself.”

He moved to take one, then realized that the luscious piece of chocolate cake still sat on the plate on the table in front of him.

“I’d rather eat this,” he told her with a grin. “What’s with that glass of milk?”

“I’ve changed my mind. I don’t feel like hot chocolate tonight. Too much of a good thing at Christmas, I guess. Anyway, Dad always said gingersnaps and milk were made to go together.”

They sat together in front of the fire, he with his chocolate overload, she with her cookies and milk. She had the art of dipping down to a science, holding the cookie in the milk just long enough to saturate it, but not long enough for it to fall apart. Then she’d slip the sopping bit into her mouth. She caught him staring and grinned.

“Help yourself,” she offered. “I can get you a glass of milk if you want.”

“No thanks. The cake was great, more than enough.” Ross leaned back, watched her drink the last of the milk. She dabbed at her lips with a napkin covered with nutcrackers as she stared into the fire. That’s when he knew he had to press the issue, for Sandra’s sake.

“Why not tomorrow, Kelly? Just for a few minutes. Sandra would love to see you.”

“I told you, tomorrow’s busy.”

“The next day then.”

“I have to be at work. It’s a busy time, cleaning up details from the end of the year, some staff on extended holidays. Things like that.”

“So busy you can’t make time for Sandra—a half hour out of your busy schedule to see a woman who’s waited all these years?”

“Waited?” The anger on her face blazed at him, her voice altered, brimmed with outrage. “She gave me away.”

“But—”

Kelly held up a hand. “I’m not saying that was wrong, I don’t know her circumstances. But surely if she’d wanted me—”

He couldn’t let her go on. “Sandra didn’t give you away willingly, Kelly.”

“What?” Her frown was part puzzlement, part fury. “She signed the papers, she had to. It’s the law. Without her consent—”

“Yes, but she was under the effects of anesthetic when she did that. Once she woke up, she’d changed her mind.” He had to keep going, had to make her understand. “She wanted to raise you herself but she was manipulated into giving you up and then you were gone. She’s spent years regretting that she wasn’t stronger, that she didn’t argue to hang on to you. She’s always wondered about you, tried to find out who you were, where you went.”

“Wondered…about me?” The whisper slipped out from her white lips. Her eyes grew huge. “She didn’t even know me. She never looked before, did she?”

“No,” he admitted. “Because she thought it would be selfish to disrupt your new life. But she never forgot her child. And she dearly wanted that child back, in her arms.”

“Wait a minute!” Kelly jerked back. “You said she was manipulated. Are you saying my parents tried to persuade her? Because I will never believe that.”

“No, not your parents. From what I’ve been able to learn, they had no idea of your connection to Sandra, or that your adoptive mother ever wanted to know about you. That was deliberately kept from them.”

“By whom?”

“Barnaby Harcourt, for one.”

She stared at him. “Mine was the first adoption he arranged,” she whispered. “I knew he did some terrible things, changed official records, but—” She shook her head. Tears squeezed from the corners of her eyes, rolled down her cheeks. “My parents gave me my birth records years ago. They said my parents were deceased. He must have altered them, just like all the rest. That’s why there were two sets.”

“I’m sorry, Kelly.”

“I thought I was Kelly Young. That was my history,” she whispered, staring at him. “I liked my life, loved my parents, found a job in the town where I grew up. Taking on the directorship of Tiny Blessings, that was my way of giving back to the community where I belonged. And now you’re telling me that everything I ever believed was a lie.”

She wasn’t talking to him. Ross understood enough about Kelly Young to realize that her questions were directed toward heaven and the God she trusted. He’d seen this in others in Chestnut Grove.

“It isn’t all a lie. Your parents loved you, cared for you. That won’t ever change. You have that to hang on to forever.” She seemed frozen so Ross tried again, choosing a different tack this time. “Knowing about Sandra, that could be for the good. You could find out your real history.” That sounded lame. “Just see her—it only has to be a few moments. Talk to her. Maybe you’ll find the answers you need. Please?”

He’d tried everything short of begging, but Ross was even willing to go that far if it would get Sandra the meeting she craved. She’d been like an expectant child when he’d left her, hardly able to control her excitement as she planned and dreamed of that special moment in time when she’d finally get to meet her child as a mother.

What if it never happened?

A change seemed to come over Kelly. She drew herself erect, blinked away her tears.

“I suppose I can’t put it off forever.” Her dark gaze narrowed, fixed on him intently. “I’ll go on one condition.”

Uh-oh.

“What condition?”

“I’ll go see Sandra if you’ll come to the church social tomorrow.” She met his gaze, her own implacable. “Well? You’re so big on me experiencing new things, how about walking your talk? Is it a deal?”

Kelly looked like she expected him to refuse and normally he would have. Ross had steered clear of the church for years. There was enough guilt in the world, he didn’t need someone else telling him he was a mess. But in that moment he made a split-second decision he hoped he wouldn’t regret.

He’d go to that church social for Sandra, because her faith was different than any he’d ever seen. She didn’t rail at God, or spend days and hours weeping for what she’d lost, as his own mother had. Sandra took what she was dealt and pressed on, made what she had into something better. She needed to meet her daughter, needed the closure it would bring to her aching heart.

“Fine.” He lifted his head, glared at her. “It’s a deal.”

“You’ll come?” Kelly’s surprised look was laughable.

“That’s what I just said.” He gulped down the trepidation that filled him, pretended it wouldn’t bother him in the least to be around a bunch of goody-two-shoes. “What time should I pick you up?”

Her eyes turned bittersweet, secrets fluttering through them.

“We usually go skiing after church. By any chance would you consider coming to the morning service—”

“Don’t push it, Kelly.” Next she’d be trying to suck him into thinking God cared whether Ross Van Zandt had paid for his sins.

“Okay, I won’t push it.” She shrugged. “But you don’t have to pick me up. I can catch a ride with someone and meet you there.”

Leaving him to walk into the hornet’s nest of church people alone? No way.

“I’ll be here,” he reiterated. “What time?”

They’d just decided on a time when the front doorbell rang.

“Pretty late for callers,” he muttered, more to himself than her. He had a sudden replay of her hunched in that closet and made sure he was two steps behind when Kelly opened the door.

A uniformed officer stood on the step, face peeking out from beneath her cap. “Glynis Barnes. Zach sent me over to stay with you tonight.”

“Oh. How thoughtful of him,” Kelly murmured. “Please, come in.”

“Wait a minute.” Ross stepped forward, blocking her path. “Do you have identification?”

Officer Barnes nodded, pulled out her badge and waited until he’d studied it. Satisfied, Ross handed it back, caught a bit of movement from the corner of his eye and turned. Kelly’s eyes grew huge, then she seemed to waver. He grasped her arms, held her upright.

“Hey! What’s the matter?”

“I don’t know. All of a sudden I don’t feel very well.”

“I’m the one who should be woozy after all that chocolate. You didn’t even have any.”

“Yes.” But she barely smiled at his joke, her face blanching as her fingers clutched his arm. “Oh, my.”

“You need to sit down.” He guided her back into the den, helped her into a chair. “Better?”

She shook her head “yes” once, but that changed to a violent “no” as she lurched to her feet and headed out of the room as if on fire.

“She’s sick. I’ll look after her,” the cop told him calmly, then followed Kelly.

Left on his own, Ross paced the den for several minutes, wondering why she’d suddenly become so sick. Probably the gingersnaps, he decided with a grimace. That particular cookie had never been one of his favorites, though in his childhood years he’d never had a choice between the kinds of cookies he’d enjoyed. He’d considered it a good day if there was bread in the house. Treats of any kind were a luxury.

He wasn’t sure how long he waited until Kelly returned. She was whiter than cotton wool and her eyes were glossy.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice wobbly. “I don’t know what happened. I don’t feel very well. I think I’ll go to bed.”

“Probably the best thing,” he agreed. “Now that you’ve got—” he glanced at the cop standing nearby, raised one eyebrow, her name forgotten in the excitement.

“Glynis,” she supplied.

“Now that you’ve got Glynis here, I guess I’d better go, too. Take it easy, okay? If you don’t feel better tomorrow, we can cancel.”

“You wish!” A bit of her fighting spirit had returned to those expressive eyes and Ross was glad to see it.

“No, I don’t wish. I think I might even be looking forward to it.” Which was more truth than she needed to hear. But the simple fact was, something about Kelly Young made him want to stick around.

She nodded, but her skin was turning that sickly shade of green again and Ross figured this was a great time to get out. He headed for the door, grabbed his coat, slid on his shoes and waved a hand.

“Take care.”

“Yes. Thank you for everything.”

A moment later Glynis closed the door behind him. He walked into the chilly night air, climbed into his car and revved the engine, hoping it would warm soon and send out some heat. He decided to visit Sandra. She’d want to know what happened and he needed to see her, to let her know he’d told Kelly the truth.

He wouldn’t explain that Kelly had been less than ecstatic about meeting her birth mother. Later, of course. But not now, not tonight. Tonight he just wanted Sandra to know that her daughter, Kelly, knew she had a mother nearby.

The streets were deserted and Ross made good time. He’d phoned Sandra on his cell to make sure she was up to receiving guests and learned she’d been sitting by the phone, waiting and wondering. Several minutes later he pulled up in front of her pretty little house and walked up to the door. She opened it before he could knock, her face brimming with questions.

“How did it go?” Sandra asked after she’d hugged him. He’d begun to enjoy those bursts of affection she showered on him.

“Kelly was surprised but I think she took it okay.” He’d already decided not to tell Sandra about the rest of the events that night. She would only worry. “She’s going to need a bit of time to absorb it all.”

“Of course.” Sandra perched on the edge of the piano bench and knotted her fingers together. “Did she seem upset?”

Ross chose his words carefully.

“Not upset. But it’s hard for her to understand. I think she’s fighting her feelings, as if getting to know her birth mother means somehow betraying her adoptive mother. When I told her you’d been pressured to give her away, she was pretty amazed.”

“Shocked, you mean. I don’t blame her. I’ve wondered for years how I could have let him talk me into it.” Sandra jumped to her feet. “I think I’ll make some tea. And I’ve got a piece of pie for you. I brought it back from the diner.”

“No, thanks, Sandra. Nothing for me. Please.” He rose and grasped her hands when they would have reached to fill the kettle. “You need to rest. Come and sit down,” he cajoled. “Stop fussing over me and take some time to let things sink in.”

Sandra had pushed her way through the cancer treatments with a will and determination Ross admired. She’d come through like a trooper, was on the mend now. But he’d glimpsed those times when she sagged from her battle against the deadly disease. He’d seen firsthand how her need to seem all right in front of her staff and customers at the diner had left her sapped of energy when she came home where no one could see. He was prepared to argue with her now if it would make her conserve whatever strength she could muster for what might lay ahead. Emotionally she was needy. What happened with Kelly could drain her and make her physical recovery more difficult.

Ross led her to the nearest easy chair, waited until she was seated, then pulled up a footstool and sat down in front of her. He took her hands in his.

“You had a baby girl, a daughter,” he murmured, knowing she hadn’t yet begun to absorb that detail, though he’d told her about the DNA results hours ago.

“I know. A girl named Kelly.” Tears rushed to her eyes and she dashed them away. “And such a pretty girl. Did you notice her hair? Those streaks—gold and silver and bronze, all mixed up together. I used to try so hard to get my hair those exact shades when I was her age. Of course hairdressers didn’t do highlights nearly as well back then and my parents condemned me for coloring my hair, but still…” She stretched a hand to the area just above her ear, rubbed her fingers against the downy tendrils that had begun re-growing after her chemo treatments.

“Kelly is as beautiful as her mother,” he murmured, his heart pinching at the soft sheen of love that radiated from Sandra’s pretty face. “She has to love you, Sandra. She won’t be able to help it. Just give her time.”

“You’re so sweet to me, Ross.” She enveloped him in another tight hug, then leaned back and pinched his cheek. “Why hasn’t some smart woman snapped you up?”

He didn’t want to hurt her, so he laughed, drew away. “Because I’m smarter and besides, I don’t want to be snapped.”

“Don’t you believe in marriage, Ross?”

“Not the ones I’ve seen,” he muttered, keeping his face averted as he thought of his alcoholic parents and their notorious brawls.

“Then you haven’t seen the right ones. Marriage can and should be a true meeting of two minds, not to force one to be like the other, but to complement each other. The wife a blessing to her husband and vice versa.”

He grinned. “How’d you become such an expert?”

“Watching my own parents.” Sandra smiled at the memory. “They had this bond that made them complete. I always wanted what they had. Sometimes I felt a little bit left out because their world seemed complete when they had each other. Maybe that’s why I tried so hard to find love, maybe that’s what scared away—” She stopped, peered up at him. “Never mind.”

“You were going to say that’s what drove him away, weren’t you?” He shook his head. “It isn’t. He was a cheater before you met him, Sandra. Men like that feed on women who trust them. He was a creep. The fact that he made you believe you had to give away your baby only proves it.”

“He told me she was with a family in California.” She struggled to keep her voice even. “He claimed she had everything a child could need.”

“Well, we know the Youngs did live in California for a while. You couldn’t have known they’d move back here when she was just a few years old.” He chewed his bottom lip. “For the rest of it—I think Kelly did have everything she needed. She speaks of the Youngs with great love. You must have known them so you’d know how they were with her.”

“They loved her the way a precious child should be loved.” Sandra sighed. “I couldn’t have chosen anyone better myself.”

He remained silent a moment, thinking. But he had to prepare her. “That love they showered on her might be what will make it hard for Kelly to accept you as her mother, Sandra.”

“What do you mean?” Her green eyes grew wide. “How can having loving parents make her hate me?”

“She doesn’t hate you. But she won’t want to betray them, either. The Youngs are the only family she’s ever known. She was told her birth parents were dead. Loving you, calling you Mom—that might seem like betrayal toward the woman she’s looked up to for so many years.”

“I don’t want to take away anything Marcus or Carol were to that child! I thank God every day that they were there when I couldn’t be, that they loved her, raised her to trust God. It’s because of them that Kelly is who she is today—a beautiful, strong, caring woman who loves God and gives back to the community.” Sandra gulped. “Of course I wish it could have been me, but God directed otherwise.”

God again. He bit his lip to stop the question—why hadn’t God straightened out this mess thirty-odd years ago and saved her the heartache?

“I know you don’t understand my beliefs, Ross. You’re angry on my behalf, and that’s sweet. But I’ve been without my child for many years and I’ve had to learn understanding. God knows what He’s doing. He has a plan that is far bigger than what I see. Maybe I’ll live long enough to find out what it is, but even if I don’t, I still trust Him. He knows the plans He has for me, plans to prosper and not to harm.”

Another of her Biblical quotes. How did you argue against faith like that? Ross studied the serenity filling her face and wished he could figure out her attitude. Sandra was the loser in this. She’d missed the special times he was pretty sure most mothers treasured in their secret hearts—first steps, first words, first day at school, first boyfriend, first kiss. All the things his own mother had never given a hoot about.

Like snowflakes dropping from the sky, the questions filled him. Why hadn’t he been born to Sandra? Why hadn’t her God looked after him, given him a loving home?

He knew why.

Because of Trista. His little sister would never have made it if he hadn’t been there to protect her. For her sake he was glad he had been. But that didn’t make the living hell of his past any less brutal. His father was dead, his mother seldom recognized him, let alone cared about him. The only one he had left was Trista.

“When is Kelly coming to see me?” Sandra’s quiet voice brimmed with barely suppressed delight. “When can we talk?”

“Kelly promised that if I went to this church social she’ll be attending tomorrow, she’d come to see you after that. I don’t have a specific time yet, but I’ll get one.” He grinned, waggled a finger at her. “A skiing day! The things I do for you, Sandra Lange.”

“Like dating Kelly is a hardship.” She chuckled. “Puh-leeze.”

“It’s not a date, it’s…reciprocity.” His face felt hotter than the fire at Kelly’s. “I go with her, she comes here. That’s the deal.”

“Martyrdom, here comes Ross Van Zandt.” Sandra giggled, then quickly sobered. “I’m not so sure it’s a good thing if you had to bribe her to see me.”

“It wasn’t a bribe.” He huffed out a sigh. “Will you give it up, Sandra? She’s coming to see you, that’s what you wanted. Isn’t that enough?”

“Shame on me.” She reached up, touched his cheek with her fingertips in a gentle caress he would never tire of. “Yes, my dear man, it is more than enough. Thank you.”

“Welcome,” he mumbled, embarrassed by the soft glow of love in her eyes. How could she love him? She didn’t even know him, wouldn’t want to if she did.

“It’s been a long day. You’re tired and with all you’ve done, who could blame you.” She brushed her palm across his hair, pushed back a lock of hair and patted his cheek. “Go home and get some rest, Ross. Tomorrow’s going to be a busy day.”

“Yeah, skiing.” He made a face. “I’ll probably end up in the hospital with two broken legs and a concussion. People like me don’t do skiing.”

“People like you? It’s not the technique, it’s the attitude,” she told him. “Stop expecting the worst. Besides, after that everyone goes to the Morrow mansion.”

“Oh, goody,” he mocked her. “The Ice Queen in her palace.”

Sandra stared him down until he wished he hadn’t made the comment.

“I’m old enough to be your mother, Ross, so let me give you some motherly advice. If you look hard enough, you’ll always find something bad about people. But if you look hard enough, you’ll always find something good, too.”

“Okay, Mother. I’ll try to see something good in her.”

She rose, grasped his hand and tugged. Ross stood, would have pulled away, but her hands refused to let go.

“You’ve done so much for me and I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you. Finding Kelly—it’s like a dream come true. I couldn’t have asked for a more wonderful daughter. You gave her to me. You are a man to be proud of, Ross.”

“Good night, Sandra.” He bent, kissed her cheek, squeezed her hand, then let himself out.

Immediately, the warmth Sandra always shed was overpowered by the frosty winter night. He shivered, climbed into his car and without warming the engine, headed for home. Home—that was a joke.

He unlocked the door and stepped inside the miserable apartment. A fax machine, his surveillance equipment—hardly the comforts he’d found in Kelly’s beautiful house. No silky drapes, plush sofas or comfy cushions here. Certainly nothing that would hint at time and attention spent on decorating the space. This was a strictly utilitarian area meant to remind him every time he stepped in it that he was here for one reason only—to reunite Sandra with her long-lost child.