Hidden in the Heart (22 page)

“You need to quit smoking.”

“Don’t change the subject.” Angus went to the kitchen and came back with a glass of water. He thudded into his armchair again and nailed Rick with his shut-up-and-listen-to-me look. “You’re good, Rick. Much better than you give yourself credit for. I’ve let you sit around up here mooning over your past, have I said a word, no. But enough is enough. Life goes on, my friend. The world continues to revolve. And you need to jump back on the ride.
It’s time.”

“It’s New York.” Rick glowered at Angus and watched him fold his arms across his burly chest.

“It’s a big town. Besides, I already told them yes.” Angus’ tone began to resemble Jackson’s when he wasn’t getting his way. “Please don’t make me go back there and look like an idiot.”

Rick raised his eyes to the ceiling and squelched the words on the tip of his tongue.

The truth was, he
had
been thinking about doing a show. Not that he’d share that with his friend. Angus was right. He couldn’t hole up here forever, fixing up Tara’s Place and pretending the rest of the world didn’t exist.

“Two weeks, huh?” It wasn’t that he couldn’t be ready. The thought did hold some appeal. Who was he kidding? His heart was already racing.

A show at The Alexander would be the jumpstart he needed.

It was just…New York.

“If you’re hesitating because of her,” Angus said in a low tone, “don’t waste your time. I hear she’s getting married.”

Rick studied his faded jeans, picked a thread from the small hole started on his knee and watched the hole get bigger. “So?”

“’Course he has to get divorced first, so you know…but that’s the word on the street.”

“Great. Ever thinking of doing your own talk show, Angus?”

“No need to get snotty. I just thought you might be interested.”

“I’m not.” Rick exhaled and rubbed his temples.

Angus sat in silence for all of five minutes, his heavy breathing taking up all space in the room. “I saw her once. After you took off for California.”

“That right?” Rick met his old friend’s eyes, his throat tightening at the sorrow in
them.

“Why didn’t you ever tell me, Rick?”

Rick lifted his shoulders and let them sag. “There was nothing to tell. I left. She told me what she intended to do, that was fine with me.” The truth galled him now. He hadn’t thought of that terrible night in a very long time.

Angus took out a cigarette and rubbed it between his thumb and forefinger. “See…that’s the thing, Rick. She changed her mind. Said she couldn’t go through with it. I don’t know what happened after that, she left school. I thought she might have gone home.”

Rick pressed his back against the chair and took deep, measured breaths. “She didn’t go home. I know that much.”

“Sorry, man. Maybe I shouldn’t have brought it up.” Angus stood, his knees cracking. “Going outside for a smoke. Let me know what you want to do about the show.”

She changed her mind
.

“The show is fine. Set it up.” Rick ran a hand down his face, his heart thumping.

His hand trembled as he put down his mug on the side table and rubbed his jaw. He was getting a little tired of the beard. He’d worn it for years, never really cared for it, but couldn’t bring himself to shave it off.

He still wasn’t ready to face the man in the mirror.

“You sure?” Angus didn’t believe him. “You won’t bail on me last minute?”

“No. I’ll do it.” Perhaps living out here in the middle of nowhere had finally turned him mental.

“Brilliant.” Angus put on the Scottish brogue his father still spoke with and rolled his l’s with a dramatic flourish of his hand. “Well, this was worth the drive. Say, I stopped in at that place down the hill you’re always yammering about. Tara’s Place. They serve dinner?”

“Sure.” Rick smiled. The small dining room and home-cooked meal would hardly be
Angus’ style. This might be fun. He reached for the phone on the table beside him just as it began to ring. He checked the caller ID. “That’s Mac now.”

“Rick, can you get down here?”

Rick sat up at the Mac’s anxious tone. “What’s going on? Is Jessie okay?”

“Jessie’s fine. It’s Darcie. She’s collapsed. We’ve called an ambulance.”

Chapter Twenty

Claire drove back to Tara’s Place, her mind a mess. All she could think of was the information her father had given her.

Michelle.

She couldn’t remember Mac or Jessie saying their daughter’s name. Darcie hadn’t told her what her mother’s name was, she was pretty sure of that.

But with her father’s news, there was no room for doubt.

Mac and Jessie’s daughter was her birth mother.

It was too late to go in and see them by the time she pulled into the parking lot. The lights were out anyway. Mac and Jessie went to bed early.

Claire spent a restless night and rose with the sun, eager to talk to Jessie.

She walked up to the house and frowned at the empty driveway. The old Ford station wagon was gone. That was odd. The older couple didn’t usually go out on the weekends, but maybe they had some errands to run. Mac’s truck was still in the garage though. The sun was just starting to crest above the mountains across the water, casting a pink hue across the lake.

“Hello? Anybody up?”

Silence greeted her as she pushed open the screen door and walked through the empty dining room, went down the hall, and knocked on the door to the den. Nobody answered. Claire opened the door and stepped back in surprise. Rick sprawled on the couch, his eyes
closed, Jackson asleep beside him covered with one of Jessie’s colorful quilts, his head on Rick’s leg.

“Rick?”

The moment he stirred and met her eyes Claire knew something was wrong.

He put a finger to his lips. Slowly he lifted Jackson’s head, placed a cushion under it, and moved off the couch in slow motion.

“What’s going on?” Claire hissed. “Where is everyone? What are you doing here?”

He took her elbow and led her out to the hallway. Claire’s mouth went dry at the pained expression he wore. Dark shadows sat under his eyes, like he hadn’t slept at all.

Rick sighed and jerked his head toward the living room. “Come sit down.”

Claire followed him into the spacious room and sat on the edge of a wingback, her pulse racing. “Are Mac and Jessie okay? Did something happen?”

“Mac and Jessie are fine.” Rick sat opposite her on the chintz-covered couch. He wound his hands together and she watched him swallow. “It’s Darcie. She collapsed yesterday afternoon. Her fever was through the roof. They called an ambulance when she wouldn’t respond. They’ve admitted her to the hospital and they’re running tests. Nobody’s said anything yet. I spent the night here with Jackson. He got up early but fell asleep again.”

“Darcie? That’s crazy.” Claire shook her head. Darcie couldn’t be sick. Darcie was young. Healthy. “I know she wasn’t feeling that great this week, but she thought it was the flu. What kind of tests?”

Rick shrugged and pulled at the collar of his white T-shirt. “I don’t know. Could be food poisoning, some nasty flu bug…they don’t know yet.” His eyes veered to the mantle where the family portraits sat. Darcie looked down at them from behind the glass, her trademark grin set in place.

Emotion crashed over her with the force of a tidal wave. Claire pushed her hair out of
her eyes and tried to clear the rock-sized lump in her throat. “You think it’s serious, don’t you?”

Rick turned to face her, pulling at his beard the way he did when he was worried. “She didn’t look too good when they left here, no.” The phone on the desk across the room shrilled and he pushed his lanky frame off the couch. “Maybe that’s Mac.”

Claire slipped into the chair and waited while he took the call. When he hung up, he stood for a long time with his back to her. Occasionally he’d raise a hand to scratch his head, messing with his ponytail. His deep sighs were worrying, not to mention annoying. Claire willed him to turn around, but was half afraid of what he would say.

Rick took slow steps back to where he’d been sitting and sank down. When he met her eyes, she knew it wasn’t good.

“Darcie has Hepatitis.”

“Hepatitis? What is that? Like cancer?” Claire allowed Rick’s words to sink in as he relayed their conversation. Claire vaguely remembered learning something about it in high school and wished now she’d paid more attention in health class.

“No. It’s a blood disease. Darcie has Hepatitis B. She’s probably had it for a few years. It’s something that can be contracted through dirty needles, unprotected sex. I guess those years she spent on the streets have taken their toll.” Rick stared down at his sneakers and swore softly. It was the first time she’d ever heard him do so.

“Is she going to be okay?”

Rick lifted his head, his blue eyes misty. “She’ll recover for now. But the doctors say she has a high chance of developing complications later. The disease affects the liver, could cause cirrhosis of the liver, sometimes people can get liver cancer.”

Words wouldn’t come. Claire leaned back against the couch and ran her hand over her face. Darcie was so young, her whole life ahead of her. A mother.

“Jackson will have to be tested,” Rick spoke quietly, as if almost afraid to voice his feelings. “We can just pray she didn’t pass it on to him, which would be a miracle.” He coughed and looked at his watch. “I’d like to go to the hospital to make sure Mac and Jessie get home okay when they’re ready to leave. Do you mind staying with him?”

“Sure. I’ll stay here. Call me when you get anymore news.” Claire stood and went to him as he got to his feet. She tried to find a smile but couldn’t. Rick gave her a quick hug, an odd gesture for him, but Claire found it comforting.

“She means a lot to you, doesn’t she?” he asked.

Claire nodded. “I don’t want anything to happen to her,” she whispered.

Rick shook his head and squeezed her on the shoulder. “She’ll be okay, Claire. You have to believe that.”

Claire turned from him and the words he spoke. “You know, I was just beginning to see some good in the world. Even beginning to believe again. But this…this isn’t fair. Why would God allow this?” She faced him again, angry and wanting answers.

“I…” He took another step back as he stared at her, his eyes narrowing. His face lost a little color. Claire watched him take a deep breath but then he shook his head, giving her a sheepish grin. “Sorry.” He heaved a sigh and shrugged. “I don’t know, Claire. I don’t have all the answers. I wish I did. I’m sorry.” He grabbed his denim jacket and pulled it on. “Listen, answer the phone if it rings. Jessie’s been trying to get hold of Michelle since they left for the hospital.”

Claire stood motionless, her feet unable to move. Blood rushed from her cheeks and she had to close her eyes as realization surged through her. Rick walked back to her and snapped his fingers, concern marring his features.

“Claire? Did you hear me?”

“I heard you. Michelle?”

“Darcie’s mom.” He grunted and ran his fingers through his hair. “Not that she gives a care, but you know how Jessie is. Had to let her know. Okay, I’m outta here. You sure you’re all right?”

“Fine.” Claire watched him go with a heavy heart. Fine as the prize turkey the day before Thanksgiving.

She took faltering steps back to the den and gingerly lowered herself onto the couch beside Jackson.

In slumber, his rounded face was perfectly peaceful. Long eyelashes almost touched his cheeks, pinked by the sun. A smattering of freckles rambled over his snub nose. Claire put a hand on his warm head, his hair damp with sweat.

The little boy stirred and Claire smiled down at him. “Hey, buddy.”

He rubbed his eyes and yawned. “Where’s my mommy?”

“Mommy’s in the hospital. She got sick. But they’re going to try and make her all better, okay?” Her voice caught and fresh tears came as he sat and looked up at her through bleary brown eyes.

Brown eyes identical to her own.

~

The phone never rang. Claire spent some time with Mac and Jessie after they returned from the hospital and they seemed encouraged. Darcie was feeling better, but she needed to stay in hospital for a few days. Claire knew the timing wasn’t right to talk about Michelle. Not yet.

After another restless night, Claire woke early, showered and dressed and planted herself on the back porch of the main house before the sun rose.

A fine mist hung over the lake. Every now and then a loon called out, its mournful cry echoing across the glass-like water. The call was returned from somewhere along the
shoreline. A lone canoeist appeared from the west, pushing through the water, breaking the stillness with methodical strokes that sent ripples across the lake.

But Claire couldn’t focus on the beauty of the scene. The peace she thought she’d found here in this magical place was shattered. Just as she’d started to get her life back, the revelations she’d uncovered sent her spinning again. Her thoughts were muddled and she didn’t know where to turn or who to talk to.

“Claire? For heaven’s sake! You’re up awful early for a Sunday.” Jessie pushed open the screen door and Claire got to her feet, picking up the cushion she’d been sitting on. Chance yipped and tried to scramble up the stairs but slipped on the damp wood. Claire scooped him up and placed him at the top of the stairs and he raced to Jessie.

She gave him a pat, then tightened her thick purple robe around her waist and padded over to where Claire stood, slippers slapping against the wet porch. “How long have you been sitting out here?” Jessie’s forehead furrowed in concern and Claire felt the trembling start again. All night she’d fought the familiar craving, but she was determined not to give in. She could do this.

She shoved her hands into the pockets of her fleece and shrugged. “I um…told Darcie I’d go to church with her today. Figured I should go anyway.” Hot tears pricked her eyes and Claire looked away. Jessie would think she’d lost it for real this time. “I didn’t know what time to be ready.”

Jessie gave a soft chuckle and squeezed Claire’s shoulders. “Not at six in the morning, to be sure. Come on into the house. Mac’s making breakfast.”