Hidden in the Heart (9 page)

“Well, not right away, but eventually, yes. She’s wonderful, Claire. You’ll love her.”

Right. Love her like a root canal.

Claire scowled at the grass and focused on a brown leaf. This was so typical. Her parents had always lived this way. They made plans and filled her in after the fact. She was expected to just go with the flow.

And she always did.

“Claire?” He pressed her gently and for a moment she feared she would break down in front of him. Claire managed to meet his eyes, the happiness in them undeniable.

She forced a smile and hoped it would suffice. “Great, Dad. I’m very happy for you. When do I get to meet her?”

He chuckled, tension fading from his features. “Soon, honey. When I get back from my trip to Virginia, we’ll have dinner or something. Would that be okay?”

“Sure, that’ll be fine.”

“Wonderful. We’ll make plans. So. What was it you wanted to talk to me about?”

Claire hesitated, studying her bitten-down fingernails. “I’ve decided to search for my birth mother.” Her palms grew moist and sweat trickled down her spine.

Dad stared at her in silence.

Claire sat back, her arms folded across her chest.

She tried to gage his reaction but he had his poker face on. Then all color left his cheeks. Her muscles stiffened as she watched him. He could well be on the verge of having a heart attack. He’d keel over and die right then and there, and it would be her fault.

“Dad?”

He veered his gaze and stared across the pond, finally emitted a deep sigh and shook his head. “Well, I’d say that trumps my news.” Blue eyes pierced through her, his mouth drawn in a thin line. “What brought this on?”

Claire shrugged, playing with the rings on her finger. “It’s something I’ve thought about for a while. Since…”

His face darkened and he raked his fingers through his hair. “This is about losing the baby, isn’t it?” He clicked his tongue, a habit that gave away his frustration. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Claire. It just happened.”

Claire pushed herself off the bench and blinked back tears as she walked toward the pond. She made a half circle then turned back to face him. “I don’t know that for sure, Dad. I…have to find out. You’ve asked me to understand you, accept your decision to move on…now I’m asking you to do the same for me. I need to know where I came from.”

He rubbed the back of his neck and studied her. Sun filtered through the trees above them and lit the lines that creased his forehead. The breeze played with his hair. He shook his head. “You
don’t
need to know, Claire. There’s nothing
to
know. As we told you, we adopted
you through Social Services in Hartford. It was a closed adoption. We weren’t told who your birth parents were, they weren’t told who we were. They said your birth mother was perfectly healthy, with no genetic abnormalities in the family to be concerned with. Okay? That’s it.” A scarlet hue touched his cheeks and his jaw twitched the way it always did when he was angry.

Claire shook her head, defeat dragging her down. “I went to the DCF in Hartford. They have to have her permission to release my non-identifying information. She refused. They said I could petition the court and…”

“Claire, for heaven’s sake. Why didn’t you tell me?” Dad leaned back slightly, his frown deepening. “How long have you been stewing on this?”

“I haven’t been stewing.” Claire blew out a breath and swatted at a fly. Guilt rankled her, fueled by the look of betrayal in his eyes. “And I didn’t tell you because I knew what your reaction would be.”

“And you did it anyway. Typical.” He grunted and made fists with his hands.

Claire summoned fresh courage. “Dad, if you…if you know anything, anything at all, could you please tell me?”

She may as well have beamed him with a baseball bat. After a moment, his stunned expression morphed into white anger. She met his eyes and saw them harden.

“This is ludicrous. You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into, Claire. You’re not well. You’re not making rational decisions.”

“Stop it, Dad.” She’d never openly defied her father. They barely argued. But this was something she wouldn’t back down on. After weeks of thinking about it, the need to know intensified into a burning desire, something she
had
to do.

She knew she wouldn’t rest until she was sure there were no other options.

“I know I’m having problems, I admit that. But I don’t need rehab and I don’t need
some shrink trying to tell me how to move on. What I do need is to live my own life. To make my own decisions for once, not just go along with whatever you and James suggest. I’ve made up my mind. This is what I’m doing. And I’d really love to have your support.”

He slapped his knees, his face a display of muted anger. “I’m warning you, Claire. Don’t do it. It will be the biggest mistake of your life.”

Suspicion knocked her. “Why? Why don’t you want me to do this?” A slow hammering began as she watched him avoid her eyes.

“No good can come of it.” He looked down at his feet, winding his thumbs around each other.

Claire laughed softly, reaching for the charm around her neck. She took it between her thumb and forefinger, tried to find comfort where there was none. “You know something, don’t you? Something you’re not telling me.”

He raised his head, his mouth in a tight line. “Of course not. The very idea is ridiculous. I can’t support you in this, Claire. Just get the notion out of your head. You’re only setting yourself up for more heartache.”

Anger, pain and stubbornness pitched a tent and demanded she camp out with them. Claire didn’t need much convincing. She pinched her lips and pushed her hands into the pockets of her shorts.

“It’s not something you can stop me from doing.” Her own boldness shocked her, almost sent her running to the house to begin the grounding she half-expected to receive. A few years ago that’s exactly how this conversation would have gone. Claire waited for him to speak. Waited for him to voice the anger he was so obviously trying to control. He didn’t. He was ignoring her. “Did you hear me, Dad?”

“I heard you.” He drew one knee over the other, his jaw firm. “And I’ve told you, I don’t want you doing it. Do you understand me?”

“Perfectly. And I’m sorry you feel that way.”

“Don’t do this, Claire Elizabeth.” His voice held a warning tone she’d only heard a few times in her life.

She met his eyes, unflinching. “What? It’s okay for you to get on with your life, but I’m not allowed to get on with mine? Is that what it comes down to?”

Exasperation moved over his face. “Not at all. I do want you to get on with your life, Claire, but I don’t see how going on some wild goose chase is going to help you do that.”

“No, I don’t suppose you would.”

“Fine. Since you’re obviously not listening to me, I won’t say anymore.” He pushed up off the bench and stood, casting a weary glance her way. “When I get back from Virginia with Eleanor, I want to hear you’ve put this aside.”

“Don’t hold your breath.” Claire folded her arms across her chest, ignored the sting of tears and focused her attention on the lake. The sound of his retreating footsteps crunching over the gravel was matched by the thundering of her heart.

~

Her father left early the next morning, furious with her, and she was just as angry. She doubted he would ever stop treating her like a child. Much as she wanted to go on a tear, she fought the urge to drink and spent the day huddled under a green Afghan, watching movies in the den.

Another storm moved in with more rain, bringing a chill to the air. She stifled a yawn and contemplated going back to bed. She couldn’t shut her mind off during the day.

Claire jotted notes on a pad of paper, her mind replaying every possible scenario she could come up with if she ever did find the woman who gave her life. They all came back to the same one; her greatest fear.

She would still be unwanted.

Claire wandered through the big house, the dogs at her heels. She’d had lunch and it was too early for dinner. She thought about calling some of her old friends, but she hadn’t talked to anyone in months. Except Mel.

Mel would be in the hospital. Claire glanced at her watch. The baby might even be here. What kind of friend wouldn’t be happy, wouldn’t want to know everything was all right? Months ago, that kind of friend would have been her.

Now she was somebody she didn’t recognize. Somebody Melanie didn’t need to hear from.

Her father’s study door was open and Claire hesitated, staring at the wood file cabinet behind his desk.

It wouldn’t the first time she’d rifled through those drawers. She’d been about ten, after being teased at school because she didn’t know where she came from, Claire had poked around when her parents were out. She’d lived in terror for weeks that somehow they’d find out and get mad at her.

She hadn’t found anything then, and as she went through the musty-smelling drawers again, it didn’t look like this time would be any different. Just her adoption papers, all the legal documents, and bills from their lawyer, faded yellow papers, exactly where they had been all those years ago. But as she put the thick manila file back in its place, she noticed something she hadn’t seen before. A name scrawled at the top of one of the papers.

Kelly
.

Kelly who? Was it a first name or a last name? She searched through the files again, hoping to find more clues. An old brochure caught her eye and she flipped through it. It looked to be some kind of bed-and-breakfast place.

“Tara’s Place. An old-fashioned country inn on the sparkling shores of Lake Christopher
.” Claire scrutinized the glossy pictures, decades old judging by the styles the
people wore. “
Home made meals and family fun – spend your days relaxing in the sun
.”

Claire grinned. Couldn’t get much cornier than that. Maybe her parents had gone there for a vacation. But Dad wasn’t the sentimental type. Why would he keep this? Why in the file with all her information in it? She read through it again. “
Owners Mac and Jessie Kelly...”

That name again. She searched the back page for the address.

Bethel, Maine.

Claire ran her tongue over her lips and shivered as the tingling sensation that ran down her spine. There had to be some connection. She sat at the computer, typed in the name Kelly into the Google search engine and waited. Results from
Ancestry.com
came up, as well as a bunch of obituaries that didn’t seem pertinent. Claire frowned and typed in Tara’s Place. If it still existed, she’d soon find out.

A link popped up right away. Claire clicked. The colorful pictures were more recent than the ones in the brochure, but it was the same place.

Interesting website. Good design, nice descriptions, not too wordy. She scrolled through the pages, stopping when she got to a brief blurb about the owners, Mac and Jessie Kelly.

Claire peered at the small picture of an older couple, tried to enlarge it but failed. They both had silvery hair and looked to be in their late sixties, maybe seventies. The woman’s hair was pulled back off her face in a bun, the man’s gray locks waved around his ruddy cheeks. They both wore denim and friendly smiles.

She squinted at the screen, searching for any obvious resemblances, but the picture was too small. Still, it was entirely possible that these people could be her relatives.

Or she was just nuts.

Claire reached for a pad of paper and jotted down the phone number.

Dad needed to give her answers.

A glance at the clock told her his plane would have landed a couple of hours ago. She reached for the phone and dialed his cell.

He picked up at once, probably expecting to have to come back and bail her out of jail. “Claire. Are you all right?”

“I’m fine, Dad. I’m at home. But listen…I need to ask…”

“Claire, please. Not this again.” He sounded worn out and very far away. She leaned back, pushed her fingers through her hair and ignored the hammering of her heart.

“Dad, does the name Kelly mean anything to you?”

“Of course not.” His reply came too quickly.

Claire stared at the computer screen and frowned. “Okay. Well. I’ve been doing some research and I know that by law, you and Mom would have to have been given some basic information about my biological parents. If you could just…”

She heard a low curse slip from his lips and scowled into the phone. A long silent moment passed and he cleared his throat.

“Since you’re clearly not going to give this up, I’ll try to tell you what I can remember, which isn’t much. But we weren’t told much either. Your birth mother was young. A college student, I think. Maybe in her early twenties. She couldn’t afford to keep you. There were no health issues with the pregnancy and no genetic diseases that we were told about. We didn’t get any information about your birth father.”

“Where was she from? Can you remember that?” Claire gripped the receiver and swallowed a bitter cocktail of anticipation mixed with anxiety. Shaken not stirred.

“Some place up north. Vermont.”

“Maine?”

“Let it go, Claire.”

“Thanks, Dad. Have a good trip.” Claire ended the call and stared at the website for Tara’s Place again. The idea wouldn’t leave her alone.

Ludicrous.

She picked up the handset again. The implications of making the next call jacked up her pulse and made her a little light-headed. But if she didn’t follow this lead, she’d never know.

Claire concentrated on the figures she’d written down and punched in the numbers.

“Tara’s Place, Mac speaking.”

Claire balked at the gruff voice and her ability to speak vamoosed along with her nerve.

“Hallo? Anybody there?”

“Uh, yes. Sorry. I…uh…I was wondering about booking a room.”

“Ayuh.”

Claire blinked. “Excuse me?”

“Ayuh. You want to book a cabin or just one room? We don’t have many visitors yet, it’s early in the season, you can take your pick.”

Claire scanned the website again. The cabins were newly renovated. “A cabin would be great. Maybe next month? Do you have anything available?”