Mending the Widow's Heart Read online

  “Excellent. Thanks.”

  While they traded a couple of stories from their playing days, Sam felt some of the constriction in his chest loosen, as if some unseen fist had loosened its death grip on his heart. It was a simple thing, talking baseball with an old friend, but to Sam it was a huge step toward finding a way to be content in his hometown.

  And it felt incredible.

  Chapter Seven

  After a long day of chores and chauffeuring people around, Holly groaned silently when she remembered that Daphne’s bedding was still in the washing machine, and it was almost 7:00 p.m. On her way upstairs for fresh sheets, she poked her head into the den and found Chase curled up on the sofa beside Daphne, reading her a story about endangered animals living in the Amazon. She paid close attention, stopping him every few lines for questions that showed she was listening but were simple enough for him to answer. The sweet, cozy scene made Holly smile, and she left them feeling a lot more chipper than she had only a few minutes ago.

  In the master bedroom, she snapped on the lights and surveyed the tidy room that hadn’t been used since Sam had moved the furniture down to the parlor for his client. He hadn’t just dropped the sheets and blankets in a pile on the floor, as she’d expected. Since she didn’t see them anywhere, she assumed he’d folded them and put them away.

  Opening the double doors to Daphne’s closet, Holly stood there, awestruck by the sight before her. It was the size of most bedrooms, lined with wooden built-ins that Sam had custom made for her enormous collection of clothing and shoes. Holly found what she was looking for on an upper shelf and cast around for some kind of step stool. She didn’t find one, and she wasn’t in the mood to hunt up a chair to stand on. Instead, she grabbed the edge of the plastic bag the linens were wrapped in, hoping to knock it down the lazy way.

  Her approach worked well enough, but along with the bedding came an ornate Chinese box that popped open and spread its contents all over the plush carpet. Perfect. Already tired and grumpy, Holly nearly left the mess for later, until she noticed her name typed on a piece of heavy cream-colored parchment.

  These papers were absolutely none of her business, she reminded herself sternly. Daphne had obviously hidden them away for a reason, and she had no right to intrude on her aunt’s privacy. Then again, she’d have to pick them up to put them away, and it would be humanly impossible not to see what they contained. While she stood there debating with herself, a set of legal-sized documents caught her eye. At the top, in capital letters, she read a string of words that stopped her heart.

  Pursuant to the Adoption of Holly Ann Mills.

  Suddenly, she couldn’t breathe.

  Astounded to the point of dizziness, she sank down to the floor and put her head between her knees the way Dad had taught her when she used to get conked in the head playing junior league soccer. Emotions tumbled around inside her like a carnival ride, and she couldn’t seem to get her balance.

  With trembling hands, she picked up what she now understood was her original birth certificate, unlike the one that was sitting in a safe-deposit box in Boston. Even though she recognized how foolish she was being, she held it by the corner, as if that would somehow protect her from the truth. Her heart dreaded what it might say, but her mind had to know.

  The very official document, filed in the State of California, listed Daphne as her mother, and someone named Ian Bennett as her father. She’d never heard him mentioned, even in whispers, but since her middle name echoed his, she didn’t doubt the shocking revelation. It explained so many things that had always puzzled her about her family.

  This was why her mother—loving and supportive as she was—had never understood Holly’s flash-fire temperament. This was why she, the reasonably intelligent daughter of two career-minded college graduates, couldn’t pay attention in class long enough to more than skate by but could happily sketch landscapes for hours.

  Most important, this was why Daphne had always paid special attention to her. When she wasn’t working in some exotic location, she’d entertained all three Fredericks girls on a regular basis, both in Savannah and her lavish home in Beverly Hills. But Holly was the one who’d spent more than one spring break with her in Paris. She was the one who’d had lunch with her favorite pop singer for her eighteenth birthday and got to frame her watercolors for display alongside Daphne’s prized oils done by masters like Monet and Degas.

  Holly wasn’t the daughter of a social worker and a cop. She was the daughter of one of America’s most beloved actresses and some mystery man. Everything she’d believed her entire life was a lie.

  Once she’d recovered a bit, she carefully replaced the papers in their original order and nudged the exquisite box back into its cubbyhole. Moving on autopilot, she picked up the huge bagful of sheets and blankets and carried it downstairs. Mindful that she was still a little dazed, she grasped the unfinished handrail, carefully making her way down the steps and into her aunt’s kitchen.

  Her mother’s kitchen, she amended with a frown.

  Unable to process that at the moment, she went into the parlor to make the bed. While she worked, a picture of the entire family on Daphne’s bedside table caught her eye. She had her own copy of it and had kept it beside her own bed since she was a child. Holly couldn’t help noticing how much she resembled the woman she’d called Mom all these years. Then again, the Mills sisters looked so much alike, it was unlikely that anyone who didn’t know them well had noticed anything out of the ordinary. The female family resemblance was so strong to the casual observer, the three younger girls were pretty much interchangeable.

  Suddenly, instead of feeling paralyzed, Holly was furious. How could all these people who supposedly loved her deceive her this way? Did they think she was so stupid that they could keep their dirty little secret from her forever?

  Feeling very much alone, she was at a loss for what to do. She was tempted to call her lifelong friend Francine for a cathartic heart-to-heart, but nixed that when a horrifying notion flashed into her head.

  What if Francine knew?

  She was about the same age as Holly, and her mother, Valerie, and Daphne had been friends forever. Surely, they’d compared notes on their pregnancies, and when Daphne chose to give her baby away, Valerie would have known about it. Holly consoled herself with the knowledge that at least she hadn’t been pawned off on strangers. Evidently, the Mills sisters had valued her enough to keep her in the family. Unfortunately, that train of thought led her to another, more sobering one.

  Did her sisters know? They were younger than her, but not by much. By the time they came along, she was almost two, firmly established as the oldest child. But personality-wise, the younger two were like peas in a pod, and she’d always been the odd one out. They used to tease her about it, but they were both incredibly bright, and she couldn’t imagine them not figuring it out at some point.

  Even before that, her parents’ friends and family must have noticed when the formerly un-pregnant Mrs. Fredericks showed up carrying a new baby. As her eyes filled with tears, Holly sank down on the plush mattress and stared at the picture she’d treasured for as long as she could remember.

  Everyone knew, she concluded bitterly. Everyone but her.

  Uncertain of what to do, she went into the kitchen to clean up the dinner dishes and give herself time to think.

  Her mother.

  Holly paused in the middle of drying a saucepan, rolling the phrase around in her head to see how it felt now that the initial shock had passed. She wasn’t as livid as she’d been earlier on, but she couldn’t decide if she was finally adjusting to the idea or had gone completely numb out of shock.

  One thing was for sure, she decided as she dried the stack of pots and put them away, agonizing as it might be to yank everything out into the open, she couldn’t tap dance around the truth for the next two months.
At some point, they’d have to thrash through the past and figure out how it affected their future.

  Because she couldn’t hide out in the kitchen forever, she summoned her fleeting patience and headed into the den, where Chase and Daphne were watching the opening inning of a late baseball game. Well, Chase was watching, while Daphne flipped through a design magazine, dog-earing pages as she went.

  When Holly came in, Daphne showed her a photo of an idyllic-looking patio scene. “I’ve always wanted something like this. What do you think of it?”

  I think it would’ve been nice to know you’re my mother.

  Holly swallowed the bitter response, since technically she wasn’t supposed to know she was Daphne’s daughter in the first place. With that in mind, she kept things impersonal. “I think Sam would be able to build that with his eyes closed.”

  “Isn’t he wonderful? I moved in just after Easter, and the weather was terrible. But there he was to welcome me to the neighborhood and help me get situated. So many people in town stared and pointed, but he treated me like an actual person. It was so nice.”

  Despite her gloomy mood, Holly couldn’t help smiling at Daphne’s glowing description of her neighbor. A girl could easily lose her head over a strong, capable guy like Sam Calhoun. Not her, of course, she amended quickly. Her life had just gotten more complicated than ever, and now that she knew the deep, dark family secret, she had enough to manage without adding anything more into the mix.

  Standing awkwardly in the middle of the room, she tried to come up with something to say. She’d never had that problem with Daphne before, but it was different now.

  Everything was different now.

  Leaning back into the throw pillows, Daphne ran a hand over Chase’s head and went on, “I’m so glad you two were able to come. When you moved away from Savannah, I missed seeing you during my visits.”

  Holly wasn’t touching that one—admitting any emotion at all would set her off. “We’ll be here awhile. We’ll have lots of time to catch up.”

  And maybe you can tell me what you were thinking when you decided to give me away, she added to herself grimly.

  Before she blurted out something she couldn’t take back, she said, “I need some air. Will you be okay for a little while?”

  “Of course. Chase is teaching me about baseball, so take your time.”

  Forcing herself to walk normally instead of bolting through the house, Holly opened the side door and quietly closed it behind her.

  She couldn’t leave Daphne and Chase completely alone, and even if she could, she had nowhere else to go. So she sank onto the porch steps and stared unseeing into the distance. Suddenly, the stark truth was more than she could bear, and as tears rolled down her cheeks, she buried her face in her hands and began to sob.

  “Holly?” Sam plunked down on the step below her, and she angled her head just enough to see his worried face through her damp fingers. “What’s wrong? Is Daphne okay?”

  She’d forgotten he was still out here working, or she’d have gone to the front porch for some solitude. There was no help for that now, and she managed to choke out, “Just tired, is all.”

  “There must be more to it than that, to set you off like this. Wanna tell me?”

  The sympathetic question only made her cry harder, and he slid up next to her. He put an arm around her, and in his mellow voice he said, “I know things seem bad right now, but they won’t stay that way.”

  Something about his approach to the whole hysterical female thing was very comforting, and even in her current state, Holly recognized that it wasn’t the first time he’d found a way to make her feel better. Sniffling, she looked up at him. “Promise?”

  “Absolutely.” Giving her an encouraging smile, he frowned when she started shivering. “It’s pretty chilly out here for a Georgia peach like you. We should get you back inside.”

  “No.” Shaking her head almost violently, she added, “I’m not ready yet.”

  Would she ever be ready to face her mother? she wondered. The way she felt right now, she honestly wasn’t sure.

  “Okay, but I can’t let you sit out here freezing.” Taking off his denim jacket, he draped it around her shoulders. That left him in nothing but a dusty T-shirt, but he didn’t seem to notice. Rocking his worn boots back and forth on the step, he folded his hands and looked around. “Nights should be getting warmer soon.”

  She recognized his gallant attempt at making lame conversation, and out of gratitude she played along. “Really? How warm?”

  “Sixties, sometimes seventies, depending on how the wind’s blowing.”

  They chatted back and forth for a while, and the mindless chitchat did wonders for calming her nerves. While she was looking around the yard, she noticed the new garden retaining wall he’d been building was finished. He must have been on his way home when she derailed him with her meltdown.

  Forcing confidence into her tone, she said, “I’m fine now. Thanks for stopping to check on me.”

  “You sure?” he asked with a doubtful look. “I know you’re not supposed to say this to a lady, but you don’t look fine to me.”

  He’d summed up her current state pretty well, but there was no point in him staying. Capable as he seemed, there was nothing he could do that would solve her problem. “You must have things to do at your place.”

  “Nothing that can’t wait till tomorrow.”

  He was really sweet, this small-town boy with the hesitant grin and giving nature. If things had been different for her, it wouldn’t take much for her to go head over heels for him.

  “I appreciate that, but I should get back inside.”

  When she stood, he followed along in a gentlemanly gesture that seemed to be wired into his personality. Slipping off his jacket, she handed it to him. Tossing aside some of her caution, she held his gaze for a moment, searching for a reason not to trust him. She didn’t find even a hint of one, and she decided to take a chance.

  “Do you have any secrets, Sam?”

  Those warning storm clouds blew through his eyes, and he nodded. “Everyone does.”

  “How do you handle yours?”

  “One day at a time.” Sympathy darkened his features, and he gave her a faint but determined smile. “Hang in there. It’ll get better.”

  “Is that how it happened for you?”

  “Not quite. I’m not where I wanna be, but I’m getting there.”

  The simple, honest confession stunned her. Especially because he’d so precisely summed up how she felt about herself right now. “I know what you mean. I guess I’m what you’d call a work in progress.”

  “Aren’t we all?”

  The dog tags he wore had found their way to the outside of his T-shirt, and he looked down as he toyed with the dull metal plates. She’d noticed him doing it many times, and suddenly she understood the reason behind it. “Those are Nate’s, aren’t they?”

  Sam’s head snapped up, and he pinned her with a sharp stare that made her regret speaking. The warm blue had vanished, replaced by a steely gray that sent a chill down her spine.

  “Sam, I’m sorry.” She backpedaled immediately. “It’s none of my business, and I never should’ve brought it up.”

  “How could you possibly know they’re not mine?” he demanded in a strangled whisper.

  “I’ve met other veterans who wear someone else’s tags in honor of a friend they lost,” she answered as calmly as she could. The sorrow that clung to Sam had intensified to the point that she could almost feel it herself. Wanting to repay some of the kindness he’d shown her, she gently said, “Sometimes it helps to talk about what happened.”

  “Trust me—you don’t wanna know.”

  She kept quiet while she waited for him to change his mind, but he remained stubbornly silent. She recognized
the tactic from Brady’s bag of tricks and knew that no matter how much she begged or coaxed, there was no way to convince Sam to confide in her if he wasn’t ready.

  Finally, she decided that she’d done all she could for tonight. “Okay, but if you ever change your mind, I’ll be ready to listen anytime, day or night. All you have to do is start talking.”

  “There’s things no one knows but me,” he told her softly. “It’s better that way.”

  Holly considered that in light of what she now knew about her own family and shook her head. “I’m not sure it is. Carrying around that kind of secret is hard on you, not to mention the ones who love you. The truth always comes out at some point, and it can really hurt the people you’re trying to protect. Getting things out in the open might be hard, but in the end it’s best for everyone involved. If Brady had been able to find a way to do that, he might still be alive.”

  Gazing at her intently, the former Ranger seemed to be absorbing what she’d told him. And then, to her amazement, the murkiness in his eyes shifted to reveal a hint of blue. “I appreciate you worrying about me, but I’ve got no intention of going that route.”

  “Too optimistic?”

  “Too stubborn. I haven’t got it all figured out yet, but I will.”

  Giving her a wry grin, he stood and headed down the steps and around the hedge to his own house. As she went back inside, she sent up a quick prayer for patience and courage. For both of them.

  Too exhausted to do anything else, Holly went into the den and fell into a comfy overstuffed chair. “Where’s Chase?”

  “He’s in his room reading that new wildlife book we bought for him when we were shopping.”

  “I’ll go up and check on him in a few minutes. How are you feeling?”

  Rolling her eyes, Daphne groaned melodramatically. “That physical therapist is an absolute sadist. I’ve never been so sore in my life. Not even the time that camel ran away with me in Egypt.”