Truth Be Told

“Maybe we can catch up later,” Heller said.

She couldn’t answer, could hear only the echo of the words not expected to make it. She remembered the last time she’d seen Maddie, the accusations she’d thrown at her. The anger and hurt and confusion that had filled her.

The wrong she’d done Maddie. And April and Eliza.

Jo felt sick. It had been years since she’d thought about that last day. She turned and almost ran back to her desk. She had to get her reports done and talk to the lieutenant. She needed time off—needed to get home. To see Maddie and apologize. To talk to her one more time. She had to get to Maraville before Maddie died—to see if she could make things right.

Dear Reader,

Sometimes teenagers do foolish things. Most of the time, the repercussions are minimal. But in Jo Hunter’s case, her one revengeful lie changed the lives of many people. It’s a guilt she’s lived with for twelve years. Now an unexpected encounter with someone she once knew sends her on the road back home. It’s a journey that has unexpected twists that Jo hadn’t expected. A second chance at making things turn out as she once had hoped they would, with family, close friends and a future bright with promise.

Come join the adventure of the last of Maddie Oglethorpe’s foster children as Jo learns that sometimes the hardest thing is to forgive oneself. The rewards, however, can be fantastic.

I hope you’ve enjoyed the stories of the three foster sisters who are reunited in a way that will bind them together for the future. Do visit my Web site, www.barbaramcmahon.com, and let me know!

Best wishes,

Barbara McMahon

Truth Be Told

Barbara McMahon

To Johanna Raisanen for being an editor extraordinaire!

Thank you for all your help.

And to Sherla Cox, dear friend and onetime coauthor.

I hope you enjoy the girls from the House on Poppin Hill!

CONTENTS

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

EPILOGUE

PROLOGUE

JO HUNTER DRESSED IN the bad-girl attire that was so familiar—black jeans, black motorcycle boots, tight black T-shirt, spiky hair and an attitude she wore like a shield. She was going to the precinct, but to protect her cover, she dressed the part. If anyone saw her, she’d bluff her way through by saying she’d been picked up. It had happened once a couple of years ago. That, of course, had made it even easier for her to infiltrate that particular drug ring. Working undercover vice was dangerous, but also exciting. Some days she wondered if she was risking death just for the adrenaline rush. Mostly, however, she was not introspective, just anxious to rid the Los Angeles streets of the vermin who preyed on the innocent.

Like the bastards she’d busted last night.

Arriving at the station early, she quickly climbed the worn stairs to the second floor, heading to the desk she shared with Jim Peterson. He worked vice, too, specializing in child porn. That was one vice she didn’t want to get involved in. Drugs was her area. Teenage pushers in the local high schools, to be specific. Jo looked far younger than her twenty-eight years and could pass for a high-school kid.

“Hey, Jo, nice going on that bust,” one of her fellow officers called out.

She waved and smiled, sitting at the computer and logging on. Jim had different hours. For the most part, sharing the desk worked. She pulled up the arrest records, scanned them, and then opened the word processing program. Jo shut out the sounds of the bullpen and concentrated on writing her report.

An hour later, her shoulders ached from sitting at the computer. Being out and about sure beat working at a desk. Stretching, she decided a cup of coffee and chocolate would revive her, so she headed for the candy machine located on the first floor. God, she hated doing reports.

A minute or two later she was studying the machine’s selection—like it had changed in the past five years.

“Jo? Jo Hunter?”

She turned, suddenly on her guard. For a minute she didn’t recognize the man. Handcuffed and being escorted by a uniformed officer, he was lanky and scruffy and obviously hadn’t shaved in a day or two. Who…? Then she recognized him.

“Heller? Josiah Heller?” For heaven’s sake, it was a guy from her hometown in Mississippi. What were the odds of her ever running into anyone from home here in L.A., much less at the station?

“Hey, Jo, looking good,” he said, tugging on the hold the officer had. “Hold up, man. I know her.”

Jo glanced at the uniformed cop, no one she recognized. Hoping her cover would hold, she assumed her persona of street tough. “I’d ask how’s it going, but it looks bad,” she said to Heller, motioning to his cuffs.

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

“Getting something to eat. They wanted me for questioning. No charge yet. I think the good cop is showing me how fine a dude he is to let me get some candy without someone breathing down my neck—like they don’t have cameras everywhere watching my every move. I head for the door and watch the swarm.” She prayed one of her friends didn’t happen along and call out to her.

“Hey, I know what you mean.”

“What are you doing in L.A.?” Jo asked, hoping the policeman would have enough patience to allow Heller another minute or two. He was someone from home. Not a friend, not someone she would ever have looked up, but suddenly that tenuous connection seemed important.

“This and that. This is a bum rap. I’ll beat it. You ever get back home?”

Jo shook her head. She’d screwed that up royally. There was no home to return to.

“I heard about Maddie beating you,” Heller said. “Bitch. If there’s one thing I hate, it’s child abuse.”

Jo was surprised. She hadn’t known the boy Heller had been very well. They’d dated a couple of times—on her part mostly just to tick Maddie off. He’d been a big-time troublemaker back then, and it looked as if nothing had changed.

“Hear from my old lady now and then,” he said next. “Thought you might want to know—Maddie Oglethorpe had a stroke. She’s not expected to make it. Payback time.” Heller seemed to brighten at the thought.

Jo sucked in her breath. The words hit like fists. Maddie was dying?

“Let’s go,” the cop said, pulling Heller off balance enough that he had to take a step.

“Maybe we can catch up later,” Heller said, smirking as his gaze ran down the length of Jo.

She couldn’t answer, could only hear the echo of the words not expected to make it. She remembered the last time she’d seen Maddie, the accusations she’d thrown at her. The anger and hurt and confusion that had filled her.

The wrong she’d done Maddie. And April and Eliza.

Jo felt sick. It had been years since she’d thought about that last day.

She turned and almost ran back to her desk. She had to get her reports done and talk to the lieutenant. She needed time off—needed to get home. To see Maddie and apologize. To talk to her one more time. She had to get to Maraville before Maddie died to see if she could make things right.

CHAPTER ONE

JO DIDN’T ROAR INTO Maraville on her Harley. She drove a candy-apple-red convertible she’d rented at the New Orleans airport. The air blew in her short dark hair, giving the illusion of coolness until she stopped. Then the sultry Mississippi heat enveloped her, and the sun seemed to burn right through her hair to her scalp. Her skin glistened with perspiration. She was no longer used to the humidity. L.A. heated up plenty in the summer, but it was a dry heat. She’d heard that so many times she couldn’t count, but until today, she hadn’t realized how true it was. She’d been gone too long.

Driving slowly down Main Street, she looked with interest at the town she’d grown up in. After the sprawl of Los Angeles it seemed tiny and quiet. The old brick buildings looked dirty and tired. For the most part, the cars were sedans, sedate and suitable for old folks. Who traveled far in Maraville? She didn’t see the big SUVs that were so prevalent in Southern California, nor the “beater” cars gangs used, or the fancy foreign jobs seen rolling along Rodeo Drive.

People on the sidewalk stopped and stared. A stranger still drew notice in town. She resisted an urge to wave just to see what they’d do. But she wasn’t here to stir things up. She’d come to make her peace with Maddie Oglethorpe, if she wasn’t too late.

As she glided by Ruby’s Café, Jo’s mouth watered in memory. She’d spent a lot of time there eating burgers and fries. She wondered if they still tasted as good as she remembered.

As she drove away from the center of town, she caught the eye of a law-enforcement officer about to get into a car emblazoned with the sheriff’s shield. Maraville wasn’t big enough to afford a police force and so it used the same law enforcement the entire county did. The man getting into the patrol car didn’t look anything like Sheriff Halstead, the man who’d manipulated things to suit himself and the good citizens of Maraville, and shipped Jo off rather than deal with her accusations.

She should have come back sooner and set the record straight. But who would have believed her? Nothing had changed in the interim. Now it was too late. The statute of limitations had long run out even if she could get someone in authority to believe her.

The man watched her as she went by. She’d toned down a few things about her appearance for this homecoming, but the black tank top that showed her tanned, muscular arms was as out of place in summertime Maraville as her black jeans and motorcycle boots. Her hair was slightly spiked. She’d come back to make a statement, as well as apologize, she admitted. And if they didn’t like it, too bad. No one had stood up for her in this town. She was going to show them she needed no one. And if she shocked a few people, so much the better.

No one messed with Jo Hunter when she was in battle dress, and she figured she needed all the help she could get.

When her friend Tyler Jones had dropped her off at the airport in Los Angeles, he’d shaken his head and asked why she dressed like that when flying. Didn’t she know what a red flag she was waving?

Since Jo had never flown before, she hadn’t a clue how uptight the flight attendants might get. Fortunately, she took some of Tyler’s advice to heart and bought a colorful short-sleeved shirt at an airport shop to cover the black tank top. Coupled with softening her hairstyle and keeping her expression bland, she felt she more or less fit in with the other travelers.

Still, she had been wanded and her boots double-checked by security. And the flight attendants eyed her suspiciously the entire flight.

Continuing without another look at the cop, she headed for the house on Poppin Hill. If Heller’s story had been true, Maddie was most likely in the hospital, but Jo needed to see the place, to sort of ground herself. She was stalling and she knew it. But it wouldn’t hurt just to see the house before she searched for Maddie.

She almost laughed when the cop pulled in behind her—keeping far enough back not to crowd her, but definitely on her tail. How predictable. Would he follow her all the way up to the house?

She turned onto the curved, crushed-shell driveway. The old house, hidden by trees and shrubbery, couldn’t be seen from the road. She rounded the bend and the Victorian structure came into view, so out of place in Mississippi, with its antebellum architecture. If painted, it would fit in fine in San Francisco. The windows looked empty and blind. Yet flowers bloomed in garden patches, the lawn was mowed and two vehicles were parked in the driveway near the back door.

She pulled to a stop behind one of them, a white van, and killed the engine. Glancing in her rearview mirror, she realized the cop had not followed her into the driveway.

She opened her car door, stepped out and looked around. The familiar scents filled her head with memories. The sticky heat wrapped around her just as it had all those summer days so long ago. Jo was surprised by the pang she felt. One of homecoming and welcome. Stupid. There was no welcome for her here.

She heard a radio and the sound of a power saw from within the house, muffled slightly because of the closed windows. She could also hear the dull roar of the air-conditioning unit at the far corner of the house. That hadn’t been here before.

Was the house still Maddie’s? Was she in time, or had the woman already died and the estate been settled? Heller hadn’t told her much, and she had not followed up before coming as fast as she could.

Nervous at what she’d find, she stepped up onto the back porch. Wiping damp palms against her dark pants, she rapped on the door, remembering how she used to barrel into the kitchen after school, hungry for food and Maddie’s approval. She wasn’t looking for that anymore. Funny how some memories just popped into mind.

“It’s open,” a voice called.

Jo turned the knob and pushed the door.

A familiar scene assailed her. For a moment she felt like a teenager again. Eliza stood at the stove cooking. The aroma of the bubbling sauce filled Jo’s nostrils and made her mouth water. Rock music blared from a radio in the room. And now the sound of someone hammering could be heard in the background.

Just as Eliza turned, April came through the door from the hallway.

“Honestly, if I ever reach her, I’m getting her address and sending her an answering machine. This is so frustrating—” She stopped and stared at Jo. Eliza turned and stared at her, too. For a long moment all three were motionless.

“Jo?” Eliza said.

“Jo, where have you been?” April asked, rushing across the room to throw her arms around her, Eliza only two steps behind.

A lump gathered in Jo’s throat. She was home. And greeted with a welcome she didn’t deserve. Eliza and April were both here. She couldn’t believe it.

“Jo, we’ve been trying to reach you for days.”

“How did you know to come home right now?”

“How are you?”

“What have you been doing?”

“Look at you!”

Jo felt the suspicious sting of tears. She never cried.

“You look fantastic,” Eliza said, standing back to look her up and down, a wide smile on her face. “Omigosh, I can’t believe you’re here!”

“We’ve been trying to reach you for days,” April said. “Why don’t you get an answering machine?”

“I can’t believe you’re both here,” Jo said. “I thought we were scattered to the winds. If I’d known, I’d have come back sooner. I never expected to see either of you again.” Eliza and April had been Jo’s best friends for most of her growing-up years. They’d lost touch after that fateful day. Seeing them again felt as if nothing had changed.

“We were scattered to the winds. I was living in Boston until about a month and a half ago,” Eliza said.

“And I live in Paris,” April said, smiling happily. “I’ve been back a few weeks. And we finally tracked you down to L.A. Could we have been living farther apart? How did you know to come home? Instinct?”

Jo shook her head, trying to assimilate all the news. “You’ve been trying to reach me?”

“Yes, we got your phone number in L.A. At least we think it’s yours.” April rattled off the number.

Jo nodded.

“I’ve been calling for days,” April said again. “You’re here now. I can’t believe it. Come in. Let me shut the door. This heat is horrific.”

She reached behind Jo and started to close the door, then hesitated.

“Sam’s here,” she said.

Eliza looked over her shoulder. “Sam Witt? Wonder why?”

Jo turned and saw the sheriff climb out of his car.

“Probably making sure I’m not stealing the silver,” she said, watching him as he approached the back door. He was tall and nicely put together. His hair was dark, his eyes hidden behind sunglasses. The uniform was immaculate, despite the heat and humidity. He looked to be in his early thirties, much younger than the former sheriff.

Jo’s two old friends looked at her, and April wrinkled her nose. “You do look like biker trash in that outfit. What’s with all the black? It’s not your best color.”

Before Jo could reply, Sam stepped up on the back porch and peered in through the screen door.

“Everything all right, ladies?” he asked.

Eliza stepped around Jo and pushed open the screen door. “Come in and meet Jo. She just showed up.”

Sam stepped inside, his expression guarded. He took off the sunglasses, and Jo was surprised at the velvet darkness of his eyes. His assessing look, however, was one she was familiar with. The good sheriff didn’t trust her. He gave her a look law enforcement the world over knew. But if the mood took her, she could give as good as she got.

Right now, Jo felt a spurt of amusement. She knew what he thought. She had left her gun at home, not wanting to have to explain it on the airplane. But she did have her badge and credentials, and courtesy demanded she tell the sheriff. An imp of mischief stilled her tongue.

“Jo Hunter, of Los Angeles?” he said.

She inclined her head.

“We had a hard time locating you.”

“She ended up coming home without us,” April said. “I never got an answer on her phone. She just showed up.”

“I heard about Maddie,” Jo said quietly. “How is she?” She held her breath, hoping she wasn’t too late.

“Me, too,” Eliza said. “That’s why I came, because of her stroke. She’s doing better. Then I found April’s number and called her. We’ve been searching for you for weeks. It’s so good to see you!” Eliza reached out and rubbed Jo’s arm. Jo remembered Eliza had always been a touchy person. No one had touched Jo in friendship in a long time.

Jo looked around the old kitchen before she got all sentimental. “Not much seems to have changed. You’re still cooking.” Then she looked at April, in a gauzy sundress that floated around her legs, and smiled. “Fancy dress for lazing around the house,” she said.

“Same old Jo—two minutes getting dressed and then you’re ready for the day,” April replied.

Jo laughed, then swung her gaze to the sheriff. “I’m not here to cause trouble, Sheriff. I heard about Maddie and came back to see her.” She turned to Eliza. “Is she really doing better?”

“Recovering more and more every day,” her friend answered. “She’ll want to see you right away. We told her we were searching. She hired a private detective to find you and April a few years ago. That’s how I located April, but the detective didn’t find you.”

“Mary Jo Hunter,” Sam murmured. “Everyone thought Jo was your only name.”

“Yeah, well, Mary is only used on official documents,” she said. It felt odd to be standing in the kitchen, talking as if they hadn’t been away for more than twelve years. She half expected Maddie to come in to ask if they didn’t have something better to do than stand around wasting time.

“Oops, better check dinner,” Eliza said, dashing back to the stove. “Bring in your suitcase, Jo, and plan to stay here. April and I are both already in residence. You won’t believe what’s going on. The house is being renovated, so it’s a mess. We’re planning a fund-raiser at the Independence Day fair for Maddie’s medical expenses. We have so much to catch up on! And after dinner, you can go see Maddie. She’s doing a lot better than when I first saw her—she’s walking with help and can sit up on her own. She can’t talk very well, though.”

“Aphasia,” April said. “Scrambled lines between her mind and her mouth. But she understands everything—at least we think she does. And she can write, after a fashion, but it takes her forever to get a sentence down. There’s hope one day she’ll fully recover.” She turned to Sam. “Can you stay for dinner?”

“Thanks, but not tonight—I’m on duty,” he said. “Is Jack coming over?”

“Of course.” April smiled at him and then at Jo. “I just got engaged!” She waved a sparkling diamond in front of Jo’s face. “To the most wonderful man in the world. When he isn’t driving me crazy, that is.”

Jo grabbed her hand and looked at the ring. The solitaire looked feminine and delicate on April’s slender finger.

“Congratulations. Anyone I know?”

“Jack Palmer, former correspondent for CNN and the department head for a new project starting next month. You’ll meet him at dinner.”

“And you’ll see Cade again,” Eliza said. “Remember him?”

“Sure. You two have a bunch of kids now?” Jo asked.

“No. Things happened. Actually, before I came home a few weeks ago, I hadn’t seen him since that day—” Eliza stopped suddenly.

Jo knew exactly what day she meant.

Into the awkward silence, Eliza waved her left hand again and announced, “But we’re getting married—as soon as Maddie’s able to attend. Sorry you can’t stay, Sam. Another night, then.”

“Count on it.” He nodded to Eliza and April and gave Jo another thoughtful look before returning to his car and leaving.

Things were not what she’d expected, Jo thought as April handed her a glass of iced tea and told her to sit at the table. She tried to grasp the various nuances. The sheriff was a friend. Of course, he was nothing like the sheriff who’d held office when she was a teenager. April lived in Paris. As in France? She’d have to get that straight. It seemed as if a time warp had happened. Eliza and Cade were getting married—about ten years later than Jo had expected. She had a lot to catch up on.

“This will simmer for a while,” Eliza said, putting the wooden spoon on a holder on the counter and turning back to Jo and April. “Let’s get your bags and find you a room. The second floor is a mess. I figure you can have that back corner bedroom. I don’t think they’ve started in there.”

“It’s pretty small,” April said.

“I don’t have to stay here,” Jo said. She felt uncomfortable. They acted as if she weren’t to blame for breaking them up. Didn’t they know? If not, she knew she’d have to explain the events that led up to their being sent to different foster homes twelve years ago. She was surprised the topic hadn’t been the first thing out of their mouths.

“Of course you’ll stay here,” April stated. “Where else would you go? Besides, Maddie will be coming home before too much longer. Think how much fun it will be to have all her girls under one roof.”

“I can’t stay that long,” Jo said quickly. They obviously didn’t know. This welcome and friendliness was all going to change when she told them what she’d done. No use setting herself up for the fall.

“Well, for however long you are in town, plan to stay here,” Eliza said. “Is your suitcase in your car?”

“Just a small one.” Enough for a couple of changes of clothes. How long could it take to apologize and make sure Maddie didn’t need anything? She probably wouldn’t want anything from Jo even if she did need something. But there were ways to get around that.

“I’ll get it,” Eliza said. “April, find some sheets that aren’t layered in dust.”

“What’s with all the construction?” Jo asked.

“This house is going to become a home for pregnant, unwed teenagers,” April said. “It’s Cade’s idea, but one Maddie was all for. And no wonder. Oh, there’s so much to tell you!”

“Wait until I get there,” Eliza warned, heading out the back door toward Jo’s car.