Her Secret, His Child

“Where you going, Mommy?” Letter to Reader Title Page Dedication 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 CHAPTER FIFTEEN CHAPTER SIXTEEN CHAPTER SEVENTEEN CHAPTER EIGHTEEN Copyright

“Where you going, Mommy?”

Ashley was staring at her mother, big gray eyes wide open. Always observing. Always aware.

“Just to make a phone call,” Jamie told herself as well as the child. It was only a phone call. She’d talk to him, find out what he wanted. How had Kyle Radcliff tracked her down...and why? He didn’t know—couldn’t possibly know—about Ashley.

“Don’t you want to see the movie?” Ashley’s sweet voice was filled with concern. Her thumb stole to her mouth.

“Of course I do, baby!” Jamie said. She rounded the table and knelt down by her daughter’s chair. “I’ll hurry.”

“Okay, Mommy”

Smiling, choking back tears, Jamie leaned forward and kissed Ashley’s cheek.

“Love you, Mommy,” Ashley said without relinquishing her thumb.

“Love you, too, baby”

Jamie fled.

Dear Reader,

Almost everyone is biologically equipped to reproduce. But as miraculous as birth is, the true miracle comes not in the giving of life but in the nurturing of it. No job or other endeavor will ever be more important than the raising up of innocent lives. To have a child completely dependent on you for food and clothing, for safety, for emotional health, for guidance, is an immense responsibility I’ve often thought you can judge people not by how they look or dress, the position they might hold in society, not by education, financial status or geographical location, but by how effective they are as parents.

Unfortunately, good people are sometimes driven by life, by circumstances, by tragedy, to make bad decisions. Yet it seems to me that a bad decision doesn’t necessarily make a bad person. Sometimes, though, a person can be imprisoned by such a decision because our society tends to look only at the surface...tends not to look beyond mistakes and their consequences.

Certainly, accountability is crucial, cost is just, but one of the great beauties of life is the opportunity for second chances. I cling to that promise.

Her Secret, His Child was with me long before I wrote my first book I’m glad to finally have the opportunity to bring you this novel and hope you will join me in celebrating the incredible strength of the human spirit as you share Jamie’s story.

Tara Taylor Quinn

P.S. I’m always delighted to hear from my readers. You can reach me at P.O. Box 15065, Scottsdale, Arizona 85267-5065 or on-line at http://www.iuficad.com/~ttquinn.

www.millsandboon.co.uk

For Rachel. Having you made my life matter.

And for Jane Robson, whose belief in me taught me to

believe in myself.

CHAPTER ONE

“OKAY, BOYS AND GIRLS, we had Christmas in December and New Year’s last week, and we said Valentine’s Day comes in February, St. Patrick’s Day in March and Easter will be in April. Can anyone remember what we celebrate in May?”

Four-year-old Ashley Archer put her hand up as high as possible; she couldn’t wait to answer. The words almost came out of her mouth before Miss Peters called her name, even though that was against the rules. She squirmed in her seat, rising to her knees so Miss Peters would see her.

“Nathan?”

Darn it. Dumb old Nathan didn’t deserve to answer this one.

“Memory Day.”

Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Ashley threw her hand up again. I know. I know.

“Memorial Day!” Miss Peters sounded like she just got a Christmas present. “Right!”

Right? That wasn’t it.

The teacher smiled at them. Ashley settled back in her seat, although she kept her arm in the air. She liked it when Miss Peters smiled.

“Memorial Day is when we remember our soldiers who died fighting for our country.”

Hmm. Ashley frowned. Maybe that was where her daddy had gone—maybe he was died from fighting for our country. Maybe that was why Memory Day was special, too.

“There’s another special day,” Miss Peters said. “Does anyone know what it is?”

Please ask me. Ashley waved her hand, just in case Miss Peters couldn’t see it up there.

“Ashley?”

“Mommy’s Day.” Whoosh. There. She’d got it out.

“Right!” Miss Peters smiled again. “Mother’s Day.”

Ashley bobbed in her seat. She’d done it. And she couldn’t wait to tell Mommy. After all, Mommy’s Day was the most special day in the whole wide world. ‘Cause it was all about God giving Ashley to Mommy.

God was really smart, even if He was old. ‘Cause He gave Ashley the best, prettiest mommy in the whole wide world. Miss Peters baby-talked some more and Ashley sank down in her seat, looking at all the other kids to make sure no one saw what she was thinking. She didn’t want them to know that God gave her the best mommy, ’cause that meant theirs weren’t as good and that would be a not-nice thing for them to know.

She also didn’t want to have bad thoughts, in case God might change His mind and give her some other mommy, instead. Like Nathan’s. Yuck.

Staring at one of the bright-red flowers on Miss Peters’s dress, she tried really hard to pay attention.

JUST AFTER TWELVE. Jamie Archer hummed to herself as she pulled into the drive at Ashley’s preschool. This was her favorite time. Her work for the day was done; she’d finished the Worth’s Flower Shop books early and was ready to start on her tax clients the next morning. The rest of the afternoon and evening belonged to Ashley.

Snuggled in her black wool jacket, she faced January’s brisk cold as she raced for the door, eager to collect the girls. Karen Smith, Jamie’s next-door neighbor and closest friend, had chili and crackers waiting at home for them. Karen’s daughter, Kayla, was Ashley’s best friend, car-pool buddy and preschool classmate. The two girls had been inseparable since the day Jamie and Ashley had moved to Larkspur Grove, Colorado, a little town outside Denver, two years before.

Jamie hated to think what would happen if the girls were put in separate classes when they started kindergarten in the fall.

“Mommy!”

Jamie’s heart skipped a happy beat as it always did when she heard her daughter’s voice.

She bent down just in time to catch the little whirlwind who hurled herself into Jamie’s arms. Anyone might think they’d been apart for days rather than the two and a half hours it had actually been. But sometimes these preschool mornings, away from Ashley, felt so much longer to Jamie.

“Hi, punkin, how was school?” she asked.

“Good. I got to answer Mommy’s Day!”

“Good girl!” Jamie gave Ashley one more hug before releasing the child. Even after four years, it was sometimes difficult to believe that this little girl was actually hers.

“Where’s Kayla?” She looked around the huge room filled with miniature furniture and a confusing array of mothers collecting children.

“She had to go potty,” Ashley said, trotting off to get her coat.

“Miss Jamie!”

Jamie turned as she recognized the other little voice in her life, and grabbed Kayla up for a hug. “Did you remember to wipe?” she asked. Kayla was often in too much of a hurry to finish what she started—much to Karen’s chagrin.

“Uh-huh.” Kayla nodded, her blue eyes wide. “Ashley knew Mommy’s Day,” she informed her importantly.

“I heard!” Jamie set the little girl down and helped them both zip up their parkas.

And as she escorted the two young children out into the parking lot, one tiny hand each in each of hers, she listened eagerly to their continuous chatter. There was no job more important, nothing on earth she’d rather be doing.

For the first time since she was Ashley’s age, Jamie had everything she could possibly want.

KAREN RAN our of crackers. A near catastrophe, seeing that Ashley just couldn’t eat chili without crackers. And besides, Kayla had already had five crackers and Ashley had had only three. Not bothering with her coat, Jamie hurried across the yard separating their homes, sure she had a box of saltines in the cupboard.

And saw the light blinking on her answering machine as she ran in the door. Hoping the light meant another client—an answer to the plea she’d sent out via Dr. Patterson, dean of Gunnison University—Jamie pushed the play-back button.

Ashley wanted to take dance lessons. Jamie needed to come up with the extra money to pay for them.

“Hi, Jamie. Kyle Radcliff calling. As of today, I’m the new English professor at Gunnison University. Could you give me a call, please?”

With a shaking hand, Jamie wrote down the number he rattled off. But as she dropped the pencil, the marks she was staring at through glazed eyes were barely legible.

She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t see. Limbs suddenly weak, she clung to the counter, trying to keep down the portion of lunch she’d managed to eat.

Just like that.

He wanted her to call him.

Just like that. Her life was over.

She’d been found.

DRAWING ON the strength that came with motherhood, Jamie stood upright, forcing herself to breathe deeply, struggling to hold herself together. Ashley needed crackers. Was waiting for her mother to bring them. Jamie reached into the cupboard.

Yes. Just as she’d thought. There was an unopened box. Enough to keep both girls happy for the rest of the meal. Crackers were good. She was glad she had them.

Hugging the box, Jamie walked slowly back across the yard. The icy air didn’t penetrate. She didn’t notice the blue sky or the blinding glare reflecting off snow-covered yards. Ashley was waiting for crackers. Jamie had crackers. That was good.

“Mommy got crackers! Hooray!”

Jamie smiled automatically, holding up the box of crackers for the prize it was, as her daughter’s greeting met her at Karen’s kitchen door.

“Thank goodness.” Karen rolled her eyes dramatically, grinning. She took the box even before Jamie slid into her chair.

“Thank Mommy,” Ashley insisted, her brows creased with the seriousness of her correction.

Jamie’s heart started to shatter.

Divvying up the goods, Karen reminded the girls that as soon as they finished their chili, they could watch The Little Mermaid again. Jamie heard her. Heard the girls’ chorus of hoorays. She looked at her half-eaten bowl of chili. The spoon she knew she should be picking up.

“Something wrong?” Karen’s voice was soft, barely audible beneath the girls’ animated conversation.

“No!” Jamie glanced across at her friend. The only true friend she’d ever had. The woman who didn’t really know her at all. “Why?”

“You don’t look so good.”

“I, uh, just remembered I didn’t return a phone call this morning and I can’t afford to lose any clients.”

“Then go do it. I’ll watch the girls.”

“You sure?”

“Of course! They’ll be wrapped up in Ariel for the next hour anyway. Get out of here!”

She had to go. But she couldn’t leave Ashley. Could barely wait for Ashley to finish eating so she could lift her out of her booster seat and hold the little girl’s chili-smeared face against her. She’d be all right just as soon as she felt Ashley’s arms around her neck.

“Okay, I’ll hurry,” Jamie heard herself say. And stared again into her bowl of chili. It had been good chili.

She was going to have to leave Ashley with Karen. She absolutely could not allow whatever was to come to touch Ashley’s life. Couldn’t bear for Ashley to know...

“Take your time,” Karen said, clearing their bowls from the table.

Jamie stood.

“Where you going, Mommy?”

Ashley was staring at her mother, big gray eyes wide-open. Always observing. Always aware.

“Just to make a phone call,” Jamie told herself as well as the child. “I’ll be right back.”

“Don’t you want to see Ariel?” Ashley’s sweet voice was filled with concern. Her thumb stole to her mouth.

“Of course I do, baby!” Jamie said. She rounded the table and knelt beside her daughter. “I’ll hurry.”

“Okay, Mommy.” Ashley’s feet swung back and forth, her heels kicking the front of her booster chair.

Smiling, choking back tears, Jamie leaned forward and kissed Ashley’s cheek.

“Love you, Mommy,” Ashley said, pushing her cheek into the kiss without relinquishing her thumb.

“Love you, too, baby.”

Jamie fled.

LEAVING ASHLEY BEHIND in Karen’s kitchen was hard. But not as hard as growing up with a man who’d given her nothing—except bruises. Not as hard as being homeless at seventeen. She could do this.

She was only going next door. Yet as she walked into her house, as she picked up the piece of paper she’d left lying on her counter, the distance that separated her from her innocent little girl seemed suddenly insurmountable.

What did he want?

What could he possibly want?

He was new in town. Lonely. And somehow he knew that Jamie lived in Larkspur Grove.

He could go to hell.

She was already there.

By the time she got to the tiny bedroom she used as an office, Jamie was almost completely transformed. Encased in a hard shell of numbness her daughter wouldn’t recognize, she wondered how far the word had spread. How many more of them knew where she lived?

The phone seemed to jump out at her, threatening to pull her away, back to the life she’d left behind five years ago.

Even now, even here, Ashley was all that mattered. Her daughter was everything Jamie was not. Sweet. Unsoiled. Innocent. She was the part of Jamie that had never been given a chance to live. Not since the devil himself had moved in with Jamie and her mother, just after Jamie’s fourth birthday.

Jamie would do what she had to do, anything she had to do, to protect Ashley’s right to a childhood. Her right to grow up decently.

And if that meant facing down the demons from her past—one or all of them—she’d do it. There was simply no alternative.

PHONE IN HAND, she punched in the number. His number. Only the shaking of her finger testified to the trauma playing itself out inside her. At seventeen, she’d survived her stepfather’s debilitating advances. She’d survive this, too.

She pushed the last button. Lifted the mobile phone to her ear. Heard it ring...

The phone dropped to the floor, the ringing muffled by the plush gray carpet as Jamie flew to the bathroom and vomited. She hung over the toilet for another few minutes, just in case.

She could do this. She could do this.

It was just going to take a minute.

Wringing a washcloth under cold water from the basin faucet, Jamie fought the monsters she’d been fighting for as long as she could remember. Why had she ever thought she could outrun her past? She should have realized it would eventually catch up with her—destroy the present she’d so painstakingly created.

She buried her face in the cloth, welcoming its coolness against her hot skin. How had she ever been stupid enough to believe she could get away with these deceptions? That they wouldn’t always be part of her?

And then she met her eyes in the mirror. Big gray eyes, just like Ashley’s. Except that Jamie’s had seen too much. Way too much. More than any woman ever should. The eyes that stared back at her weren’t innocent like her daughter’s. They were knowing. They knew just the right look to promise a man anything.

They made her sick. So did the woman they belonged to. She’d made her choices. And had to be accountable for them.

Turning away from the mirror before she threw up again, Jamie wadded the cloth in her fist. The thought of Ashley being tarnished by her sins was killing her as surely as her stepfather would have done if he’d managed to catch up with her all those years ago.

He was dead now. But the effects of his having lived would never die.

The anniversary clock in the living room chimed the hour. She’d been gone from Karen’s for more than twenty minutes. Ashley was going to start wondering where she was.

Concentrating on the child, Jamie found the strength to enter her office a second time. To pick up the phone. To dial again. She’d been facing her problems head-on her entire life, even when it meant putting her own body between her stepfather’s fist and her mother’s weaker frame. Her strength was the only reason she’d survived this far.

She had one focus, one goal: doing what was best for Ashley. Life on the run, hiding, wasn’t it. Reaching for a recent photo of her daughter laughing at her from Santa’s lap, Jamie kept her eyes glued to the image as Kyle Radcliff answered his phone.

“Yes, Ms. Archer, thanks for getting back to me so promptly....”

His voice was just as she remembered it. When she remembered it. It was so warm, almost as if he were in the room with her. She could see him sitting there on the end of the hotel bed, hunched over, his head in his hands as he told her about his mother’s death. “...so I’d like to hire your services.”

He wanted to hire her services. She hadn’t gotten to that part of the memory yet. The part where he’d turned out to be just like all the rest. Her voice stuck in her throat.

He wanted to hire her services.

She wanted to die. Right then. Right there. What was the point of fighting anymore? She was who she was. Who she’d always been. Who she’d always be. The floor started to spin and she almost gave in, almost let that feeling of vertigo swallow her up. Almost.

And then her vision cleared again. And she could see the image she held of her laughing little girl. The trusting eyes. She couldn’t let Ashley be a part of this. Panicking, she tried to think of something to say. Did he know she’d had a child?

She concentrated on the red velvet dress she and Ashley had picked out together for the muchanticipated visit with Santa.

“Ms. Archer? Are you there?” He’d called her “Jamie” before.

“Yes. I’m here.” She didn’t know what else to say. How to keep him away from Ashley. How to keep the woman she’d been away from her child.

“So do you think you’ll be able to squeeze me in?,

Would he go away if she did?

“What exactly did you have in mind?” She hated the words, hated herself for saying them. But she was afraid that if she turned him down, he’d figure she was playing with him, would take it as a challenge, a come-on. That he wouldn’t go away. After all, men like him weren’t used to hearing “no” from women like her. Probably because women like her never said that particular word to men like him.

“You’re the professional, you tell me.” His voice was pleasant, calm, detached.

“You’re the one paying the bill.” The words practically choked her. But she had to gain some time, figure out what to do, how to get rid of him without making him suspicious—or even curious. Her daughter’s entire future depended on making this man nonexistent immediately. Forever.

She not only didn’t want him to call her again, she didn’t want him to think of her again.

“But I’ve never hired an accountant before—”

What?

“An accountant?”

“I’m sorry, I assumed you were an accountant,” he said.

His voice carried a hint of the self-deprecatory humor that had ensnared her almost five years before. That long-ago night, his humility had caused her to let down her guard, to do one of the stupidest things she’d ever done.

“Dean Patterson gave me your name,” he continued. “Said you do taxes. I just assumed you were an accountant.”

“I am.”

“Oh. Good. So, do you have time to take on one more client? Like I said, my records are in fairly good shape, but with the move from Las Vegas to Colorado and selling my house, I’ll need all the help I can get.”

Records? She’d clearly missed something.

“Dr. Patterson gave you my number?” The room had begun to spin again. Relief was making her light-headed.

“I’m sorry to impose like this on a total stranger, but the dean said you were the best.”

A total stranger. “No!” Jamie’s mind raced. “No, it’s no imposition.” The dean and his wife were good to her. They sent her seventy-five percent of her business. They had no idea who she’d been before she moved to Larkspur Grove, pregnant, single and two semesters short of her degree. She’d met them at a student-welcoming session, and for some reason Jamie had never understood, they’d shown an interest in her right from that first introduction, befriended her, helped her get established. They’d guessed, based on her silences, that she was a widow. She’d never corrected the assumption.

“You’ll take me on?”

Kyle Radcliff sounded hopeful, but she heard nothing more personal than that in his voice.

She was trapped. There was no way she could decline without arousing suspicion, maybe not his but certainly the dean’s. She’d just told Dr. Patterson about Ashley’s request for dance lessons, the tuition, recital fees, the costumes involved. Just thanked him profusely for saying he’d send another client or two her way.

Jamie took a deep breath. “It might be a couple of weeks before I can get to you.”

She’d met him once. It had been dark. She looked completely different now. She’d run into one of her college professors from the University of Nevada a couple of years ago and even he hadn’t recognized her. Surely someone who’d seen her only once, at night, wouldn’t know who she was.

“No problem. This all happened so fast I need a little time to unpack and find things, anyway. I just registered with the Las Vegas Educational Job Service in December and didn’t expect a permanent position to come through until the fall.”

The Las Vegas Educational Job Service. Which consisted of one very energetic woman, the service’s owner, Wanda Kendall. Wanda had an office at the university in Las Vegas and was the person who’d helped Jamie find Larkspur Grove, the one who’d arranged for her work-study position so she could finish her degree at Gunnison. The woman who’d introduced her to Dean Patterson.

“Were you teaching in Las Vegas?” At the university? When she’d been a student?

“Yeah,” he said easily. “I was head of the English department at a private college just outside the city.”

A private college. With no connection to Jamie at all.

Okay. So maybe here was her chance to prove there was no part of that other woman, the woman he’d known and forgotten, still left inside her. Here was her chance to put the past behind her, once and for all. To prove to herself that she could. And maybe, finally, to forgive herself....

“Mr. Radcliff, you’ve just hired an accountant.”

CHAPTER TWO

THE HOUSE WAS QUIET. Ashley slept soundly, tucked beneath her Little Mermaid comforter, as Ariel and Flounder smiled down at her from the walls above. Jamie had no idea how long she stood in her daughter’s doorway, absorbing the comfort of her presence. Yet no matter how long she stood there, it wasn’t long enough.

She’d made it through the day. Managed to convince herself that she was fine. That the phone call changed nothing. That it wasn’t any big deal.

Until darkness fell. And the woman Jamie had been, the woman who’d worked nights, returned to haunt her. Nighttime was often bad for Jamie; she was used to coping. But that night, none of her coping techniques were working.

She couldn’t find peace. Couldn’t shut the doors in her mind. Memories flooded her relentlessly until she was drowning, suffocating beneath their weight....