Kyle slid the adoption petition closer and proofread the copy. He’ll be finalizing an adoption later today in court and wanted everything to go smoothly. Somehow, finalization days no longer carried the excitement they used to. It was still rewarding to unite couples with a child in need of a family, but he remembered when he used to thrive on it. So much had changed since then.
To his right sat a mountain of paperwork, his task for the morning. If only he could keep his mind on his work. After running into Linn at the Hope Center, his mind had been on only one thing.
Jillian.
He set down his pen and leaned back against his padded chair. After almost two years, he’d finally managed to get on with his life. Finally managed to stuff the guilt and confusion down deep inside. But then he’d run into Linn, and now everything had bubbled back to the surface.
On his way to the office, the smell of summer and newly mown grass had drifted through his windows, reminding him of that last tragic day. He’d put up the window and put in a WOW CD. Even so, the day was burned into his mind like a brand.
They’d been returning from church, of all places. The Sunday night service had gone well, he’d thought. Jillian had gone to her small group class, and the pastor had spoken on Jeremiah. But something must have happened in Jillian’s small group, or maybe she’d just reached the end of her rope. He’d never know for sure.
“We have to talk, Kyle,” she’d said.
He pulled out onto Broadway, and he turned down the radio so he could hear her. “What’s up?”
Her voice seemed tense, but lately, the pregnancy had her emotions teetering all over the scale. “Maybe I should wait until we get home.”
He noticed the way she twisted her purse strap in her fingers. “What’s wrong, hon? Did I do something?” He immediately thought of the bookshelves he’d promised to put in her office. And the closet door she’d been asking him to fix. He had been negligent, but the cases he was working on were taking up so much of his time. And he didn’t want to do anything to let these couples down. Or the birth mothers.
He braked for a stoplight, and tourists began crossing in the crosswalk toward the Town Square.
“It’s about the baby, Kyle.”
The baby? His gaze skimmed her face. Under the glow of the street-lamps, he could see her brows were pinched together. Her hand went to the gentle swell of her abdomen. “What’s wrong? Is there something wrong with the baby?” Had she had an appointment lately? He couldn’t remember.
She shook her head. “No, the baby’s fine. It’s—” She looked out the window, turning away from him. Her thick, curly hair shielded even her profile from his view.
He wanted to pull the words from her, but forced himself to be patient. She was probably overreacting to something. It had been the way of things these past few months.
“I guess it’s about more than the baby,” she said.
The light turned green, and he accelerated.
She sniffled, and he looked her way again. She’d been a little weepy lately, but he was beginning to think this was more substantial than a neglected “honey do” list.
He reached over and covered her hand that still rested against her stomach. “Talk to me, hon. What is it?”
“I can’t say it. I just can’t say it!” She covered her face with her hands and wept.
One part of him wanted her to tell him what was wrong, and another wanted to plug his ears shut. His mouth went sticky-dry while his mind worked for an explanation.
“I don’t know where to start.”
“Start at the beginning.”
She wiped her eyes with her fingers and sniffed, then rifled through her purse for a tissue. She pulled it from the mini packet and wiped her cheeks.
“Remember when we were arguing in the spring?” She tossed him a glance.
He remembered well. She’d passed a house on Pine Drive and had fallen in love with the five-bedroom home with a cedar shaker roof. She’d even gone through it with a realtor before telling him about it. Kyle had gone through it eventually, but it hadn’t changed his mind. Regardless of what the realtor said they could afford, the house was out of their budget. And he wanted to get the mortgage paid down on their house before they even thought about buying another. They’d argued about it for weeks.
“Remember how busy you were and how you didn’t go to my reunion with me?”
He let the accusation slide. She was right. He’d had a heavy load in the spring. Then on the night of her class reunion, he’d had a birth mother who nearly backed out of an adoption plan, and the prospective adoptive couple was frantic. He’d talked to them all evening, and eventually, the adoption had gone through as planned.
“I was so mad at you that night for not being there, for not being home much anymore, for not letting us get that house. I was in no frame of mind to see Jeff again.”
Jeff Kline? “You never told me Jeff was there.” Thoughts of his wife’s high-school sweetheart sent a pang of regret through him. Regret that he hadn’t been with her that night. Suspicion buzzed like a fly in his ear.
She met his gaze, shaking her head. “I didn’t mean for it to happen, honest I didn’t, Kyle.”
Didn’t mean for what to happen? He searched her eyes, dread squeezing his throat like a vice. “What happened?” His calm tone belied the riot in his head.
Tears leaked from her eyes again and trickled down her face. “It didn’t mean anything. I was just angry and confused, and seeing him again brought back stuff. He was divorced, and we were just talking … that’s all I ever meant it to be.”
“What happened, Jillian?” A logjam clogged his throat, but somehow the words slipped past.
“I had a drink. I know I shouldn’t have, but I just thought one little drink wouldn’t hurt anything. And then there was another in my hand, and I drank it, too.”
His heart raced, pounding through his shirt. He felt almost like he’d explode. Jillian didn’t drink. Had sworn she wouldn’t because of what it had done to her father. This can’t be happening.
“He invited me to go back to his hotel to see the plans he was working on for some building he’s designing. You know I was always interested in that.” She shook her head slowly, as if still trying to figure out how it had happened.
His gut hardened to a tight knot. “You slept with him?” The words grated across his throat, across the rock that seemed stuck there. “You slept with him, Jilly?” He couldn’t believe it. It couldn’t be true. Not Jilly. His world spun crazily.
“I’m so sorry, Kyle. I didn’t want to tell you. Didn’t want to hurt you like this, but I just can’t stand it anymore. I just can’t keep it from you anymore.” She sobbed into her hands.
His eyes glazed over. “How could you do this? Why, Jilly? Why?” The last word tore loudly from his mouth. He looked into the seat next to him where his wife—his wife—sat crying like a baby.
The baby. The thought hit him like a tidal wave. Didn’t she say this had something to do with the baby? He stared at her in horror. She looked out the window and suddenly jerked back, her hands flying up.
It was the last thing she said, though it had taken a few days for him to remember. He hadn’t remembered the red light either, or the delivery truck that had barreled into his wife’s side of the car, but plenty of eyewitnesses attested to it.
He’d walked away with a concussion, but his wife hadn’t walked away at all. And the baby …
He’d lost his wife and baby that night. And though he’d never know for sure if the baby had been his or not, he knew one thing was true. The thing Linn and her family would never let him forget. He’d been responsible for their deaths.
“Close your eyes,” Dante said.
Paula let her eyelids fall shut and turned her face up for the eye shadow. Dante’s brush glided across her lid with smooth strokes.
It had been a week and a half since Natalie’s interview aired, and thankfully, her sister was speaking to her cordially now. All marks of vandalism were gone, and no one else had tried to deface the Hope Center. Unfortunately, the authorities were still clueless about who set the bomb at the Women’s Health Clinic.
“What did you do on the weekend?” Dante paused to dab the brush in an olive green shadow.
“Oh, nothing much. Shopped on Saturday, lazed around on Sunday.”
“No big date with your husband?” His inflection begged a flirtatious response.
“He’s not home much on the weekend.” Pleased with her restraint, she closed her eyes again. She really must be more careful with Dante. Sure, he made butterflies dance in her stomach, but she loved David. Maybe their relationship had fizzled fast after they’d married, but she supposed that was to be expected.
Dante was a temptation she could control. Heaven knew she’d controlled herself many times before. She knew she was attractive. A woman didn’t get an anchor job without beauty, and her auburn hair and green eyes had always snatched the attention of men. She couldn’t help that men were attracted to her. It was a shame David seemed less so after their years of marriage. Even when they were dating, he’d been a real challenge. That had been part of his charm. Little did she know that the challenge would wear old after a while.
“You are going to get unsightly lines on your face if you do not stop frowning,” Dante said. He began applying eyeliner along her upper lid.
A smile curved her lips. “Is that better?”
“You just make me draw a crooked line, mia cara. You are going to look like a clown instead of a beautiful woman.”
She smiled fully. “Dante, I’m quite certain you could make even a clown look beautiful.”
“Ah, not so. You just make my job too easy. It is like a piece of pie.”
She laughed and opened her eyes, meeting his gaze head on. “Piece of cake.”
His eyes laughed, and she wondered if he’d messed up the cliché on purpose. He lifted a finger to smudge the line at the corner of her eye. “There now, it is all fixed, and you are as beautiful as ever.”
It was then she saw someone in the mirror, standing behind her at the door. “David.”
Dante pulled back and leaned against the makeup counter.
“Have you met Dante?” Paula asked. “He’s the new makeup artist. Dante, this is my husband, David.”
Dante spoke first. “It is a pleasure, Mr. Landin.”
“Cohen. Landin is Paula’s maiden name.”
Paula cringed. David had hated her keeping her maiden name, the way she hyphenated it with his surname. It was a career decision for her and a sore spot between them.
He stood on the threshold for a moment before entering the room. “You forgot to leave the checkbook.”
He’d asked her to leave it this morning so he could do the bills when he got home. But she’d had so much on her mind …
“Oh, sorry about that. Excuse me a minute, Dante.” She got up and retrieved her purse from the closet.
David came near as she fished through her purse. She felt the tension in him and wondered if he felt threatened by Dante. It wouldn’t hurt him to know someone else was interested. Maybe it would wake him up a little.
“There you go.” The checkbook was a mess, and she wished she’d had a chance to straighten it out before he got hold of it. She smiled past the thought.
“Thanks.” He kissed her on the cheek. “See you later tonight.”
“Bye, sweetheart.” She watched him throw a stiff nod toward Dante and couldn’t help feeling a bit justified.