Her Sister (Search For Love series) (19 page)

Just
then, however, a nurse bustled into Max's cubicle, a sheaf of papers in her
hand.  "You're set to go as soon as we go over the instructions."

Amanda
wished she had a set of instructions for what was going to happen when she
returned to her life in Pine Hill.  More than that, she wished she had a script
for this phone call tonight with Amy Fields. 
Would
she know her own
daughter when she talked to her?

****

An hour
later, in their suite at the hotel, Max felt as if he'd been ripped straight
down the middle.  It had nothing to do with the pain in his shoulder, though
the wound was throbbing and hot and probably wouldn't let him sleep tonight. 
Not as if he'd get any sleep anyway.  They had Amy Fields on the other end of
the line while he and Amanda shared the speaker phone.  Shara was in the other
room, probably listening.  They'd reserved another room but decided to make the
phone call here.  Amanda really didn't want to let Shara out of her sight, and
he understood that too well.

"Did
you feel anything when you were talking to Clare today?" Amanda asked Amy.

Max
didn't roll his eyes as he usually did—at least inwardly—after Amanda asked the
question.  She was all about feelings.  She always had been and always would
be.  He was about shutting them out while she wanted to let them all in.  He'd
let a few in last night and he almost regretted that.  He'd seen the hope in
Amanda's eyes this morning and hadn't known what to do about it.  He was used
to a life alone now.  Wasn't that what was best for him?  He still had nights
when at midnight, he made a call to his sponsor.  He still had days when the
best thing he could do was attend a meeting.  Amanda didn't know his life now.

He
heard Amy say what he knew Amanda wouldn't want to hear.  "Clare's very
nice, but I didn't feel anything.  I just met her.  Or at least I think I just
met her.  Mrs. Thaddeus, you must understand, I live in the present, each and
every day."

He saw
Amanda wince at the
Mrs.Thaddeus
.  If Amy was their daughter—

"Call
me Amanda," she swiftly said, though he could hear from the thickness in
her voice that she'd been affected by the title.  "We know you're driving
back to Pittsburgh tomorrow, but Max and I would really like to talk to you
once we get back.  If you can't come to us, we'll come to you."

"You
mean after the DNA results?"

"We
don't know exactly when those will be ready, and I'd like to see you,
face-to-face."

"When
you're back," Amy said reasonably, "then we can decide."

Max
cleared his throat.  "Amy, we don't want to pressure you into anything,
but Amanda and I have been searching for our daughter for twenty-seven years. 
You might be her.  We'd at least like the chance to talk to you in person.  We
understand we're a disruption in your life, but a face-to-face meeting over
coffee shouldn't be too much of a disruption, should it?"

There
was silence.  Finally, Amy responded, "No, I guess not.  You have my cell number. 
When you get back, call me.  And Mr. Thaddeus, I'm glad you found your
granddaughter."

They
all said their good-byes.  Then Max turned off the speaker phone, and the call
was over.

Amanda
turned away from him and he knew what that meant.  She was trying to control
her emotions and couldn't.  She was afraid to let him see them.  Had she always
been afraid?  Had he always denied them?  Last night he hadn't and look what
happened.  Right now he could do nothing about them because Shara was in the
next room.

He
didn't put his arms around Amanda, but he did the next best thing.  He clasped
her shoulder.

She
shook her head.

"We'll
see her when we get back."

Amanda
still didn't turn around.  "I couldn't tell.  I couldn't tell anything. 
She was so distant, so removed, and I didn't feel as if I broke through even
just a little bit."

Amanda's
voice shuddered.  His fingers tightened, telling her he understood.

Shara
sat on the sofa, glancing at them, obviously not knowing what to do.  That was
the problem.  None of them knew what to do, and hadn't for many, many years. 
He couldn't tell Amanda everything would be all right.  He'd done that at the
beginning and he'd been all wrong.  He'd been wrong about so many things.

After he
released her shoulder, he took action like he always did when he didn't want to
face the emotions of the moment, when someone he cared about was hurting. 
"I'm going to move my things to my room.  There's someplace I have to go
and I'm going to have my phone turned off for a while."

At
those words, Amanda did turn around to face him.  There were tears on her
cheeks, but she swiped them away and looked at him with huge, questioning eyes
that reminded him so much of that day he'd kissed her for the first time.

"Where
are you going?" she asked.

"To
a meeting."

****

Chapter Twelve

If
Clare thought her troubles would be over once Shara was home, she was sadly
mistaken.  From the moment Clare met her at the airport and hugged her, Shara
had been quiet and brooding.  Not hostile, but brooding.

The day
after Shara had flown home with her grandparents, Clare had cooked a dinner 
Shara liked best—roast chicken, mashed potatoes, cauliflower au gratin and even
chocolate cake with fluffy white icing.  But Shara had just picked at it.  Clare
didn't know what to do—not about her daughter...or about Joe.  She and Shara
had just finished dinner when he came to the door.

After a
hello and a weak smile, Shara had excused herself and gone to her room. 

Joe glanced
at the table and the food.  "Did I interrupt?"

"No,
we were finished.  Neither of us was hungry, and neither of us had much to
say."

"She
has big decisions weighing on her.  Maybe you just have to let her think them
through."

"And
just how much do I influence her, when I don't know what's best for either of
us?  I made an appointment at the Planned Parenthood Center.  She needs to talk
to a counselor.  Maybe we both do."

He came
closer.  "What do you really want?"

"I
want none of this to have happened," she answered honestly.

He gave
her one of those Joe-looks that brought her back to reality, and he kept silent
with no judgment and a lot of understanding.

She
sighed and picked up the dish of mashed potatoes, carrying it to the counter. 
"As I said, I don't know what I want.  Do I want Shara to have an
abortion?  No, everything in me screams in protest at that solution.  Do I want
her to give the baby up for adoption?  How would any of us feel knowing that a
child who belonged to our family was out there somewhere, and we weren't the
ones to protect it, to raise it, to nurture it?  Do I want her to keep the baby
and learn what's it's like to be a mother at sixteen, to worry about food and
shelter and daycare?  Do I want to raise this baby and let Shara pretend to be
its big sister?"

He was
about to wrap his arms around her when she stepped back and wouldn't let him. 
"Joe," she said in a whisper.  "We can't, not with Shara
here."

"Clare,
really?  Come on now.  Maybe it would do her a world of good to watch a caring
relationship develop."

Clare
could see that pulling away from Joe had hurt him and she didn't want to pull
away.  But what choice did she have?  She was about to say
This isn't going
to work
when the phone rang. 

A sign
maybe?  A sign that she shouldn't burn this bridge?  That she should let Joe
into her messed-up family?

Joe was
closest to the phone and could see the Caller ID.  "Tessa Kahill
Winthrop.  I think that area code is a Connecticut number."

Tessa Kahill
Winthrop.  The name sounded familiar but Clare couldn't pinpoint where she'd
heard it.  "Connecticut?"  Not knowing what was going to happen next
these days, she held out her hand for the phone. 

Joe
took it from its base and put it in her hand.

"Hello?"

"Clare
Thaddeus?"

The
voice was pleasant enough, and again sounded almost recognizable though Clare
couldn't figure out why.  "This is Clare.  If you're selling something—"

"Not
exactly," the woman answered.  "I'm a journalist and I have a cable
news show out of New Haven—NEWS NOW.  I used to stick mainly to foreign
affairs, but we've broadened the scope of the show."

Tessa Kahill
Winthrop.  Now Clare recognized the name.  When she'd had a sick day or was
home on holiday, she often watched Tessa's show and admired her.  Before this
program, the journalist had done a lot of specials.  Clare remembered one in
particular.  Tessa had interviewed a woman whose sister had gone missing.  It
had been poignant and in good taste, not at all sensational.

"I'm
familiar with your program."

"Well,
that's good.  At least you know I'm legitimate because I have a feeling you're
going to be getting quite a few calls now that the story has broken."

"The
story?"  Was she talking about Lynnie?

"The
story about your daughter, and Justin Davis, and Courtney Waters.  It's gone
public, or didn't you know."

"No,
I didn't know.  We're dealing with some things here and…"

Suddenly
the doorbell rang.  Joe nodded toward the living room.  "I'll get it,"
he said in a low voice.

When
Joe opened the door, Clare heard her parents there.

"What
do you mean the story's broken?" she asked the journalist.

"It's
all over cable news—what the police found, all the computers, the webcams, the
ring of girls who are underage and working for Justin Davis."

"Oh,
my gosh."

"As
I said, you're going to be receiving a lot of calls.  I wanted to be one of the
first to ask you to tell me your story.  You see, I've researched you and your
family.  I discovered the story about your sister being kidnapped twenty-seven
years ago."

"I
haven't received any other calls."

"That's
because our network is on top of every story that could be a good one.  Sorry,
I meant in a journalistic sense.  Your news story is just hitting social
media.  And somebody's cell phone video of the shooting in Albuquerque is being
uploaded as we speak.  In half an hour, everyone will know about Justin Davis's
ring.  You know how things go these days, right?"

Oh,
yes, she did.  "So good journalists are going to dig until they eventually
go back to my sister's kidnapping.  Is that what you're saying?"

"Exactly. 
We try to make as many connections as we can.  Unfortunately, this story has a
lot of them."

As well
as one Tessa Kahill Winthrop probably didn't even know about—Amy Fields and the
DNA results they were waiting for.

"Clare,
may I call you Clare?"

"Yes,
you can."

If this
had been a strange reporter, or a journalist Clare had never heard of, maybe
she wouldn't have given her permission.  But Tessa was giving her a heads-up
and there had to be a reason why.

"Clare,
if you've watched my program, you know I delve into women's issues.  The
interview I want to do with you isn't so much about the shooting, but what
happened to your daughter.  It's not so much about Justin Davis, as it is about
run-aways and what can happen to them.  I'd like to think by putting this story
out there—your story—we can help some girls...help some young women."

"You
realize I can't give you an answer right now.  I have to talk to my daughter
about this, and to my parents.  We're all involved."

"Of
course, you are.  This is a family story.  I definitely want to concentrate on
that angle.  Maybe it's because I'm pregnant right now—"

"
You're
pregnant?"

Tessa
gave a little laugh.  "Not showing much yet.  Not officially announced.  But,
yes, I am...and over-the-moon happy about it, too.  I might cover foreign
affairs, but my family is my world.  So let me give you some other numbers
where you can reach me besides the one you have on Caller ID.  Call me after
you've discussed this with your family.  I'd like this to happen soon.  This
week if we can manage it.  And Clare, as I've said, if it's possible, I'd like
to interview your whole family, not just you and your daughter.  But I'll take
whoever I can get."

After
Clare ended the call and went into the living room, she saw Joe trying to make
conversation, her mother trying to oblige, but her father was looking like the
last thing he wanted to do was make small talk.

That
was a certainty when he said, "We need to prepare you for something,
Clare.  I got a call from someone in the Albuquerque police department, the
detective who handled most of my questioning.  There's cell phone footage of
the shooting and it's going to go public.  They'll blank Shara out, of course,
because she's underage, but there's going to be questions and digging by
reporters.  They're going to find us."