Her Sister's Secret (Mills & Boon Vintage Superromance) (22 page)

***

Sarajane pried a rock from the red-clay soil, using one of several sticks she’d collected, while Whitney relaxed on the patchwork quilt Rhys had spread on the ground. To Whitney’s surprise, Rhys had brought all the picnic supplies, including some gourmet sandwiches he’d picked up from Gretta the night before. Most of it, though, was perfect for a child. Grapes and apple slices, juice boxes and peanut butter and jelly sandwich squares.

It had been a wonderful day so far, filled with laughter and fun. They’d hiked and played at Slide Rock, and Whitney had taken dozens of photos, even a few on the timer so they could all be in them.

Finally Rhys had taken them to a place called Red Rock Crossing, and instead of settling in the most popular site, he’d led Whitney and SaraJane down a narrow path alongside the creek to a secluded area where an old mill stood, its giant paddle cracked and silent.

A verdant clearing next to the stream was the perfect spot for a picnic. Rhys had spread the blanket under a towering sycamore tree, near the creek bank where the crimson rock of Twin Buttes was reflected in the crystalline water. Tired, Whitney had dropped to her knees on the quilt.

“Iron,” Rhys said matter-of-factly, shoving up the sleeves of his black knit shirt. “It’s the iron in the soil that makes the rock red.”

Whitney leaned on her elbows, feet stretched out in front of her. “Thanks, Mr. Geology. But if you don’t mind, I think I’ll just pretend some magic fairy painted them with her wand.”

“I got more.” SaraJane plopped a pile of rocks at Whitney’s feet. “See?” she said proudly, her chubby fingers sorting through them. “A red one, a black one, and this little one’s a geode.” She held out a rock that resembled a clump of clay.

Whitney looked askance at Rhys, who lounged beside her on the quilt. Whitney held the clump between two fingers. “How can you tell?”

“’Cause it’s round.” SaraJane dazzled them with a smile, then skipped off, as happy as any child could be.

Rhys raised his hands, palms up, and shrugged. “Just thought she should know a little about what she’s picking up. You never know. I’ve heard there’s gold in them thar hills.”

Whitney tossed one of the rocks at his booted feet. “So I hear. Or at least that’s what Charley thinks.”

“Y’know, speaking of Charley,” Rhys said, brushing a red smudge from the knee of his jeans. “The other day, Mabel said he was going to the assayer’s office. Maybe he did strike a vein.” Rhys shook his head, smiling. “Wouldn’t that be something after all these years?”

“Well, I have my own opinion about Charley.” Whitney peeled a banana. “I think Charley just uses that as a reason to hang around Mabel.”

“He really does work the mine, you know.” Rhys hooked his hand around hers, brought the banana to his mouth and chomped off half of it. After swallowing, he rolled over to face her. “What if that old reprobate actually did strike the mother lode?” Rhys chuckled. “Maybe I should take lessons from Charley. I could use a strike about now.”

His expression shifted from cheerful to pensive, and Whitney guessed he was thinking about the bank loan that had been refused. She’d been thinking about it, too, but she wasn’t quite sure how to broach an idea she’d had. Now that he’d brought it up, however…

“You know, there are other ways to get money for your business,” Whitney said. At last, the perfect opportunity to do something for Rhys.

“Right.” He produced a sarcastic laugh. “Like rob a bank.” He shifted to watch SaraJane as she sat on a rock poking at something near her feet.

“Really. I’m serious. There are other ways.” She turned to look at him. “I could help.”

His expression went cold. “SaraJane!” he called harshly. “Get back over here.”

Whitney pulled back, eyes wide. She’d never heard him use that tone with SaraJane, and it struck a note of discord within her. Which was silly. He must’ve thought she was going to hurt herself. She waited a moment, and when he didn’t respond to her suggestion, she went on to clarify.

“What I mean is that I could make you a business loan—the money you need for expansion. I also had some ideas about a mail-order catalog—”

“SaraJane, c’mon over here.” Rhys bolted to his feet, hands on his hips. He cleared his throat. “You need more sunscreen.” He knelt to pick up the bottle of lotion and glared at Whitney.

“I’m not a charity case, Whitney. I don’t need your money.”

Oh, jeez!
His voice was controlled, but she knew by the set of his jaw that she’d said the wrong thing.

The man was proud—too proud for his own damn good. But given his change of mood, she didn’t pursue it. She took a soda from the cooler and raised it as if making a toast. “Okay,” she said. “But the offer remains open if you ever want to reconsider.”

Still standing when SaraJane came over, Rhys pulled the little girl close and applied dabs of sunscreen to her nose and cheeks. His motions seemed sharper than usual.

Oh-kay. It was obvious she’d spoiled the festive mood with her offer to help. Which irritated the hell out of her. Why was it okay for him to always offer his help, but not her?

SaraJane ran back to her rocks near the stream, but remained within eyesight as Rhys had told her. He’d trained her well and she couldn’t help wonder how she would’ve done if she’d had the little girl since she was a year old.

After several moments of silence, she said, “Talked to your father this morning. He reminds me a lot of you.”. “Or should I say you remind me of him.”

She saw a muscle in his jaw twitch. “Oh?” he said.

“He said he’s happy you’ve adjusted to life in a small town.”

Rhys shrugged. “Yeah. I guess he was worried about that for a while.” He gave a short wry laugh. “Frankly, so was I.”

He sat beside Whitney again. “I really respect my dad. My mom, too. Years ago, they made their plans and forged ahead. It took a long time, but they fulfilled their dreams.” A look of regret washed over his face. “Except for all the problems I’ve given them.”

She reached out and gently placed her hand over his. “Your father is very proud of you. His face lights up like a football stadium on homecoming night every time he talks about you.”

Rhys’s expression softened. “Yeah, but I sure don’t deserve it. As a kid, I couldn’t wait to get away from the neighborhood. We were dirt-poor and I always vowed I’d make something of myself…that I’d do better than they had. I was pretty self-absorbed.”

He shook his head. “What I didn’t realize was that they had mountains of bills from their own parents’ illnesses and deaths, and didn’t believe in taking handouts. They worked hard for everything they have.” He stopped for a breath.

“I didn’t understand then, but I do now,” he went on. “I succeeded in getting out, but I really screwed things up otherwise.” He hurled a rock into the stream.

“I don’t think you should blame yourself for that. I mean, other people, other events, do influence our lives in ways that we don’t even know at the time.”

“Maybe so. But ultimately the choices we make are our own. When I married Stephanie, I worked hard to build my career. I was so focused on that I forgot everything else.”

Whitney saw a flicker of pain in his eyes. He blamed himself for the failure of his marriage, and it hurt to talk about it.

But he
had
talked about it, and the fact that he’d opened up to her as much as he had made her spirits soar. He trusted her. In spite of everything, he trusted her enough to share his past, no matter how painful it was.

“I didn’t know that Stephanie was having an affair, never even had a clue. I’d seen the relationship my parents had with each other, and it never occurred to me that mine would be any different.” His eyes filled with remorse.

“Steph always pushed more. No matter what I did, it wasn’t enough. Worse yet, I was blind. I didn’t realize how vindictive she was, never imagined she’d turn R.J. against me. Guess I wasn’t too bright there.”

He snorted. “Hell, she was probably right. How R.J. turned out…it probably
was
my fault. If I hadn’t left, maybe he wouldn’t be in the trouble he is today.” Rhys picked up another rock and hurled it into the water.

Unbelievable. Rhys held himself responsible for the failure of his marriage
and
for the mess R.J. had made of his life. “But you said she was having an affair, that she poisoned your son’s mind.”

“Yeah, but she didn’t want the divorce. She was happy with the status quo. Only I couldn’t live like that. It was my choice to leave. If I hadn’t, if I’d stuck it out…” He stopped, as if he’d said enough.

“But…” Whitney started to say he’d made the right choice, then realized nothing she said would matter. He’d been beating himself up about it for years. No wonder he’d never wanted another serious involvement.

And whether he realized or not, it was easy for her to see he saw SaraJane as his last shot at redemption.

“Poppy, look! It’s a snake.”

Rhys’s head jerked up, his eyes flashed with fear.

“SaraJane, don’t move an inch. Stand perfectly still,” he said in a calm even voice.

In one swift movement, he was at SaraJane’s side and plucked her up in his arms. He grabbed a stick of wood from the ground and stood completely still, the stick raised like a club. And Whitney just sat there, frozen in terror.

Then he relaxed. “Aw, man.” He set SaraJane down and returned to the blanket, slightly short of breath and obviously shaken. “A lizard,” he said sheepishly. “Quite common in Arizona and totally harmless.”

When SaraJane came over with another load of rocks, she lay on the blanket between them and scrubbed her eyes with her little fists.

“Getting to be about nap time,” Rhys said affectionately.

Whitney watched as Rhys gently removed SaraJane’s tennis shoes and socks. Then the little girl snuggled against him and within minutes fell asleep. He brushed the golden curls from her face, and Whitney’s heart filled at the sweet poignancy.

SaraJane would never be without love, not if Rhys had anything to say about it.

“She’s precious,” Whitney said softly.

“Yeah,” he agreed, “she sure is. I don’t know what I’d do without her.” His eyes grew dark.

Remembering her promise to her sister, Whitney’s stomach lurched. But things had changed considerably since she’d made that promise. All Morgan had really desired was for SaraJane to be safe, to be loved. And Lord knows, she certainly was that.

But there was still R.J. A chill settled in Whitney’s bones as she confronted the thought that had niggled at her since Rhys had told her about R.J.

“Rhys,” she said, tentative, hating to bring it up.

“I’m worried about what’ll happen to SaraJane if R.J. is acquitted on the appeal. What do you think he’ll do?”

Rhys exhaled as if he’d been holding his breath. He bowed his head. “I don’t know. I just don’t know, and I’ve run through that scenario a million times.”

“What if R.J. wants to take her away?”

He was silent. Then he shifted his position to move SaraJane onto the pillow beside him. He turned to Whitney, speaking low. “He has a right to do that. It’s not what I want him to do, but then it’s not my choice to make.” He stared at Whitney and said bluntly, “He’s her father.”

The words were like a knife to Whitney’s heart. There was no nice way to say it. “Do you think that, under the circumstances, R.J. would be fit to take care of her?”

Rhys was slow to answer. “I understand why he got into trouble. I know it doesn’t look good. But much of it was beyond his control. He’s clean now and I believe he deserves a second chance.” Rhys’s tone was crisp, as if still trying to convince himself.

“Have you ever considered filing for legal custody yourself?” God, she’d finally said it; now she had to continue. Regardless. “That’s what my sister asked me to do.”

Rhys looked beyond her as if she wasn’t even there. He pressed his lips together, then slowly brought his gaze to hers. His eyes widened and he seemed to be seeing her for the first time.

“That’s really why you’re here, isn’t it?” His tone was incredulous. And, although his words were whisper-low, he practically spat them at her. “You didn’t come
just
to find SaraJane or get to know her. You came to take her away.”

He shook his head, his expression unbelieving. “Is that why you so generously offered to lend me money for the business? In payment? Or was the sex supposed to suffice?”

He shook his head again, his contempt clear. “Man, I should have known.”

ONCE AGAIN, WHITNEY flung clothes into her suitcase, the sharp pain dead center in her chest increasing with each movement. She closed her eyes, reliving that final scene with Rhys. His bitter words echoed in her head, but it was the look on his face, the stark recognition of her betrayal that was embedded in her mind.

They’d driven home from Sedona in haunting silence, and it was clear she couldn’t stay at the inn any longer. Thank God SaraJane had slept the whole way home.

After the confrontation with Rhys, she felt numb, as if she’d had a lobotomy or a massive dose of Novocain to the brain. A robot going through the motions. She’d been like that ever since, and when Albert called saying he would meet her in Phoenix, that he had the birth certificate and some other information to give her, she’d barely heard a word he’d said.

Still in that foggy state of mind, she closed the suitcase and locked it. Rhys’s response had cut her to the quick, worse than anything she’d anticipated. It might’ve been easier to take if he hadn’t been so understanding before, talking about how they’d work things out. For a little while, she’d actually believed…

But, good Lord, how could he believe his son would be a fit parent for SaraJane? What on earth was the man thinking? Even if R.J. was acquitted of murder, there were still the drugs. Not to mention his abusive treatment of Morgan.

Besides which, R.J. didn’t give a damn about his daughter. It was obvious that Rhys’s judgment was flawed where his son was concerned. And she wasn’t about to leave it to chance. As long as she could draw breath, R.J. would never get his hands on SaraJane.

Rhys would hate her even more for what she needed to do. He’d already accused her not only of dishonesty, but also of using her money and her body to manipulate him. She squeezed her eyelids shut. She would never forget the contempt in his voice or the hatred in his eyes.

The room tilted and she placed a hand on the suitcase for support.
Maybe he’s right.

Why had she offered him the loan? She knew how stubborn he was, how proud.

Why had she made love with him when she was all too aware nothing could come of it? Was there some truth to what he’d said? Did she somehow think that physical connection would change things?

Her chin quivered as she fought back tears. If only she’d never grown fond of Rhys. And the rest of his family. God, how this was going to hurt them all.

She hauled her packed suitcases to the door, being as quiet as possible. She couldn’t face either Johnny or Gretta. She was a fraud—a fraud and a coward—and she couldn’t bear to be around when they found out.

With her camera case over one shoulder and her backpack over the other, she grabbed a suitcase and swung open the door. Gretta was coming up the stairs.

“Can I see you for a minute?” Gretta said.

Whitney nodded and set down her bags. She ached for Gretta and Johnny, ached for them all. If there was any other way, God knew, she’d do it. “I’m sorry, Gretta. I’m so sorry I came here under false pretenses—”

Gretta held up a hand. “You don’t have to explain. Rhys already did.”

Whitney’s throat cramped. Facing Gretta was as painful as telling Rhys. “But I
need
to explain, Gretta, because…well, because I…” Turning her back to the woman, Whitney wrung her hands and blurted out the whole story.

She told Gretta what Morgan had said about Rhys, and that she’d believed him to be the scum of the earth, how she’d made a promise to Morgan, how she felt guilty about everything. She said she couldn’t let SaraJane be subjected to the possibility of living with R.J….and no one in their family would understand that. She didn’t expect them to. After all, no matter what he had done, R.J. was still family.

When Gretta came up behind her and settled both hands on her shoulders, hot tears slipped silently down Whitney’s cheeks.

“I have a confession to make, too,” Gretta said, directing Whitney to sit on a chair while she sat across from her.

Whitney sniffed and brushed at her damp cheeks with her knuckles. Gretta didn’t seem nearly as upset as Whitney had figured she’d be.

“When you went to Phoenix with Rhys, SaraJane and I brought flowers to your room. She found your book. When she handed it to me, it was open. I didn’t know what it was and started to read to find out. And then…” She took a breath. “I didn’t mean to read it, but…”

Gretta bowed her head, twisting her silver-and-turquoise ring around and around. “I glimpsed the names you’d written, and before I knew it, I’d read some of it. I told myself I was doing it for SaraJane’s sake. You see, I’ve always been worried that her mother might come for her—or even send someone else.

“Anyway, I read only a couple of pages.” Gretta closed her eyes. “I know it was wrong and I’ve been agonizing about it ever since. So I’m sorry, too.”

“I…I don’t understand,” Whitney mumbled. Was Gretta saying she’d found out Whitney was SaraJane’s aunt? And now Gretta was apologizing to her?

“You knew why I was here and didn’t say anything?”

Gretta nodded. “I realized it after I read your journal, but I think I knew in my heart before that.” She heaved a sigh, as if finally glad to get it off her chest. “I saw how you and Rhys got along,” she said softly. “I saw the way he looked at you and how much SaraJane loved you. I guess I hoped that because you and Rhys both love SaraJane, you might learn to love each other. I hoped that everything would work out.”

The older woman released another resigned sigh. “I wanted it to be that way. So very much.”

Whitney mourned the loss of that dream as well. She’d fantasized about it more than she cared to admit. Until Rhys…

Just then, a dreadful thought struck her. Maybe Gretta didn’t know everything. “Did Rhys tell you I don’t believe R.J. should have custody?”

Gretta nodded. “I think you’re right.” She stood abruptly, twisted her ring again. “I know this may sound terrible, but I don’t believe my grandson is capable of taking care of SaraJane properly. Even if he gets off, he has too many other problems. I haven’t said anything to Rhys, though. The whole situation with R.J. has already taken its toll on him.”

Gretta sat on the chair again. “Both Rhys and his sister, Lisa, have seen hard times, and Johnny and I always believed we should do everything we could to help them and the grandchildren, including R.J. But I don’t know what we’d do if he decided to take SaraJane. I do know that Johnny would never fight Rhys on it. It’s the one area we don’t talk about, because we disagree on how to handle it.”

Gretta’s admission was a profound relief to Whitney. She wasn’t as wrong as Rhys had made her feel. But her heart went out to the older woman; Gretta was visibly torn by the dilemma.

“Rhys can’t see the whole picture,” Gretta continued.

“Right now he’s hurt. He feels responsible because he wasn’t there for R.J., and he believes that’s the reason the boy turned out as he did.” She waved a hand as if in dismissal. “That’s hogwash, of course. There comes a point when people have to take responsibility for their own actions. R.J. is responsible for what he’s done. Not Rhys.”

“But Rhys believes he is. He also believes that I betrayed him,” Whitney said. “And he’s right about me. No matter what my reasons were.”

Gretta gathered Whitney into her arms, hugging her with warmth and love and forgiveness. “Maybe time will help,” Gretta said softly. “If two people love each other, they should be able to solve most any problem.”

Oh, how Whitney wanted to believe that. But she knew as well as she knew her way around a camera that forgiveness was the last thing on Rhys’s mind.

***

The small plane was cramped and noisy, and the woman in front of Whitney kept turning around, raising her voice to be heard over the engines. It was an irritation Whitney could have done without.

She’d decided that driving the three hours to Phoenix would give her too much time to think about how she’d hurt Rhys, so she’d left the car at the rental company’s office in Sedona and caught a private shuttle plane. In her haste, she hadn’t been able to say goodbye to SaraJane, and all she could think about was what Rhys would tell her niece. Would he tell her the truth? Or the truth as he saw it?

Initially, her promise to Morgan had been her only motivation. But somewhere along the way, she’d lost sight of it. She’d actually allowed herself to believe that maybe, just maybe, she and Rhys and SaraJane could be together. It would have been the perfect solution—one she’d known deep inside would never happen.

Because the truth of it was, marriage scared her to death. She’d seen her parents’ example, and most of the families around her. For a while, though, she’d almost believed what Gretta had described.

A deep sadness grew inside her as the finality of it came home. It wasn’t meant to be. She knew that now, and she had to get used to it. She had to be single-minded. She couldn’t take the chance that R.J. would ever get custody of SaraJane, and she couldn’t count on anyone else to prevent it.

After a rough flight with the four-seater Cessna bouncing in the sky like a Ping-Pong ball, she caught a cab to a hotel near Sky Harbor Airport and waited for Albert.

He’d said he had more information, and if Whitney’s memory was correct, he’d gotten it from a girl who lived with R.J. after Morgan had left. But what was so compelling that he had to fly all the way to Phoenix to tell her?

When Albert finally arrived, he barreled into her hotel room waving his briefcase like a flag, then dropped it on the coffee table. He gave Whitney a perfunctory hug and held her at arm’s length.

“Don’t be offended, cousin, but you don’t look so good.”

Whitney shrugged away. “And I feel even worse.” She plodded to the phone. “I’ll order room service. What would you like?”

“Not hungry,” Albert said quickly. “Ate a cardboard sandwich and peanuts on the plane. But a drink would be good.” He scanned the room, and spying the small refrigerator, he strode toward it. Whitney motioned that the key was on the bureau.

Although she didn’t feel like eating, either, Whitney ordered hamburgers for both of them, anyway. When she finished the call, she stood next to the phone, arms crossed, one hand cradling her chin.

Albert was stretched out on the couch, sipping a gin and tonic, his briefcase open on the table.

“You sure you’re okay?” His eyes filled with concern.

Albert was thirty-five, but there was a boyishness about him that was quite charming. His classic all-American features were accented by sandy curls that sprung loose over his forehead.

She nodded. “I’ll be fine. Do you know if Tanya’s still at my place?” She couldn’t bear the thought of being all alone.

“She is, but she’s going home tomorrow. Which is why I’m heading back in a couple of hours.”

Whitney’s eyebrows shot up. “What’s that all about?”

“I’m checking something out for her. A business venture we’re considering—an Internet company. And if you must know, dear cousin—” he chirped playfully “—we’re having a good time in the process. In fact, if the business thing gets going, your friend might even make the break and move out here.” He paused, then added, “To California, I mean. With me.”

Good grief, the last two people in the world she’d ever imagined together! Tanya and Albert. Her friend was a no-nonsense person who’d saved every penny she’d ever made, and Albert was as laid-back as a siesta, and just as relaxed about his money.

It was an impossible match on any level—yet both Albert and Tanya seemed willing to try. Maybe she didn’t know either of them as well as she thought. Or her own fear of personal risk colored everything. She sighed. Maybe Tanya was right. “You think that’ll work? You and Tanya, I mean.”

“Never know unless we do it.” Albert smiled, handing her his drink. “Here. I’ll make another.” He got up and gave her a slight push in the direction of the couch. When he finished making his drink, he sat beside her, scrutinizing her again. “You sure you’re all right? Maybe you want to wait with all this. Maybe after you eat something?”

Whitney shook her head. Might as well get it over with. Her life would never be the same, anyway, so what did it matter? She’d wanted custody of SaraJane; now…and according to Albert, he’d found the evidence that would clinch it.

According to Willie Atwater, her attorney in California, the evidence was good enough. He’d left her a message at the hotel and she’d returned it immediately.

The birth certificate listed SaraJane’s father as “unknown,” and even though Morgan had used a phony last name, she’d listed her correct birth date and used her own first name and “Sheffield” as a middle name. The birth certificate was enough to establish the relationship between SaraJane and Whitney, and the information Albert had collected about R.J. was enough to convince any judge he was an unfit parent. It was how all this would affect Rhys that worried her.

“I called Atwater for you. Did he get back to you?”

Whitney nodded. “Uh-huh. Willie said he’d prepare the papers to petition the court for custody. Rhys and I will both be notified of the court date.” Whitney gave Albert a sharp look. “Let’s see the birth certificate.”

He handed the copy to her and Whitney held it up, noting that SaraJane had been born in New Mexico. No wonder Albert had difficulty locating it. “Well, guess that’s all we can do for now, huh?”