Hidden in the Heart (15 page)

Claire glanced around the homey kitchen. A child’s drawings were stuck onto the large stainless steel refrigerator with magnets. Cheerful prints of kittens and flowers and picturesque scenes hung on the pale blue walls. She had imagined herself in such a place one day…in her own home, James out back playing with the kids, Crayola drawings stuck to the refrigerator.

“I’m not sure I’d know how to stop now,” she admitted. “But I think…I think I’m in trouble. I think I should try. I want to try.”

Rick sat down again and gave a slow nod. “Okay. It won’t be easy and you’ll want to give up. And you might. But—if really do want to quit—if you’re willing to try, I can help you.”

Claire met his gaze and felt all the fight go out of her. “Why would you want to do that?”

Rick chuckled long and low as he moved his head back and forth. “I have absolutely no idea. You’re a young woman. Surely you must have something, someone, to live for, Mrs. Ferguson?” He gave her one of the nicest smiles she’d seen in a long time. A sudden image of James brought more tears.

“It’s Claire.” She sniffed and wiped her eyes, not wanting to give in to sorrow anymore. She’d been numb so long now she’d almost forgotten what life had been like before.

Forgotten what it felt like to be normal.

Depression and desperation choked her, but she pushed past it, and felt just the tiniest pinch of hope. “I’m not sure I do have much to live for anymore. But I guess I owe it to some people to stick around and find out.”

~

The next few nights were the longest Claire ever endured. And when it was over, she couldn’t remember much.

Of course Rick told Mac and Jessie of her sorry state. They’d shown up that evening, bringing food and supplies for her fridge. Instead of kicking her out, they seemed to take her on like some mission.
The Sobering of Claire
. It sounded like a bad B-movie.

They brought a doctor, but she refused to let them call James. As her system rebelled against the lack of alcohol and medication she had lived on for so long, Jessie, Rick and Mac took turns sitting with her, getting her through the delirious hours, plying her with water and toast and standing guard whilst she slept.

The whole situation was so bizarre Claire wondered more than a few times whether she was dreaming it all. Here she was, in some miniscule town in the mountains of Maine,
helpless in the hands of strangers. Being pulled back from the brink by people she didn’t even know.

In moments of consciousness, Claire thought she heard Jessie singing hymns. A couple of times she’d opened her eyes to see the three of them huddled in a corner, murmuring. When Rick was there, he didn’t say much. Talked to his dog most of the time, but occasionally wiped her brow and patted her on the hand.

The dog was a big black Lab he called Jazz and Claire was glad he’d brought her along. She missed her own dogs and the animal’s presence in her room gave her comfort. When Rick chose to speak, his words were filled with passion and conviction, and he promised her she was doing the right thing.

She would survive it.

Claire hoped he was right.

As the thick fog began to clear and her mind started to work properly again, Claire knew with everything in her that she was meant to be here at Tara’s Place.

She’d been brought here, brought to this place by a force she wasn’t yet willing to acknowledge. Why, for what reason, she didn’t know, but, as she wrestled with her demons and dealt with the events that had brought her to this point in her life, she determined to discover it.

~

Claire stirred and opened her eyes and the room came into focus. Somebody was watching her. A little boy stood at the foot of her bed. She blinked and rubbed a hand across her face. He looked real enough. His red t-shirt was stained and his denim overalls were ripped in a couple of places and streaked with mud. His blond hair stuck out of his head in unruly spikes.

“Who are you?” she croaked. The towheaded child still stood there, motionless.
Claire struggled to sit up. “What are you doing in my room?” His face cracked into a mischievous grin and he chortled. Maybe he didn’t understand English. “What’s your name?”

He laughed again and Claire pushed herself out of bed.

“Jackson! Jackson…” A female voice called from outside the cabin. The child turned on bare feet and scooted toward the door. Claire tried to race after him, but had to stop to catch her breath. When she reached the living room, a young woman stood just inside the doorway, the apparition hiding behind her.

“I’m so sorry. He shouldn’t have come in here. I guess the door was unlocked.” She widened her eyes as Claire approached, but looked more curious than apologetic. “Are you okay? I heard you were…sick.” Dark eyes flecked with amber danced in a flawless pale face. Her thick hair—a mix of light honey and gold—hung straight, just touching her slender shoulders. She wore a gaily-decorated peasant blouse over a flowing skirt. Her feet were bare, toenails painted the brightest pink color Claire had ever seen.

Claire crossed her arms across her Red Sox T-shirt and nodded. In her tattered pajama pants and tangled hair she probably looked more of a sight than the kid. She couldn’t recall when she’d last showered. “I’m doing better. I think.” She realized for the first time in days, she’d woken without a headache.

“I’m Darcie Hart.” Her visitor moved forward and thrust out a thin hand. Several colorful braided bracelets were tied around her wrist.

Claire blinked as she shook hands with the girl who looked to be around her age, a few years younger. “Claire Ferguson.” The oddest sensation came over her although she couldn’t say what it was. That feeling between sleeping and waking when you’re trying to get your bearings and you just can’t figure out where you are.

“I’m not in the habit of barging in on guests, but I figured he had to be in here.” Her eyes sparkled with humor. There was something about her, this Darcie, something in her easy
smile and the way she carried herself that made Claire want to know her.

“This is my boy, Jackson.” Darcie pulled the child from out behind her. “Who’s going to apologize to you for invading your space.” She gave him a prod and he flashed Claire a wicked grin.

“I’m thorry. I just wanted to see what you look-ed like.”

The sound of her own laughter took Claire by surprise. “Well, buddy, you should probably come back later, after I shower and put some decent clothes on. How old are you?”

“Four.” He stuck out his chin. He had his mother’s eyes, nose and grin. “How old are you?”

Claire smiled and glanced at Darcie who shrugged and gave a dramatic eye roll.

“He does have manners, I swear.”

Claire sank into one of the wooden chairs positioned around the table.

Realization hit.

The heaviness she’d been cloaked in for months now had lifted. She took a moment to gather her thoughts, to see whether she might be imagining things, but no. It was gone.

She felt…normal.

Darcie tousled her son’s blond hair. “Run out and play.” He raced for the door and she moved forward, eyeing Claire a little warily. “You okay? You need something?”

“No.” Claire sat astounded. “That’s just it. I feel fine.” She laughed at herself, feeling stupid, but Darcie didn’t seem to mind.

She pulled up a chair uninvited and grinned. “My grandparents were awful worried about you. Jackson and I have been out of town the past month, visiting my dad in California. We just got in last night.”

“You’re Mac and Jessie’s granddaughter?” Claire rubbed at a stain on her T-shirt. “Lucky you.”

“Yeah.” Darcie sighed and twisted her hands together. A faraway look crept into her eyes. “You don’t know the half of it.” She tipped her head to one side and fixed a scrutinizing gaze on Claire. “You can do it, you know. Stay clean. Lots of people do.”

Claire straightened and hoped her face didn’t display shock. “Is everybody around here so forthright?”

Darcie’s cheerful laugh rang through the cabin. “I guess so. No reason not to be. I don’t have anybody to impress.”

Claire frowned. Darcie looked more like a high-school kid. She couldn’t be more than twenty-four, if that.

“I know what you’re thinking. Yeah, I’m young to have a kid. I got pregnant when I was nineteen. It’s kind of a long story.” She turned to the door as Jackson raced through it, the screen door banging behind him. He ran to his mother and pulled on her arm, his eyes wide.

“Nana said I can play with the puppies now!” The little boy turned to Claire, hopping on one foot. “Didya know Uncle Rick’s dog had puppies? He had ’em in Nana’s laundry room while we were away. Come see!”

“Jackson, cut it out. Claire might not want to see the puppies right now.” Darcie chuckled, but Jackson continued to tug on her.

“She does! Come on!”

“All right, all right.” Darcie rose and shot Claire another grin. “Want to come? Not every day you get to see a
he
who has puppies.”

“Sure. You go ahead, I’ll be there in a sec.” Claire watched the two of them run out of the cabin and up toward the main house. She’d grab a quick shower, change, and then go see what all the fuss was about.

She took a deep breath, let it out and smiled. For the first time in longer than she
could remember, she felt hopeful. Felt a little less scared. Felt like things just might be okay.

For a brief moment, she closed her eyes and muttered a quick prayer of thanks. Just on the off chance God might still be listening to her.

It was good to be alive.

Chapter Thirteen

Michelle scanned the list of adoption registries on the screen and gnawed her bottom lip. Her stomach churned and she popped another antacid. There were so many websites she didn’t know which to search first. But she had to start somewhere.

The doorbell jolted her from her quest. Ten a.m. on a Saturday. Typical. She couldn’t even be left alone on her day off. The door buzzed again and Michelle crossed the living room to answer it.

“Who is it?”

“Who do you think? I left you a hundred messages. Let me in.”

Michelle rolled her eyes at Belinda’s breathless voice. She hadn’t bothered to listen to the messages after the first two, and didn’t want to know whether she had any from Kevin. After their last disagreement, she didn’t want to talk to him until she was good and ready. She pressed the entry button, and opened her front door a couple of minutes later.

“About time. What are you doing?” Belinda pushed past her, her arms around a large brown box.

“Not much.” Michelle grinned, fished in the pocket of her jeans for a hair tie and pulled her hair off her neck. “Antiquing again, Belinda? Don’s going to have a fit.”

“I know. Which is why you’re keeping this stuff here until I can drive it to Connecticut.” Belinda set the box down on a chair in the dining room and gave an impressive
performance of someone on the verge of a heart attack. “This weighs a ton. I couldn’t get a parking space out front, so I had to walk three blocks. But it was so worth it.” She smiled like a kid in FAO Schwartz.

“You’re an addict.” Michelle went to the kitchen and opened two cans of diet soda, handing one to Belinda when she returned. “You need therapy, Lin.”

“Therapy is for sissies.” Belinda laughed, her sandals clicking on the hard wood floors as she walked through the apartment and sank down onto the couch. She brushed dirt off her beige linen trousers. “Can you believe it’s this hot in June already?”

“I know. I went for a run this morning and nearly died. I’ll put the a/c on.” She preferred fresh air, but Belinda liked to live in an icebox. Michelle walked back through the living room just in time to see Belinda staring at the screen of her laptop. In her haste to answer the door she’d forgotten to close it down.

Wonderful.

She settled in an armchair across from her desk where Belinda sat, steeled herself against what was coming, and waited.

Belinda swiveled to meet her gaze, astonishment in her eyes. “You’re looking?”

“Don’t get too excited.” Michelle set her can down on the glass coffee table and pulled her knees to her chest.

“You’re kidding, right? I’ve been after you about this for years. Don’t tell me don’t get too excited!” Belinda scanned the screen again. “So? Why the sudden change of heart, Shel?”

Michelle groaned, choosing her words. “I wouldn’t call it a change of heart.” She stared out the window and clenched her jaw. “I got a phone call a while ago. From the Department of Children and Families in Hartford.”

“You what?” Belinda left the desk and plopped onto the couch, her shocked
expression making Michelle slightly woozy. “When? Why didn’t you tell me? What did they say?”

Michelle managed a small smile. “Actually the call came about a week or two after our trip to Connecticut. I must have angered the gods by going back there.”

That or the real God was punishing her big time.

“And?” Concern filled Belinda’s eyes. Michelle shrugged and mentally prepared herself for the conversation she’d been avoiding for days.

“Look, I don’t want you to freak out, okay? I’ve dealt with it. It’s over. DCF called to tell me that…she…she’d contacted them, filled out the application to request her non-identifying information.”

“Are you serious?” Belinda’s mouth formed a large red ‘o’. “So she knows who you are?”

Michelle glared, anger blindsiding her.

For a moment she was pulled back in time, standing on the steps of her dorm building, facing the future alone. She’d called Belinda then, hysterical, but her friend never faltered. Rushed right over and told her everything would be okay until Michelle believed it. Blanketed her with words of comfort and offered wisdom where there was none. And somehow it had all worked out. Almost.

“Of course she doesn’t know who I am. Do you think I’d let that happen? I’m not that stupid.”

“Shelly…” Belinda’s eyes narrowed. “What are you saying?”

“They needed my permission to give her the file.” Michelle huffed out a sigh, her chest inexplicably tight. “I’m saying I refused. I told them I wouldn’t allow them to release that information.”

“You what?” Belinda’s eyes grew wide, her normally tanned face draining of color.
“Shelly, what’s wrong with you?”