Hidden Shadows (The Shadow Series Book 1) (16 page)

“How are you today?”

Taryn shrugged.

“The weather has turned in our favor,” Jenna continued lightly, making her way to her desk. “Heat's down, humidity’s all but gone. I hope you’ve been able to get out, enjoy some of the season.”

Taryn shook her head. “Haven’t been anywhere. Stayed inside mostly.”

“That’s a shame. It’d be good for you, the light, the sun, that nice breeze.”

“Mmm.”

Curiously, Taryn rose from her chair just as Jenna sat, and began to wander around the room.

Though it was unusual and made her slightly uncomfortable, Jenna didn’t necessarily mind the movement. Maybe it’d open Taryn up, let her express some feelings, thoughts, some emotion for once.

If Jenna could find a way to know Taryn, to understand her, maybe it’d break down that wall she had up. Maybe Jenna could actually help her instead of spending time on these unproductive appointments.

In fact, it wasn’t even clear to Jenna why Taryn was here today.

As Taryn wandered, Jenna reached for a pad on her desk, jotted
Speak to Vick again re: TT & new physician
, before she crossed her hands, fixed her eyes on the lethargic woman and asked sincerely, “Do you have anything you'd like to talk about today, Taryn?”

Taryn lifted a shoulder, grabbed a Kleenex from a box atop a shelf of books, blew her nose loudly.

Resigned, feeling frustration mount, Jenna sighed, cleared her throat. “If you could talk to me, Taryn, help me understand what I can help you with, maybe we’d make some progress together.”

“I want to talk about the baby.”

“The baby? Are you expecting?” Jenna riffled through paperwork, wondering how in the world she could’ve missed such a revelation.

If Taryn was indeed pregnant, certain matters would need to be addressed immediately. Her depression and substance abuse topping the list.

Who was her OB? Did they know her history, refer her to Jenna, did they know what Jenna knew? Did they understand or see how delicate, how unstable Taryn was?

Jenna flipped through pages, eyes scanning, searching for information.

“Not now,” Taryn said softly, taking Jenna’s eyes from her desk to the woman, “but someday maybe.”

Jenna didn’t know if it was wrong or not that she found herself breathing a sigh of relief.

She should learn from her past mistakes, consider how they’d weighed on her, remind herself, as she had time and again, that it was not her right to play God and deem who should conceive and who should not. But she couldn’t deny her confidence that Taryn was nowhere near ready to be a mother.

Even years ago, when Taryn was paired up with a nice guy—Luis if memory served—it was iffy then that she was in a stable enough place for the large and often times overwhelming role of Mom.

But now that he was no longer in the picture—anytime Jenna asked about him Taryn snapped shut like an oyster—it was abundantly clear that Taryn was in no place to responsibly or emotionally care for a tiny life. Especially alone.

“Is that why you’re here, then, to discuss wanting to conceive? If so, you know I’d be happy to recommend you to a specialist, someone who could start you on a path there. Or talk to your OB if you’d like. He or she should be able to give you advice and a starting point.”

Unable to recall if Taryn did in fact have a regular OB, Jenna glanced down to search the file again, before deciding it was at least an open-ended question that would force Taryn to talk.

Looking up to address Taryn, Jenna saw she held a picture frame in her slender hands, brought it close to her dark eyes.

It was only one of two personal photos Jenna had in this particular room. In classrooms, meeting rooms, she didn’t have personal items, but in this space, what she considered her office for one-on-one’s, she snuck a wallet size of Jacy in her tutu on the bottom shelf of a small bookcase littered with pamphlets, books, and equipment.

“She’s very beautiful,” Taryn said wistfully, her tone actually hinting emotion. Jenna couldn't decipher whether it was longing, sincerity, or envy. The latter, for some reason she couldn’t say, did not make her comfortable.

“Thank you.”

“She looks so much like you. It’s amazing.”

Jenna smiled. “We get that a lot.”

“Is she into dance?”

Jenna’s comfort level took a downward turn. She really didn’t want to discuss anything personal, much less her children, with Taryn.

Before she could steer the conversation back on track, Taryn set the photo down with a clatter, turned her eyes to Jenna and actually made direct contact.

“Jacy . . . such a wonderful name.”

Comfort spiraled down, into a bottomless pit in Jenna’s stomach.

“How do you know her name?” Jenna’s voiced revealed alarm and she didn’t care.

“I’ve just heard you talking, with Molly, with the staff.”

Standing briskly, Jenna gathered the file, her notepad, came out from behind her desk. “Taryn, that’ll be all for today.”

“What? Why?”

“I have another appointment. I apologize for cutting us short. If there is anything further you need to discuss, I’ll direct you to Molly, and she can set you up with the appropriate person. Okay?”

For once, Taryn’s speechlessness worked in Jenna’s favor, and she ushered the confused woman out the door and to Molly’s desk, giving whispered instructions to refer Taryn to another physician if needed.

In her office, Jenna calmed herself, acknowledged that though Taryn’s behavior wasn’t ideal, Jenna herself was on edge, jumpy, and prone to anxiety these days.

And she really did have another appointment. Granted, it was her daughter’s recital, but Taryn definitely did not need to know that.

As she exited the clinic, feeling a bit guilty now for herding Taryn out so quickly—it was her patient after all, and a disturbed, needy one at that—the clinic cars caught her eye. And an uneasy feeling made its journey through her stomach.

Hearts and Hands provided service to all of types of patients, from Nashville’s wealthiest to those with low income or on some occasions, those with no insurance at all. Often, those patients also had unreliable transportation. If an expectant or new mother presented a high-risk pregnancy or infant and required quick, dependable mobility, it was not unusual for the clinic to provide a company car for the duration of immediate need.

Or, as in Jenna’s recent situation, they were available to staff as well when needed.

Now she stood in the breezy parking lot, assessing the familiar sight—black, long, tinted windows. Faintly recognizable taillights now that she looked.

She narrowed her eyes, trying to recall the vehicle from the dark night.

How many cars were out on loan right now? Last week? Were these cars even remotely similar to the one that pursued her?

Sighing, she wondered if her life had become such a jungle of paranoia that she’d actually begun to consider a patient could or would be capable of using a recognizable car that had been loaned to them to what, scare her? Intimidate her?

That was crazy, right?

Then again, didn’t your sins come back to haunt you? Walking briskly through the lot now, she hoped not.

Maybe the car coincidence was just that. Or maybe it was a way to remind her to do what Ben and Officer Cooley had advised—watch her back.

After all, tonight was Halloween Eve. Ghost, goblins, and masked men came out to shine.

****

Ben shuffled in behind Jenna, Dawson in one arm, and took his seat in the compact cushioned chair, noting, as his knees almost reached his chest, that these aisles were not aptly designed to fit a six-three frame.

Leaning, he waved down at Robin, Erik, and Katelyn—who’d missed a basketball practice to show up, according to Jacy—as Dawson squirmed down and ran to greet them.

The small auditorium hummed with excited voices, greetings, feet finding seats, and for a moment, Ben wondered how he found himself waiting to watch a bunch of little ones dance around in tutus.

But as the lights dimmed, faded, and Dawson ran back to leap in his lap, he decided however he found himself to be here, he liked it.

The sudden glow of a spotlight had voices quieting, attention turning to the stage.

Ben settled in, shifted Dawson on his awkwardly folded legs, and watched as Laurel, the young dance instructor Ben had talked with a time or two amid classes, glided her way in front of the scarlet curtain.

“Welcome, parents, friends, and guests. We’re so glad you’re able to join us for this special night. We've worked very hard on making this a spooktacular event. This evening’s performance is entitled
Queen of the Night
.”

Laurel paused, smiled modestly while applause rang out.

“Our young queen and her court have to escape the evil clutches of the forest goblin and his gang of gnomes. Can she defeat the wicked goblin and bring peace to her land? Or will she fall into his trap? Please enjoy our second and third grade ballet and hip hop classes presenting
Queen of the Night
.”

Applause thundered and echoed through the small theatre as the teacher disappeared and the curtain began a swift rise.

Jenna reached, found Ben’s hand and clutched it.

Even without her tense hold, he knew she was nervous, and for whatever reason, he couldn’t help but feel a tug of apprehension too.

He wanted the girl to do well. He was rooting for her.

Once they’d arrived at the theater, he and Dawson had waited patiently, then impatiently, as Jenna took eons with Jacy in the dressing room.

But when the little girl emerged, she was a vision. (She was a tiny version of her mother after all.) Ben couldn’t say exactly why—except that he was beginning to think he was a sucker for the kids as much as he was for their mother——but he’d beamed in admiration as she did a little twirl to present herself for approval.

Between hugs, kisses, a pep talk, and a few tears from Jenna, the three of them had made it back to the auditorium just in time.

And good thing. As Ben understood it, Jacy was the star of the show.

Jenna’s grip tightened as music surrounded them, a haunting yet soothing sound of stringed instruments.

Jacy floated from the
side of the stage.

She twirled her way into a set filled with dense trees and dark shadows. Dressed in white from head to toe, she stood out among the dark. The crown atop her head glistened in the beacon of light. As queen, she carried a small scepter in her petite hand and it too shimmered and glowed with jewels.

She was soon followed on stage by several court members, also clad in snowy color.

A harsh, hoarse cackling reverberated off the theatre walls. The queen stopped dancing, looked frightened. Her ladies quickly encircled her, arms above their head, spinning and turning all the while.

The strings ebbed and flowed with intensity as the young maids orbited their protection around their queen.

Masked figures appeared, boys and girls sneaking their way to the wall of security. Maids scrambled, gnomes chased.

The queen was alone.

A loud pop accompanied by a flash of lights had Dawson jumping, leaning in to Ben.

Without taking her eyes off the stage, Jenna found his leg, patted it.

“Are you scared?” Big hazel eyes gazed up at Ben.

“Nah,” Ben whispered. “Are you?”

“Nah.”

Ben smiled as Dawson snuggled in a little further and turned back to the action.

Jacy was now being chased by a goblin—a quite convincingly dressed child a few inches taller than Jacy. The figure was robed and masked and currently spinning spells around the queen, wishing her beauty and happiness away.

The scene had Jenna’s eyes swimming Ben saw. Had her on the edge of her seat, pride, anticipation, anxiousness hovering.

He leaned to her, spoke in her ear. “She’s doing fantastic.”

“I know. I love it.”

And there, surprisingly, was a word that fit all that he was feeling. It explained the unexplained, made sense of the new, different feelings he’d had since meeting Jenna. Gave reason to affection and pride he felt here with her and the children.

He leaned closer. “I love you.”

She stiffened, flinched.

Keeping her eyes on the performance, she sat very still for several moments. Finally, she looked directly at him. “Thank you.”

Okay, so that wasn’t what he expected.

But he could accept it. He didn’t presume she’d fall all over him at this moment, in this place. Or even say it back. He’d just figured it out himself, after all.

As surprised as she was by his admission, he was probably more so. But he couldn’t be more certain of it. For once in his life, the words, the sentiment and commitment behind them didn’t scare him to death. Instead, he felt warmth, comfort, a solidity in his feelings. He loved this woman and the two children she’d made. He loved the idea of the family they could make together.