The Secret Sin (14 page)

“He doesn’t work for me anymore,” Annie said, and told him what had happened.

He circled the counter and sat down on the stool next to her. “You did what had to be done.”

“I know,” she said on a sigh, “but it doesn’t make it any easier.”

“Running a business isn’t easy.”

“You’re telling me. I’m thinking Dad should just go ahead and sell the place.”

“So it’s true?” Ryan asked, an edge to his voice. Although the cream-colored shirt and khakis he’d worn to work still looked fresh and crisp, he didn’t seem like his usual cool, collected self. “You really do have an offer for the business?”

She was about to ask where he’d heard that, then figured it didn’t matter. “I got a call yesterday from an agent who said he had a buyer if we were interested in selling. Since Dad’s away, the Realtor asked me to come into town to talk to him about it.”

“And?” he prodded.

“It’s a good deal, especially with the economy the way it is and the business being seasonal,” she said. “It
takes a lot to run a place like this by yourself, and Dad’s getting on in years. He might not be up to it anymore.”

Ryan sat forward on his stool. “Why didn’t you tell me about this last night?”

She shrugged. “I guess I didn’t think it mattered.”

“You thought I wouldn’t care if your dad sold the business and you left Indigo Springs?” He sounded incredulous.

“I didn’t think that far ahead,” she said. “Besides, you might not stay in town. At the Blue Haven you said you had feelers out for a job.”

“I’m keeping my options open,” he said and paused before continuing, “in case I find myself contemplating a move to, say, Australia.”

He gazed at her expectantly, his eyes never leaving hers, as though that should mean something.

“Australia?” she repeated. “Why would you move there?”

He frowned. “Doesn’t the company you work for publish a magazine in Australia called
Outback Women
?”

“No,” she said, shaking her head bemusedly, “but there is a mail-order catalogue called
Outback Women
. I’ve ordered clothes from them before.”

She’d never seen another person’s eyes grow so round. “Outback Women is a store?”

“I don’t remember paying additional shipping charges, so I’m pretty sure it’s based in the United States,” Annie said. “Where did you get the idea it was a magazine?”

He threw back his head and laughed aloud, a noisy, boisterous sound. “From Edie Clark.” He sounded em
barrassed. “She’s the one who told me you and your dad were selling the business.”

“At least there’s a grain of truth to that.” Annie felt as though she was missing something obvious. “What did you just say about moving to Australia?”

“I thought about it all afternoon,” he said. “I even looked up how to become a licensed physician in Australia on the Internet. I was considering applying to the flying-doctor service that serves the Outback.”

“You’re not making sense.”

He laughed again. “That’s because I’m relieved that you’re not moving to Australia to write for
Outback Women.
Because if you were, I was going to do my damnedest to find a way to come with you.”

The air in the shop seemed to grow thicker, or maybe that was the lump forming in her throat. Last night she’d accused him of being interested in her because of Lindsey. Today he was offering to leave the country for her.

“Don’t get me wrong,” he said. “I’d rather stay in the United States, but I realized something when I thought you were leaving.”

“What’s that?” Annie could hardly get the question past her lips.

“You were wrong last night.” He picked up her hand and gazed into her eyes. She could tell he was nervous. “Lindsey isn’t the reason I want to be with you. I want to be with you because I love you.”

A wave of happiness washed over her, but she fought it. She needed to think through this logically.

“It’s only been a week since we saw each other again,” Annie said. “Nobody falls in love that fast.”

“We’ve known each other a lot longer than a week.” Ryan’s grasp on her hand tightened. He radiated sincerity. “I’m not saying I’ve been carrying a torch for you all this time. I haven’t. I had feelings for you as a teenager, but that wasn’t love. This is.”

She bit her trembling lower lip, unable to believe him but unwilling to reject his claim that he loved her. She’d yearned to hear him say exactly that last night. She’d dreamed about it long before then, back when she was sixteen.

“I want to be with you, Annie, wherever you are.” He didn’t try to take her in his arms, perhaps sensing that she wasn’t ready to make a commitment. “We can take it slow, if that’s what you want. As long as we’re living in the same city.”

Another roadblock in a route littered with them. “I live on the road.”

“What if you didn’t?” he asked. “You love being on the river. What if you helped your father run the business?”

The suggestion was immediately appealing, especially since she wouldn’t have to give up writing. She could dedicate herself to Indigo River Rafters in the warmer-weather months, work as a ski instructor in the winter and freelance whenever she found the time.

“I’m sure my sister would be agreeable to a partnership,” Ryan said. “Think about it, Annie. We could both stay here in Indigo Springs. Together. It could work.”

She stopped her imagination from taking flight and
running with the idea, a danger when so many doubts still plagued her. “What about Lindsey?”

“We can figure that out later,” he said. “You’re what’s important to me right now.”

She let her hand remain in his, but her eyes must have conveyed her doubts. It was too much, too fast.

“I don’t blame you for being slow to trust me.” He drew in a deep breath. “Can you do something for me, though?”

She watched the emotions play across his face. The only one she could positively identify was hope.

“Will you think about it?” he asked.

After a long moment, she nodded.

T
HE FLAT-SCREEN TELEVISION
in the basement of the Whitmore house was a monster, fifty-two inches of high-definition digital picture that could highlight the most minute facial flaw.

The actors in the movie Annie was watching with Lindsey and Ryan Saturday night didn’t seem to have any imperfections. Annie shuddered to think what the quality of the picture would do to her port-wine stain.

“Is it almost over?” Ryan sounded hopeful although it had been his idea to rent this particular movie and to watch it on the big screen his sports-junky father had bought before he died. Tonight no sports were on, unless Meryl Streep’s ruthless treatment of her fashion-magazine staffers counted.

“Shh.” Lindsey shoved a fistful of popcorn—low-fat, no butter—into her mouth. “I don’t want to miss anything.”

Ryan had missed quite a lot already. He’d nearly fallen asleep twice. Annie knew this because over the course of the movie he’d edged closer until his arm was around her and she was snuggled against his side.

Nobody had mentioned that Lindsey was leaving in a mere two days, but Annie felt sure it was the reason Ryan had gone to pains to make the evening special.

The fancy dinner at the nearby mountain resort had been a nice touch. Arranging to sit through a movie that didn’t interest him for clothes-loving Lindsey’s sake had transformed the evening into something out of the ordinary.

He was, Annie thought, the right kind of guy.

Last night he’d asked her to think about a future with him. Could she do that? She looked at him and saw all she’d ever wanted in a man. Could she pass up the chance to love him and be loved by him in return?

The closing credits rolled by on the screen, and Lindsey let out an audible, dreamy sigh. “Weren’t those outfits great? I would love to wear stuff like that.”

“You missed the point.” Annie could barely focus while her mind was full of Ryan. “Meryl Streep’s assistant was happier when she didn’t look like a fashion model.”

“Oh, I got that,” Lindsey said airily. “Except I’d be happier
with
the wardrobe. I wouldn’t want to write for a fashion magazine, though, although I think you should, Annie. I’d want the people at the magazine to write about
me.
”

Ryan laughed at her cheeky statement. Annie was
sitting so close to him, she could feel the reverberations travel down her own body.

“Nothing wrong with having aspirations,” Ryan said. “Speaking of modeling, I thought I heard Sierra come home a little while ago.”

Annie had heard her, too, even though Sierra had gotten the okay the day before to stop wearing her walking cast. A drawback to hardwood floors throughout the house was that they amplified noise.

“She said you asked her to look for the scrapbook our mom made of her ads,” Ryan told Lindsey. “I was supposed to tell you she found it.”

“Cool!” Lindsey shot to her feet. “I can’t wait to see it.”

She pounded up the basement steps, making enough noise to drown out the music that accompanied the movie credits. If she aspired to the runway, she’d have to learn to be lighter on her feet.

Ryan switched off the television, plunging the room into sudden silence. Now that they were alone, Annie expected him to raise last night’s topic. She’d turned it over in her mind so many times her brain hurt. Should she speak up and tell him she’d decided to give their relationship a shot?

Is that what she’d decided?

He’d been idly playing with the hair at her nape, sending delicious shivers through her. Now his hand moved to her face, his fingers sliding lightly over her port-wine stain.

“You should have that removed,” he said.

The delicious languor left her.

“There have been terrific advances in laser surgery in the past ten years,” he said. “It may take a few treatments to get it completely taken off, but you could have it done as an outpatient.”

If he’d slapped her, she couldn’t have felt more stunned.

“I hadn’t realized it still bothers you.” Her throat felt so constricted she didn’t sound like herself.

“Still?” He regarded her quizzically. “It’s never bothered me.”

“Then why bring it up?”

Offended when he didn’t immediately answer, she jerked away from him, feeling as though she might double over in pain. After all that had happened, had it really come down to how he felt about her birthmark? “I should have known it would never work between us.”

“Because I mentioned your birthmark? That’s unfair!”

She got up and backed away from him, only stopping because she had no place to go with the big-screen TV behind her. “I should never have believed you loved me. If you did, you’d accept me just the way I am.”

“I’m a doctor, Annie. I’m trained as a healer.” He spoke slowly and deliberately. “I wouldn’t have mentioned your port-wine stain if Lindsey hadn’t told me you were self-conscious about it. I don’t care whether you get rid of it or not.”

She wrapped her arms around herself and rocked backward. “How could I ever believe that?”

He stared at her for what felt like a long time. “You know what I think? I think you don’t want to believe it.
I think you’re using the birthmark as a smoke screen to keep me away.”

Her blood pumped and her anger rose at his ridiculous suggestion. “Why would I do something like that?”

“Because you’re afraid.”

“Oh, please,” she said sarcastically even though it felt as if her heart was breaking. “Protecting myself from getting hurt has nothing to do with fear. It’s simply good sense.”

“That’s not what you’re afraid of,” he said. “You’re afraid pursuing a relationship with me would mean telling Lindsey she’s our daughter.”

She started to say they couldn’t tell Lindsey anything, then stopped herself, determined not to encourage his nonsensical argument.

“Hey guys,” Lindsey called from the top of the stairs. “Come up here and see these photos of Sierra. They’re really good.”

They stared at each other in silence, his gaze challenging, hers defiant. Two nights ago he’d been her lover, but tonight it felt as though he was her enemy.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Annie said in as loud a whisper as she dared. “This isn’t about me and Lindsey. It’s about me and you.”

“If that’s all it was about, you’d be in my arms right now,” he replied softly. “I know you love me. I could feel it the other night.”

She refused to consider the possibility, casting about for another name for what she felt for him. “Attraction isn’t the same thing as love.”

“Okay, then,” he said. “Maybe you don’t love me. Yet. But you’re falling in love with me. And that scares the hell out of you.”

“Of course it does,” she all but hissed, heedless of what she was admitting. “You just told me I should have my birthmark removed. How was I supposed to react to that?”

“Like an adult,” he said. “You could have said, ‘Well, gee, Ryan, I don’t think I will,’ and the subject would have been closed.”

“Annie! Ryan!” Lindsey called again, sounding impatient. “Hurry up!”

“I’ll tell you what subject is closed,” Annie said. “You and me. I’ll get through the rest of the night for Lindsey’s sake, but it’s over between us.”

She dashed up the stairs, angry at him for daring to psychoanalyze her. She was well rid of him. She ignored her traitorous heart, which seemed to break a little more with each step she climbed.

S
UNDAY MORNING
dawned bright, but Annie still hadn’t banished the darkness of the previous night. She gazed into the bathroom mirror, her eyes instantly fastening on her port-wine stain.

Ryan Whitmore had a lot of nerve suggesting she was using the mark as a smoke screen. It was ludicrous to allege she’d rejected him because of some convoluted theory he had about Lindsey. Why couldn’t he accept that her feelings for him weren’t strong enough to overcome her mistrust and leave it at that?

She felt a tear trickle down her unmarked cheek and dashed it away. Lindsey was leaving tomorrow. Annie didn’t intend to waste their final day together on tears.

She took a last look in the mirror, checking that her hair was in place and the makeup she’d used to cover the dark circles under her eyes was doing its job. She reentered her bedroom and put on a pair of strappy sandals that went well with her summery sleeveless dress. Lindsey had talked her into buying both on their shopping spree.

Annie had arranged to take the day off, although she hadn’t thought past attending Sunday morning services.
She was fairly sure Lindsey had phoned Ryan to invite him to meet them at church. She’d rather not see Ryan today, but it couldn’t be helped. He had just as much right to spend this last day with Lindsey as she did.

Besides, she’d have to talk to him—again—about why it was imperative that Lindsey not know who they were. Refusing to consider the irony in that, she smoothed the skirt of her dress. If they didn’t depart for church soon, they’d be late.

She left her bedroom, found the house quiet and rapped on Lindsey’s bedroom door. “Lindsey! Time to go.”

Silence answered her call. Annie listened, trying to determine if the shower in the en suite was running. The thickness of the wood prevented her from hearing anything. She knocked again, then cracked open the door.

A fresh floral scent, reminiscent of the bath and body store they’d passed in the mall, filled the room. The door to the connecting bathroom was open, providing a view of a blue towel hanging crookedly from the horizontal bar outside the shower stall. Like the bedroom, the bathroom was empty.

Lindsey must have left the house while Annie was showering and getting dressed, probably to take out Hobo. Annie started to leave the room when she spotted one of her tennis shoes near the foot of the bed. Hobo must have dragged it into the room.

She entered the bedroom, bent down and picked up the shoe. While her eyes were level with the floor, she glimpsed another of her shoes from a different pair peeking out from under the bed.

“For pity’s sake, Hobo,” she said aloud.

She got down on her knees, retrieved the shoe and lifted the bedspread to check for any other missing items. Something glinted at her from under the bed. She squinted. Whatever it was seemed to be attached to a black object. She angled her body so she could see more clearly, but only succeeded in blocking the morning sunlight streaming into the room.

She extended her arm, her hand fastening on the object. It was square with something cylindrical extended outward. Something that felt like…a lens.

“Oh, no,” she said aloud, and pulled an expensive-looking black digital camera from under the bed. The name of a famous company was printed in white letters above the telephoto lens. It was the same brand of camera that had been stolen from the angry tourist’s trunk.

She heard a dog’s joyful bark, then Hobo was skidding across the hardwood floor, going immediately for the tennis shoe Annie had dropped.

Lindsey trailed the dog, dressed for church in a sunny yellow dress. “What are you doing in my room?”

The girl’s tone was accusatory but not worried, leading Annie to believe she must not have seen the stolen camera. She held it up in plain view. “What are you doing with this?”

Lindsey floundered, looking unsure of herself. “You shouldn’t have been spying on me.”

Explaining how she happened to be in the room seemed of secondary importance. “You shouldn’t have stolen that man’s camera.”

“I didn’t!” Lindsey said.

Stealing seemed out of character from everything Annie knew about Lindsey, but how could she possibly believe in the girl’s innocence when she held the evidence in her hands?

Annie stood up. “You’re making it worse by lying.”

“I’m not lying!”

Annie ignored her. “I’ll tell you what you’re going to do. You’re going to return the camera and apologize for stealing it.”

Lindsey’s face contorted. Her chest heaved in and out, then she pivoted and sprinted out of the room, through the house and out the screen door.

“Lindsey!” Annie shouted. “Come back here!”

The girl didn’t listen, flying over the grass in her bare feet, Hobo barking and running after her. She must have removed her shoes after taking Hobo out.

The hour was too early for the morning group of rafters to arrive. The shop was open, though, a sometimes-guide Annie had talked into filling in for Jason having already brought out the rental bikes. Lindsey grabbed one and jumped on, looking incongruous with her bare legs and yellow dress.

“Lindsey!” Annie shouted again, but the girl was already heading toward the bike trail, Hobo in pursuit, barking excitedly as if they were going on an excursion.

Annie stared helplessly after her, not sure where she’d gone wrong. She didn’t even know whether to follow her or let her go.

She looked down at herself. She was wearing a dress
and that silly pair of high heels. She couldn’t very well chase after Lindsey outfitted like this.

She headed back to the house, berating herself all the way, her throat thick. She’d wanted to make memories today that could last her through the empty years to come.

She changed into shorts and a T-shirt, giving up on the notion of going to church. Her mind was whirling, trying to decide what she would say out on the trail if she caught up to Lindsey. Would it be smarter to wait until the girl came back on her own?

Smarter? Annie snorted to herself. When it came to how she dealt with Lindsey, the word
smart
didn’t apply. She headed out of the bedroom, still unsure of what she was going to do. She sensed someone else was in the house before she saw the man standing in the great room, his eyes bleary as though he’d traveled all night, a suitcase at his side.

“Hello, Annie,” he said.

She swallowed, futilely wishing she didn’t have to deal with this now. “Hello, Dad.”

L
INDSEY PEDALED
furiously, even though it hurt into her bare feet.

The trail was headed uphill, slowing her down so that Hobo caught up with her. The dog ran alongside the bike, his tongue hanging out like he was having fun.

Lindsey had been enjoying herself, too. She hadn’t been looking forward to going back home. Home. That was the kicker. She’d felt more at home here than she ever had in Pittsburgh.

She still didn’t think Indigo Springs was cool, but it had grown on her because of Annie and Ryan.
They
were cool. Or so she’d thought. She’d been wrong about Annie. She let out a strangled sob.

How could Annie believe she was a thief? She’d never stolen a thing in her life, not like some of her friends. They were always taking something when they went to the store, even if it was only a pack of gum.

She couldn’t live with herself if she did something like that.

Sure, the camera under her bed looked bad. But Annie should have trusted her.

Annie hadn’t let her explain that she was going to put the camera back in the man’s trunk after spotting Jason stash it in the storeroom.

She liked Jason, even though he treated her like a kid sister. She didn’t want him to get in trouble, so she’d taken the camera from its hiding spot. Before she could put it back, a customer had asked which sunglasses looked good on her. Helping the customer took so long, the man and his keys were gone.

Putting the camera under her bed had been a dumb move, but she hadn’t known what else to do. Lying to the cop about Jason had been stupid, too. She’d almost confessed to Annie a half-dozen times yesterday. She’d meant to tell Ryan last night, but they’d been having such a good time she forgot all about the camera.

She pedaled some more, her legs hurting and her lungs burning. She wouldn’t even be on the bike if Annie had let her explain.

Or, maybe, if she’d tried harder to tell Annie what had gone on.

Annie already listened to Lindsey more than her father or stepmother. If Lindsey went back, Annie would give her a chance to tell what really happened.

Hoping she was right, Lindsey stopped pedaling and turned the bike around. She hurried down the hill, left the bike by the shop, then ran through the grass to the house where she’d been so happy. Hobo had gotten tired of following her and was chasing a butterfly. He’d be okay until she got herself out of hot water with Annie.

Her bare feet didn’t make a sound on the porch. It hadn’t been too hot last night so Annie had turned off the air conditioner, opened the windows and left only the screen door in place.

She heard Annie’s voice and then an older, deeper male voice she recognized. She peered through the screen door. Annie was sitting on the sofa next to a thin man with gray hair. Yes! It was Uncle Frank. He was putting his arms around Annie. Was she crying?

Lindsey couldn’t stand it if she was, especially if she was the reason. She put her hand on the doorknob, but she hesitated, trying to decide what to do. Her stepmother was always scolding her for eavesdropping but sometimes it was the only way Lindsey ever found out anything.

“Can you ever forgive me?” Uncle Frank asked Annie.

Lindsey’s hand tightened on the knob. Forgive him for what?

“I gave birth to her, Dad,” Annie said through her tears. “Don’t you think I had a right to know you let friends adopt her?”

Who were they talking about? Who had Annie given birth to? Lindsey’s heart thudded.

“I know, honey,” Uncle Frank said. “But try to understand. I couldn’t bear to give Lindsey to a stranger.”

Lindsey couldn’t breathe. Her heart seemed to stop beating.

They were talking about
her.

It suddenly made sense why Uncle Frank had always paid so much attention to her. He wasn’t her uncle at all; he was her grandfather.

And Annie was her mother.

Lindsey felt the blood rush through her veins. She gasped for air as the truth nearly choked her.

They’d lied to her.

Her dazed eyes fell on the purse and shoes she’d left on the porch when she took out Hobo. She picked them up and ran.

She thought about calling Ryan, but she quickly changed her mind. He was Annie’s boyfriend. She must have shared the secret with him. Yet he hadn’t told Lindsey, either.

She kept running, not sure where she was going or what she meant to do. Not sure of anything, now that she discovered Annie had betrayed her.

A
NNIE SWIPED
at her tears. She’d never been a crier and wasn’t about to start now. Lindsey would be back soon
and it was imperative she keep a clear head to better handle the problem of the stolen camera.

First she had to deal with her father. When she’d recovered from the shock of him cutting short his trip to Poland, she’d expected him to apologize for the past. Instead he seemed to have no concept of how wrong he’d been.

Annie moved out of his arms and scooted away so that the length of a sofa cushion separated them. She hardened herself against his hurt expression.

“You said the same thing on the phone about not being able to let a stranger adopt Lindsey,” Annie said. “Except it wasn’t your decision to make.”

“Now, see, I don’t agree with that.” Her father’s already lean face was drawn and pale, even though time in Poland with family he hadn’t seen in years should have invigorated him. He was only sixty-five, but she could suddenly envision how he’d look as an old man. “I remember you asking me to make the decisions.”

“Not about the closed adoption, I didn’t.” Annie’s voice wobbled. “I was adamant about that. When I signed those papers, that’s what I thought I was agreeing to.”

“Why was a closed adoption so important? You never explained that.”

Hadn’t she? And yet she’d thought it was so obvious.

Annie didn’t need a snapshot to see Lindsey in those moments after birth. The baby’s dear little face had been red and she’d been crying, as though she somehow knew her mother was about to give her up.

Annie had been four years old when her mother gave her up for the first time.

“I know what it feels like to have a mother leave you.” Annie’s mother had treated their house as if it had a revolving door in the ensuing years, reappearing when she was low on money or luck. The visits had stopped abruptly when she got remarried to a wealthy Manhattan businessman. So had the birthday cards and the Christmas gifts. Annie had been nine. “I didn’t want to put Lindsey through it again and again, the way it happened with me.”

Her father sighed heavily as though the news didn’t entirely surprise him.

“I wanted Lindsey’s life to be idyllic, with two parents who loved her and never left her.” Annie’s heart squeezed at her naïveté. “It’s ironic that it didn’t turn out that way. When Helene died, she left Lindsey, too.”

“Helene never would have left Lindsey by choice,” her father said. “She loved her like crazy.”

“Lindsey doesn’t feel like she has that crazy kind of love anymore. Not since Helene died and her father remarried and had the boys,” Annie said forlornly. “I wish more than anything she still did.”

“She does have it,” her father insisted. “I love her like that. And, more importantly, so do you.”

Emotion clogged Annie’s throat. He was right. She’d loved Lindsey with a fierce intensity since even before that wrenching day in the delivery room. Now that she’d gotten to know her, she loved her that much more.

“She’s going back to Pittsburgh tomorrow,” Annie told him, a wealth of sadness threatening to engulf her.