Deceived: Lured from the Truth (Secrets) (2 page)

Lost Springs Dairy is Nadine’s main provider of the locally made all-natural organic ice cream. And it’s not that I’m over the moon for their ice cream, although it’s pretty yummy. It’s simply that the guy who makes these deliveries, a certain Josiah Davis, is totally yummy. Okay,
yummy
is the wrong word. He’s just plain old handsome. But perhaps even more impressive than his looks is that he seems to be genuinely nice. And in a place like this where people can be cruel, someone as thoughtful and kind as Josiah is most welcome. And it doesn’t hurt that he has this amazing Australian accent.

Of course, as soon as I’m inside of Nadine’s, I realize that considering it’s Thursday, I should’ve taken more care with my appearance this morning. Not only did I walk out without even peeking into a mirror, but I didn’t bother to dry my hair. So in the midst of giving the tiny employee restroom a quick wipe down, I take a couple minutes to dig some mascara and lip gloss from my purse.

I know I’m lucky to have good skin — I’ve had like three zits in my entire life — so my beauty routine is pretty low maintenance. My friend Carlie complains about this all the time.

“You’re just naturally beautiful,” she tells me about once a week. Then she’ll offer to trade her pale, freckled face for my smooth dark bronze skin. And without hurting her feelings, I always remind her that we should be thankful for the way God made us.

As I comb my long, dark hair back into a smooth ponytail, I’m relieved I took time to condition it. The keratin straightening treatment is supposed to last all summer if I take care of it. Now that I’ve primped a bit, I start to put on the silly polka-dot apron that’s part of my uniform, then stop myself. Since the shop’s not officially open, I can postpone that bit of humiliation until after Josiah’s delivery.

I’ve just finished cleaning the front window and door when I see the blue-and-white LSD truck coming down the street. I peer out, trying to make sure Josiah’s driving today, but the truck whips down a side street before I can see. However, when I go to the rear of the store, quickly rinsing the vinegar glass cleaner from my hands and unlocking the back door, I spy the truck pulling into the alley and am pleased to see Josiah waving from the driver’s seat.

Grinning like a goofball, I eagerly wave back. It seems impossible that I’m this glad to see someone I’ve met only a few times before. But it’s like he’s my long-lost best friend … or even something more. “Hey, Josiah,” I call as he hops out of the van.

“Good
die
, Rachel Hebert,” he says with an accent that melts me even faster than a dropped scoop on a July afternoon. “How’s my favorite sheila doing?”

By now I know
sheila
is Australian slang, kind of like
chick
. “Just fine. How are you?”

“Couldn’t be better.” He grins as he opens up the back of the truck, emerging with a wooden crate in his hands. “But it’s going to be a hot one, I hear.”

I nod as I hold the door open for him. “Triple digits again.”

He looks puzzled as he sets the crate on the back counter.
“Triple digits?”

Now I realize we have a language barrier. “I mean, the temperature is going to be more than a hundred degrees.”

He looks shocked. “A
hundred
degrees?”

“That’s what I heard someone say …”

“Oh yeah.” He pushes a strand of dark hair away from his forehead and smiles directly into my eyes. “You mean
Yankee
degrees.”

“Huh?”

“Yanks use Fahrenheit, which seems unnecessarily confusing to an Aussie. Why not just use Celsius? It’s so much simpler.”

“Right.” I nod as I remember what I learned in chemistry. “Fahrenheit and Celsius degrees are different, aren’t they? I just can’t recall exactly how it works at the moment.” How can I be expected to remember science when I’m looking into those intense brown eyes framed in dark brown brows?

“Zero degrees Celsius means it’s freezing,” he explains patiently. “I reckon that’s about thirty degrees Fahrenheit or thereabouts.” Now his forehead creases as if he’s calculating something. “So one hundred degrees for you would be about forty Celsius for us.” He laughs. “But one hundred degrees Celsius is hot enough to boil water. If it were that hot today, we’d all be toast.”

I laugh too as I follow him back out for another crate. “Well, it gets pretty hot in here. I’ll probably feel like toast by the end of my day.”

“At least you can go jump in the lake.” He sets the second crate on the counter.

“I suppose …” I glance out the window. How hot would I have to be to run out there and jump in the lake all by myself? It would be one thing if I had friends to do it with.

“You seem sad, Rachel.” He leans over and peers curiously into my eyes. “Something bothering you?”

Surprised by his unexpected kindness, a lump lodges in my throat. But not wanting to break down in front of this cool guy, I quickly look away. “I’m okay,” I say in a gruff voice.

“Out with it,” he urges. Then he places his hand on my forearm and turns me around to face him. “I can tell something’s not right. What’s troubling you?”

I look into his face, which looks honestly concerned, and despite my resolve to be strong, tears fill my eyes. Then I’m telling him about my mom’s wake-up call. “And she announces that my parents’ marriage is over as of today.” I sigh. “It’s completely dissolved. Just like that.”

“I’m sorry. That’s really rough.”

I nod as I reach for an organic napkin. “I mean, I realize that lots of people go through this.” I wipe my nose with rough paper. “It’s just that I never thought it would happen to
my
family. I mean, we were so normal. I thought we were happy. And we always went to church together and — and — ” My voice cracks with emotion, and I realize this is way too much information to share with someone I hope to get to know better.

Just mentioning my church is like opening a fresh wound. And now I’m crying even harder. How can I possibly explain that watching my beloved church when it split and fell apart last year hurt nearly as much as seeing my parents’ marriage crumble?

[CHAPTER 2]

I
want you to sit right here.” Josiah pulls out the chrome kitchen stool with the pink vinyl seat and eases me onto it. And the next thing I know, he’s unloading the ice cream cartons from the crate and putting them away in the freezer, which is actually my job. But I feel helpless to stop him as I blot my tears with my handful of organic napkins. Feeling guilty, I glance up at the clock and am relieved to see that I don’t have to officially open for business for nearly twenty minutes.

“How did all this happen?” he asks as he rearranges the cartons in the case. “Start at the beginning.”

Suddenly I hear myself telling Josiah about how my dad lost his job in real estate when the economy fell apart, how he got really depressed, and how my mom got angry because she had to work harder than ever and it was like my dad was completely paralyzed.

“I know it was really hard on their marriage.” I pause to blow my nose. “Even when my dad started to get better, he couldn’t find work.” I toss the wad of napkins into the trash and take in a deep breath. “Instead he found himself a girlfriend. That was about the same time that our church pretty much fell apart. It started with a disagreement over the budget and turned into this big theological debate that split the church in two.” I hold up my hands in a helpless gesture. “So just when we needed it most … at least I needed it most — poof — the church was gone.”

“That’s rough.” He nods as he puts the last carton into the case.

“I’m sorry to be such a baby.” I reach for a fresh napkin. “I didn’t mean to go to pieces on you like that.”

Now he places both his hands firmly on my shoulders — again looking directly into my eyes. I feel like my stomach’s doing a flip as I look back into his — they are exactly the same color as the espresso gelato. “I asked you to tell me your troubles,” he says seriously. “I’m truly glad you did. I care about you, Rachel.”

“Really?” My chin trembles, and I’m afraid that I’m going to cry all over again.

“I could tell as soon as I met you that you’re a good person, and I’ve been wanting to know you better.”

“Really?” I say again, wishing I could think of a more intelligent response.

He nods. “I’m truly sorry about your parents’ divorce, and I know how you feel. My parents split when I was just a kid. It’s rough. And I’m sorry about your church letting you down like that.” His lips curve into a smile. “But if you’d like to visit a church sometime, you’d be more than welcome to come to ours.”

“You have a church?” I don’t know why this surprises me, but it does. Maybe it’s because the resort workers I’ve been around so much lately all seem to be a bunch of unchurched, superficial party animals. It’s like I forgot there might still be some decent young people around.

“It’s my uncle’s church. I’m still fairly new to it. I only came to the States a few months ago. But I can assure you it’s a good church with good people. And my uncle wants it to grow.”

“And it’s nearby?” I ask hopefully.

“It’s about twenty minutes away.”

I frown. “I don’t have a car here.”

“I can pick you up.” He reaches for a napkin and a pen. “Give me your number.”

I’m happily telling him my cell phone number when I notice several teenybopper girls standing outside. And now they’re banging loudly on the still-locked front door. I glance at the clock to see it’s almost eleven now.

“They’re a few minutes early, but I should probably let them in before they break the door down.”

He pats me on the back. “And I reckon I should finish with my deliveries before the other customers wonder what became of me.”

I pull the key ring from my shorts pocket and approach the door, hating to end our conversation and see him go. I reluctantly unlock the glass door, then step away as the girls burst in like they own the place.

“I’ll be in touch,” he calls from the back of the shop. “You can count on that, Rachel.”

I hurry back to the counter and, relieved he’s still here, thank him again. “You have no idea how much I needed to have that conversation today,” I quietly tell him. “You’re truly a godsend.”

“You take it easy now.” He tips his head politely. “Don’t get too hot today. And I’ll give you a ring.”

For some reason, maybe it’s his accent or that he said “ring” instead of “call,” but the three girls start giggling even more loudly now. Ignoring their immaturity, I simply wave as Josiah makes his final exit. But when I turn back to the girls, I’m surprised to see they’re all staring at me, studying me with what seems like unusual interest.

“Can I help you?” I ask in a no-nonsense tone as I reach for the polka-dot apron, giving it a quick shake before I tie it around my waist. Feeling like I’m about twenty years older than these teenyboppers, I study their bright-colored outfits and fancy sunglasses. For some reason their “fashionable” attire seems strangely out of place in a rustic lake resort. Honestly, they look more like they dressed to go mall shopping, but you see all kinds around here.

“Your boyfriend looks just like Robert Pattinson,” the redhead says to me with wide eyes made dramatic by two garish slashes of electric blue eye shadow.

“Who’s Robert Pattinson?” I nonchalantly reach for the vinegar spray and start cleaning the top of the glass case.

Now all three of them laugh hysterically, like I’ve said the funniest thing ever.

“Are you kidding?” the redhead says. “You don’t know who Robert Pattinson is?”

I shrug, then squirt some more spray, wiping the paper towel round and round in fast little circles the way Nadine likes it.

“Robert Pattinson just happens to be the actor who plays Edward in the
Twilight
series,” the skinny blonde girl informs me in a snooty tone.

“Seriously, you’d have to live under a rock not to know
that
,” the redhead adds. Again they all laugh, exchanging superior glances among themselves.

Trying to hide the sting of their childish rudeness and remembering how some of my own friends are total
Twilight
freaks who’ve made fun of me too, I dramatically sigh and roll my eyes. “Maybe I have better things to do than obsess over a fictional
vampire
character.” I hold my head high. “Especially since having a
real live
boyfriend is so much better than merely drooling over a silly actor.”

To my relief that comment mostly silences them, and the three girls quickly become distracted with narrowing down their ice cream choices. And yes, I know it’s a huge leap to insinuate that Josiah is my boyfriend — and I would be humiliated beyond belief if he’d been close enough to hear my false claim. But I comfort myself that these girls assumed he was my boyfriend first — I simply played along with them. Besides, I decide as I scoop up some pink and blue bubblegum ice cream for the redhead girl, Josiah
could
be my boyfriend … someday. Miracles might still happen.

The next hour and a half passes in a blur of tourists of all shapes and sizes with two things in common: (1) they want their ice cream and (2) they want it fast. Even though both fans are running on high and the doors are open, it’s already more than ninety degrees in here. It’s hot and humid … and it smells like a dairy farm. I should’ve had help by now, but Belinda, as usual, is late.

It’s twelve forty-five by the time Belinda arrives at work. And when she waltzes in, the shop is literally hopping. It’s like someone in the resort started a rumor that there will be a shortage of ice cream today.

“Sorry I’m a little late,” she says glibly as she ties on one of the silly aprons, taking her time to fluff out the bow. Belinda’s shift was supposed to start at noon, and although I’m used to her lateness, this seems to be a personal record for her. Unfortunately, I don’t feel comfortable complaining since Nadine is her aunt. Instead, I toss a frown her way as I hand a woman a dish of mint chocolate chip ice cream.

“My alarm clock stopped,” she says in a slightly whiny tone.