Haunting Olivia (7 page)

“I’m very sorry for your loss,” Olivia said. She had no idea what else to say at the moment.

“Oh, I’m sure you’re not,” Johanna tossed back.

“My loss is your very lucrative gain.” She wiped away at tears under her eyes and hurried away.

Good Lord,
Olivia thought.

Her father had a fiancée. Strange. Olivia’s sister Amanda had told Olivia and Ivy that she’d met two of William’s “girlfriends” last month. One woman had turned out to be an opportunist much like Johanna made out Olivia to be. But the other had seemed genuinely grief stricken over William’s loss and had said they too were engaged.

A woman in every port, perhaps. Olivia had no idea what to think about her father’s romances. She HAUNTING OLIV IA

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knew absolutely nothing about how he conducted his life. She only knew that he had a flavor-of-the-month way of looking at relationships.

She closed the door against the morning chill. It was forty-two degrees, according to the adorable thermometer attached to a bird feeder in the yard.

Warm for the start of February in Maine.

If Johanna is my first introduction to Blueberry, what
else is awaiting me in town?
she wondered as she headed into the kitchen to make a pot of coffee.

What if William was some sort of local hero? He spent every summer in Blueberry, hunting or just to relax. He probably had a lot of friends. Friends who wouldn’t take kindly to the daughter who’d been the “slutty teenager” who’d broken his heart.

The strong coffee began brewing. Olivia breathed in the delicious aroma, then headed into the bathroom for a shower.

I wish Amanda were around,
she thought as she slipped under the pounding hot spray, which felt absolutely wonderful. Amanda and her new husband, Ethan, lived just an hour or so north, but the newlyweds were still on their European honeymoon and wouldn’t be back for a couple of weeks.

She suddenly felt very much alone.

Olivia decided to walk the half mile to the town center. She bundled up in her down coat, hat, and mittens; took a deep breath; and headed out.

The houses were the same, beautiful old Victori-ans and stately Colonials, and many shingled cottages that were really mansions like her father’s, reminis-cent of those on Cape Cod. Even in winter, with a light 62

Janelle Taylor

coating of snow on the ground, Blueberry was beautiful and charming. As she approached town, she could see the stores had changed. There was now a gourmet eatery called Ollie’s Organic Everything and an adorable retro diner with fifties decor and an inviting-looking coffee lounge with free “wi-fi” service. One-of-a-kind shops lined the half-mile stretch of Blueberry Hill Boulevard, including Johanna’s Cashmere Emporium. In the window was a pair of sexy pink cashmere panties. Somehow Olivia doubted they would be comfortable.

She headed into the coffee lounge. The cozy place was furnished with overstuffed couches and chairs, all of which were taken by people sipping coffee drinks, reading newspapers or books, or talking. Olivia glanced around to see if she recognized anyone—or if anyone recognized her. No one.

She purchased a small black coffee (she was un-employed, after all), careful to tuck her receipt into her purse. Then she headed down Blueberry Hill Boulevard and stopped at the General Store, where she bought three postcards: two for her sisters, one for her mom.

Now that she had her two items, all she wanted was to go back to the cottage. One hour in Blueberry was enough for her at the moment. She turned around, trying not to look at the village green, a quaint square in the center of the boulevard, with its gazebo and playground set. Next to it, the town hall—

Olivia froze and sucked in her breath. Running from the town hall to the gazebo was the girl from her dream. Olivia blinked. No, it wasn’t the same girl. They simply had similar coloring, like Olivia’s.

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And of course, the smiling, running girl was much older, twelve, thirteen maybe.

Like my child would have been,
Olivia thought for a moment.

She watched the girl race into the gazebo, carrying a pink folder. A man sitting on one of the benches turned around, scooped her up, and swung her, as if congratulating her.

As the man turned, Olivia gasped.

Zachar y Archer. Zach Archer all grown up. A man. He stood at least 500 feet away, but she was sure it was him. As she stared, he met her gaze and staggered backward for a moment. He said something to the girl, who then sat down in the gazebo and began looking through the folder.

He stomped over to Olivia, his expression con-temptuous. “What are
you
doing here? It’s not like it’s her birthday. Oh, wait a minute—you don’t care about her birthdays, do you? Just a card every year and a check.”

Whoa.
What?

She stared at him, unable to process that he was standing in front of her, let alone what he was saying.

“Birthday?” she repeated, looking from him to the girl sitting in the gazebo. “What are you talking about?”

He looked at her as though she had four heads.

“What are
you
talking about. Her
birthday.
What part of the word don’t you understand?”

“What birthday?” she asked. “
Whose
birthday?”

He rolled his eyes. “Why are you here? You suddenly want to know your daughter after thirteen years?”

My daughter?
She glanced at the girl, the girl with hair exactly like hers.

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Janelle Taylor

“Our baby was stillborn,” she said in such a low voice that she wasn’t sure she even said the words aloud.

His eyes glinted. “I don’t know what game you’re playing, Olivia, but you’d better tell me the rules right now. I decide how to handle this. Got that?”

Handle what?

He shook his head. “Your father hands over our newborn daughter and a check for twenty-five thousand dollars, not a word from you, and suddenly you’re standing five hundred feet away from her. We do this my way.”

Olivia’s hand trembled, and her foam cup of coffee dropped to the ground, splattering onto the fine layer of white snow. Her legs trembled and then gave out. She dropped to the ground, barely registering that her knees were soaking in coffee. Zach immediately helped her up. “Our baby was stillborn,” she repeated slowly.

He stared at her. “Is that the lie you told everyone in order to live with yourself for walking away like you did?”

She glanced up at him, unable to speak.

“I was told our baby was dead,” Olivia said, every breath difficult to latch onto. “The doctor said so.

The nurse said so. My father said it was for the best.

So did my mother. Our baby was stillborn.”

Zach stared at her. “
Our baby
is sitting right there.”

There was no processing what Zach was saying. It simply could not be true. She glanced at the blond girl and then at Zach. She opened her mouth to speak, but there were no words.

“Daddy, I’m freezing!” the girl shouted at the top HAUNTING OLIV IA

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of her lungs. “And I have to get started on my inner-beauty essay!”

Olivia’s legs threatened to buckle again. She closed her eyes, the girl’s words echoing in her mind.
Inner Beauty essay
. . . Olivia had written an essay on inner beauty for the pageant the summer before she’d met Zach.

“One sec,” he called back. He turned to Olivia.

“Are you staying at the cottage?”

She nodded, her gaze going back to the girl.

“Meet me at Barker’s Lounge tonight. Do you remember where it is? On the outskirts of town. We’ll have privacy there.”

“You could just come by the cottage, if you want,”

she offered.

He shook his head. “I’d rather we met in a neutral place. Seven o’clock?”

She nodded, and he turned and walked away toward the gazebo.

Look back,
she willed his retreating figure.
Look back
so I’ll know this wasn’t all a figment of my imagination.

He didn’t look back.

Olivia felt her legs threaten to give out again, and she rushed over to the gazebo and sat down just as her legs
would
have given out.

Your father hands over our newborn daughter and a
check for twenty-five thousand dollars
. . . .

Just a card every year and a check
. . .

Our baby is sitting right there
. . .

Olivia covered her face with her hands. A scream rose and died in her throat.

It couldn’t possibly be true. It couldn’t.

Her father’s face floated into her mind. And she knew it absolutely
could
be true.

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Janelle Taylor

Olivia glanced over to the parking lot in front of the town hall. An attractive woman was standing by the window of Zach’s shiny red truck. She traced a finger down his cheek, then slid her tongue along his ear. Girlfriend? Wife? Olivia hadn’t noticed whether Zach wore a wedding ring.

She forced herself up. She had to get back to the cottage, to a telephone. There was only one person alive who would know—or admit to—the truth.

Her mother.

“So who was that hot babe?” Kayla asked as Zach pulled out of the town hall parking lot.

His fingers were shaking on the steering wheel. He steadied them, forcing himself to pull it together.

“You mean Marnie?”

“Duh, Daddy.
No.
The blond woman.”

He hadn’t been confused by who she’d meant.

He just wasn’t ready to answer the question.

What the hell? What the hell was Olivia Sedgwick doing in Blueberry?

“She’s someone I used to know a long time ago,”

Zach finally said, glancing over at Kayla.

He suddenly realized that Kayla had Olivia’s cheekbones. Olivia’s heart-shaped face. Olivia’s long, slender fingers. He’d only had one photograph of Olivia, from when she was sixteen, and he never allowed himself to look at it. When Kayla asked him, as a five-year-old, if he had any photos of her mother, he gave her the picture and told her to be very careful with it, that it was the only one.

For months she slept with it under her pillow.

And then she told him that she wanted to put it HAUNTING OLIV IA

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away, like her mother: away. He tried to get Kayla to open up about her feelings over the years, paid for some expensive therapy, but Kayla never wanted to talk about her mother.
There’s nothing to say,
was her refrain.

Zach had no idea where Kayla had put the picture, but he’d bet anything she had it tucked safe somewhere in her room. Anyway, all he’d had of Olivia over these years was his memory of her, and he’d forgotten those little details, like the shape of her face. He only knew that when he looked at Kayla, he was reminded of Olivia.

“She’s so pretty,” Kayla said. “I wish I looked like that.”

You do,
he thought.
You look more like me, but your
mother is everywhere in your face. And the hair, of course.

“Was she an ex-girlfriend?” Kayla asked, wiggling her eyebrows at him. At his nod, Kayla giggled.

“Well, she’s a total klutz. First she drops her coffee and then she wipes out on the snow right into it.”

She laughed, then opened her pink Inner-Beauty Pageant folder and began reading.

He took a deep breath.
Thank you,
he sent heavenward. He wasn’t ready for questions. He wouldn’t lie to his daughter about who Olivia was, but he needed time to think, needed time to figure out what to say and how.

He needed to talk to Olivia and find out what the hell she was doing in Blueberry. What her inten-tions were.

Our baby was stillborn. . . .

What was that all about? Had her father really told her the baby she’d given birth to had been born dead? That seemed beyond even William 68

Janelle Taylor

Sedgwick’s lack of decency. Or maybe not. And what about the doctor and nurses? Had they been paid off?

Or was Olivia playing some kind of game with him? He’d find out in a few hours. Of that much he was damned sure.

Out of breath from running back to the cottage, Olivia dropped down on the sofa in the living room and stared at the phone. One telephone call stood between her and the truth.

She picked up the phone. Her hand trembled, and she silently counted to ten. Then twenty.

She dialed. Her mother answered on the first ring.

“Hello, Candace Hearn speaking.”

Olivia hesitated.

“Hello?” her mom repeated.

“Mom, it’s me,” she said, standing up and pacing the room. “I’m going to get straight to the point. I need you to tell me the truth.”

“The truth about what, dear?”

Olivia stopped. “About my baby.”

There was silence for a moment. “Your baby?

Olivia, I’m not sure I’m follow—”

No. Her mother was not going to pull one of her famous “I have no idea what you’re talking about” routines, her voice all feigned innocence. “I just ran into Zach Archer. And, according to him, our
daughter.
”

Now it was her mother’s turn to suck in her breath. “What do you mean ‘our daughter’? What are you talking about?”

Olivia began pacing again. “Damn it, Mom. No lies! Tell me the truth right now!”

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“Olivia, I have no idea what—”

“Mother, was I lied to? Did my baby live?”

“No!” her mother insisted. “The baby was stillborn. The doctor said so. That rude nurse, as well.

I have a copy of the death certificate.”

Olivia closed her eyes and shook her head. “Could William have paid off the doctor? Could the death certificate have been forged?”

“Olivia, my God, I just don’t know. Why would he do such a thing? Why would he arrange to have the baby supposedly be born dead when you were giving it up for adoption anyway?”

Yes, why? That made no sense. In either case, she would not have been going home with a baby.

“Olivia, what do you mean you saw Zach Archer and your daughter?”

Olivia took a deep breath. “I mean, he’s here in Blueberry and he told me that our child is alive and well. She was with him, though not within earshot of our conversation.”