Her Sister (Search For Love series) (20 page)

"I
know.  I just had a phone call from a journalist."  She went on to explain
about the call, and about what Tessa Kahill Winthrop wanted.

When
she was finished, her father shook his head.  "She can't expect us to lay
our lives out like that.  If we get into why Shara ran away, if we get into
when Lynnie was taken, my God, there's the divorce and Amy Fields appearing.  I
won't be a part of any interview that does that."

"Dad,
did you listen to me?  This is about helping other girls.  The focus will be on
Shara and why she ran away, and what almost happened when she did."

"Oh,
sure, this reporter says that now," her dad muttered.

"I
believe she means it."

"You
had one conversation with her, and you think she's going to be honest with you? 
That's naive Clare."

"And
just what would you prefer?  You think having reporters dig up all the grimy
details themselves will help anybody?"

His
brows were furrowed, his eyes stormy.  "This is one blip on the news
cycle.  It will pass quickly if we don't feed it."

But
Clare didn't believe that.  There was plenty of damage that could be done if
her family didn't have input.  "Mom, what do you think?"

Her
mother had been strangely quiet since her return, too.  Very introspective. 
That scared Clare.  Her mom had been detached that way after Lynnie disappeared. 
But then in the past few years, especially, she'd seemed to find herself
again.  She'd seemed to find what made her happy.

"I
watch Tessa's program almost every day," her mom responded.  "Her
show carries a lot of weight.  I think that's because she's genuinely
interested every time she does an interview.  She just finished up a series
about parents who adopt.  It was quite moving."

"So
you would want to do this?" Clare asked her mother.

"I
would be willing if there was a greater good.  Heaven knows some good should
come from all this, don't you think?"

Her
father was still scowling, and Clare turned to Joe.  "What do you
think?"

"Are
we taking a vote?" her father asked acerbically.

To
Clare's surprise, her mother reached over, took her dad's hand and squeezed
it.  That was a gesture she
wouldn't
have seen a week ago.

"I
don't get a vote, Mr. Thaddeus," Joe responded.  "At least not
yet."  He glanced at Clare, gave her a small smile that made her stomach
flip flop, even in spite of the circumstances.  Then he went on.  "What
any of us in this room think doesn't really matter though, does it?  Isn't it
Shara who's going to have to make this decision?"

Joe was
right.

"We
can't put this on her shoulders," Amanda said with determination. 
"She has enough she's thinking about, and that's why we're here tonight. 
Clare, have you talked about forgetting the idea of an abortion?"

"I
made her an appointment at Planned Parenthood."

"To
have it done?" Amanda's voice rose and Clare realized her mother was a lot
more upset than she was letting on.

"No,
for a counseling session.  I'm hoping if someone objective talks to her, it
will make it easier for her."

"Objective?"
her mother protested.  "That's the whole point. We don't
want
someone objective.  We have to show her the right route to take."

"And
how do we know that adoption isn't the right route for her, if not
abortion?"

"You
can't give my grandchild away.  How could you even think about doing
that?"

"How
can I think about giving a child away?  The same way you and Dad practically
forgot I existed while you were looking and longing for Lynnie.  You want Amy
to be the daughter you lost.  What happens if she is?  Will you forget about me
and Shara, and try to make up for all those years you lost?  I was a
second-class citizen before, and I won't be again.  I won't let Shara be."

This
time Max took her mother's hand and he squeezed it hard.  Then he released it
and stood.  Crossing to Clare, he did something he hadn't done since she was a
little girl.  He put his thumb under her chin and tipped it up so her gaze met
his.

"Your
mom and I are driving to Pittsburgh tomorrow to meet with Amy.  But whatever
happens with  her, your mother and I know we didn't appreciate you when we had
the chance.  We're trying to do that now.  If we found Lynnie again, if Amy is
Lynnie, we wouldn't just have lost years with her to catch up on.  We have lost
years with
you
to catch up on."

Shara
had come out of her room and was standing in the hall listening. 

Max
motioned her to come closer.  "We have a lot to discuss with you, Shara. 
Come on, sit down and talk with us."

She
looked around the room but she didn't move forward.  Instead she asked,
"Are you going to fight?"

"We
won't fight.  One thing is clear.  We want what's best for you."

Amanda
suddenly stood.  "I have something to say, and I want all of you to
understand I've put a lot of thought into this."  She looked straight at
her granddaughter.  "Shara, if you don't feel you can raise this baby, I
understand.  Clare, if you don't feel you can raise this baby, I understand. 
But I think the three of us, together, could.  If I have to close
Yesteryear
to be daycare you can trust, I will do that.  But more importantly, if neither
of you want to raise Shara's baby, I will do that, on my own if I have to.  I
will not let another child slip away."

Clare
knew the stunned expression on her father's face said it all.  He never
expected that commitment to come out of his ex-wife's mouth, and neither had
Clare.

They all
talked in circles after that, not really getting anywhere, not until Shara said,
"I want to do the interview."

Shara
had plopped down on the floor cross-legged while Clare sat on the hassock
beside Joe's chair.

"This
could be in front of the world, honey," Clare said.  "Do you really
want to put your life out there like that?  Do you want to talk about the past
few months?  Your relationship with me?  What happened with Brad?  What
happened with Justin?  Are you really ready to go public with all that?"

"I
don't want another girl like me to run away and think she's okay on her own.  I
don't want anyone else to think they can meet somebody on line and trust them. 
If I don't talk about this, who's going to?"

Shara
was right about that.  "Mom?" Clare asked.

"I
want to do the interview with you."

"Dad?"
Clare asked.

"Count
me out.  I don't want to be associated with the shooting.  I don't want the
notoriety.  And I especially don't want the press."

"All
right then.  It looks as if I'll call Tessa and tell her the three of us are
going to do it."

Max
stood.  "I think we've all had enough of this for one night.  Give it
another twenty-four hours," he suggested with a pointed look at Clare and
Shara and Amanda.  "Make sure it still seems like good sense then."

****

Up
early the following morning to get the shop in order before she and Max drove
to Pittsburgh, Amanda sat at her kitchen table with her laptop, checking her
e-mail.  She had a hundred things on her mind at least.  The discussion at
Clare's last night uppermost.  She hadn't changed her mind about any of it—not about
adopting the baby, not about doing the interview.  Joe would be driving her and
Shara and Clare to Connecticut on Wednesday, taping the interview on Thursday,
and driving back Friday.  An executive for the news program had offered to fly
them in or buy their train tickets.  But instead of spending time in an airport
or taking a train, Joe said he could drive them and they could stop as much or
little as they wanted.

She
wasn't worried about being away from
Yesteryear
.  She'd been on buying
trips before, and her assistant and her two clerks had handled her absence just
fine.  But she
was
worried about Max—what he was thinking and what he
was feeling.  At least now he told her exactly what he was thinking, but the
feeling part—

He
didn't want to do this interview because he didn't want to delve into the
pain.  She couldn't blame him.  But Shara and Clare needed this interview. 
Maybe, so did a million other moms and daughters out there who would watch it. 
Maybe by doing the interview, all three of them would figure out what was best
to do.

After
the laptop booted up, her e-mail downloaded.  Her heart practically stopped
when she studied the address on one of them.  Schuster Laboratories.  She
clicked on it and read it for what it was—a notice that information had been
loaded into her account on the Schuster website.  She had it bookmarked.  All
she had to do was sign in with her password and some of the uncertainty of the
past twenty-seven years might end.

Her
cell phone rang and at first she wasn't going to pick it up from its charging dock
on the counter.  Maybe to put off the inevitable, she crossed to it and checked
the called ID.  It was Max.

Maybe
he already knew.  Maybe he'd already checked his account at the Schuster
website.

She
picked up the phone.  "Do you know?" she asked him.

"I
didn't check my account yet.  Did you?"

"No."

"I'll
be right over.  We should do this together."

That
thinking was progress, she supposed.  They'd done more things together in the
past week than they had in the past twenty-seven years.  Did he want to do this
together for his benefit or for hers?  Did it even matter?

He
clicked off before she'd say she'd wait.  Typical Max.

But she
loved the typical Max.  She always had and she always would.

Not ten
minutes later, he was standing at her door, and she was letting him in.  He was
dressed in jeans and a white Oxford shirt, open at the neck with the sleeves
rolled up.  He was as ruggedly appealing as ever and she let that distract her
for a moment...just a moment.  But then she was turning away from him, going to
her laptop, moving her cursor to the bookmark, clicking on the Schuster site.

Max
closed the door and came to stand behind her.  "We must have been
downloading e-mail at the same time," he said.

"We
must have," she murmured, typing in her password, entering the portal that
could give them gloriously happy news or the limbo they had existed in ever
since Lynnie had been taken.

He was
crouching down beside her now, studying the document as she opened it.  They
both read the findings at the same time.  They both understood exactly what the
document was telling them.

While
Amanda took a couple of deep breaths and swallowed hard, Max stood.  When she
looked up at him, she felt as if all the air had been knocked out of her.  He
looked as if any hope he'd once held had finally died.

She
said it first.  "She's not Lynnie."

"No,
she's not."

"That's
why I didn't feel anything.  That's why Clare didn't feel anything.  Oh, Max,
we're never going to know."

He
pulled her up to him then and enfolded her into his arms.  "We're never
going to know," he agreed, holding onto her tightly, as tightly as he had
the night they made love.  After a short while, he pulled away from her. 
"We have to call Amy and tell her we're not coming."

Amanda
tried to get hold of herself, tried to push all her dreams away, tried to claim
reality and deal with it.  "She probably received that e-mail this morning,
too."

"I'm
sure she did.  She's probably happy about it.  I don't think she really wanted
to know where her parents are.  She didn't want the complications of dealing
with the past."

"But
we still have them.  Come with us to New Haven, Max, please."

He
shook his head.  "No.  You do what you have to do."

She
swallowed hard again.  There would be no changing his mind.  He'd always been
stubborn.  He'd always been decisive.  He'd always been Max.  He was going to
put this episode with Amy Fields behind him and pretend it never happened.

"Why
don't I make us some breakfast.  I meant what I said about adopting Shara's
baby if she and Clare don't want to raise it.  We should talk about that."

"Not
this morning, Amanda.  Not yet.  Since we're not driving to Pittsburgh today, I
have a pile of work on my desk that I can attend to.  Do you want me to call
Amy?"

She was
hurt at his attitude but she understood why he wanted to shut down, why he
wanted to bury himself in work.  So she said, "I'll call Amy.  Why don't
you call Clare."

Max
took out the phone, obviously anxious to get the deed done.  He moved to the
living room so he could have a private conversation with Clare while she had
one with Amy.

Separate
rooms...separate lives all over again.

****

This
time, Clare called Joe.  No matter that the day had barely begun at eight a.m.,
no matter she was supposed to be at work in an hour, no matter she should talk
to her mother first and tell her how sorry she was.  Her father hadn't sounded
heartbroken but he
had
sounded resigned.  Her mother—she'd be seeing her
this evening.  They were going to talk about what they needed to take along to
Connecticut, what they should wear.  This would be Shara's first day back at
school and they could talk about how that went, too.  There was so much for the
three of them to talk about, including Amy Fields.