The Truth About Tara (20 page)

“Oh, well,” Maria said, spearing another piece of pie. “You can’t blame a P.I. for trying.”

He didn’t. Considering Tara hadn’t provided a reason for standing them up, Maria’s joking guess was as good as any.

* * *

T
ARA
KEPT
HER
HANDS
A
shoulder’s width apart on the paddle and stroked on the right side of the kayak Sunday morning, rotating her torso as she pulled the paddle alongside the boat. She snapped the blade out of the water and repeated the motion on the polyethylene boat’s left side, exactly as she’d been doing for the past two hours.

Her arm muscles ached with the effort to keep the twelve-foot kayak moving at speed through the shallow water of the tidal creek, and her lungs strained. The conditions, light wind and virtually no tidal current, would have made for smooth and easy paddling if she hadn’t been traveling much faster than normal and passing every other kayaker she saw.

Usually all it took to clear her mind was a leisurely look around at the scenery. Shorebirds resting on the marsh grass that stuck out of the water in tufts. Fish leaping from the water before disappearing again into the depths. Sun shining out of a crystalline blue sky.

The stunning vista hadn’t worked today, less than twenty-four hours since she’d discovered her entire life was a lie.

Today, when her brain felt as if it might explode, her goal was to become too tired to think.

She’d spent yesterday in a daze, driving aimlessly for a few hours before hiking through a state park in the heat of the day, replaying scenes from her childhood, wondering how she hadn’t noticed any warning signs.

When darkness fell she’d been no closer to figuring out anything, least of all how to handle the information that she’d been abducted from a shopping mall in Kentucky. She’d parked her car in the elementary school lot, kept off her porch light and switched off her phones.

She didn’t want anyone to know she was home. Not the mother who wasn’t really her mother. And not Jack, who had expected her to show up at that restaurant to meet his sister, the private investigator who was searching for her.

Jack, whom she’d stood up with a terse text message that bordered on rude.

She groaned. Her plan wasn’t working. Vigorous kayaking wasn’t going to provide a respite from all that was wrong in her world.

She pulled the paddle from the water and let the kayak glide while she caught her breath. A light wind was at her back, propelling the kayak forward without any effort from her.

She’d been paying so little attention to her surroundings that she was surprised to see she was approaching the public access spot where she’d put the kayak into the water.

The tiny parking lot, populated with an assortment of cars with boat trailers and roof racks, became visible. So did a tall, dark-haired man leaning against the truck bed of a white pickup truck.

Tara released a long jagged breath. It wasn’t just any man. It was Jack.

What was he doing here? How had he found her?

Even as the questions whirled through her head, she knew the answers didn’t matter. What mattered was protecting the woman who’d been her mother for twenty-eight years. Tara wouldn’t let anything bad happen to Carrie Greer, no matter what she’d done.

She wondered why it had taken her almost an entire day to figure that out when the conclusion had been inevitable all along.

The only way to protect Carrie, however, was to drive Jack away. If he hadn’t been close to his family, she might be able to risk it. But he lived in the same town as his parents, and his sisters didn’t let many days pass before one of them called him. Maria had even driven to Shell Beach to check up on him.

No, being around Jack was much too risky. She took a breath that sounded like a sob and schooled her features into a mask.

She didn’t know whether she could do this.

She had to do this.

She steered the kayak to the public access ramp while Jack straightened from the truck and walked down to meet her. Earlier the ramp had been teeming with activity, but for the moment nobody else was around. When the water was shallow enough, she stepped out of the boat to drag it onto dry land.

“Let me give you a hand with that,” Jack said.

“Thanks,” she said, trying not to soak in the sight of him. His pale yellow T-shirt and khaki shorts called attention to how his tan had deepened since he’d started renting the beach house. Even in the loose-fitting casual clothes, it was obvious what great shape he was in. He dragged the kayak onto the cement slab, his mouth twisting in what looked like pain. His shoulder, she thought.

He lifted her kayak and carried it to her car, strapping it to the roof as though he’d done it a hundred times before. The only sign that he might be hurting was a tightness around his mouth. Or maybe the strain was there for another reason.

He didn’t seem inclined to open the conversation so she did. “How long were you waiting for me?”

“A half hour or so,” he said. “I watched half a dozen other kayakers come and go.”

“How did you know I was here?” She asked another of those questions that paled in importance to the real issue, partly to stall until she gathered her courage to do what had to be done.

“We talked about going kayaking together, remember?” he asked.

That was right. He’d made short shrift of her concern that kayaking would be hard on his shoulder. So she’d intended to borrow a kayak from a friend and show him the ropes. But that was before she found out she was Hayley Cooper.

She had a terrible premonition that for the rest of her life there’d be an invisible dividing line between before and after.

“I forgot about that,” she said.

“I called this morning to remind you, but your phone went to voice mail,” he said. “I couldn’t reach you last night, either. I tried after my sister and I got back from dinner.”

“Is your sister still here?” She fought to keep the worry out of her voice.

“She headed back to Kentucky early this morning,” he said.

Some of the tension left her shoulders. He was watching her carefully. “Mind telling me why you didn’t want to meet her?”

This was the question she’d both anticipated and dreaded. If she was going to keep her mother safe, it was imperative that she be believable.

“Oh, come on, Jack.” She made herself sound chastising, the way she sometimes spoke to a physical education student who’d disappointed her. “Just because we slept together a few times doesn’t mean I need to meet your family.”

His mouth actually dropped open. She was glad his eyes were covered by dark shades, because she didn’t want to see more evidence that her words were hurting him.

“It’s like you said when you walked me to the hardware store,” she continued in the same detached voice. “It’s not like there could ever be anything serious between us.”

“That was before.” He didn’t elaborate. He didn’t need to. He meant that was before they’d slept together and discovered their feelings ran deep.

But this was after she’d discovered who she really was.

“Nothing’s changed, Jack,” she lied. “I’m still staying here in Wawpaney and you’re still leaving. Speaking of leaving, I should go.”

“Wait a minute. Sit with me awhile.” He indicated a large flat rock that overlooked the salt marsh. “Make me understand where this is coming from.”

The more time she spent in his presence, the more her facade was crumbling. Yet she couldn’t leave, not until she’d done a better job of driving him away.

She preceded him to the rock and sat down, gazing out at a great blue heron at the marsh’s edge. She’d never seen the majestic birds in pairs, only alone. As she would soon be.

“It’s like this, Jack.” She watched the heron and not him. It flapped its wings and flew off into the bright blue sky. “It’s inevitable that our relationship is going to end. I say we end it now.”

“What if I told you I’m willing to do what it takes to make things work between us?” he asked.

Her heart leaped with hope. Just as quickly, it plummeted. She couldn’t let herself soften toward him, no matter the emotional cost.

“I’m supposed to accept this, from a guy who’s spent the last few years lying to himself?” she asked.

He frowned. “What am I lying to myself about?”

“Your shoulder, Jack.” She needed to be blunt, no matter how much it pained her. “I see you wincing. I know it hurts more than you admit, yet you keep insisting you’re going to pitch in the majors again.”

“I am,” he said.

“See? That’s exactly what I’m talking about,” she said. “Everybody but you knows that isn’t going to happen. Your family. The doctor back in Kentucky. The specialist vacationing on Tangier.”

“Art Goodnight said—”

“He said you’re delusional if you think you’ll pitch in the majors again,” she interrupted harshly. “That’s what he told me.”

“Art said that?” Jack looked and sounded stunned. He shook his head. “Then obviously he isn’t the best person for me to be working with.”

“Nobody is, Jack,” she said. “Face facts. Not only about your baseball career, about us.”

His hand shot out and captured her chin so she had to look at him. He carefully took off her sunglasses and laid them on the rock beside them.

“Who are you to tell me to face facts?” He laughed wryly. “You won’t even admit you’re falling in love with me.”

She shook her head. That couldn’t be true. She wouldn’t let it be.

“Let’s try an experiment, then.” He flipped up his sunglasses so they perched on top of his head. Before she could even think about moving away, his mouth came down on hers.

Despite the heat behind his words, his lips were soft and gentle, coaxing instead of demanding. She should pull away from him, she thought, but she couldn’t muster the strength, not when a warm tide seemed to be flowing through her body. Because she couldn’t help herself, she kissed him back, her lips clinging to his even when he drew back.

“That kiss proves you have feelings for me.” He didn’t sound smug. He sounded relieved.

She didn’t have the luxury of surrendering to her emotions. If she failed to drive him away, it could spell doom for her mother. She called upon her resolve, praying she could get through the next few minutes without Jack realizing she was feeding him lies.

“All it proves,” she said slowly and succinctly, “is that I’m physically attracted to you.”

His hand dropped from her shoulder. His eyes filled with pain.

“Accept that it’s over between us, Jack,” she said. “I have.”

She got up from the rock and moved away from him toward her car before he could say anything else. She didn’t dare look back. She couldn’t afford to let him see the tears she felt slipping down her face.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

A
PROMISE
WAS
A
PROMISE
,
Jack thought later that Sunday afternoon as he rapped on the screen door of Carrie Greer’s house.

He wasn’t about to break his to Danny just because Tara had dumped him. He took a deep breath. The pain of it was so raw, it felt as if he’d swallowed something with jagged edges.

Tara hadn’t even let him down easily or kept alive the possibility they could be friends. If he hadn’t heard her with his own ears, he’d never have believed she had the capacity to be so cruel.

Evidently she wasn’t the woman he’d thought she was. That was no consolation. He still wanted her. He probably always would.

He stood, waiting. The kitten Danny had adopted pranced into the foyer on dainty feet, not stopping until she peered up at him from the opposite side of the screen door.

“Meow!” It wasn’t an entirely happy sound, more plaintive than not.

“What? You’re not having a good day, either?” he asked the cat. “Join the club.”

He heard the murmur of voices coming from the back of the house. “Hello,” he called.

No reply.

The kitten scratched at the door, her claws gaining her no traction as she tried to make the climb.

“Get back,” he told the cat, opening the door slowly so he didn’t hurt her. He came inside, picking up the soft animal. She immediately snuggled against his chest. She was awfully young to be separated from her mother. She was probably missing her.

“Hello,” he called again.

Again, no response. He followed the voices through the house to the family room.

“Am not!” Danny cried. His fisted hands were balanced on his hips and his face was turning red, a marked contrast to the smiley face on his red T-shirt.

“Are, too!” Susie shouted in a singsong voice, twirling the skirt of her casual summer dress, sounding more smug than angry.

“Stop shouting, children.” Mrs. Jorgenson was the third person in the room. She stood between the children like a referee, wringing her hands and looking every one of her eighty-plus years. She appeared to be even more upset than Danny. “How many times do I have to tell you that?”

Jack cleared his throat to draw attention to himself and stepped into the room. “Hey, how’s it going? The door was open so I let myself in. I hope you don’t mind.”

“We don’t mind at all,” Mrs. Jorgenson said in an overly cheerful voice. “Look who’s here, children. It’s Jack.”

She was making an obvious attempt at misdirection, something Jack had used to effect with his magic tricks. The problem was, Danny wasn’t even looking at her.

“Am not!” Danny shouted again, stamping one of his sneaker-clad feet for emphasis.

Jack closed the distance between him and the child. For once, the boy didn’t seem in the mood for a hug. “What’s this all about, Danny?”

“Susie called me a scaredy c-cat.” Danny thrust out his lower lip. “I’m not a scaredy c-cat!”

The kitten hid its face against Jack’s chest. The irony, he thought.

He turned to Susie, stooping to get on eye level with her. “Why’d you call Danny that, Susie?”

“Because I’m gonna take swimming lessons and he’s afraid to,” Susie said.

Her statement was on the money. Jack remembered Carrie telling him she’d been forced to discontinue Danny’s lessons earlier this summer after he refused to submerge so much as a toe in the water.

“Tell her I can do anything I want to, Jack!” Danny parroted back the message that Jack had tried to drill into him after the field trip, the one Jack thought had fallen on deaf ears.

“That’s right,” Jack said. “If Danny gets it into his mind to learn how to swim, he’ll learn how to swim.”

“Tell her how special I am, Jack,” Danny commanded.

Jack hid a smile. “You’re both special,” he said. “And it sounds like you’re both going to take those swimming lessons.”

“I am,” Danny said. He stuck out his tongue at Susie. “So there.”

She, too, stuck out her tongue, wagging her head and making a funny face. Danny laughed. Susie joined in. Mrs. Jorgenson did, too. Soon all four of them were chuckling.

“This calls for milk and cookies,” Mrs. Jorgenson said, obviously relieved. She bustled off to the kitchen while the children cheered.

The kitten had relaxed as soon as the children stopped shouting at each other. Jack put her down, pulled a CD out of his back pocket and held it out to the boy. “This is for you, Danny. It’s the book
Misty of Chincoteague
on audio tape. That means somebody will play it for you. I told you I’d find it.”

“Thanks!” Danny said, snatching it out of his hand.

“I want to listen, too!” Susie said.

“Maybe you can listen to it together.” Out of the corner of his eyes Jack saw Mrs. Jorgenson motioning to them. “Right now, though, let’s have the milk and cookies.”

While the children settled themselves at the kitchen table, Jack snatched a cookie and hung back with Mrs. Jorgenson.

“Thank you for breaking up that argument.” She had a nice way about her, with kind eyes and a face softened by age. “You’re wonderful with the children, you know.”

“It’s trial and error,” Jack said.

“You seem like an expert to me. I was never so glad to see anybody when you walked into the living room.”

“I’m just glad I could help.” Jack bit into the cookie, savoring the gooey chocolate center. “This is great, Mrs. Jorgenson.” He raised his voice. “Aren’t these cookies delicious, kids?”

“Delicious,” Susie repeated.

“Mmm-hmm.” Danny nodded but kept on chewing with obvious enjoyment. Jack remembered that he had a sweet tooth.

“Don’t forget to drink your milk,” Mrs. Jorgenson called. “Especially you, Danny. Carrie says it’s healthy for you.”

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” Jack said, once again talking only to Mrs. Jorgenson. “Where is Carrie?”

“I think she’s at Tara’s.” Mrs. Jorgenson frowned. “Or maybe she’s trying to find Tara. I wasn’t real clear on that. Gus went with her. Don’t you think they make a lovely couple?”

“They do,” Jack agreed.

“You and Tara make a lovely couple, too.” Mrs. Jorgenson’s eyes twinkled, unaware that even the mention of Tara was like a thorn in Jack’s side. “She told me the other day that she’s sweet on you.”

Shock rippled through him. “She did? When was this?”

“Oh, let’s see. It must have been Wednesday. Yes, it was Wednesday. I confess, I did ask her about you. I’ve seen you around and Carrie mentioned that she thought Tara was falling for you.”

Then why had Tara blown him off with as much gusto as hurricane-force winds over the Atlantic Ocean?

It didn’t make sense that she’d gone from hot to ice-cold in four short days simply because he’d invited her to meet his sister. If Jack hadn’t known better, he’d think Maria might have been onto something when she joked that maybe Tara was Hayley Cooper.

But of course she wasn’t. Tara had convinced Jack of that right away. He cast his mind back to their first meeting. She’d matched the photo of Hayley except for the shade of her brown hair, yet it now occurred to him that Tara could easily have added the reddish highlights. She also could have been lying when she said she’d seen photos of herself as a baby.

His gaze fell on one of the family photos on a side table of a smiling, cherubic baby in the arms of a young Carrie. The baby’s hair was blond, but that didn’t mean anything. Lots of kids started out blond before their hair darkened.

“See that photo over there?” He pointed to the one in question. “Do you know if that baby is Tara?”

“Oh, no, that’s Sunny,” Mrs. Jorgenson said. “You can tell because she had a tiny mole above the left side of her mouth. I never met her, but Carrie mentioned it once.”

Now that she’d pointed out the mole, Jack could see it. He surveyed the rest of the photos. There were several of Sunny with Carrie’s late husband and a number of Sunny by herself. As a baby, a toddler and a very small girl.

“Where are the photos of Tara?” he asked.

“I believe there are some in the hall,” she said with a delighted smile. “I bet you’d like to see them.”

“I would,” he said.

She led the way to the foyer, leaning on her cane as she walked. The walls were lined with more photos. Mrs. Jorgenson indicated three of them. “There’s one of Carrie and Tara. And there’s a photo of Tara by herself. And there she is in her high school graduation photo.”

Tara was about eight or nine in the first photo, much older in the others. Nowhere was there a photo of Tara as a baby or young child. Also absent were any photos of Tara with her father or with Sunny. Didn’t parents always photograph their children together? A shiver ran through him.

“Is something wrong, Jack?” Mrs. Jorgenson was regarding him with a pinched brow.

He turned up the corners of his mouth as his mind worked. Could it be possible? “I was thinking I’d love to see what Tara looked like when she was really young. Do you know if there’s a picture like that around here?”

“Not here in the house, no.” Mrs. Jorgenson smiled brightly. “But I have one. If you keep an eye on Danny and Susie, I’ll go across the street and get it.”

Normally Jack would have refused because of Mrs. Jorgenson’s mobility issues, but these were not normal circumstances.

“I’d love that,” he said.

The next five minutes were interminable. He nodded at all the right places, but only half listened to Danny’s chatter about how he and Carrie were going to start spending a lot more time at the B and B.

Mrs. Jorgenson finally rejoined them, waving a photo. “I think it’s sweet that you want to see what Tara used to look like. I ran across this photo just the other day when my daughter was visiting. It brought back such memories.”

Jack clutched at his pant leg so he wouldn’t rip the photo from her hand.

“I took this the week Tara and Carrie moved here
in 1984,” she said. “I invited them to my daughter’s high school graduation party. Wait till you see what Tara did.”

She presented the photo to him with a flourish. In it, a little girl stood beside a cake marred by a hand-shaped crater. Her right hand was covered in chocolate crumbs and golden-brown bangs fell into her eyes.

He held back a gasp.

The girl was a ringer for the three-year-old Hayley Cooper he’d seen pictured on the missing-persons website.

“Wasn’t Tara precious?” Mrs. Jorgenson asked. “Even with that cake all over her?”

Jack nodded mutely while his mind churned. If Tara was Hayley, it made sense that she wouldn’t want to meet his sister. It was logical that she’d dump him to keep her secret safe.

But maybe his memory was playing tricks on him. Jack couldn’t be absolutely sure the photos were of the same girl until he compared them side by side.

“Can I have this photo for a couple days?” Jack asked. “I promise I’ll give it back to you.”

“Oh, yes!” Mrs. Jorgenson winked at him. “I think you must be sweet on Tara, too.”

Shortly afterward, Jack invented an excuse about why he needed to leave. He drove straight to his beach house, booted up his computer and navigated to the missing-persons website.

He clicked through until he had the photo of Hayley Cooper as a three-year-old on his screen. He looked down at the photo of Tara at the birthday party and then up at the one of Hayley.

The breath left his body.

There was no question. They were the same child.

* * *

J
ACK
WAS
LEANING
AGAINST
the outside of the fitness club when Tara left the building on Sunday evening.

Even though she’d spent her spinning class with an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach, his presence came as a surprise.

Jack straightened to his full height, managing to look impressive even in faded jeans and a T-shirt. A rush of joy shot through her. She determinedly tamped it down. Jack’s very presence meant she hadn’t done enough to drive him away.

But how could she summon the nerve to alienate him a second time when her first attempt had been so hard on her heart?

“Hello, Tara,” he said, stepping from the shadows into the light of a streetlamp. He was unsmiling, his handsome face more serious than she’d ever seen it.

Her heart felt as if it would jump out of her chest. Had he figured out her secret?

She nodded in acknowledgment, not trusting herself to speak.

“Do you have a minute?” He pointed across the street to a city park that came alive in the daylight but looked forlorn in the darkness. “There’s a bench over there where we can sit and talk.”

She swallowed, shoring up her defenses against him. “I don’t have anything to say to you.”

“Then do me the courtesy of listening,” he said. “You need to hear this.”

She couldn’t refuse him, not when he asked like that. She nodded. With a sweep of his hand he indicated that she should precede him. The side street where the fitness club was located got a fair amount of traffic during the day, but quieted down at night. It was deserted now, the only person in sight a lone man walking his spirited cocker spaniel.

“Beautiful night,” the man remarked, as if there could be no dissenting opinion.

Then again, the man couldn’t see the storm gathering inside Tara. She walked to the nearest bench on shaky legs she couldn’t blame on her recent spinning class and sank onto it. Clasping her hands together, she tried to look composed.

He sat down beside her, withdrew a piece of paper from his back pocket and unfolded it. Without speaking, he handed it to her.

Darkness had already fallen, but the night was moonlit and the bench was under a streetlamp, providing ample light for Tara to clearly see the image on the piece of paper. Dread crept up on her with icy fingers.

She tamped down her panic. “That’s the picture of Hayley Cooper from the website.”

“It is,” he said.

Without another word he handed her something else—a photo this time. With her heart in her throat, she gazed down at what was indisputably the same little girl. This one was at a graduation party, her hand covered in chocolate cake.