The Truth About Tara (22 page)

“If you’re crazy, then so am I.” He put his hands on each side of her face and gazed deeply into her eyes. “It doesn’t matter to me if you call yourself Tara or Hayley. I love the woman you are.”

He bent his head and she raised herself to meet him halfway. It felt as if more than their mouths were merging, maybe their very souls. A lot of issues still needed to be resolved between them, but resolve them they would. The argument she’d used to drive him away, that he’d never stay on the Eastern Shore and she’d never leave, didn’t hold water anymore. They loved each other. They’d make it work.

She wasn’t sure how long they kissed. It could have been minutes. It could have been hours. When they broke apart, however, she was sure of more than how she felt about Jack.

It seemed as though the cloud that had been distorting her thoughts had lifted. In the circle of Jack’s arms, she felt empowered to do the right thing.

“If I get in touch with Hayley Cooper’s family,” she asked, “do you think my mother will be arrested?”

He thought a few moments. “She did falsify documents to get you a social security number, but I can’t imagine she’d go to jail over that.”

“She might, though.”

“It’s possible,” he conceded. “Did you ask Carrie what she wanted to do?”

“She’s a mother. She’s sick over the pain she caused Hayley’s mother, no matter how inadvertent. She doesn’t want her to continue to suffer.” Tara paused. “Neither do I.”

“Sounds like you’ve already made your decision,” he said.

“I have,” she said. “Then I should warn you the road ahead will be bumpy.”

“Say the word and I’ll travel the road with you.”

“That is what I want. You have to do what’s right for you, though. I’ll understand if you have to go back to Kentucky.” She paused, reaching a decision she never thought she’d make. “But if you do, count on me coming with you.”

His eyes went wide. “What? You’d leave the Eastern Shore? You’d leave your mother?”

She nodded, supremely sure of one thing. She needed to be where Jack was. “You and Mary Dee have been right all along. Carrie is much stronger than I thought she was. She can get along without me, but I don’t think I can live without you.”

His hold on her tightened. “You won’t have to. I’d rather we didn’t live in Kentucky, though. I like it here.”

Joy leaped inside her at the prospect of making a home with Jack in the place she already loved. She tried not to get ahead of herself. “What would you do here?”

“You’re not the only one who changed the direction of my life. Danny did, too.”

“Danny?

“You know how I told him during that field trip to Chincoteague that he was special, that he didn’t have to be afraid to try new things?”

She nodded.

His mouth broke into a wide smile. “He listened to me, Tara. He’s giving the swimming lessons another try.”

She smiled at him and touched his cheek. “You’re good with kids like Danny.”

“I believe that’s true,” he said. “I want to go back to school and get a degree so I can work with mentally challenged children.”

“Sounds good to me. Who knows? Here on the Eastern Shore you might find you’re good at a lot of things.” She paused. “I can think of one already.”

“Oh, yeah?” he asked. “What’s that?”

She smiled at the man she’d come to love in so short a time, the man who was helping her discover the woman she was supposed to be.

“This,” she said before she sweetly placed her mouth on his.

EPILOGUE

One year later

T
ARA
STEPPED
OUT
OF
J
ACK
’
S
pickup truck and took his arm, cutting a glance at him. He wore dark gray pants and a lighter gray shirt that looked fantastic with his dark coloring.

“Are you going to tell me what the surprise is or do I have to guess?” She smoothed the skirt of her flirty red dress, one of the purchases she’d made after discovering red was Jack’s favorite color. She was no longer adding reddish highlights to her hair, though. Once again it was golden-brown through and through.

“Neither,” he said with a teasing tone. “What do you not understand about the word
surprise?
”

They were approaching the waterfront seafood restaurant where almost exactly one year ago Tara had stood up Jack and his sister Maria. Was that it? Was Maria back in town determined the three of them have dinner together? Tara had met Maria a few times but always in Kentucky.

“Is Maria in there?” she asked.

“You might as well stop guessing, because I’m not telling you anything,” he warned.

If he hadn’t mentioned the surprise, Tara would have been content to spend the evening at either his place or hers. She didn’t need fancy dinners and nights on the town to keep her happy. All she needed was Jack. She still marveled that she never would have met him if she hadn’t been abducted.

“Okay, okay,” she said. “I suppose I can wait another minute to find out.”

That was about how long it took for a hostess to lead them past diners enjoying meals at candlelit tables that overlooked the bay to a far corner of the restaurant. A long table had been set up, and it was full of people. Tara stopped dead, hardly able to believe her eyes.

At one end of the table, her mother and Gus sat across from Mary Dee and her husband. The other end was filled with Coopers. Celia, her biological mother. Frank, her dad. Sydney, the sister who looked so much like her. Sydney’s husband and two children were even present.

Everybody was smiling and waving. Tara felt the corners of her own mouth turn up. She and Jack had visited her “other family” three or four times. Up to this point, however, the Coopers had resisted coming to Virginia.

Though a warm person in every other regard, Celia was not favorably disposed toward Carrie Greer. Celia claimed her beloved daughter Hayley might have been found much sooner if Carrie hadn’t spirited her away to Virginia under another name.

Thankfully Tara had been able to convince Celia not to make it her mission to see that Carrie was convicted of a felony. Because the Virginia statute dealing with fraudulent use of a birth certificate had some wiggle room, Carrie had been charged only with a misdemeanor.

“How did you get both of my mothers here together?” Tara asked Jack under her breath.

“It wasn’t easy,” he whispered back.

“Are Celia and Frank staying at the B and B?” she asked. Her mother had done wonders with the place since she and Gus had reopened it nearly a year ago. Tara often wondered why she and Danny didn’t just move in with him. Carrie, however, claimed she and Gus were taking things slowly.

“Sydney and her family are staying there,” he said. “Celia was adamant that she and Frank get another hotel.”

“It’s still the best surprise ever,” she said, smiling up at him and kissing him.

Somebody at the table hooted. Tara was pretty sure it was Mary Dee.

“Come join us,” Mary Dee called. “Plenty of time for that later.”

Never enough time,
Tara thought.

She slipped her hand in Jack’s and together they approached the table, greeting each person in turn with warm hugs. Tara’s cheeks were damp with happy tears when she finished.

“I was just telling Jack what a wonderful surprise this is,” Tara said to the group. “But what’s the occasion?”

“I was hoping,” Jack said, drawing out each word, “it could be an engagement party.”

Tara covered her mouth with her hands, happiness bubbling inside her. It spilled over as Jack withdrew a small black velvet box from the back pocket of his slacks. Getting down on one knee, Jack opened the box, displaying a ruby surrounded by tiny twinkling diamonds.

“Tara Hayley Greer Cooper,” he said, merging the name she used with the one that should have been hers. “Will you marry me?”

“Yes!” she shouted.

Jack rose to his feet and gathered her into his arms for a promise-sealing kiss while her old family and new one cheered together.

* * * * *

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CHAPTER ONE

W
HEN
J
ESSICA
T
AYLOR
lost her virginity three months and six guys ago—after fiercely guarding it for fifteen years—she’d been stone-cold sober.

She hadn’t made that mistake again.

Her stomach rolled. From the Jack Daniel’s, she assured herself. She should’ve stuck with beer. It always gave her a nice, mellow buzz without making her want to puke. Mostly because she knew her limit. Whiskey was a new beast, one she hadn’t figured out her tolerance to yet.

But Nate had been so sweet when she’d arrived at the party a few hours ago, teasing her into trying J.D. and Diet Coke, making sure her glass was always full, adding more soda when she choked, her eyes watering at the first taste.

Yeah, he was a real prince.

A cold sweat broke out along her hairline. Her stomach churned again. Because of the alcohol. It had nothing to do with her being on her back in the middle of the freaking woods.

She stared up at the moon peeking through the branches of the trees and pretended she was somewhere else, anywhere else, doing anything except what she was doing. That she wasn’t wasted—yet again. And that Nate Berry, with his floppy, pop-star hair and tight circle of friends, really liked her. Cared about her. That he wasn’t using her.

That she wasn’t letting him use her.

Her skin grew clammy. Prickled with the cold. Nate’s fingers clenched her hips, his face pressed against her neck. He was just another boy. And this was just another meaningless, drunken hookup in what was quickly becoming a long line of meaningless, drunken hookups.

Tears stung the backs of her eyelids and she squeezed her eyes shut. No. No feeling sorry for herself. She had every right to have sex with whoever she wanted, whenever she wanted. It was her body after all. Her choice to give it to some guy or not.

She was in control.

Her back and butt scraped against the rough earth. Her neck was stretched back, her hair caught between the crown of her head and the ground, pulling painfully each time he moved. She just wanted it to be over. Wanted to pretend it had never happened in the first place. Just like all the other times.

Clutching his arms, she lifted her hips to keep from getting the mother of all brush burns, to stop the contents of her stomach from sloshing. She inhaled deeply, breathed in the scent of Nate’s cologne and the pungent smell from the bonfire in the clearing outside the trees. His grip tightened, his nails digging into her skin as he groaned hoarsely and shuddered then finally—finally—stilled.

Thank God.

He collapsed on top of her, surprisingly heavy for a guy who looked as if he’d never heard of carbs, let alone ate any. His heart beat frantically against her chest, his breath hot and ragged against her shoulder. They had connected in the most elemental way. And still she felt alone. Always alone.

Her throat closed. Without a word, without a kiss or a murmured endearment or even an outright lie about how fantastic it’d been, how fantastic she was, Nate climbed to his feet. He turned his back and adjusted his clothes.

The cool night air washed over her bare skin. She shivered but couldn’t find the energy or the care to cover herself. After she’d lost her virginity to a smooth-talking college freshman, she’d stopped believing guys’ lines. Had quickly learned they’d do and say anything to get into a girl’s pants.

Yeah, she’d learned. But she hadn’t stopped hoping, couldn’t stop wishing that each time would be different. That, when it was all over, the guy she’d been with would think she was…special. Instead, once she gave them what they wanted, they all thought she was trash.

She was starting to wonder if they were right.

As she yanked up her jeans, shouts of excitement from the party still going strong reached them. The bonfire illuminated the colorful graffiti on the huge rocks that formed a barrier between the woods and what passed for civilization around here. Flames shot high into the air—probably from someone tossing gasoline onto the fire.

What a bunch of idiots.

“Come on,” Nate said, facing her as he stuffed his hands into his jean pockets. “Let’s go. Sounds like the party’s getting wicked wild.”

Jess snorted. “Yeah.” She lurched to her feet and swayed. He held out a hand to steady her but she slapped him away. She didn’t want him touching her again. “I’m sure it’s a crazy wild time,” she continued, her words slurring. “At least by this town’s standards.”

“Mystic Point not good enough for you?”

Okay, so she’d pissed him off, either with her comment or her slap. Good.

She rolled her eyes—and immediately wished she hadn’t when she almost tipped over. “Relax. God, why is everyone so defensive about this place?”

“Maybe we don’t like outsiders slamming our town.”

Outsider.
That was her. And she was glad. She didn’t want to belong here. She just wanted to go home.

“There’s a whole big world out there,” she said, waving her arms. “Places where parties are held in actual houses instead of in the middle of nowhere surrounded by some stupid rocks.”

She’d much preferred last week’s party at the secluded part of the beach. The one and only thing she liked about Mystic Point was its proximity to the water. She loved the sound of the waves crashing on shore, the smell of salt water, the power of the ocean. But word had spread that the local cops had gotten wind of the underage drinking going on there and were going to increase their patrols of that area.

Which is how she ended up at some old quarry at the edge of town.

“If you hate it here so much, why don’t you go back to Boston?” Nate’s tone was snide, superior, as if he knew damn well why she was stuck here.

He thought he was better than her because he had a normal family, a mom who didn’t spend all her time so strung out she barely remembered she even had a kid. A dad who not only acknowledged him, but spent time with him.

Jess’s mom couldn’t even say for sure which of her lowlife boyfriends had knocked her up.

Her hands curled. He was right. She did hate it here. And she hated Nate, too. Him and all his friends with their small-town attitudes and stupid cliques. They’d all heard about her past—nothing was sacred in a small town, after all. They’d discussed her. Judged her. And found her lacking. Even if she’d wanted to fit in, she’d never had the chance.

Several car headlights flashed twice then remained on, the brightness cutting through the trees. Jess squinted against the glare.

“What’s the matter, Nate?” a male voice called. “Having problems…performing?”

“Dude, I bet she knows all sorts of tricks to help with that,” another guy yelled.

“She should,” a girl added gleefully, “she’s had enough practice. She spends more time on her back than her feet.”

Laughter erupted and a moment later, the lights shut off. But not before she saw the grin on Nate’s face. Saw how little he really thought of her.

Bastard.

With a low growl that, if she wasn’t careful, could easily turn into a sob, Jess picked up his sweatshirt and threw it at his face.

He caught it before it could make contact. “What’s your problem?” he asked. “They’re just joking around.”

“I don’t have a problem.” But everyone else did. They were too small-town boring and uptight. She started walking deeper into the woods.

He grabbed her arm, stopping her so fast, the entire world tilted. She clamped down on the urge to vomit.

“The party’s this way,” he said.

Once the trees stopped spinning, she jerked away. “Get off me.” No one touched her unless she wanted them to, and he’d lost that right. “I’m leaving.”

Her voice broke and she prayed he didn’t notice.

“All right,” he said slowly, as if trying to calm her down, “if that’s what you want.” This time, he reached for her hand. “Come on, I’ll take you home.”

She crossed her arms. “Why?”

He sighed heavily and glanced back at the party. “Because you’re drunk and shouldn’t be wandering around the woods at night.”

“What’s the matter? Afraid I’ll die of exposure or get attacked by a wild animal and you’ll be blamed?” Though she gave him plenty of time to deny it, he didn’t. All he cared about was getting into trouble if something happened to her. “Go back to the party. I’m sure you’re dying to tell everyone what a stud you are.” She raised her voice. “But you might want to leave out the part about how it lasted a whole five minutes.”

“Everyone was right about you,” he said. “You really are a bitch.”

Bitch. Slut. Loser.
All names she’d been called before. Whoever said words couldn’t cause pain had obviously never gone to high school.

“And don’t you forget it,” she said with her patented sneer. And she walked away.

This time, he let her go.

Good. She didn’t want him chasing after her pretending he cared about whether she made it home safely or not. Oh, sure, he’d been all charm when he’d called and invited her to the party, had layered it on even more when she got there, flirting and joking around, but it’d all been an act. She wasn’t sure who she was angrier with: him for not being different, for not living up to her hopeful standards.

Or herself for sleeping with him anyway.

She squinted at the narrow path cutting through the woods. If she kept walking, she’d end up in the clearing near the quarry’s entrance.

She hoped.

Too bad the farther she got from the clearing and the fire, the darker it got, the trees seeming to have multiplied to cut off any and all light from the moon. But it still beat going back the way she and Nate had come. She knew what would happen if she rejoined the party. The girls would freeze her out with their bitchy comments and accusing glares, blaming her for giving the boys what they were too frigid to. The guys would exchange smirks and elbow nudges and Nate would end up avoiding her the rest of the night.

And she was too wasted, too emotionally messed up at the moment to pretend it didn’t bother her.

She took out her phone and pressed the speed dial for Marissa, her best friend back in Boston. Holding it to her ear, she began making her way through the woods again, her steps unsteady, her head spinning.

“Come on,” she muttered when Marissa didn’t pick up. “Where are you?”

Despite her best efforts, tears streamed down her face. She angrily wiped her cheek with the back of her hand. Her toe caught on a tree root and she pitched forward. Her phone flew from her grip and she landed hard on the ground on her hands and knees.

Tears and snot dripped from her face as she fought to catch her breath. To not puke. Her palms stung, her head swam. She straightened her leg, felt material rubbing against her knee and realized she’d ripped a hole in her favorite jeans.

God, but this place sucked. She hated it here.

Patting the ground around her for her phone, she crawled forward. Something rustled behind her. She froze, holding her breath as she listened. When only silence surrounded her, she continued her search, inching forward along the forest floor, the sharp twigs scratching her.

“Shit,” she whispered.

“You can say that again.”

Her head jerked up and she fell onto her rear, squinted against the harsh glare of a flashlight. But she didn’t need to see who had spoken, didn’t need a light to know a cop stood before her. No, not just a cop, but Mystic Point’s new chief of police.

“Hi, Uncle Ross,” Jess said. Then she reared forward and threw up at his feet.

* * *

P
OLICE
C
HIEF
R
OSS
T
AYLOR
couldn’t breathe. Didn’t dare move. If he so much as blinked, he might lose all control. And that wouldn’t be good. Not when his instincts screamed at him to wrap his hands around the puny neck of the kid he and Assistant Chief Sullivan had dragged into the woods to help search for Jessica.

The kid who’d admitted he’d let her go stumbling off by herself in the dark. The kid who hadn’t had to admit what he and Jess had been doing while the rest of their delinquent friends drank and whooped it up in the clearing. The empty cups and the used condom Ross had walked past had made it all too clear they hadn’t been stargazing.

He exhaled heavily.
Son of a bitch.

Ross knelt next to his niece. “Are you okay?” he asked quietly, well aware Layne Sullivan and the kid made a rapt audience to this little family drama.

Jessica stared up at him, her face illuminated by the flashlight Sullivan shined in their direction. Jess’s eyes—light blue like her mother’s—were huge. And unfocused, the pupils dilated. “No.”

Then she threw up again.

Behind him, the kid gagged. Ross pointed his flashlight on him and, sure enough, the boy’s face was pale. “Don’t even think about it,” Ross said harshly.

The kid swallowed hard. “Yes…yes, sir.”

Satisfied, Ross turned back to Jess. She sat back and wiped her hand across her mouth.

“Finished?” he asked.

“I hope so.” Her voice shook.

He helped her to her feet, keeping a firm hold of her upper arm so she didn’t fall. And so she couldn’t take off should the idea enter her head. Her pale, shoulder-length hair was matted and tangled, her clothes wrinkled and stained with puke and dirt. Tears leaked unchecked from her eyes, leaving trails of mascara down her cheeks.

She looked like every other underage drunk girl he’d ever arrested. He had to remind himself that she was just a kid. A rebellious, self-destructive kid. She was also his responsibility.

One he wasn’t sure he wanted. Wasn’t sure he could handle.

“What in the hell are you doing out here?” he asked.

What was she doing getting drunk, rolling around with some pimply faced kid, when she was supposed to be safely tucked away in her bedroom? Damn, he really wasn’t cut out for this guardian stuff.

She wiped the moisture from her cheeks. “You’re the one who told me I needed to give Mystic Point a chance. That I should put myself out there and make friends. Nate and I got very friendly. Didn’t we, Nate?”

Her tone was spiteful, almost…gleeful. But her eyes… When he searched her eyes he saw the truth. Anger. Regret. And such pain, he wasn’t sure he could fix it. Could fix her.