“I would appreciate that,” Pam said. “As we both know, forbidding them is the best way to guarantee they’ll find someone who’ll do it for them.”
No, Rachel didn’t know that, but she put the tip in her mental file cabinet. She had a lot to learn about being a mother. Then Pam’s eyes met hers across the table, and Rachel felt an unexpected kinship with Matt’s sister. But it was a friendship that could never develop. Friends didn’t lie to each other.
Carol intercepted their exchange. “Pam was our rebel. Like you, Rachel, she seemed determined to stir up trouble.”
Mortification stung Rachel’s cheeks. Foolishly, she’d allowed herself to believe that everyone had forgotten what an immature brat she’d been.
“Remember the Mohawk?” Jake said.
Matt’s father shook his head. “The one that got me was the tattoo on your—”
“Daddy, shush.” Pam looked panic-stricken. “The kids don’t know about that.”
“We probably wouldn’t have, either, if it hadn’t gotten infected,” Carol interjected. “But you refusing to sit down and the disappearance of my frozen bag of peas was a bit suspicious. And your insistence on going to a doctor out of town was even more telling.”
The family laughed, but for Rachel the idyllic mood had been shattered. No one seemed to consider Pam a bad seed. But Pam’s misdeeds hadn’t come close to Rachel’s, and Pam had only hurt herself.
Hope had always fixed Rachel’s mistakes, but she’d also troweled on the guilt, making sure Rachel realized the effort it took and how disappointed she was in her. Their parents had responded with oppressive silence. One thing had never been in doubt. Rachel’s recklessness had been a nuisance—such a bother her parents had sent her away.
“I’m proud of all my children. Jake works at the bank. Pam’s a nurse with Dr. Miller’s practice in town. Now that Matt’s back home, all I have to do is get him married, and my job will be done.”
Matt choked on his tea. Jake laughed and slapped Matt’s back until he stopped wheezing. “She won’t let up until you’ve given her a few grandkids, bro. Might as well bite the bullet.”
Another shard of guilt pierced Rachel’s conscience. She focused on Matt. “You’ve been away?”
Pam nodded. “Matt was a football star before—”
“In college,” Matt interrupted. “Rachel knows that.” The others around the table exchanged looks. What did Matt not want her to know?
“I moved home to take the job at Johnstonville High when my old coach retired. I might have stayed gone if I’d known Mom’s evil plan.” His teasing grin was a shade too tight.
“Do you follow sports, Rachel?” Jake asked.
“Baseball. I’m a Braves fan.”
“You catch many games?” Bill asked.
“I have season tickets.”
Pam’s husband whistled. “Expensive.”
“But worth every penny. I use them to motivate the kids in my neighborhood. If they stay drug free, out of gangs, and work hard to earn good grades, I reward them with tickets to a game.”
“Does that work?” Pam asked.
“It’s been so successful I’ve had to recruit businesses from the surrounding communities to sponsor blocks of tickets at progress report time.”
She caught Matt’s speculative gaze. “Inner-city kids?”
“They’re often the ones who can’t afford to attend.”
“You’re missing games while you’re here,” Jake said.
“I’ve left the tickets in good hands.”
“You’ve never followed football?” That earned Jake a fierce scowl, and from the way he jumped, Rachel suspected Matt had kicked his brother under the table.
“No. As a missionaries’ kid, I didn’t have an opportunity to watch or play sports. I didn’t get into baseball until I was older.” And after Matt, she hadn’t watched a single football game. She’d always been afraid she’d see him on the field, or worse, with some cheerleader in his arms after a game.
Bill’s cell phone rang. He glanced at it. “Looks like the mayor doesn’t get a day of rest even on Sunday. Excuse me.” He left to take the call.
Matt’s dad was the mayor?
The bantering continued, but the atmosphere had changed. Was it because of the phone call? Or the conversation before it?
By late afternoon Rachel was emotionally exhausted from being on guard. It was a relief when Pam rounded up her kids.
After she and Chastity said their goodbyes, Matt walked them to the car. He leaned in the window while she buckled her seat belt. His handsome face was close enough for her to see the silver flecks mingling with the blue of his irises, close enough for her to be overwhelmed by the scent of sunshine, aftershave and man. Close enough for her to lean forward and brush his mouth with hers—if she dared. But she didn’t.
“Thanks for coming,” he said.
Her heart and respiratory rates increased. “I— We had a good time,” she replied huskily and surprisingly, meant it.
Chastity pushed the button to lower the convertible top, making Matt spring back and breaking the connection between Matt and Rachel.
“See you at school tomorrow, Coach.”
“But not in detention.”
“No, sir. Second offenders get litter patrol, and I’m not real keen on picking up trash.”
“And third offenders get stuck cleaning the boys’ locker room after practice,” he warned.
“Eew. Gross.”
“You have no idea,” he added with a comical face.
He had an easy way with the kids that Rachel envied. Would she ever be that relaxed and comfortable with her daughter?
Rachel drove away, watching him in the rearview mirror. He was still standing where she’d left him when they turned the corner. Chastity deserved a family like the Johnstons, but giving her this one meant taking away so much more. Everything Chastity believed about herself was based on lies.
Why did doing the right thing feel so wrong?
CHASTITY BURST THROUGH the front door Monday after school and stopped to stare at the pile of boxes in the den.
“Hi. Have a good day?”
Rachel’s greeting earned her a drop-dead glare, then Chastity threw her book bag on the sofa and tromped off. Rachel’s excitement over their afternoon together crashed and burned.
She may be new at this parenting thing, but she’d had enough run-ins with teens at the center to know she must be firm and stand her ground. Girding herself for the encounter ahead, she rose slowly.
She walked down the hall and blocked Chastity’s bedroom door with her palm before it slammed in her face. “Chastity, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Chastity snapped back, then sat at her makeup table and turned her back.
“Listen, kiddo, I won’t tolerate disrespect. Either you adjust your attitude or all deals are off, and I’ll pack you up and move you to Atlanta today.”
The girl spun around, radiating defiance. “I’ll just run away.”
Rachel