Second Chance Mom
“Can we go now?” Chastity pleaded.
Matt shook his head. “Your aunt will have to sign you out, and I’d like to talk to you both about what put you in detention in the first place.”
“Aw, c’mon, Coach Johnston. I know what I did and I’m sorry. Stuff has been shit—tough lately. I’ve had church ladies praying over me nearly every minute and somebody in my grill worrying about every little thing ’til I’m about to crawl outta my skin. I just want to be left alone.”
Matt’s expression softened slightly. “Taking your frustrations out on others is never the answer.”
Chastity rolled her eyes. “I know. ‘God loves a gracious and forgiving person.’”
Chastity’s chanted words plunged Rachel into the past. That phrase had been yanked out every time Rachel had strayed from the narrow path of her upbringing—which had been pretty frequently. She’d come to hate the verse. Apparently Hope had carried on their parents’ tradition. That was a practice Rachel intended to break. Guilt and a sense of failure were not good leverage.
She shook off the restrictive feeling and gave Chastity a wink and a squeeze. “How do I spring this delinquent, Ma—Mr.—Coach Johnston?”
Matt’s brows lowered at her levity. “In here.”
He reentered room 127. Chastity grabbed Rachel’s hand and dragged her along. “Hey, everybody. This is my aunt Rachel. She’s a Life Flight helicopter nurse in Atlanta. When she’s not flying to nasty wrecks and stuff she travels all over the world with medical teams to rat-infested villages trying to save people from floods, Ebola, tsunamis and other noxious stuff.”
Matt’s head snapped around. The bubbles of pleasure Rachel was experiencing over the fact that Chastity sounded proud of her popped under Matt’s scrutiny.
“Is that right?” His inspection made her feel like bacteria under a microscope. He leaned his hip against his desk, crossing his long legs in front of him. His thigh muscles rippled with the movement, distracting Rachel. Matt still had an athletic body.
“Yes. I...um...volunteer my vacation time to work with a traveling medical team.”
“Perhaps you’d like to share some of your experiences with us. Tell us why you chose to go into nursing. If I remember correctly, that wasn’t your plan when you were their age.”
Rachel snorted. “I wanted to be a rock star back then. The fact that I sing like a scalded cat might have something to do with my change of heart.” Truth was, she’d wanted to do something that would make people—specifically, her parents—sit up and take notice of Rachel Bishop.
Smiling faces looked expectantly at her. Being the center of attention—something she’d once sought with nearly religious fervor—caused her skin to flush and her ears to burn. “Some other time.”
“I’ll hold you to that, Ms.—is it still Bishop?” Rachel nodded. “Career day is the last Thursday of school. I’ll add you to the docket.”
Standing in front of a gym filled with bored kids didn’t appeal to her. It sounded downright horrifying. She was hardly a sterling example to hold up to anyone, and next month she and Chastity would be back in Atlanta anyway.
“It’d be really cool to have someone interesting for a change, Aunt Rachel. We usually suffer through a bunch of boring old farts—”
“Chastity!” Rachel and Matt reprimanded simultaneously.
Chastity grimaced. “Well, who wants to grow up and be a mortician anyway?”
Several kids muttered agreement.
Rachel felt cornered but at the same time compelled to respond. “Somebody has to do it and do it correctly. Otherwise disease and vermin become a problem. I’ve witnessed that more than once overseas and even in our own country after natural disasters—” She caught Matt’s raised eyebrows in her peripheral vision. “Well, anyway. Another time. I’ll, uh...see about next month. Where do I sign Chastity out?”
Matt scooped up a pen and a sheet of paper. Their fingers touched when she took them from him, and a spark shot up her arm. Static electricity. That’s all it was. All she’d allow it to be. But the fact that he’d startled proved he’d felt it, too. Not something she wanted to contemplate.
He turned to Chastity. “Did you finish your essay?”
“It’s right there on your desk, Coach.”
“Then you can go. Rachel? We’ll talk later.”
She stiffened. His tone sounded like a threat.
“See you around,” Rachel said, hoping she wouldn’t, and steered Chastity toward the door.
If she saw Matt first, she’d avoid him, and if she didn’t see him again before she got out of Johnstonville, that would be fine with her, too.
* * *
HELL-RAISING RACHEL, a nurse? Hard to believe.
Matt tried to make sense of the past ten minutes, but the woman with the baggy clothes, falling-down hair and pale, makeup-free face bore little resemblance to the sexual fantasy creature from his memory.
The Rachel he remembered had been a red-lipped, hip-swinging, irreverent femme fatale bent on having a good time. She’d charged into his life and blitzed him off his feet like a defensive linebacker. He’d been raised by parents who lived by structure, rules and a very strict moral code. His dedication to sports and learning had only reinforced his disciplined attitude. He’d had no idea how to handle her. But he’d tried.
To Rachel, rules had been hurdles to circumvent. She’d find ten different ways to do the same old thing while he’d chosen proved methods. Her adventurous nature had captured his attention, but what had sucked him under like swirling white water had been the vulnerability she’d fought so hard to hide. He’d tried to save her from herself and ended up losing—a lot.
From the moment she’d kissed him under the mistletoe at a church party during Christmas break his junior year of college—a hot openmouthed kiss in the fellowship hall of all places—he’d been hooked on her brand of excitement. He’d held on for the ride of his life and loved every minute of it.
Her disappearance without explanation and her refusal to answer his letters had stunned, hurt and confused him, as if he’d hit a submerged river boulder when he’d thought the stream clear and deep. Until Hope had enlightened him years later, he’d wondered what he’d done to drive Rachel away. Hope had told him that Rachel had been bored in Johnstonville, and he’d been a diversion, nothing more.
A pencil dropped, forcing his focus back to the students shifting restlessly in their seats while they wrote, but it didn’t stay there long. This mature Rachel, with squared shoulders and deliberate movements, spoke of a confidence she hadn’t possessed as a teen. Her looser clothes flowed over her body in a way that hinted at the womanly shape they concealed. He found her natural beauty ten times more attractive than the attention-grabbing outfits that had once done a number on his hormones. Back then she’d been testing her womanly wiles, and he’d felt like a sixteen-year-old with a Ferrari. But he was older and wiser now. There would be no rekindling of his romance with Rachel. The fact that she was a flight nurse revealed she was still an adrenaline junkie. She’d just found a profitable way to exploit her need for thrills.
Matt pinched the bridge of his nose. He was losing his mind. He’d been born in Johnstonville and intended to die here. He had a long-standing family legacy of community service to fulfill—one he could not blow for a woman. He had the house with the white picket fence and a dog. All he needed to make his life perfect was a nice, churchgoing wife who could accept him as he was and give him children.
The woman who’d blown into his life like a hurricane was not a likely candidate. Life with Rachel would never be predictable or uncomplicated. Life with her sister, Hope, on the other hand, might have been.
CHAPTER TWO
RACHEL FELT AT least three sets of curious eyes watching her from the school office window as she put the car in gear. The sensation resembled a spider climbing her spine. She could almost hear the condemning whispers.
She’s a bad seed, that one.
How could someone like Hope be related to someone like her?
Her dear parents must have been so ashamed.
“Cool. A Mustang.” Chastity pushed knobs and twisted buttons. The radio blasted loud enough to rattle Rachel’s teeth. “I love red cars,” the teen shouted over the noise.
Rachel lowered the volume, earning a pout from Chastity. “Don’t get excited. It’s a rental.”
“What do you usually drive?”
“I don’t own a car, so I take public transit. I ride the MARTA or the bus.”
“The bus? You ride a stinking bus?”
“Public transportation is very good in Atlanta.” And a car in her neighborhood might get stripped or stolen.
“You’ll need a car here, and Mom’s...” Chastity’s hair flew as she quickly averted her face to stare out the window, blinking fast. “It’s toast.”
The broken words squeezed Rachel’s heart. Hope’s car had been totaled, the police officer had said. He’d offered to text pictures, but Rachel had declined.
“I have this one for now.”
“So we’ll shop for one? A red one?”
Rachel’s heart sank. “Probably not, sweetie.”
“But how will we get around?” Worry tightened Chastity’s features.
“We’ll use the bus and MARTA.”
“You’re going back to Atlanta? But...where will I live?”
Rachel reached across the console and covered a knotted fist. “You’ll live with me.”
“Your apartment only has one bedroom, and your neighborhood stinks. Mom said it wasn’t even safe for us to visit.” Chastity pulled away to dig a lipstick out of her pocket. She flipped down the visor mirror and slathered on a bold red color that would look good on her in about twenty years.
“We’ll find a bigger place near good schools. Maybe even a house with a yard big enough to have a garden.”
“Mom has—had a garden.”
“I know.”
“I hated working in it. Bugs. Sweat. Weeds.”
Rachel didn’t point out that Chastity had often bragged in her emails about her section of the garden. “Okay. No garden. But I’ve never found tomatoes as good as your mom’s anywhere in the world. I was hoping you’d tell me her secret.”
Silence reigned, then Chastity blurted, “I don’t want to move.”
Rachel’s heart clenched with empathy. How many times had she said that? “Change is difficult, but together we’ll find the perfect place.”
“My friends are here.”
“I know. But you’ll make new friends, and we’ll visit your old ones.” Maybe. That would be risky.
“Does Atlanta have good shopping?”
“Second only to New York.”
“Good, ’cause you need an intervention. You’re a fashion ‘don’t.’”
Ouch. “I’m dressed for the heat and the ethics where I was working—and for traveling.”
“Yeah, well...you look like a bag lady.”
“Thanks, so much. I love you, too, kid.”
“Will I get to buy cool clothes?”
“Sure.”
“You’ll let me pick out the house?”
“I’ll let you help.”
For nearly a mile, silence echoed in the car. “Could I be called Chaz there instead of Chastity? I catch a lot of grief over my name. Mom might as well have named me Perpetual Virgin or something equally lame.”
“You can be Chaz if you want. Or even Faith.”
“God, no. My middle name’s as bad as my first. Chastity Faith. I mean, seriously, who does that to a kid?”
“Faith is my middle name.”
“And you don’t use it, either. Can I get a dog? Mom always said no, but pets are important for teaching responsibility.”
Rachel laughed. The kid was playing all the cards. “We’ll discuss it when we figure out where we’ll live.”
“Moving might be okay. I’ll think about it.”
Chastity didn’t have a choice, but Rachel didn’t push the point as she turned into Hope’s neighborhood.
Chastity stroked the dashboard. “Can I drive the rest of the way home?”
Rachel did a double take. “You’re thirteen.”
“Jess Weaver drives her mom’s car sometimes.”
“You’re not Jess Weaver.” Rachel wanted to slap a hand over her mouth. How many times had her parents or Hope given her that patronizing kind of answer? She’d always sworn she’d never say that to a kid of her own. But she hadn’t planned to have any children—any more children, that is.
Logic might work better than argument. “Driving at your age is illegal. If you get caught, you can’t get your license when you turn sixteen.”
“That would suck.”
“We’ll find some go-carts somewhere.”
“Go-carts are for babies.”
This wasn’t getting them anywhere. “So...Matt Johnston is the detention officer? I didn’t know he’d moved back to Johnstonville.”
She wasn’t shamelessly milking information out of a kid. Okay, she was, but curiosity was killing her, and she needed to change the subject.
“He’s the athletic director and the varsity football coach, too. His team’s state champion. Sometimes he substitute teaches or does detention when there’s no ball practice.”
Matt had dreamed of playing professional football after college. What had happened to his plans? Rachel had always expected to see his handsome face on a cereal box or something. He’d been a gifted athlete, smart and driven. Not smart enough to avoid her, but still...the last place she’d expected to find him living was Johnstonville. He’d known exactly what he’d wanted out of life and had a plan to achieve his goals. She’d envied that.
She tamped down the thought. “You had him as a substitute?”
“Yeah. In English. I hate English.” Chastity directed her response to the nonjudgmental window.
As Rachel drove through the streets dappled by the sun peeking through an oak canopy, her thoughts circled back to those brief weeks with him fourteen years ago. Matt had been perfect in a way she could never be—like Hope. And Rachel had deliberately set out to lead Johnstonville’s golden boy astray. She’d tempted and teased him into taking a walk on the wild side, all in a bid to tarnish his halo. But she hadn’t expected him to be understanding, supportive and encouraging. She definitely hadn’t anticipated falling in love with him. Needing him. Wanting forever with him. Or conceiving his child. She’d never cared for anyone with that intensity before or since. She hadn’t let herself.
“He was dating mom.”
Chastity’s words hit Rachel’s solar plexus like a fist. Her foot went slack on the gas pedal. She struggled to regain her breath and balance. “Really?”
“They were gonna get married.”
Another hit. Bile burned her throat. She debated pulling off the road and hitting the ditch to empty her stomach. She reminded herself Matt wasn’t hers. She’d dumped him and walked away. But the image of him making love to her sister was more than her over-traveled nerves could handle. A sour taste filled her mouth. “Your mom was older than Matt.”
“Only by a few years.”
“She, um, never mentioned being...engaged.”
“They hadn’t announced it, but I heard them talking a couple times after they thought I was asleep.” Chastity fussed with the cheap beads on her wrist. “Coach would have been a pretty cool dad.”
Yes. He would have. Rachel couldn’t get a sound out.
“He’s a babe—for an old guy. And probably good in bed since he was a jock and all. They get a lot of practice. Girls always throw themselves at jocks.”
But some jocks tried to save themselves for marriage.
Rachel battled to conceal the chaotic tangle of shock, guilt and denial thundering through her. As nonchalantly as she could, she looked at her niece/daughter and caught the calculating gleam in Chastity’s dark eyes and realized the kid was trying to shock her. Since Rachel couldn’t think of anything to say, she kept her mouth shut. But she wanted to scream.
Hope had taken her daughter. Did she have to take the only man Rachel had ever loved, too? Not that Matt had ever really been Rachel’s. He’d have eventually realized Rachel was unlovable and dumped her. But for a short time she’d found someone who’d believed in her. Accepted her.
Chastity buffed her nails against her jeans. “I don’t think he and Mom were doing it, though. He never spent the night. Anyway, Mom wasn’t the type to get all hot and bothered, you know? She was like a prissy control freak.”
An apt description. Rachel exhaled the breath she’d been holding. She was not relieved. Really, she wasn’t. “Their private relationship was none of your business, Chastity. Or mine. And stop trying to shock me by talking trash.”
“Aw, come on, don’t you ever look at a guy and wonder what he looks like naked or what he’d be like in bed?”
Only Matt. Her other relationships had been more...cerebral. “Matt’s old enough to be your father.”
“Eeew, I don’t want to sleep with him.”
“You’re too young to sleep with anybody.”
Chastity fluffed her hair. “Oh, please. Do you think girls my age aren’t doing it?”
“I know they are. But are you ready to be a mother?”
“No freaking way.” Utter revulsion coated the words. “But there are condoms and birth control pills. I have friends using them.”
“No birth control is fail proof. Trust me. When I volunteer at the clinic I see more pregnant thirteen-year-olds than you’d believe. Let’s not forget the sexually transmitted diseases. Keep your panties on and don’t be in such a rush to grow up. And don’t turn sex into something as cheap and easy as picking up a pack of gum at the corner store. Making love should be...special. Meaningful.”
With Matt it had been both, despite her initial intentions.
“Yeah, yeah.” Chastity poked a wad of gum through her red lips. “You’re more like Mom than I thought.”
Rachel’s heart pounded, and her hands were sweat-slick on the steering wheel. She’d had dreamy visions of the mother-daughter chats she would have shared with Chastity if she hadn’t given her up. How she would have handled difficult conversations like this one so much better than her own mother had. But Rachel hadn’t expected that day to be today. She wasn’t ready. And she wasn’t nearly as eloquent as she thought she’d be. In fact, she had no clue what to say that wouldn’t sound like her mother’s preaching. Or Hope’s.
“Chastity, a lot of people claim to know all the facts about sex and end up in trouble anyway because there’s so much misinformation out there. You can ask me anything. Anything at all. Anytime. Okay?”
Chastity rolled her eyes. “Right.”
Disappointed by the lackluster response, Rachel steered the Mustang onto Hope’s quiet street. “I mean it. No judgment. Okay?”
“Whatever.”
Rachel hadn’t been to Hope’s house since her sister had packed them up just weeks after Rachel had discovered her pregnancy. As she drove down the street, the senior citizens working in their perfectly tended yards looked up from their spring flower beds to stare. Curtains twitched.
Nosy neighbors had been the bane of Rachel’s stay in Johnstonville. The phone lines had probably started humming with the news that Rachel Bishop was back the moment she identified herself at the lawyer’s office. The good citizens would wait with baited breath for Rachel’s next scandalous move. She’d disappoint them this time, though. She didn’t create havoc anymore. She brought order. And she definitely wouldn’t be corrupting any more golden boys.
As soon as they pulled in the driveway Chastity jumped out and sprinted toward the house. Rachel exhaled slowly. How was she going to become Chastity’s mother? She’d never measure up to Hope’s perfection. But she had to try. Chastity was her daughter, and she wouldn’t fail her this time.
Rachel grabbed her duffel bag from the back seat and followed the teen up the flower-lined walkway. By the time she reached the shady porch Chastity had retrieved the key from beneath a flower pot full of blooms and unlocked the door. In the corner of the yard Hope’s tiny vegetable garden was already green with the promise of summer fruits and vegetables.
“Matt said you’ve been staying with friends until I could get here?”
“His sister, Pam. I’ll have to go and get my stuff.”
Chastity had been staying with her aunt and didn’t even know it. Rachel sealed the thought in a vault with other taboo memories.
“In that case, the house will probably be musty and dusty and—” Chastity shoved the door open, and a waft of lemon polish–scented air cut off Rachel’s words. Not one dust mote had settled on the hardwood floors or danced in the sunbeams streaming through the sparkling clean windows. Goose bumps lifted Rachel’s skin. She almost expected Hope—the impeccable homemaker—to stroll from the kitchen at any moment with her apron on and her blond hair perfectly styled.
Chastity flounced down the hall, leaving Rachel frozen in the foyer. Maybe it was all a cruel joke. Maybe Hope wasn’t gone. Rachel’s gaze landed on an old family photograph hanging on the wall. Hope, their mother and grandmother were all blonde. Rachel, her father and Grandfather Bishop had darker coloring...like Chastity’s.
A tap on the open door behind her brought Rachel around. Alice Wilkins, the worst busybody on the planet and Hope’s next-door neighbor, stood outside. Small and birdlike, Alice had made a career out of chirping to Hope every time Rachel had sneaked out. She’d been friends with Rachel’s great aunt who’d originally owned the house and left it to Hope.
“Martha called from the school to tell me you and Chastity were on your way home. There’s nothing in the refrigerator, so I brought a casserole for your dinner and a salad. I grew the lettuce myself, and the dressing is my secret recipe.”
The thoughtful gesture was unexpected. Rachel didn’t know how to handle it, but then she stiffened her spine. No doubt Hope’s neighbors thought Rachel the Rebel incapable of feeding a child. But Rachel swallowed her pride, set down her bag, took the dishes and forced a smile. “Thank you.”
“The church women’s group and I have been keeping an eye on the place and straightening up a little since our dear Hope passed. She will be sorely missed.”
That explained the spotless house. “Yes.”
Alice showed no sign of leaving. The polite thing to do would be to invite her in, but Rachel couldn’t imagine Alice wanting to chat with the girl who’d rearranged her flower beds until the purple and yellow pansies spelled something vulgar.
“Chastity tells me you’re a nurse now.”
“I am.”
“She talks about you all the time. Wants to grow up to be just like her aunt Rachel and see the world. Of course, it used to break her mother’s heart to hear Chastity say she wanted to move away like you did. But Hope was quite pleased with the way you turned out after she convinced you to finish school and get a responsible job.”
Stunned speechless, Rachel merely stared. Hope hadn’t said anything, and one word of praise from her sister would have been more welcome than a winning lottery ticket. The only thing Rachel had known for sure was that she’d disappointed Hope and their parents on a regular basis.
Miss Wilkins pointed to the casserole. “Bake it at three-fifty for thirty minutes. Call if you need anything. I can pop over anytime. I left my number on the pad by the phone.”
“Thanks, again.” For more than the food. Rachel shut the door behind her. After all the effort Rachel had expended to make the woman miserable, she couldn’t fathom why she was being nice...unless she was fishing for information.
“Who was that?” Chastity had changed into jeans and a T-shirt and pulled her hair up into a ponytail on top of her head. Even though she still wore the heavy makeup, she looked more like a thirteen-year-old now than the thirty-year-old she’d been impersonating earlier.
“Miss Wilkins.”
Chastity grimaced. “Whatever she says, I didn’t do it. I’ve been at school all day.”
Rachel laughed. “I used to say those same words. She brought dinner.”
“Nah, she was checking up on us. Dinner is an excuse. What is it?” She peered under the foil. “Mmm, her chicken casserole. The old bat makes the best chicken casserole on the planet...even if she does make a career out of spying on me and making my life miserable.”