For Her Son's Love Page 4

  Within months, however, the “take-charge” man who’d lovingly encouraged her to lean on him slowly took over her life. He’d openly criticized her friends until they eventually stopped calling. He’d accused her of flirting with the male customers who came into the bank. He’d dropped in during business hours to check up on her. Somewhere along the way, his attentive courtship had morphed into a jealous obsession. Gradually his tirades weren’t only limited to the men Miranda had come into contact with at the bank—they’d started to cast a dark shadow on her relationship with Daniel. Hal had begun to complain about the amount of attention she gave to her son.

  Miranda had found herself living in a nightmare. And it got worse. One evening, she’d told Hal she couldn’t go to a concert with him because Daniel had a fever. Hal had screamed that Daniel wasn’t even her biological son so it wasn’t fair he had to compete with the boy. And then he’d pushed her against the wall. It was the first time his attacks had crossed the line from verbal to physical. Daniel had witnessed the scuffle and had burst into tears. It had given Miranda the courage to do what she had to do. She’d broken up with him.

  But Hal hadn’t been willing to let her go. He wouldn’t stop calling her. He’d shown up at the bank where she’d worked. But one evening, when he’d let himself into her apartment with a key she didn’t know he’d had, and Miranda knew she had to make a decision.

  Less than a week later, she’d taken Daniel and fled from her home in Georgia in the middle of the night. She’d had one suitcase and a vague destination in mind— Chestnut Grove, just outside of Richmond, Virginia. It was as good a place as any for a fresh start and it would take them far away from Hal. Miranda didn’t have any roots there but Daniel did. He’d been a newborn when Lorraine and Tom had adopted him from Tiny Blessings Adoption Agency.

  Her relationship with Hal had cost her more than her job and her security. It had devastated her ability to trust. And knowing that Hal might still be looking for her—even after four years—kept her constantly on edge.

  Not exactly the kind of baggage a woman could carry into a new relationship.

  “I know that look.” Darcy put her hands on Miranda’s shoulders and shook her lightly. “Daniel’s dad messed with your head and now you think all men are scum. And they are. The trick is to figure out which ones are always going to be scum and which ones have the potential to be descummed.”

  “I’ll remember that.” Miranda’s reluctant laughter over this latest Darcy-ism chased away the specter of the past.

  Encouraged, Darcy warmed to the subject. “You could put a little more effort into your appearance. No offense, but even older women should make the most of what they have. You could put some highlights in your hair and use a little eyeshadow. I found this great color called Astro blue—”

  Which, if Miranda remembered correctly, had enough metallic sparkle in it to get her a part as an extra in a sci-fi movie.

  “I’ll see you tonight at eight, Darcy…” Miranda suddenly noticed one of the buttons on her summer-weight sweater had come loose and was hanging from the placket like a broken spring.

  Darcy zeroed in on it. She blew a bubble and let it pop. Just for effect. “My opinion? Don’t replace the button, replace the cardigan.”

  Or I could use it as a muzzle.

  “I’ll think about it.” Miranda escaped to the kitchen before Darcy offered to lend her one of her sweaters.

  She found Daniel standing next to Isaac, carefully refilling the salt shakers. A swatch of silky brown hair, which needed a trim, flopped over one eye.

  “Ready to go, Daniel?”

  “You two off to the park today?” Isaac boomed above the hiss of the grill.

  “Yup.” Daniel nodded vigorously and his glasses slipped down to the end of his nose.

  “Hit a couple home runs for me, Danny Boy.”

  “Daniel doesn’t play baseball,” Miranda reminded him. “We’re going to look for bugs to add to his collection.”

  “Well, you can keep those things out of my kitchen,” Isaac muttered. “Imagine looking for bugs. On purpose.”

  “Will you tell Sandra I’ll be back in tonight to close up?” Miranda called over her shoulder. “I’m covering for Darcy.”

  “Sure thing.” Isaac used one hand to flip a pancake and the other to ladle gravy over a plate of biscuits. “Order up!”

  “We could play baseball. If you want to,” Daniel said as Miranda ushered him out the back door into the alley where he’d parked his bicycle.

  “Bug collecting is fine with me.” Miranda ruffled his hair. “I know you don’t like to play.”

  “Okay.” The toe of Daniel’s shoe scuffed at the dirt.

  Miranda slanted a look at him. “Everything all right?”

  “Yeah.” He hopped on his bicycle and Miranda stared at it in disbelief. She’d bought it on clearance two summers ago and it suddenly looked way too small for him.

  Daniel was growing up too fast.

  He needs a dad.

  The thought came out of nowhere and blindsided her. She sucked in a ragged breath. Hadn’t she just been reliving how horrible their lives had been when she’d let Hal in? Her loneliness and vulnerability had made her a target for his manipulative personality. By trying to fill a void, she’d only ended up creating a larger one.

  If she could be tricked so easily by one man, what would stop her from being tricked again?

  It wasn’t worth the risk.

  Andrew had a nine o’clock dinner reservation. And a sudden craving for apple pie. This would send François, the head chef at his favorite restaurant, into a culinary tantrum if he even said the words out loud. He’d end up with some puff-pastry thing the size of quarter with a slice of apple inside it that didn’t even look like an apple. Because it wouldn’t be an apple. It would be something more acceptable—like a pomegranate.

  Only one place served honest-to-goodness-homemade-with-a-flaky-crust-and-oozing-with-real-apples apple pie. And it happened to be less than ten minutes away from the apartment. He’d still be on time for his dinner reservation—he just wouldn’t have to order dessert.

  “Andrew!” Sandra greeted him warmly when he walked into the diner. She sat at the counter next to Isaac, a cup of coffee cradled in her hands. “Are you here for a late supper or something sweet?”

  He resisted the urge to scan the dining room to see if Miranda was there. Not that he expected to see her. She’d worked the breakfast and lunch shift both times he’d eaten at the diner.

  But a guy can hope….

  It was worse than he’d thought. When had he become such a glutton for punishment? He had a knack for reading people and Miranda’s cool reserve stated loud and clear that she wanted to be left alone.

  He glanced at the empty stools lining the counter. Tonight, he didn’t want to be the high-maintenance playboy. Not with Sandra and Isaac. “It looks like you’re closing soon.”

  “Not for an hour. The grill’s still hot,” Isaac rumbled.

  Andrew wondered what Chef François would say about the Starlight Diner’s gruff old cook. Tufts of white hair formed an uneven strip around the circumference of Isaac’s head and matched the eyebrows sprouting on both sides of a caricature of a nose. The stained, tarplike apron he wore didn’t quite cover the belly spilling over the top of his baggy pants. Pants held up by bright red suspenders.

  He decided the two men would be trading recipes and good-natured insults within five minutes.

  “Don’t mind us, we’re not usually this lazy,” Sandra said, patting the stool next to her as an invitation for Andrew to sit down. “The local news just ran a segment on our favorite hometown celebrity, Douglas Matthews. They’re saying his talk show has a shot at going national. That would certainly put Chestnut Grove on the map.”

  “It’s already on the map,” Isaac muttered, but Andrew noticed his eyes were glued to the television and there was a hint of pride in his voice.

  “Douglas is homegrown. I’m sure if
his show is picked up by one of the big networks, we’ll be the first ones to know,” Sandra said. “Now, don’t be shy, Andrew. What can I get you?”

  He decided honesty was the best policy. “Actually, I was hoping for a piece of your apple pie.”

  “I think we have some in the kitchen—”

  “I’ll get it.”

  Andrew heard Miranda’s voice behind him and realized she must have been there all along. She wore her pink waitress uniform with her hair still scraped away from her face in a sedate twist, but now a pair of tortoise-shell glasses perched on her nose. On anyone else they might have looked severe, but on Miranda, they created a worthy frame for the velvet brown eyes. She looked beautiful. And fascinating.

  “Thank you—”

  Before he could finish the sentence, the doors between the kitchen and the dining room swished shut.

  All right, then.

  Even Isaac looked a little confused by her abrupt departure. With an apologetic glance at Andrew, he lumbered to his feet and followed her into the kitchen.

  “Miranda was a finance major so she handles the books for the diner,” Sandra told him. “She’s covering for Darcy tonight but it’s been slow the last half hour so she’s juggling numbers instead.”

  A finance major? Interesting.

  “So the diner is part-time?” He deliberately kept his voice casual, not wanting to admit, even to himself, how curious he was about Miranda Jones’s personal life.

  “No.” Sandra shook her head. “She used to work at a bank but she told me she prefers to waitress. That’s a blessing for me—she’s one of my best employees.”

  Something about that bit of information struck Andrew as odd. Not the part about Miranda being a good employee but that she preferred to be a waitress. A bank definitely offered more in the way of advancement. Not to mention a higher wage. Before he could question Sandra further, Miranda returned with a slab of apple pie that sentenced him to an extra set of stomach crunches in the gym tomorrow.

  Instead of looking directly at him, her gaze found a focal point over his shoulder.

  “Would you like ice cream?”

  “Sure.” Make it two sets.

  She stood close enough for him to smell her perfume. It was a light floral fragrance, delicate and tantalizing. A totally unexpected bolt of attraction skidded through him.

  Whoa.

  He did what came naturally when confronted by a problem. He immediately turned to God to help him sort through it.

  What is this, Lord? I don’t know anything about Miranda Jones. And she sure doesn’t act like she wants to get to know me….

  “I’ll be right back.” She managed a polite smile and slipped behind the counter where a small freezer was located.

  See what I mean?

  Sandra leaned closer and lowered her voice. “Kelly told me about the documents Jonah found at the mansion yesterday. Ross started to sort through them today but it’s going to be a huge undertaking. He said the dates on some of them go back ten years.”

  The ice-cream scoop in Miranda’s hand suddenly clattered to the floor.

  “I’m sorry,” she murmured, kneeling down to retrieve it.

  Andrew frowned as he watched her. The color had drained from her cheeks, leaving her eyes huge in her heart-shaped face and dark with an emotion he couldn’t decipher. Embarrassment? That wouldn’t make sense. No. It had almost looked like fear.

  Sandra’s hand covered his, pulling his attention back to their conversation. Tears gathered in her eyes before she could blink them away.

  “Kelly has worked so hard to restore Tiny Blessings’ reputation after the damage Barnaby Harcourt caused,” she said softly. “I can’t believe she has to go through this again. Not to mention all the families who could be affected by these new documents Jonah found. I trust that God knows what He’s doing, but I can’t help but wonder why so many people have to suffer the consequences of one man’s greed.”

  It didn’t surprise Andrew that Kelly Young Van Zandt had confided in Sandra. Kelly’s husband, Ross, was the private investigator Sandra had hired to find the child she’d given up years ago, so he was also the one who’d discovered that Kelly Young was Sandra’s biological daughter. The relationship between the two women had had a rocky start but now they were extremely close. Another testimony to God’s goodness.

  “According to Eli and Rachel, Ben tried to find his birth mother but eventually he’d hit a dead end,” Andrew said. “If Ross has enough information to find her now, maybe Ben’s questions will be answered and something good will come out of this mess.”

  “What man meant for evil, God meant for good,” Sandra quoted. Her eyes sparkled, but not from tears this time. “You’re right. Come to think of it, I’m living, breathing proof of that promise.”

  So am I.

  Andrew didn’t say the words out loud but the truth in them flooded him with a familiar sense of peace. The peace that had carried him through the most traumatic experience of his life.

  “That’s what I’m going to pray for,” Sandra declared, striking her hand on the counter for emphasis. “That God is going to somehow shine His light into the darkness Barnaby Harcourt created.”

  Andrew silently added some new names to his prayer list. Ross and Kelly. Ben. Especially Ben. Everyone had witnessed how shaken up he’d been by Jonah’s discovery. He was closer than ever to unraveling the mystery surrounding his birth and it would take a lot of strength to follow a path with no guarantee where it would end.

  Miranda had unobtrusively deposited the pie and ice cream in front of him while he and Sandra had talked, but instead of going back to the booth in the corner to work on the books, she lingered behind the counter, straightening items on the shelves.

  Even focused on Sandra, Andrew was acutely aware of her presence. Some of her color had returned but she still seemed fragile. What had upset her? The surge of protectiveness he felt startled him as much as that first jolt of mind-numbing attraction had.

  Sandra must have caught something in his expression because she glanced over her shoulder and saw Miranda. A faint smile scooped out the dimple in her cheek.

  “Oh, sugar, I should have been paying attention. It’s after nine. Let me and Isaac clean up. You have to get home.”

  Andrew winced. Nine o’clock. He’d totally forgotten his dinner reservation. Forgiveness wasn’t exactly high on the temperamental chef’s list of qualities, either. Oh, well. Five minutes of drama spewed out in French was worth the unexpected bonus of seeing Miranda again.

  Miranda looked torn. “I can stay a few more minutes. I’m sure Daniel won’t mind.”

  Daniel?

  His gaze automatically slid to Miranda’s left hand. No ring circled her finger. Not that that meant anything these days.

  Disappointment crashed over him. Maybe this was the answer to his prayer. God was telling him that Miranda Jones wasn’t available. Because whomever Daniel was, he was obviously significant. There was love in her eyes when she said the name.

  Chapter Five

  The man had come back.

  Somewhere above his head, the tread of heavy footsteps paced the floor, muffling the drone of a television. Darkness crowded him. The kind of darkness that closed in like a thick fog, swallowing every bit of light. Trying to swallow him. He could feel the man’s rage pulse through the house, seeping into the damp cracks in the walls that surrounded him.

  Nowhere to hide. Any moment, the door would be flung open, allowing a rush of light in. Allowing the man to see him huddled in the corner.

  No escape. No escape…

  Andrew jackknifed in bed, sweat beading out of every pore. As his gaze bounced around the room, the stifling darkness gradually gave way to familiar shapes. The chair in the corner. The outline of the wardrobe where he’d hung up his suit the day before.

  He sank back against the pillows, weary and wrung out. As if he’d fought a battle instead of simply falling asleep. He closed his eyes and took deep
, even breaths until his heart stopped slamming against his chest and settled into a normal pattern. The nightmare hadn’t plagued him for more than three months. Why now?

  Finish the story, Andrew. That wasn’t the end of it.

  Andrew managed a smile as the words swept through him, removing the last traces of the nightmare.

  You know what happened, Lord.

  Silence. He chuckled. It was just like God to nudge him back into the memory so he wouldn’t be trapped in the black hole of his past. So he would remember he’d come out on the other side of that traumatic experience, his faith forged by the reality that God was. That He loved him.

  Obediently, Andrew played through the rest of the silent tape. When fear had become as real as the darkness and had tried to suck the breath from his lungs, he’d put his hands together and had opened them like a book. He’d imagined turning the pages, telling himself the stories from the children’s Bible his grandmother had given him the week before. On his fifth birthday.

  Has your God been able to rescue you?

  Just like Daniel in the lion’s den, he’d been able to say yes.

  There you go, Lord. The end of the story.

  But in many ways, the beginning.

  His eyes snapped open when his cell phone rang. A special ring tone that immediately caught his attention. The haze of sleep evaporated as he flipped it open.

  “Hello?” His voice broke the silence, as clear and sharp as if it were the middle of the day.

  “Terrance McCauslin. Miami,” a voice rasped the cryptic words in his ear.

  “I’m listening.” Andrew sprang out of bed and padded to his laptop. He typed in his password.

  GUARDIAN.