Second Chance Mom. Emilie RoseЧитать онлайн книгу.
dumped her on her older sister. But Hope had been no substitute for her mother or her father.
Rachel squashed the memories. “I was in a flood-ravaged village in a third world country with minimal communication and access to the outside. I didn’t get the message about Hope until six days after her...passing. I came as soon as I could.”
She didn’t bother telling him that she’d had to wait for a rare supply flight because the countryside surrounding them had been controlled by rebels, and crossing by land was too dangerous. He wouldn’t want to hear it. Wouldn’t care.
Matt folded his arms across his impressive chest and narrowed his eyes. “Really.”
His skepticism sobered her. Matt had known her when deceiving people had been her MO.
“I was working, Matt.” She hated defending herself. There hadn’t been a need to do so since she’d left this narrow-minded town. Her dedication and the quality of her work spoke for itself. “I faxed Hope’s lawyer my power of attorney, so she wouldn’t have to lie in the morgue until I could get here.”
She’d seen too many morgues. The idea of her sister lying in one had been unbearable.
Matt’s expression hardened. “How considerate of you. Chastity needed you sooner. She’s struggling and afraid.”
That made two of them. “I’m here for her now. I’ll take her back home with me, and we’ll...we’ll get through this together.”
She had no idea how she’d fit a teenager into her life. She always threw herself into her work, exhausting herself each day so she could sleep at night. Suppressing one’s needs was a common fault in her profession, and she was as guilty of it as most. Maybe more so since she had a past she wished she could forget.
A gaggle of chattering cheerleaders rounded the corner. They snapped to attention when they spotted Matt, then eyed him as they sashayed past, but he seemed blind to their flirtatious smiles.
Rachel watched them, her heart heavy with the unjustness of life. That old song was right. The good were the only ones who died young. When Rachel had irritated her parents to the point they could barely stand the sight of her, Hope had generously offered Rachel a home so she could attend normal American school for her senior year. Rachel had jumped at the chance to escape the vagabond life of near poverty in which she’d lived in the mission villages. Hope had bailed Rachel out of countless disasters, culminating in relocating to anonymous Atlanta to help Rachel hide the shameful consequences of a teenage pregnancy. Hope had taken her kindness even further by adopting Rachel’s daughter when Rachel had voiced her fears of relinquishing her baby girl to strangers.
And then there were their missionary parents who’d devoted their lives to bringing goodness and religion to the world. They’d died for their cause in some dirty village because they lacked basic medical care. If it hadn’t been for Hope, Rachel would have died with them.
Of all the good people in her family, only she, the bad seed, lived on, and she was hardly qualified to raise an impressionable teen. But from the moment she’d looked into the eyes of her newborn baby girl she’d sworn to do whatever was best for the child—no matter the personal costs. And the cost had been living with the knowledge that she hadn’t been good enough for her own daughter.
The girls in their flipping short skirts disappeared around the corner, and Rachel’s gaze returned to Matt, only to find him observing her with frowning intensity. He rubbed a finger across his upper lip, drawing her attention to his mouth and flooding her with memories that did crazy things to her equilibrium. She jerked her gaze back to his. Remembering his kisses, how he’d listened and how special he’d made her feel, would get her nowhere good.
“Chastity’s had enough disruption in her life. There’s only five weeks left before summer break. Let her finish out the school year here. She just lost her mother. Yanking her away from her friends, home and support network would be too traumatic. Or did you even consider her welfare?”
The unjustness of his question hit Rachel like a hard slap. Rachel had always, always put Chastity’s well-being first. But the thought of staying in judgmental Johnstonville and having to prove to these people that she wasn’t the selfish brat she’d once been was unthinkable.
But the biggest risk in staying was having Matt uncover the truth or having Chastity tainted by her birth mother’s reputation if others discovered her secret. Both possibilities flat-out terrified her. The longer she lingered here, the greater the probability of discovery and disaster.
Sweat trickled down her spine. “We can’t stay.”
“It’s better for Chastity to come to terms with her mother’s death here in familiar surroundings. Give her a chance to find her feet and say her goodbyes.”
“Matt, I have to get back to my job.”
“What about Chastity? As much as you hated your childhood, are you going to subject her to the same nomadic lifestyle by hauling her all over the globe and back to...wherever you were?”
Never. “That was a one-time assignment. I live and work in Atlanta. She’s always loved it there.”
“Who’ll watch her when you’re at work? She’s too old for day care. Are you going to leave her home alone when she’s emotionally vulnerable? That’s a recipe for disaster.”
Rachel’s stomach sank. She worked two to three twenty-four hour shifts per week, then volunteered at the local clinic or picked up an eight-hour shift at the hospital on her days off. She was rarely at home. But leaving a teen home alone definitely wasn’t an option—especially not in her neighborhood. What would she do with Chastity? Rachel had chosen to live in the inner city and help those who didn’t get even basic medical care. Her volunteer work within the community bought her protection, but she couldn’t guarantee it would extend to Chastity. Her apartment was no place for a young girl. She’d never willingly expose Chastity to the seamier side of life that she experienced daily or send her to the tough school near the apartment. As much as Rachel hated to leave her neighbors, she’d have to move.
“I haven’t hammered out all the details.”
“You need a plan before you pack her up and move.”
True. Instantly becoming a mother to the child she’d given birth to thirteen years ago terrified her—probably more now than it had then when she’d been less equipped but naively eager to try. Back then Hope had convinced her that a baby needed a parent who was stable and reliable. Rachel hadn’t been either.
Could she be now?
Yes, damn it. Yes. She didn’t know how, but she would be.
“Cut me some slack. I just lost my sister. I haven’t had time to think. By the time I’ve packed up Hope’s house and put it on the market, I’ll have a plan for Chastity.”
Her thoughts reeled over the long to-do list. Dealing with Hope’s estate was only the tip of the iceberg, according to the lawyer she’d met with before coming to school.
Matt’s concern for Chastity’s welfare sounded genuine, even though he had no idea the girl shared his DNA. That only confirmed what Hope had said all those years ago—that Matt was too good for Rachel. Back then he’d been a star quarterback with a future in the NFL after college. Rachel had been self-destructive and in trouble more often than not. She and a baby would have held him back.
Staring into his disapproving face, she truly believed she’d done the right thing when she’d severed the connection between the all-American boy and the black sheep of the Bishop family. No matter how many second thoughts she’d had, neither Matt nor Chastity had deserved being tied to the self-centered twit she’d been back then. Corrupting a truly good person, as her parents had reminded her often, was a sin. Yet no matter how hard Rachel worked to make amends for her mistakes, she could never change the fact that she’d robbed Matt and his wonderful family of the opportunity to know his child.
Did he have others? She surreptitiously glanced at his