Hidden in the Heart Read online

  “Thanks.” Claire enjoyed the little victory. It had been a long time since Melanie had taken her side over anything. “I never thought I’d actually get to the point where I’d search. I didn’t really know I could.”

  “How did you even know where to start?”

  Claire stifled a yawn. “I ran into Amanda…something or other, before Christmas. Remember her from school? Anyway, she found her birth mother. She told me to check with Social Services. I have the right to request my non-identifying information. I went to the DCF offices in Hartford and filled out the paperwork.”

  “And that’s when they contacted your birth mother?”

  “Yeah. Whoever she is.” Claire leaned her head against the chair and closed her eyes. Another hangover was tapping at her temples. Of course the alternative was getting drunk and passing out again. Gaining a few more pain free hours.

  But sooner or later the anguish would return.

  “I’m sorry, Claire.” Melanie’s sincerity hung on the words.

  Claire pulled at a strand of her hair and studied the fire. She’d brought Mel out here in the middle of the night, in her condition, and her friend was still on her side. What kind of person was she becoming? Guilt and remorse picked up placards and picketed around her heart. “Thanks, Mel. And thanks for coming over. I…I’m really sorry I called you.” Claire shrugged. “I thought…I guess I figured this would go differently. I never realized there was no hope of ever getting answers.”

  “It doesn’t seem fair.”

  Claire nodded, but the reality of the situation drove the point home. “I guess it’s perfectly fair if you’re on the other side of the fence. And I have to admit, I never considered that.”

  “Never considered what?”

  “That she wouldn’t want to be found.”

  Chapter Seven

  Claire shielded her eyes against the Sunday afternoon sun and looked toward the stables. The dogs bounded across the lush green lawn, happy to be outside after intermittent thunderstorms. Spring had firmly settled across the state in splendor, cloaked the grounds in crocuses, daffodils and tulips. Her sneakers crunched on the gravel path as she walked, rehearsing what she needed to say.

  Her father had returned late the previous evening. She’d pretended to be asleep. But she couldn’t put this off any longer. She walked past the stalls and breathed in the scent of hay and horses. It had been a long time since she’d come down here. Forever since she’d actually ridden. They’d sold her own horse a long time ago.

  Dad stood behind Mojo, his favorite stallion. Hesitation crossed his face as he looked up and saw her watching him. He gave the horse’s rump a pat and moved out of the stall. “Claire. You all right?”

  Claire shrugged. “Sure.” Melanie still hadn’t delivered and would be induced tomorrow. She and Dad shared a quiet breakfast earlier, with few words. Claire fiddled with the chain around her neck, nerves muddling her thoughts. “Dad, I was wondering if I could talk to you about something.”

  He came to where she stood, questions in his eyes. “Well, that’s interesting. I have something I need to talk to you about as well.”

  “Okay. You go first then.” Claire slipped her arm through his and they took the gravel path around the pond. The grounds of the estate buzzed with activity as the landscapers mowed lawns and tended to the flowerbeds. He probably wanted to have her committed. Or sent off to Europe—indefinitely.

  That wouldn’t be so bad. They had Starbucks there too.

  They sat together on the old wooden bench beside the pond. The smell of freshly cut grass hung in the air. Claire inhaled and allowed herself a smile. But the ache in her heart soon returned and shrouded her day in darkness once again.

  “I’ve met somebody, Claire.”

  She jerked her head around. Despite his serious expression, there was an unmistakable twinkle in his eye. “You what?” Dad’s sense of humor was beginning to worry her.

  “Her name is Eleanor Jones. We met at a horse show a few months ago—through a mutual friend. She’s a widow. We’ve seen a lot of each other lately. We have a lot of things in common. It’s quite remarkable.”

  “You’re not serious.” Claire breathed out. “Why haven’t you said anything?”

  His face paled, as though he hadn’t realized what this would mean to her. Then he straightened. “I’m sorry, honey. But I’m going away again tomorrow, and I thought you should know.”

  Claire couldn’t respond. Maybe he’d take the words back, say something else instead. But his agitated expression told her otherwise.

  “I’d like to ask her to marry me.”

  “What?” Claire gripped the bench so she wouldn’t fall off it. Sweat formed on her brow. She couldn’t speak. She tried to, oh—she wanted to—but the words wouldn’t come.

  A faint tinge of annoyance crept into Dad’s eyes and Claire turned away. She clenched her hands on the tops of her knees and tried to breathe.

  “I don’t expect you to like the idea at first, Claire. I know it’s kind of fast—it’s a shock—for me too. But don’t overreact. I loved your mother very much. I always will.”

  Like the idea? Overreact? Claire’s pulse accelerated with every word. The image of her father with another woman galled her. The idea of actually pitching herself down onto the grass and letting go with a full-blown temper tantrum worthy of a two year-old held some merit.

  She rubbed her hands on her shorts and drew in a deep breath. “How long have you been seeing her?”

  “Not too long. I wasn’t sure how to tell you to be honest.” His eyes grew sad, his handsome face getting older by the second. “I wasn’t looking for this, Claire. It just happened.”

  “And now you want to get married? Just like that?”

  “Well, not right away, but eventually, yes. She’s wonderful, Claire. You’ll love her.”

  Right. Love her like a root canal.

  Claire scowled at the grass and focused on a brown leaf. This was so typical. Her parents had always lived this way. They made plans and filled her in after the fact. She was expected to just go with the flow.

  And she always did.

  “Claire?” He pressed her gently and for a moment she feared she would break down in front of him. Claire managed to meet his eyes, the happiness in them undeniable.

  She forced a smile and hoped it would suffice. “Great, Dad. I’m very happy for you. When do I get to meet her?”

  He chuckled, tension fading from his features. “Soon, honey. When I get back from my trip to Virginia, we’ll have dinner or something. Would that be okay?”

  “Sure, that’ll be fine.”

  “Wonderful. We’ll make plans. So. What was it you wanted to talk to me about?”

  Claire hesitated, studying her bitten-down fingernails. “I’ve decided to search for my birth mother.” Her palms grew moist and sweat trickled down her spine.

  Dad stared at her in silence.

  Claire sat back, her arms folded across her chest.

  She tried to gage his reaction but he had his poker face on. Then all color left his cheeks. Her muscles stiffened as she watched him. He could well be on the verge of having a heart attack. He’d keel over and die right then and there, and it would be her fault.

  “Dad?”

  He veered his gaze and stared across the pond, finally emitted a deep sigh and shook his head. “Well, I’d say that trumps my news.” Blue eyes pierced through her, his mouth drawn in a thin line. “What brought this on?”

  Claire shrugged, playing with the rings on her finger. “It’s something I’ve thought about for a while. Since…”

  His face darkened and he raked his fingers through his hair. “This is about losing the baby, isn’t it?” He clicked his tongue, a habit that gave away his frustration. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Claire. It just happened.”

  Claire pushed herself off the bench and blinked back tears as she walked toward the pond. She made a half circle then turned back to face him. “I don
’t know that for sure, Dad. I…have to find out. You’ve asked me to understand you, accept your decision to move on…now I’m asking you to do the same for me. I need to know where I came from.”

  He rubbed the back of his neck and studied her. Sun filtered through the trees above them and lit the lines that creased his forehead. The breeze played with his hair. He shook his head. “You don’t need to know, Claire. There’s nothing to know. As we told you, we adopted you through Social Services in Hartford. It was a closed adoption. We weren’t told who your birth parents were, they weren’t told who we were. They said your birth mother was perfectly healthy, with no genetic abnormalities in the family to be concerned with. Okay? That’s it.” A scarlet hue touched his cheeks and his jaw twitched the way it always did when he was angry.

  Claire shook her head, defeat dragging her down. “I went to the DCF in Hartford. They have to have her permission to release my non-identifying information. She refused. They said I could petition the court and…”

  “Claire, for heaven’s sake. Why didn’t you tell me?” Dad leaned back slightly, his frown deepening. “How long have you been stewing on this?”

  “I haven’t been stewing.” Claire blew out a breath and swatted at a fly. Guilt rankled her, fueled by the look of betrayal in his eyes. “And I didn’t tell you because I knew what your reaction would be.”

  “And you did it anyway. Typical.” He grunted and made fists with his hands.

  Claire summoned fresh courage. “Dad, if you…if you know anything, anything at all, could you please tell me?”

  She may as well have beamed him with a baseball bat. After a moment, his stunned expression morphed into white anger. She met his eyes and saw them harden.

  “This is ludicrous. You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into, Claire. You’re not well. You’re not making rational decisions.”

  “Stop it, Dad.” She’d never openly defied her father. They barely argued. But this was something she wouldn’t back down on. After weeks of thinking about it, the need to know intensified into a burning desire, something she had to do.

  She knew she wouldn’t rest until she was sure there were no other options.

  “I know I’m having problems, I admit that. But I don’t need rehab and I don’t need some shrink trying to tell me how to move on. What I do need is to live my own life. To make my own decisions for once, not just go along with whatever you and James suggest. I’ve made up my mind. This is what I’m doing. And I’d really love to have your support.”

  He slapped his knees, his face a display of muted anger. “I’m warning you, Claire. Don’t do it. It will be the biggest mistake of your life.”

  Suspicion knocked her. “Why? Why don’t you want me to do this?” A slow hammering began as she watched him avoid her eyes.

  “No good can come of it.” He looked down at his feet, winding his thumbs around each other.

  Claire laughed softly, reaching for the charm around her neck. She took it between her thumb and forefinger, tried to find comfort where there was none. “You know something, don’t you? Something you’re not telling me.”

  He raised his head, his mouth in a tight line. “Of course not. The very idea is ridiculous. I can’t support you in this, Claire. Just get the notion out of your head. You’re only setting yourself up for more heartache.”

  Anger, pain and stubbornness pitched a tent and demanded she camp out with them. Claire didn’t need much convincing. She pinched her lips and pushed her hands into the pockets of her shorts.

  “It’s not something you can stop me from doing.” Her own boldness shocked her, almost sent her running to the house to begin the grounding she half-expected to receive. A few years ago that’s exactly how this conversation would have gone. Claire waited for him to speak. Waited for him to voice the anger he was so obviously trying to control. He didn’t. He was ignoring her. “Did you hear me, Dad?”

  “I heard you.” He drew one knee over the other, his jaw firm. “And I’ve told you, I don’t want you doing it. Do you understand me?”

  “Perfectly. And I’m sorry you feel that way.”

  “Don’t do this, Claire Elizabeth.” His voice held a warning tone she’d only heard a few times in her life.

  She met his eyes, unflinching. “What? It’s okay for you to get on with your life, but I’m not allowed to get on with mine? Is that what it comes down to?”

  Exasperation moved over his face. “Not at all. I do want you to get on with your life, Claire, but I don’t see how going on some wild goose chase is going to help you do that.”

  “No, I don’t suppose you would.”

  “Fine. Since you’re obviously not listening to me, I won’t say anymore.” He pushed up off the bench and stood, casting a weary glance her way. “When I get back from Virginia with Eleanor, I want to hear you’ve put this aside.”

  “Don’t hold your breath.” Claire folded her arms across her chest, ignored the sting of tears and focused her attention on the lake. The sound of his retreating footsteps crunching over the gravel was matched by the thundering of her heart.

  ~

  Her father left early the next morning, furious with her, and she was just as angry. She doubted he would ever stop treating her like a child. Much as she wanted to go on a tear, she fought the urge to drink and spent the day huddled under a green Afghan, watching movies in the den.

  Another storm moved in with more rain, bringing a chill to the air. She stifled a yawn and contemplated going back to bed. She couldn’t shut her mind off during the day.

  Claire jotted notes on a pad of paper, her mind replaying every possible scenario she could come up with if she ever did find the woman who gave her life. They all came back to the same one; her greatest fear.

  She would still be unwanted.

  Claire wandered through the big house, the dogs at her heels. She’d had lunch and it was too early for dinner. She thought about calling some of her old friends, but she hadn’t talked to anyone in months. Except Mel.

  Mel would be in the hospital. Claire glanced at her watch. The baby might even be here. What kind of friend wouldn’t be happy, wouldn’t want to know everything was all right? Months ago, that kind of friend would have been her.

  Now she was somebody she didn’t recognize. Somebody Melanie didn’t need to hear from.

  Her father’s study door was open and Claire hesitated, staring at the wood file cabinet behind his desk.

  It wouldn’t the first time she’d rifled through those drawers. She’d been about ten, after being teased at school because she didn’t know where she came from, Claire had poked around when her parents were out. She’d lived in terror for weeks that somehow they’d find out and get mad at her.

  She hadn’t found anything then, and as she went through the musty-smelling drawers again, it didn’t look like this time would be any different. Just her adoption papers, all the legal documents, and bills from their lawyer, faded yellow papers, exactly where they had been all those years ago. But as she put the thick manila file back in its place, she noticed something she hadn’t seen before. A name scrawled at the top of one of the papers.

  Kelly.

  Kelly who? Was it a first name or a last name? She searched through the files again, hoping to find more clues. An old brochure caught her eye and she flipped through it. It looked to be some kind of bed-and-breakfast place.

  “Tara’s Place. An old-fashioned country inn on the sparkling shores of Lake Christopher.” Claire scrutinized the glossy pictures, decades old judging by the styles the people wore. “Home made meals and family fun – spend your days relaxing in the sun.”

  Claire grinned. Couldn’t get much cornier than that. Maybe her parents had gone there for a vacation. But Dad wasn’t the sentimental type. Why would he keep this? Why in the file with all her information in it? She read through it again. “Owners Mac and Jessie Kelly...”

  That name again. She searched the back page for the address.


  Bethel, Maine.

  Claire ran her tongue over her lips and shivered as the tingling sensation that ran down her spine. There had to be some connection. She sat at the computer, typed in the name Kelly into the Google search engine and waited. Results from Ancestry.com came up, as well as a bunch of obituaries that didn’t seem pertinent. Claire frowned and typed in Tara’s Place. If it still existed, she’d soon find out.

  A link popped up right away. Claire clicked. The colorful pictures were more recent than the ones in the brochure, but it was the same place.

  Interesting website. Good design, nice descriptions, not too wordy. She scrolled through the pages, stopping when she got to a brief blurb about the owners, Mac and Jessie Kelly.

  Claire peered at the small picture of an older couple, tried to enlarge it but failed. They both had silvery hair and looked to be in their late sixties, maybe seventies. The woman’s hair was pulled back off her face in a bun, the man’s gray locks waved around his ruddy cheeks. They both wore denim and friendly smiles.

  She squinted at the screen, searching for any obvious resemblances, but the picture was too small. Still, it was entirely possible that these people could be her relatives.

  Or she was just nuts.

  Claire reached for a pad of paper and jotted down the phone number.

  Dad needed to give her answers.

  A glance at the clock told her his plane would have landed a couple of hours ago. She reached for the phone and dialed his cell.

  He picked up at once, probably expecting to have to come back and bail her out of jail. “Claire. Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine, Dad. I’m at home. But listen…I need to ask…”

  “Claire, please. Not this again.” He sounded worn out and very far away. She leaned back, pushed her fingers through her hair and ignored the hammering of her heart.

  “Dad, does the name Kelly mean anything to you?”

  “Of course not.” His reply came too quickly.