The Truth About Tara (17 page)

“Good morning,” he said.

“Yes,” she said, feeling happiness rise in her. “It’s a very good morning.”

“Sorry about the phone call,” he said. “I wanted to call Maria before she rung me and woke you. She’s an early riser.”

“You shouldn’t have let me sleep so long,” she said.

His eyes sparkled so they appeared a lighter shade of brown. “It was the least I could do after I tired you out.”

She lifted her lips and bestowed a swift kiss on his mouth. “You could also feed me. Got any yogurt?”

“Nope,” he said. “How about some bacon and eggs?”

She wrinkled her nose. “I’m not a big breakfast eater. A granola bar will do, if you have it.”

“I think I do.” He let her go and opened the door to a skinny closet in the kitchen, removing a bar from a package. She sat down at the table beside the orange juice, taking the apple-cinnamon granola bar he handed her. She could smell the bay through the screens on the house’s open windows.

“Did you convince Maria not to worry about you?” she asked.

“I’m not sure that’s possible,” he said, then pointed at her. “Hey, by the way, I asked who tipped her off about you looking like Hayley Cooper.”

Tara’s breath caught before she remembered that she couldn’t be Hayley. She relaxed. Jack’s sister’s investigation into the old case no longer posed a threat to Tara or her mother.

“What did your sister say?” Tara asked.

“It was somebody from a conference you attended earlier this year,” he said.

She’d been to only one conference in recent months. “The conference in Virginia Beach? The one for elementary school physical education teachers?”

“Yeah. That’s the conference Maria mentioned,” he said. “The tipster was a teacher, too. After she got home, she saw the age progression of Hayley on one of the missing-
persons websites and thought it looked like you.”

“Why would somebody from the conference be looking at missing-persons websites?” Tara asked.

“I know the answer to that one,” Jack said. “A student from her school was missing.”

“I wonder if that was the case in Williamsburg,” Tara mused. “It got a lot of press. Turned out the little boy’s father took him. I think he’s back with his mother now.”

“My sister says most missing kids are snatched by people they know, usually parents,” Jack said. “Stranger abduction is actually pretty rare.”

That wasn’t any consolation for Hayley Cooper’s parents, Tara thought.

“Why did the teacher go to your sister and not to me?” Tara asked.

“I don’t think she knows you except in passing,” he said. “She didn’t even give us your name. And you’ve got to admit you do look a lot like that photo. As soon as I saw you walking to Wawpaney Elementary, I realized you were the woman I was coming to see.”

“I guess the resemblance is why I’m curious about Hayley.” Tara didn’t see any harm in admitting that. Not now. “I read about her on that website, too.”

“Then you know as much as I do,” Jack said.

“Not quite,” Tara said, tearing open the wrapper and biting into the granola bar. “Did your sister tell you why Hayley’s parents hired her now after so many years had passed?”

“As a matter of fact, she did,” he said. “Hayley’s father wants to sell their house and move to Arizona, where their grandchildren are.”

“Hayley has siblings?” Tara asked.

“At least one,” Jack said. “Hayley’s mother wants to spend more time with her grandchildren, too. But she’s afraid moving would be like giving up hope that Hayley will ever come home.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” Tara said. “Hayley was only three when she was abducted. She wouldn’t remember where they lived.”

“Maria didn’t say the mother’s reason was rational,” Jack said. “I guess what it boils down to is that she needs closure.”

“I can understand that.” Tara took another bite of granola and chewed slowly while she thought. “If she knew for certain that Hayley was dead, she could grieve and put her to rest. Not knowing what happened to her daughter must eat at her.”

Jack nodded. “Unfortunately Maria says it looks like the case will never be solved. Too many years have passed.”

Tara popped the last bite of the granola bar into her mouth and washed it down with the rest of her orange juice. She stood up, trying to put Hayley out of her mind. She felt for the little girl’s family, but there was a lot of sadness in the world. She couldn’t obsess over their loss simply because she and Hayley shared a resemblance, not when there was nothing she could do to help them.

“I’ve gotta go,” Tara said.

“Go?” Jack reached for her hand and drew circles on the inside of her palm with his thumb. Shivers ran down the length of her body. “Camp doesn’t start until nine.”

Even though Jack touched only her hand, Tara felt as if her knees were about to buckle. It was ridiculous the effect the man had on her. Ridiculous and thrilling.

“I carpool with my mom and Danny. I need to pick them up at eight-thirty.”

His eyes grew heavy lidded. “I need you.”

She smiled at him. “I thought I gave you enough of what you needed last night.”

“Not even close.” With a quick tug, he pulled her down onto his lap. She fit against him perfectly, she noticed. “It’s not even seven-fifteen yet. Are you sure you can’t stay longer?”

She ran a hand over his square jaw, needing to touch him. “Don’t you have to run on the beach or rehab your shoulder or something?” she asked, her voice breathless.

“Later. Right now I’m exactly where I want to be.” His breath caressed her lips as he talked. She could feel his erection against her thigh.

“This isn’t fair,” she said.

“Sure, it is,” he said.

She wasn’t surprised at his response. After hearing the saga of his shoulder injuries, she understood him better. He was a professional athlete. He’d do whatever it took to come out on top.

He nuzzled her neck. Delicious goose bumps rose on her flesh.

“What do you say?” he asked. “Especially if I promise to make it quick.”

Unable to resist the sensations spiraling through her a moment longer, she wrapped her arms around his neck.

“Don’t you dare make it too quick,” she whispered against his mouth.

* * *

J
UST
AFTER
NINE
ON
W
EDNESDAY
,
Tara fished the key to her mother’s house from the pocket of her shorts, unlocked the front door and hurried inside the empty house. Danny and her mom had already left for camp. Tara would get there later. She was spending the morning as an emergency fill-in volunteer at the Barrier Island Center, where she was due in a half hour.

It felt as if all she’d done for the past two mornings was rush. Of course, the fact that she and Jack had indulged in some morning delight for the second consecutive day contributed to that. She didn’t regret telling him to take his time, though. Their lovemaking had been worth every frantic second since.

She was a little sore, but in all the right places and only because she’d spent two nights in a row with Jack after not having sex in more than a year. Her drought was definitely over. What’s more, she had absolutely no regrets.

A warm feeling swept through her at the thought. She identified it as contentment.

The only downside was she barely had time to catch her breath.

“It’s your own fault,” Tara said aloud as she ran lightly up the stairs to the closet in the guest bedroom her mother used for storage.

While listening to Gus Miller perform flamenco guitar the other night, she’d remembered a box of maracas she’d used while teaching her physical education students aerobic dance. She’d forgotten to have a look for them until this morning.

And once she got something in her head, it stayed put. Today, she’d decided to bring the maracas to camp for a musical activity.

Tara glanced at her watch and slowed her breathing. If she left her mother’s house in the next ten minutes, she’d be at the center on time.

She yanked open the closet door and groaned. Boxes were stacked from floor to ceiling. She’d have to wait until later in the week to bring the maracas to camp, after all. No way did she have time to search these boxes for them.

Tara was about to shut the closet door when she glimpsed writing on one of the lower boxes. Could it be? She got down on her knees. Yes! She’d written “Maracas” in black magic marker on the outside of the box.

Getting to her feet, Tara unstacked boxes until she reached the one she wanted. She slid the box free and heard the sound of cardboard ripping from the top of the box below it. She inspected the damage. The box was so old and brittle that part of its top had come loose.

The cover of what appeared to be a photo album peeked through the opening. Tara frowned. Hadn’t her mother said all her albums sustained water damage in the move? She chewed on her lower lip. No, her mother had said she didn’t have photo albums from when Tara and Sunny were babies. Maybe this album and whatever else was in the box were from a different time. One thing was for certain. She didn’t have time to figure it out now.

She got up, intending to restack the boxes. She hesitated, then pulled out the box with the photo album. It would be fun to look through it when she had time. Maybe it contained photos from before her parents had children. She doubted her mother would mind.

A short time later, Tara put the box of maracas on the passenger seat of her car and then deposited the other box in the trunk. She slammed the trunk shut.

“Tara!” Mrs. Jorgenson waved at her from her porch across the street.

“Hey, Mrs. Jorgenson.” Tara waved back, then moved toward the driver’s side of her car, hoping the woman got the message that she was in a rush. She enjoyed talking to the older woman, but not today.

“Wait a minute.” Mrs. Jorgenson shuffled down the few porch stairs, holding tight to the railing with one hand, gripping her cane in the other. She wore a summer housedress and slippers. At the bottom of the steps she leaned on the cane and walked toward Tara, talking as she moved. “I was just thinking about you. I heard a trunk slam, looked out the window and there you were.”

Resigning herself to a few moments of conversation, Tara crossed the street and met her mother’s neighbor on the sidewalk. The scent of the pine trees in Mrs. Jorgenson’s front yard filled the air. Again Tara noticed the slippers. Whatever her mother’s neighbor had to say must be important.

“I hear you have a new man in your life,” Mrs. Jorgenson announced. “I met him the other day. Such a charming one, he is.”

“He is charming,” Tara agreed, feeling her lips curl into a smile. There wasn’t any reason to hide the way she felt about him. “Kind, too. Not to mention considerate.”

“And handsome,” Mrs. Jorgenson chimed in.

“Yes.” Tara stopped herself from going further. She was starting to sound like the president of Jack’s fan club. “I’d love to stay and talk, Mrs. Jorgenson, but I can’t. I have somewhere I need to be soon.”

“This won’t take but a minute,” Mrs. Jorgenson said. “I got something wrong the other day and I wanted to make sure to correct it.”

Tara’s entire body went still. Like a portent of doom, a chill ran through her even though the temperature was in the low eighties. She had a crazy urge to cover her ears and start humming.

“It’s about when you and your mother moved here to Wawpaney,” Mrs. Jorgenson said. “I told you it was 1983.”

Tara nodded, remembering the elation that had coursed through her when the elderly woman verified that fact, which proved Tara couldn’t be Hayley Cooper.

“Well, that’s what I got wrong.” Mrs. Jorgenson smiled as she talked, as though she weren’t about to turn Tara’s world upside down. “It was 1984.”

The year Hayley had been kidnapped.

The meager breakfast Tara had eaten rose in her stomach as though she was going to be physically ill. She swallowed, telling herself she was overreacting. Mrs. Jorgenson didn’t seem really sure of her dates. The elderly woman could just as likely be wrong about this date as the other.

“It was a long time ago,” Tara said. “I don’t see how you can be sure.”

“Oh, I’m positive,” she said, still beaming. “My daughter graduated from high school in 1984. We had a big party and you and your mother were there.”

“That doesn’t mean we didn’t move to Wawpaney in 1983,” Tara said, which was a perfectly logical statement.

“You didn’t move to Wawpaney in 1983.” Mrs. Jorgenson clasped her hands together, looking proud of herself. “You and your mother moved in the week of the party.”

Don’t panic,
Tara told herself.
Not yet.
“You remembered all that between yesterday and today?”

“
I
didn’t remember,” Mrs. Jorgenson said. “My daughter did. She was visiting yesterday afternoon and asked about you. She didn’t always like you, but she said she’s developed a soft spot for you over the years.”

Tara was almost afraid to ask the obvious question. “Why didn’t she like me?”

Mrs. Jorgenson laughed. “Because of something that happened at her party. I’ll tell you this. Lizzie wasn’t too happy with me for inviting you and your mother, especially because you were like strangers to her.”

Tara wasn’t sure whether she was frustrated or glad that Mrs. Jorgenson had a rambling way of getting to the point. It flashed through her mind that she’d be better off without hearing what the other woman had to say.

“Don’t you want to know what happened at the party?” Mrs. Jorgenson didn’t wait for her to respond. “It wasn’t funny then, but it certainly is now. I don’t know how I could have forgotten it. Lizzie certainly never did. You stuck your hand in her graduation cake!”

CHAPTER TWELVE

L
ATER
THAT
W
EDNESDAY
, Carrie edged her chair closer to a table covered in brown paper, within reach of a mallet, a knife and a roll of paper towels. Good thing she’d looked out the window and glimpsed Gustavo coming to pick her up dressed in jeans and a casual shirt. The little black dress she’d changed out of was not the best choice for a meal eaten with fingers.

“I hope it’s okay that I brought you to a crab house,” Gustavo said. Painted on the wall behind him was a cartoon image of a crab. Carrie didn’t have a clue how the man managed to look so handsome with that image as a backdrop. “I love these places.”

Carrie usually did, too. She couldn’t say for sure why she’d had a vague sense of disappointment when she’d discovered where they were going.

“I can see why.” Carrie eyed the plate of blue crabs in the middle of the table that Gustavo had ordered for them to share. “What could be better than crabs when you’re on the Eastern Shore?”

Champagne. Caviar. Duck à l’orange. The answers popped into her head one after the other.

“Now you’re talking.” Gustavo grinned and plucked a crab from the plate. He twisted off the claws and legs, then flipped the crab to reveal its underside. In seconds he’d removed the shell and the gills and snapped the crab body in half. He pulled out some meat with his fingers, put it into his mouth and chewed. “Mmm. Heavenly.”

His enjoyment made up for their casual surroundings and a clientele that included families and one very noisy group that was celebrating a birthday. Carrie knew that because the guest of honor, who was probably in his sixties, was wearing a paper party hat. Oh, well. She shouldn’t have expected candlelight and a table with a view of the water, anyway.

“Didn’t you say you were from Baltimore?” Carrie reached for her own crab. “The way you’re acting, I’d swear you hadn’t had crab in forever.”

He paused in the act of extracting more crabmeat. “Not crab I’ve cracked myself. Usually when I go out, Susie’s with me. Crab houses frustrate her.”

Carrie nodded, understanding without explanation that most children with Down syndrome had poor manual dexterity. Danny certainly did. He’d never have the patience to extract his own crab meat.

“Not much frustrates that girl,” Carrie said. “She’s always the first one to give me a holler when it’s time to try something new.”

This afternoon, the new experience had been the maracas Tara had used in a musical activity. Susie was the first to grab one. She shook hers with gusto, giggling in delight. Before long, all the children had followed suit. Even Danny.

“I’m impressed, too. I love her so much.” He grinned at her. “But I’m glad we didn’t have to bring her along tonight. I owe Jack.”

Gustavo’s babysitter had canceled at the last minute. When Jack found out, he’d offered to watch Susie, too, if Gustavo brought her over to Carrie’s house.

“Jack’s a fine young man,” Carrie said.

“It took me a while before I figured out where I’d heard his name before,” Gustavo said. “Turns out I was at the game where he broke his collarbone. It was last year, when the Stars were playing in Baltimore.”

“That sure is a coincidence,” Carrie said, shaking her head. “But what’s this about Jack breaking a collarbone? I thought his problems were with his shoulder.”

“He has injury problems is how I understand it,” Gustavo said. “It’s too bad.”

“Jack sure seems motivated to pitch again.” She dug some crab out of a shell with her fingers. “Let me ask you something, Gustavo. Did you notice anything going on between Jack and Tara today?”

He didn’t answer until he’d finished chewing a mouthful of crab. “Like what?’

“Oh, I don’t know,” Carrie hedged. “I thought Tara had been more cordial to him until today.”

“Sounds like you want them to get together,” Gustavo said.

“I sure do.” Carrie sighed. “Sometimes I think it’s my fault Tara’s thirty-two and still single.”

He stopped picking the crab and directed all his attention her way. Even in the crowded room, he made her feel as if she was the only one present. “How could it be your fault?”

“Tara’s always been so particular,” she said. “That’s a real problem when you live on the road less traveled like we do. There aren’t very many eligible men here who are the right age to begin with.”

“I don’t see how it’s your fault that she’s picky.”

“I worry she won’t settle for anything less than what I had with Scott,” Carrie said. “Once I met him, that was it for me.”

“How old were you?”

“Seventeen. He was, too.” She shook her head. “It seemed like we’d have forever together. It turned out we only had seven years.”

“Must have been seven good years,” Gustavo said.

“Not all of them.” Carrie pursed her lips. “Wow, I can’t believe I just admitted that. But it’s plain true. We broke up and got back together a half dozen times, both before and after we got married.”

“My marriage was the opposite. Sometimes I think Victoria and I got married because it was expected of us,” he said. “We never argued, not even after we had Susie. By then, I knew what kind of person Victoria was. It wasn’t as though anything I said would change her.”

“Scott and I went at it all the time,” Carrie said. “I used to wish we didn’t argue so much. But as low as our lows were, our highs were pretty darn high.”

“Is that why you don’t think you’ll fall in love again?”

“I won’t,” she said. “I’ve accepted I’ll only ever love one man.”

“Even though he died almost thirty years ago?”

Carrie pursed her lips. “Who told you how long ago it was?”

“Tara. She told me Sunny was gone, too.” He didn’t look upset that she’d led him to believe Sunny was alive, only puzzled. “Why didn’t you want me to know?”

It was easier to pretend he was only asking her about Scott. “I don’t like to have to explain why I don’t date.”

“You mean because most men would think it was time to move on after thirty years?” Gustavo asked.

“Exactly,” Carrie said. “It’s darn near impossible for them to understand I don’t need another man in my life.”

“Fair enough.” Gustavo regarded her for long moments. “I can accept that as long as you don’t set your feet in stone. One of these days you might feel differently.”

“I won’t,” she said quickly.

“I don’t know about that,” he said. “Life is full of surprises. Look at Jack and Tara. They’d never have met if his sister wasn’t a private investigator.”

“Jack’s sister is a private eye?” Carrie asked. Why hadn’t she known that?

“Yeah,” Gus said. “He mentioned it in passing the other day. He wouldn’t have stopped in Wawpaney if he hadn’t been checking out a lead for her.”

Carrie felt the blood rush to her head and heard the pulsing sound of her heartbeat in her ears. She forced herself to calm down. This was paranoia at work. Years had passed with no hint of anyone suspecting what she’d done.

“What kind of lead?” She was amazed that her voice was steady.

“I’m not sure,” Gus said. “I just know it didn’t pan out.”

Carrie schooled her features. Her heartbeat returned to normal. She’d overreacted, just as she suspected. There was no reason to believe anyone would come after her, not after all this time. Besides, Gustavo said the lead had gone nowhere. Carrie had absolutely nothing to worry about.

Gustavo went back to eating his crab, taking time out between bites to charm her with stories about life with Susie and the cats he’d inherited from his grandmother along with the B and B.

She wondered what Gustavo would think of her if he knew her secret, then she shoved that out of her mind, too.

Nobody would ever know.

* * *

S
WEAT
DAMPENED
T
ARA
’
S
brow and dripped down the vee of her Dri-Fit shirt on Wednesday night. Her heart beat too fast even now, after the cool-down and stretching portion of the spinning class. For the moment, her mind was mercifully empty. She clapped. “Great class today,” she said. “You ladies worked really hard.”

Kiki, her most die-hard pupil, slumped over her bike, her chest heaving, the hair around her face dampened with sweat so it appeared a darker shade of blond. “I don’t think I can stand up.”

“Me, either.”

“My legs don’t just feel like jelly. They’ve turned into jelly!”

Some of the other women chimed in with their thoughts. Since there had been only eight women present tonight, Tara was starting to think she might have gone overboard.

She took a step and almost collapsed. Yeah, she’d definitely overdone it. The upshot was that exercising had only temporarily helped her mental state. Now that the class was over, she was once again consumed with the possibility she might be Hayley Cooper. She locked her knees, waiting for her legs to regain their strength.

The women stretched, then started gathering their things. Kiki walked up to Tara without the usual bounce in her step. “What was with you tonight, Tar? I thought I was gonna die.”

Tara had to pause and process what Kiki had said. She needed to do a better job of focusing on the here and now rather than what might have happened in the past. “I doubt that. You’re nineteen years old and in the best shape of anybody in the class.”

“And you’re avoiding the question. What’s going on with you?” Kiki narrowed her eyes, then snapped her fingers and pointed at Tara. “You’re having guy trouble, aren’t you?”

Tara wasn’t sure how to answer. If Jack had never set foot in Wawpaney, she’d never have known about Hayley Cooper. Did hiding her suspicion from him that she was the abducted girl constitute guy trouble?

“You are!” Kiki cried. “I’m an expert at recognizing the signs, and you’ve got ’em, girl. Dark circles under your eyes. Frown lines on your forehead.”

“Maybe I have dark circles because I stayed up most of the night having sex,” Tara said, hoping to shock the younger woman. She should have known better.

“Then what’s with the frown lines and the exercising to exhaustion?” Kiki asked. “Hello? A lot of sex is a good thing.”

Tara cracked a smile for the first time since discovering she’d been the most memorable guest at Mrs. Jorgenson’s daughter’s graduation party. In 1984, not 1983. “You make it sound so simple.”

“It is simple,” Kiki said. “Give yourself permission to enjoy yourself. No reason for things to get heavy. It’s not like you have to marry the guy.”

“Tara’s getting married?” Art Goodnight appeared behind them. Tara hadn’t even noticed him enter the room where they held the spinning classes. “To who?”

“I’m not marrying anybody.” Tara figured she might as well explain so she wouldn’t have to field more questions. “Kiki was just saying you don’t have to marry someone just because you’re dating them.”

“Absolutely right.” Kiki picked up her empty water bottle and gave a fluttering wave. “See you next class, Tara.”

“I wish your mom thought like that. I’ve been trying to get her to go out with me for years,” he said. “Every time I ask, she tells me she doesn’t date.”

So that was the reason Art had sought her out. He was fishing for information about her mother, the woman who may have taken Tara from a shopping mall when she was three years old. Tara’s stomach pitched and rolled.

“Any chance you know if that’s still true?” Art asked.

Tara brought her mind back to the conversation. She supposed there was no reason not to tell him what he wanted to know. “My mother’s out with Gus Miller tonight.”

Art swore under his breath. “Then they are dating. I half thought she and that flamenco guy were pulling my leg.”

“Doesn’t seem that way.”

“Let me know if they break up,” Art said. “It’s the least you can do for your old volleyball coach.”

Tara reached down and grabbed her gym bag, almost desperate to get away from him in order to have some time alone to think. Except it was also crucial that she act normally and not let anyone know what was going on inside her head.

“You mean the guy who’s been telling Jack DiMarco stories about me?” she asked, making her voice light. “That coach?”

“Hey, Jack asked about you,” Art said, the words sending a chill up Tara’s spine. She reminded herself that Jack didn’t suspect anything. “If you want, I’ll tell you stories about Jack.”

On another day, Tara would have laughed at his response. Despite his faults, which included having a
really big mouth, Art wasn’t a bad guy.

“I already know Jack is rehabbing his shoulder so he can pitch in the majors again,” Tara said.

“He told you that?” Art shook his head. “Guess he must still believe it.”

Tara stopped thinking about herself. “What do you mean?”

“Jack will never pitch in the big leagues again,” Art said. “He’s got too much damage to his pitching shoulder.”

A few minutes later Tara walked to her car as though in a trance, her mind ping-ponging between her own predicament and Jack’s. If she hadn’t been distracted, she would have picked up the impossibility of Jack’s situation before now. She’d witnessed the pain his shoulder was causing him and heard about how the doctors had said another surgery wouldn’t help. Why, then, did he persist in believing he could again reach the very best level of baseball?

She settled into the driver’s seat, jumping at a noise that shattered the quiet. She groaned when she realized it was only the text tone on her cell phone. She picked up the phone. The message was from Jack. Her heart gave a happy leap. She clicked through and opened it.

Help! Your mom and Gus went to bingo after dinner. Kids wearing me out.

She sat in the darkening twilight staring at the text, wishing she could control how she felt about him. At camp this afternoon she’d made a halfhearted attempt to put distance between them. He’d wrecked her already weak resolve when he’d taken her aside and whispered he could keep what was between them a secret as long as she liked.

She wanted to confide in him then and there, but she couldn’t risk it, not with his sister investigating the Hayley Cooper case. Besides, discovering she and her mother had moved to the Eastern Shore in 1984 wasn’t definitive proof of anything.