Lonestar Secrets Read online

  Allie held up her hand. "Okay, I'm lame, but I'm not getting it. Start at the beginning"

  Shannon sighed. She was going to have to go through the whole thing. "I got pregnant my final year in college up at Sul Ross State in Alpine. Kylie's father, well, let's say he was less than thrilled. He lit out for Dallas and left me on my own. I came home that summer to stay with my uncle one last time so I could have my babies here. I found out four months before I delivered that I was having twins both girls."

  She fell silent, remembering the shock. The thought of raising one child had been daunting. Realizing there were two had been overwhelming. "When my water broke, I went to the clinic. The delivery seemed uneventful, fairly quick and easy. Rylie my first baby was perfect in the delivery room. I kissed her warm cheek and touched her pink skin. She wasn't a bit blue. Then Kylie came, another perfect baby girl."

  Not wanting to relive the shock of that day, she stared out the window at the mountains in the distance. Allie touched her hand, and she refocused on her new friend's face. "Then they told me Rylie had died. I don't know what happened." She set her tea on the table and gripped Allie's hand. "But what if she didn't die? What if Jack and his wife took her?"

  "You mean on purpose?" Allie shook her head. "I don't really know Jack well, but Rick thinks the world of Jack. And if that's what happened, where's his other child, the one his wife delivered?"

  "They showed me a dead baby." Shannon rubbed her head. "Ridiculous, huh?" She still couldn't get the possibility out of her mind. Jack's family had money. And connections. Could the babies have been switched deliberately? It wouldn't be the first time he'd tried to take something that belonged to her family.

  "A DNA test would tell you the truth," Allie said.

  Shannon pressed her fingers on the bridge of her nose. "You sound like you believe it's possible."

  "Anyone who looks at those two girls has to consider it. Go back over the birth. Tell me what you remember."

  Shannon nodded and stepped back five years.

  THE PAIN HAD EASED WITH THE EPIDURAL. THE SMELL OF ANTISEPTIC AND the cold embrace of the delivery table made her shudder. If only she weren't going through this alone.

  "Here comes baby number one," the doctor called out. "I see the head."

  "Bear down hard," the nurse said. Her badge read Verna. She was in her late fifties with dull auburn hair.

  Shannon's life had narrowed to this small, sterile room. After today, she wouldn't be alone anymore. She'd have her babies. Shannon bore down with all her might, her moans locked behind her teeth. If there was one thing her uncle had taught her, it was that an Astor didn't cry. It took everything she had not to allow even a gasp past her lips.

  "Good job," the nurse said. "It's a girl!"

  Moments later the doctor deposited a small body on Shannon's stomach. Shannon ran her hand over the tiny head, still white and sticky with vernix. "You're Rylie," she whispered.

  "One more time," the doctor said. "Give me all you've got, Shannon."

  Shannon closed her eyes and concentrated on the task. She'd have years with her tiny daughters once they were safely here. A few minutes later another baby girl joined her sister. "Hello, Kylie," she said to her new daughter. The little one mewled.

  She was a mother now. The strength of her maternal instincts surprised her. She nuzzled the babies, kissing their soft cheeks and inhaling the aroma of their newness.

  "Let me check them out." The nurse slid her palms under Rylie.

  Shannon hated to let the nurse take them to the warmers, and she ran her palm over Rylie's head one last time, then did the same to Kylie.

  "They look good," the nurse said. "Good Apgar scores. No problems here."

  "Thank God," Shannon whispered. Weak tears leaked from her eyes. If only there were someone to share the joy with. Shannon's uncle had declared he was too ashamed to come for the births, and who knew where the babies' father was by now. She had to face this like she'd faced every other trial in her life with no help.

  Verna smiled at Shannon. "I'm going to take your girls to the nursery and get their tests. You'll have them back by the time we get you to your room."

  "Could you take a picture first?" Shannon pointed to the camera on the stainless-steel tray. Verna smiled and took two pictures before whisking away the babies.

  Dr. Madison joked as he stitched her up, but Shannon barely heard. She was eager to touch her daughters again. When she finally got to her room, there was only one baby there. "Where's my other daughter?" she asked the nurse who wheeled her in.

  "Let me check." The nurse bustled away.

  Shannon checked the tag on the baby's wrist. It read "Astor Baby 2." She touched the fuzz on Kylie's head and brushed her lips over the baby's soft skin. She'd do anything for her babies. Somehow she'd give them a good life.

  Glancing at the clock, she realized the nurse had been gone fifteen minutes. A vague alarm began to tickle Shannon's spine. That alarm changed to panic when half an hour passed. All of it a premonition of the nurse's return and the announcement that Rylie had died.

  SHANNON BLINKED AND SHE WAS BACK IN THE DINGY LIVING ROOM WITH Allie's compassionate gaze on her. Shannon swallowed hard. "I asked to see my daughter, to hold her one last time, and they brought her."

  "Were you sure then it was the same baby?"

  Shannon struggled to remember the tiny blue face. "I wasn't suspicious, if that's what you mean. I'd gotten such a brief glimpse of her in the delivery room."

  "What reason did they give for her death?"

  "The doctor said her lungs weren't developed properly," she told Allie. Even now, her throat closed and her eyes burned. She often thought about being reunited with her daughter in heaven.

  A frown creased Allie's brow. "Wouldn't that have shown up in the delivery room? You'd think she would have been struggling to breathe from the moment she was born."

  The thought had crossed Shannon's mind more than once. "I couldn't let myself think about it too much. I still had Kylie. She's been the joy of my life."

  "Do you still have that picture?"

  "Yes, just a minute." Shannon stood and went to the stack of boxes against the wall. She found the right one and pulled the tape from the top, then rummaged through Kylie's collection of unicorns until she found the photo album. "Here it is." Returning to the sofa, she flipped it open and showed Allie.

  Allie ran her finger down the page. "Wow, the girls look identical."

  Shannon's thoughts lingered on the little girl she'd seen today. Faith. The last thing she needed was one more problem to deal with, but she couldn't walk away from this. "I have to find out for sure if Faith is my daughter."

  "You'd need some kind of reason to request a blood test. Or you could exhume the body of the little one who died and see if she's yours."

  "How did Blair die?"

  "Freak accident, really. A little over a year ago, she went up in a hot-air balloon that crashed. She'd been doing all kinds of crazy things driving a race car, going bungee jumping. Rumor has it that she was diagnosed with breast cancer and wanted to try everything before she got too sick. Shannon, you okay? You went white."

  "Fine, I'm fine." Shannon ignored the sick churning in her stomach as the full ramifications of what faced her began to sink in. "Let's see if we can find the nurse first and talk to her. Her name was Verna Jeffers."

  "I've heard the name. Can't think in what context though,"Allie said.

  The women hashed through the situation for another hour and a half until the rumble of a vehicle floated through the open window.

  "I think Rick and the girls are here," Shannon said. Car doors slammed, and she stood at the sound of small feet.

  The girls burst into the room. Kylie spoke first. "Mommy, I'm hot. I think my sister is sick."

  Shannon suppressed a smile. Kylie often claimed things about her imaginary sister. Her smile faded when she took in her daughter's flushed face and recalled the events of the day. Shannon had often hea
rd of the connections twins experienced. She touched Kylie's head. No fever. But she looked like she might be feverish. Spots of red stained her cheeks, and her eyes were glazed.

  Call Jack.

  She resisted the impulse. Even if Faith had a fever, Jack wasn't likely to welcome advice from a stranger. Besides, the last thing she wanted to do was talk to him. She pulled Kylie onto her lap. "You're okay, peanut. You and Betsy want some apple slices? Maybe that will make you feel better."

  "My sister is sick," Kylie said, her voice insistent. "You should help her, Mommy. You always make me feel better."

  Shannon bit her lip. What if Faith really was sick? She didn't have Jack's number, but she was tempted to find it. Her glance went to Allie, who interpreted it.

  "I know his number,"Allie said.

  Cornered. With Allie and the girls staring at her, Shannon dug out her cell phone. "What is it?" He could only hang up. A little humiliation was a small price to pay for peace of mind.

  She punched in the number as Allie quoted it. The phone rang on the other end. A woman's voice, heavily accented, answered. "Mr. Jack's house."

  Shannon's words dried up on her tongue. She could handle Jack, but a stranger on the phone would think she was nuts. She wet her lips. "Um, could I speak to Mr. MacGowan?"

  "He no in."

  Maybe this woman was Faith's nanny. At least she might know if the child was all right. "I was wondering if Faith is all right?"

  "This is nurse? You no come now. Miss Faith has fever and cough, but I fix her. She will be okay."

  Standing too far to hear the words on the other end of the phone, Kylie put her hand to her mouth and coughed. "I'm sorry, I'm not a nurse. I just wondered if she was okay." She closed her phone before the woman could answer.

  "Your friend has a little cough and fever," she said to Kylie. "But she'll be fine."

  "She's not my friend. She's my sister." Kylie took Betsy's hand and the two little girls went back to the living room.

  "I think Faith is my daughter," Shannon whispered.

  Obtaining the proof, then getting her back might prove to be the most formidable task she'd ever faced, and she wasn't sure she was up to it. Was it even the right thing to do?

  3

  DOSED WITH VICKS AND FNRICA'S HOMEOPATHIC CONCOCTIONS, FAITH would be fine by morning, Jack thought. He tore through the books on the shelf in his office. Blair had kept meticulous records of Faith's early years. He hadn't been good at keeping up with pictures and memorabilia since Blair's death. When he found the baby book, he dropped into the leather chair at his desk and flipped it open.

  "Mr. Jack, what you doing?" EnricaTorres his housekeeper, Faith's nanny, and an indispensable member of the family stood by his framed movie poster of John Wayne in North to Alaska. Five feet two and nearly as round as she was tall, she ruled the household with an iron hand muffled by velvet. "Something is wrong, si? Did you check Faith?"

  He took off his cowboy hat and ran his hand through his hair. "I checked on Faith a few minutes ago. You've got her on the mend, Enrica. She'll be all right after she rests. Has Wyatt come home yet?" His golden retriever had gone missing this morning. Jack had fired a ranch hand the night before, and he feared the guy had taken Wyatt as revenge.

  Enrica shook her head. Jack studied her a moment. She had been Blair's childhood nanny and never left the family. "Do you remember the night Faith was born?"

  "Si, I remember. The nurse think our Faith will die I see it on her face. But we pray and show them all a miracle." Her brow furrowed. "Something is wrong?"

  "Maybe. Do you remember anyone else in the clinic having a baby?"

  She nodded. "A young woman in the next room. She have twins. But one baby die. I hear her sobbing all night long and pray for her."

  Jack's gut gave a hot squeeze. Twins. He stared at the entries in the baby book on the desk.

  Faith Ann MacGowan. Seven pounds, seven ounces. It had been touch and go from the moment she arrived. Her Apgar scores weren't good. She was flaccid and blue. He barely saw her before Blair's aunt Verna rushed her to the nursery. He and Blair held hands and prayed for her recovery, and God delivered a miracle to their arms a few hours later. When they next saw their baby girl, she was pink and beautiful.

  But what if it was the wrong baby? Faith didn't resemble either of them.

  There was no denying his daughter looked amazingly like Shannon's little girl. And like Shannon. Blonde hair so pale it was almost white. And those striking azure eyes. A boulder formed in his throat. It wasn't just the coloring. The heart-shaped face, the set of the eyes.

  "Mr. Jack, you scaring me." Enrica put her hands on her nonexistent waist and glared at him.

  "Enrica, I saw the woman who was in the other delivery room today. She has a little girl who looks exactly like Faith. Nearly an exact copy. I couldn't tell them apart when I saw them standing together."

  Enrica's brow furrowed. "A woman call just now. She ask if Faith is sick. How she know this?"

  Shannon had called? Did she know something already? "She asked if Faith was sick?"

  Enrica nodded. "Like she already know."

  Maybe her daughter was sick too. He wanted to bury the questions, ignore the possibilities. But he knew Shannon wouldn't let it lie. He'd seen the fear and speculation in her eyes. She would poke around until she found out the truth. But this was his fear talking. It had to be. Faith was his daughter. His.

  COYOTES YIPPED LONG INTO THE NIGHT, A SOUND SHANNON HAD GROWN unaccustomed to in the city. She punched her pillow and stared at the shadows on the walls. The pillows, even with clean cases, smelled dusty and old. She'd buy some new ones as soon as her first check came in. But it wasn't the smell of the bedding that kept her awake. She rolled over and glanced at the clock. Two in the morning. Her arm around her stuffed unicorn, Kylie slept soundly in a cot against the wall until her room was ready.

  Where was Mary Beth? Shannon glanced at her cell phone. She sat up and reached for it, then dialed Mary Beth's number. It just rang until she got her friend's voice mail. She closed the phone and tried to lie back down.

  A creak echoed from somewhere in the house. An old house always made strange noises. It was nothing. Then the noise came again, and she sat back up. She slid out of bed, then lifted the mattress. Her fingers groped along the box springs until she found the butt of the pistol she'd put there before going to bed. Moving quietly so she didn't awaken Kylie, she crept to the dark closet and reached up onto the highest shelf where she'd put a box of bullets. She loaded the pistol, then her feet moved to the door.

  She twisted the doorknob and the door creaked open, the sound like a crack of thunder to her ears. Her pulse galloped so loudly in her ears she couldn't hear anything. Moonlight dappled the carpet from a window at the other end of the long, narrow hallway. She tiptoed along the worn rug to the top of the stairs. By sheer effort of will, she stilled her pulse and her breathing and listened to the quiet house. She'd thought the noise was from downstairs.

  If she'd been thinking, she would have had Moses sleep inside by her bed tonight. She gripped the handrail with one hand and held the gun steady with the other as she descended the staircase. The coyotes howled again, and the sound raised gooseflesh on her arms. Had she been dreaming?

  The house was perfectly quiet now. Not a creak, not a whisper. When she reached the bottom of the stairs, she saw a trail of light cutting through the floor and leading to the front door.

  Moonlight. The door stood wide open.

  SHANNON SAT ON THE SAGGING PORCH SWING AND WATCHED THE SUN IGNITE the shrubs and bushes across the ranch. The thick scent of creosote and sage intensified with the warmth. She was still a little unnerved by finding the door open, but she couldn't remember if she'd shut it securely or not. The stress of the last two days had taken a toll on her memory of the events of the past few hours.

  Once everything was up and running this morning, she'd get the locks changed. She buried her fingers in the dog's fur, taking co
mfort from his warmth. Shannon should have called Horton yesterday when she arrived, but things had spiraled around her so fast she hadn't had time, though worry for Mary Beth hovered in the back of her mind. It would be the first call she made this morning.

  Her thoughts went to the child she'd seen yesterday. "Faith." Saying the name made it all the more real. Her daughter Faith. Shannon was sure of it.

  Allie had volunteered to watch Kylie this morning while Shannon went to the medical clinic and looked at the records of the birth of her girls. Then she'd try to find Verna Jeffers. The nurse was likely in her sixties by now, but she might still be working.

  Shannon rose and stretched, then went inside to get ready. She wanted to be at the old mining camp by ten, so she'd better get a move on. After showering and dressing, she sat at the old black phone in her uncle's office. The sheriff had made a call and activated the service immediately. She dialed Horton's house.

  "Horton Chrisman," he said. He'd never lost the last trace of his English accent.

  "It's Shannon. How is everything?"

  "Not the same without you, my dear. When I got to the clinic yesterday morning, there had been a break-in. All my files were strewn about the floor."

  She tensed. "Are you okay?"

  "I'm fine. It was probably a burglar."

  "And you haven't seen Mary Beth?"

  "No, I'm sorry. Not a word. I tried to call her but got only her voice mail."

  "Same here." She told Horton she'd check in a few days later and gave him her number at the ranch.

  By seven thirty she was standing outside the birth center in Bluebird Crossing. The small building was only one story. It had five delivery rooms and a few exam rooms. Two doctors in the area had started the clinic to make sure women didn't have to drive two hours to give birth. The sight of the terra-cotta and white facade took her back five years to the mixture of grief and elation she'd felt when she'd driven away from the building with an empty car seat. And one cradling a tiny baby girl.