The Truth About Tara. Darlene Gardner

it was empty. Their aisle smelled of the ground coffee on the shelf behind him. He turned, picked one out at random and dropped it into the basket. Maybe not his smoothest move judging from the way her lips thinned.

      “Here in Wawpaney?” she asked.

      The skepticism that ran through her question was so heavy she could just as well have accused him of following her. It didn’t seem like a good idea to admit he’d decided to come into the store only after seeing her hug Danny in the parking lot.

      “Shell Beach doesn’t have a grocery store,” he said, naming the Chesapeake Bay community about six or seven miles away where he was renting a house. “I’m pretty sure Wawpaney’s the closest town.”

      Her mouth dropped open.

      “C-can you take your thumb off again?” Danny interjected.

      “Maybe later, buddy,” Jack said.

      “My name’s not buddy,” the boy said. “It’s Danny.”

      Jack smiled. “Sorry, Danny. I can’t take off my thumb right now. I need to talk to Tara.”

      “How do you know my name?” she asked sharply.

      “You told me,” he said. Hadn’t she? Suddenly he wasn’t so sure.

      She shook her head. “I didn’t.”

      That was right. The waitress at the diner had provided Tara’s name when she’d spotted the age progression of Hayley Cooper.

      “I thought you were passing through town,” she said.

      “I liked it here, so decided to stay awhile. What better place to hang out than the beach?” When she didn’t agree, he looked down at Danny. “You like the beach, right?”

      “I like fish,” he said.

      “Me, too,” Jack said. “I was thinking about getting a couple poles so I can fish off one of the piers.”

      “Danny means he likes the schools of tiny fish you sometimes see in the tidal pools,” Tara said. “He gets a bucket and rescues them.”

      “I’m their hero,” Danny said proudly. “Right, Tara?”

      “If those fish don’t love you, they’re crazy,” she said, smiling down at him with all the warmth she wasn’t showing Jack.

      “Crazy fish,” Danny echoed. “That’s funny.”

      “Maybe you can show me how you rescue them sometime.” Jack nodded to Tara. “You can bring your foster sister with you.”

      Again a mask seemed to cover the real Tara. “I don’t think so.”

      “But I wanna—” Danny began.

      “You’ve got a busy few weeks coming up, Dan the man,” Tara interrupted. “Camp starts Monday.”

      Although the excuse seemed legitimate, it also sounded like a brush-off. Jack had expected as much, but he also subscribed to the school of thought that you can’t get what you want if you don’t try for it. He wanted to get to know Tara better and see if he could bring out the softness in her that so intrigued him.

      “Jack can come to camp,” Danny announced.

      “No, Jack can’t come,” Tara said quickly. “The camp is for kids.”

      “You’re c-coming!” Danny said.

      “That’s because I’m working there,” she said, her voice even. Jack admired her patience. Although Down syndrome children were known for their sweet and cheerful personalities, from firsthand experience Jack knew it wasn’t always easy to deal with them. “Now let’s say goodbye to Jack so he can get on with his grocery shopping.”

      She put heavy emphasis on the last words. Yep. She didn’t trust him. Jack supposed he couldn’t blame her. She didn’t know anything about him except that he claimed to be the brother of a private investigator. Never mind that it was the truth.

      “Say goodbye to Jack, Danny,” Tara said.

      “But I don’t wanna—”

      “Bye, Danny. It was nice taking my thumb off for you,” Jack interrupted, loath to cause any trouble between Tara and her brother. He was gratified when the boy giggled. “Bye, Tara.”

      Her eyes flicked to his. “Goodbye.”

      She took her brother securely by the hand and led him away, her carriage almost regal. They’d almost reached the end of the aisle when Danny wrenched his hand from hers and ran back to Jack with pounding feet.

      “Danny!” Tara called after him.

      He ignored his foster sister, not stopping until he reached Jack. His chest heaved up and down.

      “Come see me at c-camp,” he said somewhat breathlessly. “You can take off your thumb again.”

      Before Jack could reply, Danny turned and headed back for his foster sister at a slower pace. Over his head, Tara’s gaze met Jack’s.

      He shrugged, trying to convey his apology, not so much over Danny but about the way they’d met. He wished she didn’t have reason to be so suspicious of him.

      She broke eye contact and in moments she and Danny turned the corner and disappeared from sight.

      The big bag of potato chips lay forgotten on the floor.

      * * *

      WAS JACK DIMARCO following her?

      The question ate at Tara for the rest of the afternoon and night. She briefly forgot about Jack while helping out at a friend’s pub in Cape Charles on Saturday night, but not until she’d visually scoured the vicinity for any sign of him.

      Her paranoia was still on full alert Sunday night on the short drive to Cape Charles where she taught spinning classes. The town, founded along the bay as a planned community to serve the railroad and ferry trades, boasted late-Victorian architecture and a sandy beachfront park. It had become home in recent years to a resort retirement community with waterfront homes and championship golf courses, making it feel like a tourist town, albeit a sleepy one.

      Tara expected to see Jack’s pickup rolling along behind her. It was little consolation that she didn’t. If he wanted to find her, he could.

      She parked and started up the sidewalk to the fitness club, mentally reviewing the reasons Jack could still be in the Eastern Shore. She supposed it was possible that the beauty of the area had tugged at him, as it had many others. Or maybe he was interested in getting to know Tara better. He certainly acted as though he were attracted to her.

      She dismissed the notion, dismayed that it held some appeal. It was far more likely he still thought she might be Hayley Cooper.

      “Hey, Tara! Wait up!”

      Kiki Sommers, one of the youngest members of her class, rushed to catch up with her. The nineteen-year-old was wearing another of the colorful outfits that were her trademark. This one featured bright pink yoga pants and a sleeveless black-and-white sports top. Kiki’s long blond hair was tied back in a high ponytail that swung as she moved.

      “Hey, Kiki.” Tara opened the door to let the other woman precede her into the brick building that had once housed a YMCA. The fitness club that had taken over the space was prospering, but summers were slow despite the regulars who used the weight room and the diehards in Tara’s classes. “Love the outfit.”

      “Thanks,” Kiki said. “I knew it was cute, no matter what JoJo said.”

      “JoJo?”

      “My brother. He moved back home from Virginia Beach a couple weeks ago after he lost his job.” Kiki snapped her fingers and turned to regard Tara as she walked through the door. “Hey, I heard you want to get fixed up with him.”

      “Who does Tara