The Secret Sin. Darlene Gardner

She was nervous—and not in a good way.

      The hell of it was that he couldn’t talk to her about it. Not now. As a doctor, his primary responsibility was to his patient. He had a more pressing matter to deal with than his regrets over the past.

      His priorities back in order, he strode through the door to find that Lindsey had moved from the exam table to a chair in the corner of the room. Her color was better, but he read apprehension on her face when she saw Annie following him. What was that about? he wondered.

      He smiled at her, an easy task. Lindsey was trying her hardest to act grown-up, but underneath her brave front was a rather charming child. “How’s that orange juice going down?”

      “I’d rather have a Diet Coke.” Her quick comeback and smile reminded him of somebody he couldn’t quite place.

      “Juice is a better choice,” Annie said.

      Lindsey’s smile faded, her hand tightening on the half-full glass. “I like Diet Coke.”

      “Annie has a point, Lindsey,” Ryan interjected. “You need nutrients to build up your blood sugar, and diet soda won’t cut it.”

      He didn’t give Lindsey an opening to respond, pulling a piece of paper from her file and extending it to her. “I need some information for our records before I can release you.”

      With obvious reluctance, she took the form and the pen he handed her along with it.

      “I realize you don’t know your insurance information,” he added, “but it would help if you filled out what you can.”

      Lindsey nodded before turning her attention to the form, her brow knitting in concentration as she wrote. Annie stood like a statue just inside the door, keeping as far away from him as possible.

      Her low opinion of him smarted, although he didn’t blame her. He should have made his peace with her years before now. He could use the excuse that getting through med school and his residency had required total concentration and dedication, but that’s all it was: an excuse.

      Within moments, Lindsey handed the pen and paper back to him. A quick glance at the form confirmed he’d achieved his objective: The girl had written down her phone number.

      “So, can we go?” Lindsey asked.

      “As long as you promise to eat something,” Ryan said.

      Lindsey stood up, although her jeans were so tight he questioned how she could move. She held up the granola bar, from which she’d taken maybe two bites. “I’m already eating something.”

      “Something more than a granola bar,” Ryan clarified.

      “I’ll see to it that she has a meal,” Annie said.

      Lindsey slanted her a dubious look. He wondered if Annie had any experience dealing with teenagers, but then he speculated about a lot where Annie was concerned.

      Like whether she’d ever forgive him for that night.

      “Bye, Dr. Whitmore,” Lindsey said.

      “Bye, Lindsey.”

      The girl strolled out of the examination room. Before Annie could follow, Ryan caught her arm in a gentle grip. She inhaled sharply.

      “Let me go.” Her voice was an urgent whisper.

      Stung, he did as she asked. “I was just going to give you Lindsey’s home phone number.”

      She pursed her lips, mumbling, “Sorry.” She fumbled in the pocket of her shorts, withdrawing her cell phone. “What is it?”

      He read off the ten digits, which she entered, never once glancing up at him. “Thank you,” she said.

      “You’re welcome.”

      She started walking away from him, rebuilding the distance she’d kept between them all these years. “Annie?”

      He thought she’d pretend she hadn’t heard him and keep on walking, but then she turned. “Yes?”

      “It was good to finally talk to you again.”

      He supposed it was too much to hope that she’d echo the sentiment. She nodded once, then pivoted, as though eager to get away from him.

      He didn’t stop her retreat. Not this time. But now that she was back in his life, he wouldn’t let her walk out of it again until he said his long-overdue piece.

       A NNIE had never held the baby she delivered.

      After a lengthy, tough labor, she’d heard a lusty cry and felt like weeping herself. The nurse had brought the infant close enough for Annie to see her, but she’d only gotten a brief look.

      She’d been awed that she had helped create someone so tiny and perfect, but she’d tried to pay attention to the baby’s red, wrinkled skin. Anything to take her mind off the enormity of what she was giving up.

      Even though her heart was aching, she hadn’t protested when the nurse claimed it was best for the separation to be immediate. From her experience with her own mother, who’d popped in and out of her life before finally disappearing for good, Annie knew the nurse was right.

      The nurse had whisked the baby away, and Annie had fully expected never to see her again.

      “You’re staring at me,” Lindsey accused.

      Annie blinked, and the snack counter at the back of Abe’s General Store came into focus. They were sitting on red vinyl stools, their reflections bouncing back at them from the stainless steel of the old-fashioned soda machine. She smelled grease from the grill and the hot dogs on the rotating rack.

      Annie had been taking a mental snapshot of Lindsey that she could call to mind in the years to come. It wouldn’t be difficult. The shape of Lindsey’s face, the spacing of her eyes, the arch of her eyebrows and the even whiteness of her smile were all reminiscent of Ryan.

      Ryan, who brought out the nervous, insecure teenager in her that she’d desperately wanted to believe was gone forever.

      She fought the feeling that she’d been unfair in not revealing who Lindsey was. It was better this way. If Ryan never knew Lindsey was the baby they’d given up for adoption, he wouldn’t have to lose her all over again.

      The way Annie was going to.

      “I can’t eat when you’re looking at me like that,” Lindsey complained.

      They’d swung by the snack counter after leaving the pediatrician’s office. Annie had given Lindsey a ten-dollar bill, then stepped outside to phone the girl’s parents, nervously wondering whether they’d recognize her as Lindsey’s birth mother. The call had gone straight to voice mail.

      “I’m sorry,” Annie said. “I didn’t realize I was staring.”

      “Well, you were.” Lindsey set her nibbled-on sandwich back down on her bare plate.

      Annie worried that the girl should have ordered something more substantial than turkey on rye bread and a Diet Coke. If the woman who’d prepared the food hadn’t left the counter, Annie would ask her to throw in potato salad or at least a bag of chips.

      “You should finish that.” Annie nodded at the sandwich.

      “It’s not very good.”

      Of course it wasn’t. It contained no cheese, no pickle, no lettuce, no tomato and probably no condiments. Annie pursed her lips, unsure of what to do or say next. Uncertain how to get a teenager to do anything at all.

      “Dr. Whitmore would tell you to eat your food,” Annie said, dismayed that she’d resorted to using his name.

      Lindsey’s mouth twisted, but she picked up her sandwich and took a bite.

      Was there already an invisible connection between Ryan and Lindsey? Is that how he’d succeeded in getting