Second Chance Mom. Emilie Rose

through everything. You haven’t been around for five years. And you’re only here now ’cuz Mom’s dead, and you don’t have a choice.” Chastity whirled and raced outside. The screen door slammed behind her.

      Rachel started after her, then stopped. Chastity needed time to calm down. Weighed down by guilt, she slumped into a kitchen chair. Every word Chastity had screamed had touched an exposed nerve. Rachel was nothing like her parents. Other than her working vacations abroad she was stable, established and involved in the same community year after year.

      She knew what it was like to be torn away from friends and dumped into a situation where you were the odd one out. Her parents’ missionary work had meant moving from one assignment to the next whenever the call came. Rachel’s happiness had never been a consideration.

      Hope’s offer to let Rachel spend her senior year in the same place and attend the same American high school had been a blessing. But Rachel had sabotaged herself when she’d discovered her pregnancy in early February. Rather than face the scandal in Johnstonville, Hope had packed them up and moved to Atlanta. In the impersonal metropolis, Rachel had finished her last semester of school the way she’d done every previous year—among strangers. Then she’d given birth to her baby girl.

      Throughout Rachel’s pregnancy Hope had pointed out repeatedly that having a baby out of wedlock was the one sin their parents would never forgive and had urged Rachel not to tell them. Then her preachy sister had shocked and humbled her by offering to claim Rachel’s baby and raise it as her own. At the time, adoption had seemed like the best solution. At least she’d get to see her baby grow up.

      With her parents living overseas, there had been little chance of them uncovering the truth. And then when they’d died right before Chastity’s birth, Rachel had taken the coward’s way out and let Hope clean up her mistake. She’d never ceased to regret it.

      And now her weakness then was coming back to haunt her.

      Protecting Chastity and giving her time to graduate in Johnstonville were mutually exclusive goals. She’d talk to Chastity, and they’d work it out. The teen would come around. She had to.

      * * *

      FIGHTING PANIC, RACHEL took another lap around the den, then paused by the phone and stared at the number written on the pad. Matt’s number. She didn’t want to call him. But Chastity had been gone five hours, and driving around town had turned up no sign of her.

      Matt was the only one who could help her. It shamed her that he knew more about her own daughter than she did. Heart thumping with dread, she reached for the phone.

      Headlights hit the front window, and her pulse lurched. Would it be the police with Chastity or news of her? Specters of Rachel’s past—all the times she’d put Hope through hell—danced in her head. She raced to the door and yanked it open. Chastity, scowling ferociously, stormed past her. Relief and anger, along with a mess of other emotions, tumbled through Rachel.

      “Let her go,” Matt said from the steps, adding to Rachel’s turmoil. “I’ve already given her an earful about running off.”

      Torn between going after her daughter and following Matt’s advice, she asked, “Where has she been?”

      “Hiding out with Jessica. My sister called me. Chastity claims you’re leaving for Atlanta Friday.”

      “I have a job and bills to pay. I have to get back.”

      “You don’t own a car. You live in the slums. What kind of bills could you possibly have?”

      Apparently Chastity had given him an earful, too. “I pay utilities like everyone else. I also have student loans and a retirement plan that are directly withdrawn from my account monthly. Not that it’s any of your business.”

      “You can take four weeks off to go globe-trotting and care for strangers, but you can’t take five weeks for your own niece? What’ll it take to convince you to put her needs ahead of yours? That’s what parenting is about.”

      He didn’t know what he was asking and didn’t understand that she was putting Chastity’s welfare first. And she couldn’t tell him the truth because it would destroy so many lives—his included.

      “I’m out of vacation time.”

      “Then use your sick days or take a leave of absence. She’ll only run away if you drag her to Atlanta. Pam heard her plotting with Jess. Are you willing to risk that?”

      At the shelter, Rachel often worked with young girls who’d been living on the streets. Some were runaways. Some had been forced into prostitution via drugs. The churning in her stomach told her Matt was right. She would have to choose the lesser evil.

      Against her better judgment she would have to stay in Johnstonville until she could convince Chastity that moving would be a good thing.

      She hoped she didn’t live to regret it.

       CHAPTER FOUR

      RACHEL ROLLED OUT of bed before sunup. Tension knotted her neck muscles, and her skull felt tight—the precursor of a migraine if she didn’t intervene.

      Committing to five more weeks in Johnstonville seemed like taking the first step on a very slippery slope. It meant risking her secret getting out. It meant seeing Matt. Her stomach swooped.

      She had an hour before she had to wake up Chastity. That gave her plenty of time for a run to shake off the sense of doom hanging over her.

      Her tank with the built-in bra and shorts with the sewn-in panty were the norm by Atlanta standards, yet who knew what was acceptable here? But she’d left her sweatpants with the village women, and she refused to wear Hope’s clothes again. Her shorts and tank top would have to do.

      She yanked her hair into a ponytail and peeked in on Chastity. Her heart tugged. Chastity looked so innocent with her cheeks flushed and hair spread across the pillow. But she had Rachel’s short fuse—a lesson learned last night.

      In the kitchen, Rachel scratched out a note and stuck it to the refrigerator before stepping outside to work the kinks from her limbs. Staying in Johnstonville was akin to sweating the incubation period after exposure to a dreaded disease. She would hope for a good prognosis, knowing full well that any hour a full-blown disaster could strike.

      She finished her warm-up, then headed down Hope’s driveway. If it weren’t for Chastity, Rachel would donate everything her sister had owned, put the house up for sale and be gone by noon.

      She couldn’t let the teen control her with threats of running away. But how could she tell whether Chastity was bluffing or serious? She and Chastity definitely had a few bugs to work out of their relationship.

      Rachel’s soles slapped the asphalt as she tried to outrun her fears. The burn in her chest pulled her head out of the what-ifs. She stepped onto the grassy shoulder of the road, propped her palms on her knees and struggled to catch her breath. Scanning her surroundings beneath the pinkening sky, she realized she had no idea where she was. None of the landmarks were familiar. How far had she run? She hadn’t a clue, but she knew her pace had been too fast. How many turns had she taken? Two rights and a left? Or the opposite?

      Great. She was lost. And she’d left her cell phone at home. She didn’t want Chastity to leave for school without seeing her—especially not after last night’s debacle.

      The sound of fast footfalls caught her attention. Optimistically, she glanced up. Maybe the fellow jogger could give her directions. Then she recognized the runner—Matt—and groaned. He kept catching her at her worst. Not that she cared what she looked like since she wasn’t trying to impress anyone—especially him. But at least she’d shaved her legs.

      He, on the other hand, looked fit and fabulous, of course. He reached her side. Blue eyes scorched over her, kicking her pulse rate back into the danger zone. “Good morning, Rachel. You okay?”

      “’Morning.