The Secret Sin

“What’s that on your face?” Lindsey asked, touching her own unblemished cheek.

The purplish mark on Annie’s left cheek was about the size of a silver dollar but irregularly shaped. Because of the stares of strangers, Annie never quite managed to forget its existence. Most people she was meeting for the first time didn’t mention it, though. She fought against taking offense.

“A port-wine stain,” Annie said. “I was born with it.”

“Why do you still have it?” Lindsey’s stare grew more intense. “Can’t you get rid of it?”

Enough, Annie decided, was enough.

“Let’s see about getting you on a return train,” she said. “Don’t worry about being short on cash. I’ll pay for the ticket.”

“But I don’t want to go back to Pittsburgh.” In a flash of her mascara-coated eyelashes, Lindsey went from a girl who seemed on the verge of womanhood to a whining teen. “I want to go to Indigo Springs.”

That answered one of Annie’s questions. Lindsey Thompson was from Pittsburgh. Annie steeled herself against the girl’s pout.

“Sorry, but I’m not set up for visitors.” Running her father’s business was a full-time job. Besides, Annie didn’t know anything about taking care of a kid. At nearly thirty, she’d never even babysat.

“I didn’t come to visit you, ” Lindsey retorted, her lower lip still thrust forward. “I came to visit Uncle Frank. When he gets back, he’ll let me stay. You’ll see.”

“My father’s not coming back until next month. He’s in Poland.”

Lindsey’s pretty mouth, with its pink-tinted lips, dropped open. Her expression crumbled. “He never said anything about visiting Poland.”

Frank Sublinski, it seemed, had been closemouthed about a lot of things. Annie had left her father a voice mail on his cell phone during the drive to Paoli and was still waiting to hear why he’d never told her the late Helene Nowak Thompson had a daughter who called him Uncle Frank.

“Wait here while I check the train schedule.” Annie didn’t give Lindsey a chance to object. She headed for a ticket window, keeping guilt at bay by assuring herself the girl would be better off back home in Pittsburgh where she belonged.

She returned in minutes to find Lindsey once again sitting on the bench, but this time her book remained in her trendy bag. Her slender arms were crossed over her chest, her mouth a flat line.

“There isn’t a train to Pittsburgh today,” Annie said.

Lindsey’s lovely face lit up, her lips curling into a smile. “Then I guess I have to come to Indigo Springs with you, don’t I?”

Annie tried to look as though the prospect didn’t disconcert her. “I need to call your parents first and tell them you’re spending the night with me.”

“They were already okay with me staying with Uncle Frank. They’ll be okay with me staying with you.”

Lindsey avoided Annie’s eyes, which put Annie on alert. Her father hadn’t known Lindsey was coming for a visit; Lindsey’s parents probably weren’t aware of the fact, either.

“I still need to call them,” Annie said.

“It’d be pretty hard to call them without the phone number.” Lindsey slung her bag over her shoulder and started moving toward the exit, pulling a piece of designer luggage on wheels behind her.

Now what? If one of her father’s employees openly defied her, Annie could threaten to dock their wages or to fire them. Neither tactic would work on Lindsey Thompson.

She blew out a breath, as annoyed with herself as she was with Lindsey. She easily caught up to the teenager, then moved slightly ahead of her to give the illusion that she was in control.

“We’re calling your parents when we get to Indigo Springs,” Annie told her once they were outside the station. “We’ll tell them you’re coming home tomorrow.”

Lindsey acted as though she hadn’t heard her, her silence more oppressive than the midafternoon heat of the August day. Taking short steps, probably because her jeans were so tight, she trudged along, the wheels of her suitcase wobbling over the cracks in the sidewalk that led to the parking lot.

She was having so much trouble toting the thing Annie itched to pick it up and be done with it.

“I can carry your bag for you,” Annie offered.

“I’ll manage.” Lindsey continued to struggle stubbornly with the suitcase so it seemed to take forever until they reached Annie’s pickup, an eight-year-old Dodge Ram. The vehicle had held up well considering the odometer showed more than one hundred thousand miles.

“ That’s your ride?” Lindsey hung back as though afraid the vehicle would roar to life as if they were in a Stephen King novel.

“That’s my ride,” Annie said. “The suitcase goes in the truck bed.”

She expected Lindsey to leave the task to her but the girl surprised her, retracting the handle and then picking up the suitcase. With the muscles in her thin arms straining, she managed to lift the piece of luggage up and over the side of the truck.

Annie got into the driver’s seat, reaching across the cab to unlock the passenger door. After a prolonged pause, Lindsey stepped gingerly onto the flat step before settling into the seat.

“It’s easier to get in and out when you’re not wearing tight pants,” Annie said.

“Skinny jeans are in.” Lindsey gave her the once-over. “You must not follow fashion.”

Annie glanced down at what for her was normal attire for a day on the river: a sleeveless tank top, waterproof sandals, quick-dry shorts and her Indigo River Rafters cap.

“I was getting ready to guide a group down the Lehigh River when you called,” Annie said, then could have kicked herself. She sounded like she was offering up an excuse for her appearance. She touched the port-wine stain on her left cheek.

“What kind of group?” Lindsey asked.

“White-water rafting.” Annie dropped her hand and put the truck in gear. She noticed that Lindsey was gripping the door handle. “You ever done any?”

Lindsey shuddered. “I’m not the outdoorsy type.”

Great, Annie thought, wondering what they’d talk about during the drive to Indigo Springs. She needn’t have worried. Lindsey leaned her head against the headrest and closed her eyes as though exhaustion had struck her.

Annie started to switch the radio channel to her favorite country-and-western station, then thought better of it, afraid to wake up Lindsey. She considered phoning Jason but rationalized he wouldn’t be shy about calling her if he had an emergency. The long, boring drive seemed to take forever until she finally exited the interstate highway and got on the twisting back roads that cut through the mountains to Indigo Springs. The summer-thick leaves on the tall trees hugging both sides of the pavement let through just a sprinkling of the sun’s rays, casting most of the road in shadows. Lindsey stirred, alerting Annie that the girl was awake.

“We’ll be there in a few minutes,” Annie said. “Base camp is a couple of miles from town, down by the river.”

Lindsey groaned. Now what did that mean? Lindsey had already stated she wasn’t “the outdoorsy type,” but did she not appreciate nature’s beauty?

“It’s really quite a pretty setting,” Annie said.

Lindsey groaned again. Annie might be inexperienced in dealing with teenagers, but she wouldn’t stand for rudeness. She turned to Lindsey, intending to set her straight. The teenager’s head lolled to the side. Her eyes were open but her skin was deathly pale.

Annie’s irritation instantly vanished. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t feel so good.” The girl’s voice was low and sluggish, and her eyelids fluttered as though she might pass out.

The pickup was approaching the fork in the road that led either downhill to Indigo River Rafters or uphill to town. Annie’s adrenaline kicked in. She took the turn as fast as she dared and headed uphill.

A short time later, she drove into the picturesque heart of Indigo Springs, where century-old stone buildings shared space with restaurants, businesses and retail shops catering primarily to tourists. She pulled the pickup to the curb in front of a pediatrician’s office that sported a sign with blue block lettering and set the parking brake.