Family at Stake

“Let’s get Amanda down here,” Mac interrupted. “I don’t want to do this behind her back.”

Rachel nodded, surprised, and Mac called his daughter to the kitchen. The girl stomped down the stairs as though she led a death march.

“What?” She scowled from the bottom step.

“We are going back into weekly counseling.” The way Mac treated his daughter like an adult impressed Rachel. She didn’t see a lot of that in her job. “You start on Thursday.”

“No way!” Amanda bristled and turned red-faced. “No way, Dad. I am not going to talk to her.”

“Amanda.” His tone was reasonable and sure. “We don’t have any choice.”

Rachel took a step forward. “I know you’ve heard all of this before, but I really am not the enemy.”

“Screw you.”

“Amanda!” Mac started toward his daughter, but Rachel held out a hand to stop him.

“Go ahead and be mad, Amanda. But you still are going to have to talk to me.” She locked eyes with the furious girl.

“I don’t have to talk to anyone!” Her lovely young face was twisted into a sneer that was too old and ugly.

“No, you’re right. You don’t have to talk to anyone. But it would be better for you, and for your dad, if you did talk to me and you told me the truth.”

“We don’t need you,” she cried. “Tell her, Dad!”

“Amanda, baby.” Mac’s voice cracked. “We need her. We have to talk to her.”

Rachel walked to the stairs and climbed the first one so she was nearly nose to nose with Amanda. “Right now I am your best shot at staying with your dad.”

Amanda’s lips curled and she sniffed hard as her eyes flooded with tears. She backed out of the way, sitting down on the bottom step of the second set of stairs. She hugged her legs to her chest. Rachel walked by her toward the door, knowing these two needed time alone.

“I don’t need anyone,” the girl whispered, her words like ice.

“We’ll see,” Rachel replied softly, knowing the pain of being twelve and believing that Amanda truly felt that way. Rachel walked out the door down the path and across the gravel to where she’d parked.

She climbed into her car, started it and began driving down the mountain. She focused as hard as possible, with every beat of her heart and with every breath she pulled in, on the observations she had made, the rational conclusions she could draw from that first meeting.

But it didn’t work.

As soon as she was out of sight of the house, she pulled over. The reality of what she’d done, of being in the same room as Mac, of risking her career for a friendship that clearly meant nothing to him, fell in on her. She pressed shaking hands to her face and took deep breaths, feeling the black edges of the world pressing in on her.

Oh, my God, she thought. What am I doing?

CHAPTER THREE

“DAD?” AMANDA STOOD, THE tears glittering on her round little-girl cheeks breaking his heart.

“I’m sorry, Amanda.” He held his hands out to his sides. He had failed her so much and so often. “What am I supposed to do?”

The answer burned in her eyes, it radiated off her trembling shoulders. He could see it on her face, in the wild clenching of her hands. I am supposed to take care of her. I am supposed to love her and care for her and make sure no one takes her away from me.

Basic dad things, and he was failing.

She finally turned and ran back to her bedroom. The sound of her footsteps pounded up the stairs, then her door slammed and Mac collapsed into one of the dining room chairs like a sail that had lost all of its wind.

Rachel Filmore. He stared up at the wood-beam-and-stucco ceiling and wanted to howl. Talk about nightmares colliding. The dissolution of his family mixed with the devastating return of Rachel Filmore. Perfect.

He had truly thought the parts of his body that could feel the painful combination of lust and hurt and anger had been burned out of him thirteen years ago. But those numb parts had flared to painful life when Rachel had pushed those sunglasses off her eyes.

God. He rubbed a hand over his face. Rachel.

She still appeared fragile, as though a strong wind would push her over. But he knew better. Her feet were planted wide and firmly on the earth. She was as immovable as one of the trees in his orchard. Her chin was still out, ready to take on the world. Her green eyes held that wrenching combination of hope and cynicism that he’d remembered. One corner of her mouth still curved up, like the suspicious and sarcastic kid she had been, but her whole smile was like the sun coming up on a new day.

She was gorgeous and still had the power to make his heart stop and his hands sweat.

He groaned and shut his eyes. As if his life needed this.

Thirteen years spent erasing her from his memory, trying to forget what it was like to love her and for one night believe that he was loved in return. All of those feelings had come rushing back as she stood on his stairs, in the house he had built, and said she was here to help.

He groaned and winced. Help? Rachel? He couldn’t get his head around it. He’d never thought he would see her again, sure that she had moved as far away from New Springs as possible. And all this time she had been just forty minutes away? He smiled at his own nonsense, as though had he known, he would have done something about it. Nope. He just couldn’t believe that she’d actually stuck around this area.

She’d said she would never come back.

Funny how things work out. Freaking hilarious.

What was funny was how the women he loved were always such mysteries. His wife he’d been able to read like a book, but his mother, Rachel, his daughter—all enigmas.

Things were going on in his daughter’s head that he couldn’t begin to fathom. Since Margaret had died, he’d tried very hard to make Amanda’s home a safe and warm place, despite the absence of her mother. He raced around at double speed to cover up that gaping hole in their home. And until Amanda ran away, he’d seriously thought he was doing a pretty good job.

But now this ghost who looked like his daughter, but wasn’t the girl he knew, wandered through his house and he didn’t know how to help her.

Initially, when they’d been court-ordered into counseling, Mac had been relieved. Finally someone for them to talk to, a guide through this new horrific landscape they traveled, would surely help.

But they’d gotten Frank. Amanda wouldn’t talk to him. She’d become more angry and withdrawn from Mac, with his in-laws, who adored her. Frank hadn’t seemed to care or understand that Amanda was retreating from her family, and Mac had grown frustrated. And when Frank had told Mac that Amanda would be taken away from him, all hell had erupted.

Mac looked over at the counter where the broken plate lay in pieces in the sink.

Way to show your rational side there, Mac thought. A surefire way to keep your family together.

Like a fool, he’d thought they were in the clear. He hadn’t heard from Frank in three weeks after he’d dropped the “removing Amanda bomb” on them. Mac had figured they were just another family who had slipped through the cracks. Only in their case it was a blessing.

I think it’s a blessing. I can help you. Rachel’s words lingered in his head.

Honestly, he doubted it. It wasn’t so much that his faith in the system was nonexistent. It was his faith in Rachel that was lacking. Graduation night he’d let himself believe that she was staying—that they were going to be together. But the next day she’d left without telling him, and then he made that stupid trip to her apartment, when he’d stood out in the rain begging her to come back. Although that was pretty mortifying, it was not what was so disheartening.

Rachel had run away from her family. She’d lied and run away from them. When things had gotten tight, she’d left without so much as a word. She’d abandoned her brother, who never forgiven her. Mac couldn’t blame Jesse. He’d never forgiven her, either.

How could he trust someone capable of that behavior?