Lois Richer - Past Secrets, Present Love

Something about Kelly’s reaction—as if she’d drawn her shield up—bothered him. She was hurting and it was his fault. He should have found a better way to tell her

Ross admitted what had been lurking in the back of his brain for weeks. He wanted to see Kelly Young without the shadows clouding her eyes, relaxed, carefree. He wanted to be the one who saw behind that icy mask of tightly leashed control.

Kelly Young had everything he’d been denied—two parents who had adored her, a job she clearly loved, friends who were nearby whenever she needed them. Her life was full, happy, the kind of tale children’s storybooks were made of. Reaching out to Sandra Lange would cost her so little.

Yet she seemed terribly afraid of even meeting with Sandra now.

Why?

TINY BLESSINGS: Giving thanks for the neediest of God’s children, and the families who take them in!

FOR THE TWINS’ SAKE—

Jillian Hart (LI#308, July 2005)

BROUGHT TOGETHER BY BABY—

Carolyne Aarsen (LI#312, August 2005)

ON THE DOORSTEP—

Dana Corbit (LI#316, September 2005)

THE CINDERELLA PLAN—

Margaret Daley (LI#320, October 2005)

HER CHRISTMAS WISH—

Kathryn Springer (LI#324, November 2005)

PAST SECRETS, PRESENT LOVE—

Lois Richer (LI#328, December 2005)

Sneaking a flashlight under the blankets, hiding in a thicket of Caragana bushes where no one could see, pushing books into socks to take to camp—those are just some of the things Lois Richer freely admits to in her pursuit of the written word. “I’m a bookaholic. I can’t do without stories,” she confesses. “It’s always been that way.”

Her love of language evolved into writing her own stories. Today her passion is to create tales of personal struggle that lead to triumph over life’s rocky road. For Lois, a happy ending is essential.

“In my stories, as in my own life, God has a way of making all things beautiful. Writing a love story is my way of reinforcing my faith in His ultimate goodness toward us—His precious children.”

Lois Richer

Special thanks and acknowledgment are given to Lois Richer for her contribution to the TINY BLESSINGS series.

This book is dedicated to moms all over the world who love above and beyond. You are reflections of the Father’s love for His children.

And this book is dedicated to my mom who never believed them when they said it couldn’t be done. You go, Mom!

You are the Lord, You alone; You have made heaven, the heaven of heavens, with all their hosts, the earth and all that is on it, the seas and all that is in them; and You preserve all of them; and the host of heaven worships You.

—Nehemiah 9:6

Ross—From the Scottish or Latin, which means “from the headlands.” It is a German variant of Roswald or the English variant of Roswell or Russell.

Kelly—From the Irish, which means “warrior or bright-minded.” It was originally a boys’ name.

Sandra—A variation of the Greek Alexandra, which means “defender of mankind.” A feminine form of Alexander.

Dear Reader,

Welcome back! I hope you’ve enjoyed visiting Chestnut Grove once more as Kelly deals with a lifelong insecurity that has kept her from relaxing in God’s love. In each of us there is a kernel of disbelief that, if not checked, can grow until it saps our trust and faith in God and His divine plan for our lives.

My prayer for you is that you will lean on Him when life gets too much, that you will trust even though the struggles seem too hard. Know that He is there, waiting for you to call on Him. He will answer.

Blessings,

LOIS RICHER

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

You or Ben Cavanaugh may be the adult child of Sandra Lange.

The words echoed through Kelly Young’s brain with the rhythm of a marching band on Independence Day. No matter how furiously she worked at cleaning out the old utility closet, she couldn’t silence them.

“Aren’t you leaving to get ready for Ben and Leah’s wedding?”

She glanced up, saw Florence Villi scowling at her and nodded. Scour was a word that suited the cleaning lady at Tiny Blessings Adoption Agency to a T.

“I’m leaving soon,” Kelly assured her. “Just a few things to tie up first.”

“You’re getting to be a workaholic.” Florence’s brown eyes hardened as she noticed what Kelly was doing. “I’m not responsible for any messes you make, and I’ve already cleaned this hall.”

“I’ll clean it up—don’t worry, Florence.”

“You looking for something special?”

“Just a little more space.” Kelly lifted out yet another broom, held it up. “Do you ever use this stuff?”

“Not my job to clean out all the closets in this building,” Florence grumbled. “I keep my stuff in the basement. I’m not responsible for this.”

“I wasn’t implying you were, I was just wondering—” Kelly felt the anger emanating from the other woman and decided retreat was wise. “Never mind. Are you working late tonight?”

“Same as any other night, isn’t it?” Florence eyes narrowed. “Nobody ever had a complaint about that. I do my job and I do it right.”

She did, Kelly agreed. Usually not with a happy face, but Florence kept the place clean and minded her own business. Except for the time she’d leaked information to the Richmond Gazette about some botched birth records. As she watched the over-painted lips on that grim mouth turn down, Kelly decided not to remind her of that faux pas. Florence already didn’t like her, why make it worse?

“I suppose everyone else is gone,” she murmured, trying to ease some of the articles back inside the closet.

“They left long ago. Could be that they all have people at home waiting for them.”

Unlike you.

Having uttered her unspoken little dig, Florence pushed her mop down the hallway, nose in the air as she studiously avoided the mess Kelly had made.

“‘Be ye kind, one to another. Tenderhearted, forgiving—’ ” Kelly recited her mother’s favorite verse until some of her frustration drained away. Carol Young had loved life, refused to let someone else’s unpleasantness drain her joy. She’d set a good example for her daughter.

Thank goodness her mom had never known about Sandra Lange and this search she was conducting for her long-lost child. Of course Kelly wasn’t Sandra’s child. It must be Ben.

Kelly checked her watch, gasped. How had it grown so late? Ben and Leah’s wedding was important to her, there was no way she wanted to miss it. Fortunately her house was only minutes away. She could make it if she hurried.

“You are not watching me do this, Mom,” she muttered as she shoved the jumble of brooms back into the closet willy-nilly. Of course they wouldn’t go in as easily as they’d fallen out. Kelly wiggled and pushed, determined to get them inside, but something solid seemed in the way.

“What on earth is back here anyway?” she grumbled, standing on a gallon paint can to peer over the mess. “A filing cabinet? What’s that doing here? It can’t have anything in it.”

Kelly scoffed at the very idea. There was no way Tiny Blessings Adoption Agency kept its outdated files in a utility closet, not with her as director. Although stranger things had happened under the previous director’s orders. She stretched an arm over a pile of old rags and yanked on the handle to open it, but the drawer of the cabinet wouldn’t open.