Lies That Bind

“You just don’t want to listen to us reminisce,” Eliza teased.

“That, too.” He kissed her—a hot, erotic kiss, definitely that of one lover to another.

April looked away. It had been a long time since anyone had kissed her like that. She had been very popular with the boys in high school and had enjoyed a healthy physical relationship with her ex-husbands. But there had always been something just beyond her grasp. Something that Eliza and Cade had, she thought.

When Cade finally left, Eliza bounced on the bed and grinned at April.

“Okay, give. I want to know everything that you’ve done since we were separated.”

“After all our phone calls, you know most of it already, but I can fill you in on the details. And I want to hear your news, too. All of it.” She sat on the bed, leaning against the headboard. Unpacking could wait. She wanted to catch up with Eliza.

“Deal. I probably know even more about you than you think. Maddie hired that private investigator I told you about to find you and Jo. He succeeded with you. One of the things he was able to do was get clippings from the French newspapers. Maddie has a whole scrapbook devoted to you. Wait, I’ll show you.”

Eliza jumped up and left the room. April couldn’t help smiling. It was hard to believe twelve years had passed since she’d last seen Eliza. She hadn’t changed that much. She looked a little older, and her clothes were certainly nicer than when they were kids. But her shining happiness hadn’t dimmed at all. April wished she could be as happy.

Funny how three girls raised by the same woman could turn out so differently. She wondered where Jo was, and what she was doing.

Eliza had mentioned on the phone that Maddie was the only mother she really remembered. But at least she knew who her real parents had been. Maybe that private detective could help April find information about her own parents. Why had she thought she had to do it on her own? Given enough time and money, a detective could probably unearth anything. And money was something she had plenty of.

Eliza hurried back into the room, carrying a scrapbook. “Here, you can probably read it all. I can’t believe you speak French.”

“I took it in high school, remember? One of the few courses I did well in. I seem to have an ear for languages. Of course, there’s nothing like living in Paris to perfect your French. I also speak German, Spanish and a little Italian from trips over the years. German was hardest to learn.”

“I barely mastered English,” Eliza said, plumping a pillow behind her back and sitting beside April. “I took these to Tulane University to have them translated.”

She opened the book and April looked at the first clipping. It was six years old, when she was just starting out in modeling. Taped to the opposite page was a type-written translation.

“These clippings couldn’t have been easy to get,” she murmured, leafing through the scrapbook. “Some of them are ancient.”

“The detective is very thorough. That’s why he’s so expensive. Is there any chance you could lend Maddie some money? Cade and I paid down the overdue amount on her bank loan so she wouldn’t lose this house, but I’d love to get the whole thing cleared by the time Maddie’s out of the hospital.”

“I might,” April hedged. Over the years she had learned to be careful about money. “What’s wrong with just making regular payments?”

“I thought I told you on the phone. Maybe not. Remember the assistant vice president back when we were kids? Allen McLennon? He was dating Maddie right before we left.”

“Vaguely. Wasn’t he always staring at us? Like we had the plague or something.”

“I don’t remember that. Anyway, he’s now president of the bank, and he was going to sell the house and property to some consortium that wants to build a golf and country club on Maddie’s land. He’s against the home for unwed pregnant teens that Maddie and Cade proposed. The City Council has granted provisional approval, so Cade has to make sure he can do all that’s required to get final approval. We stalled foreclosure by bringing the overdue part of Maddie’s bank loan as close to current as we could. But I don’t have the money to pay off the loan and Cade’s money is tied up in his construction firm.”

“How much are we talking about?” April asked.

Eliza told her. April shrugged. It was a relatively small amount compared with what she’d banked over the years. “Sure, I can pay it off.”

Her friend stared at her. “You can pay it off? Really? That would be wonderful. But don’t run yourself short. I was able to get work here to make sure I had an income, but I don’t think there’s much call for super-models in Maraville.”

“Relax, I have enough. You said Maddie used the money for the detective. What did he do, gold plate every report?” She wondered how quickly the detective had run up the bills. Maybe she’d rethink hiring him to trace her parents.

“He’s been searching for you and Jo for three or four years. I think the overseas connection probably added a lot to the cost. I’m not sure why Maddie got so far behind on the payments. Anytime I try to bring it up, she gets agitated, so I’ve stopped asking her. It really doesn’t matter. Anyway, she can’t wait to see you. I thought we’d go to the hospital later this afternoon. She has physical therapy in the morning and takes a nap after lunch. Then we can stop in and visit.”

“I wouldn’t mind a nap myself,” April said.

“You’re in luck. The construction crew isn’t here today. When they are, it’s bedlam.”

“I bet. Still, the way I feel, I could sleep through anything.”

“Traveling all the way from Europe must be tiring. Tell me how you wound up in France. And how you managed to get married twice. Oh, I want to hear it all.”

“Too bad Jo isn’t here. We could take turns telling what we’ve done.” April remembered the day Jo reported to the authorities that Maddie had beaten her. It had all been lies, but when Jo finally told the truth, no one in authority had believed her. As a result, Maddie had lost her foster care license and the three girls had been sent to different homes throughout the state. Everything had happened so quickly and April still didn’t understand why. People in town had known Maddie all her life. How could things have turned as they had? Especially in light of Eliza telling her recently that formal charges had never been filed against Maddie.

April considered where to begin. “When we were separated, I got moved to Jackson. Where did you end up?”

Eliza told her briefly about her new foster parents in Biloxi, Mississippi, and how she’d moved to Boston with them when they were transferred. Even though Eliza had grown close to Al and Dottie Johnson, April could hear the old hurt in her voice. She herself had been inconsolable when she’d left the house on Poppin Hill for another foster home, in Jackson.

“I came back here when I read about Maddie’s stroke in the newspaper,” Eliza said softly. “To reconnect.”

April nodded. “I know how you feel. I came back the weekend after I graduated from high school. Maddie was less than welcoming. She said she didn’t know where you two were, so that was a dead end. I think I got on my high horse at her attitude and stormed away. I went straight back to Jackson and married Billy Bob Thompson.”

Eliza looked startled. “Because Maddie was difficult?”

“That was one of the reasons. He was also hot. And he asked me. Whatever, he and I were not soul mates. But I was scared of being alone. My foster parents couldn’t wait for me to leave when I turned eighteen. I was lucky they let me stay until the end of the school year. Nothing had prepared me for finding a place to live, trying to get a job without any skills. Billy Bob seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“Only he wasn’t,” Eliza guessed.

“You got it. His idea of a wife was someone to show off to his friends. And get him a beer while he watched football. His glory days were on the high school football team, and he’s never done anything else. At least I guess he hasn’t. He was still talking about all his touchdowns when I filed for divorce and headed for Manhattan. I haven’t heard from him since.”

She pushed aside the remembered hurt of being wanted solely for her looks. There was more to April Jeffries than a beautiful face, corn-silk hair and blue eyes, though most people never bothered to search for it. The few who did had become true friends. April had grown used to the attention that came from being a model, but sometimes, deep inside, she wished she hadn’t been blessed with such beauty. She wanted people to like her for who she was, not what she looked like.

“So you were in Manhattan when I was in Boston,” Eliza sighed. “I could have driven down to see you.”

“How did you like Boston?”

“Okay. It was as good a place as any other. How did you like New York?”

“I loved it. I worked as a clerk in a deli near the garment district. There’s so much life in the city. I would still be there if I hadn’t moved to France, which turns out to have been a good thing. I don’t think I would have hit it as big modeling in the States.”

April yawned and snuggled down onto the pillow a little more. “Tell me how you got into cooking,” she said, wanting to hear more about Eliza. There was no hurry, she realized. She’d arranged her schedule so she could stay through the end of June.

“Later,” Eliza promised. “I can tell you’re half-asleep. I’m so glad to see you again, April. I’ve missed you so much.”

“Me, too,” she said. “Blood sisters, remember?” She held up her finger.

Eliza touched it with her own scarred fingertip.

Smiling, April closed her eyes and was soon asleep.

WHEN SHE AWOKE, it was late afternoon. The sun shone in her window, dust motes dancing in the beams. She lay there for a while, letting her eyes roam around the familiar bedroom. It looked the same as the day she left. There were old rock posters on the walls, jumbled books in the bookshelves. April loved to read. Books had taken her away from the small Mississippi town and swept her into adventure. Her grades in school had never been as high as Eliza’s, because if a subject didn’t interest her, she hadn’t bothered doing more than the minimum to get by. She had excelled in English literature, however. And French.

Recognizing favorite books, she vowed she’d reread some of them while she was here.