After She's Gone (West Coast #3)

After She's Gone (West Coast #3) Page 99

Jenna bit her lip, a new habit that had come with the strain and concern over her daughters.

Shane didn’t have children. Not biological. Not adopted. Just the stepchildren he’d inherited when they’d married. He hadn’t wanted children with his first wife, Carolyn, and it had been a deep fissure in that marriage. Once he and Jenna had married, he’d changed his mind. However, he’d never been as disappointed as she when she hadn’t gotten pregnant.

Obviously another baby wasn’t meant to be.

She could be okay with that.

Maybe.

If her daughters were safe. She thought of her previous pregnancies, the births, the joy of life and the sadness, of the mistakes she’d made, the guilt over decisions that hadn’t turned out well. God knew she hadn’t been a stellar mother, and more often than not she’d second-guessed herself. But being a parent meant making errors that sometimes came back to haunt her, one of many being that she’d hoped neither Cassie, nor Allie, would turn to Hollywood. She hadn’t wanted them to follow in their mother’s footsteps.

However, the bright lights of Hollywood had beckoned them, her daughters’ desires amplified by their father’s own dreams.

Rubbing the kinks from her neck, she reminded herself it was all part of being a parent: heartache and joy, happiness and pain. And always, inevitably, guilt.

God knew she had enough on her plate with the children she already had. She threw the test strip into the trash and told herself, “No more,” then checked her watch as she passed through the bedroom she shared with Shane. Cassie had called and said she’d be coming by.

The dog started making a ruckus, barking her fool head off. Jenna hurried down the stairs of this old ranch house with its log walls and paned windows. She’d bought it when she’d relocated from California and Shane had moved in as soon as they’d married, now nearly ten years ago.

She racewalked through the hallway, threw open the front door, and, with the dog galloping ahead of her, spied Cassie’s little Honda appearing over a slight rise in the lane to her house. “Thank God,” she murmured. She hadn’t bothered with a coat and rain was lashing from the sky. Jenna didn’t care as she ran across the wet grass and muddy puddles only to stop on the gravel drive at the spot where Cassie stopped her car and flung open the door. Relief washed over her at the sight of her daughter and damn, if a lump didn’t form in her throat when Cassie climbed from behind the wheel.

“Cassie!”

“Geez, Mom, you’re getting wet.”

Jenna threw her arms around her daughter and desperately tried not to cry. She’d been out of her mind with worry. Allie was still missing. Cassie had been distant, her mental health fragile. Jenna felt a gap widening between herself and her two children and she hated it. She clung to Cassie as if to life itself. “I’ve been so worried.”

“I’m okay.”

“Good.” Jenna squeezed her eyes shut and wished she could believe it. God, how she prayed that her daughter was healthy and strong.

“And we’ll find Allie, Mom,” she said as the wind blew cold down the Columbia Gorge.

How? How can we find her when the police haven’t been able to?

Jenna nearly broke down. Her throat closed, her eyes burned, and she held Cassie tight. “Of course we will,” she whispered, her voice cracking a little. What she would give to have Allie with them right now. Memories of moving to Falls Crossing assailed her, memories of carving out a new life for herself and her two girls on this very patch of land, this ranch nestled near the shores of the river.

Fighting a losing battle with tears, Jenna finally released Cassie and realized that Trent Kittle had been in the passenger seat and now was standing on the opposite side of the car. She’d never thought she would approve of Kittle, but found herself grateful he appeared to be in Cassie’s corner. “Come on. Let’s go inside. You’re moving back, yes? Into your old room?”

Cassie and Trent exchanged glances over the top of her car.

“Silly of me,” Jenna said, catching the eye contact and feeling a moment’s confusion mingled with relief. “You’re with Trent. Married. Together.”