The Truth About Tara. Darlene Gardner
taught her exercise class.
“My brother JoJo,” Kiki answered.
“Give me a break,” Tara said. “I didn’t know your brother existed until a few moments ago. Who told you I wanted to date him?”
“Mary Dee,” Kiki said. “She saw JoJo picking me up last week. I thought you did, too.”
Tara was going to let Mary Dee have it when she next saw her. Unfortunately that wouldn’t be today. Mary Dee was missing class to take her husband out to dinner for his birthday.
“No, I didn’t see him.” Something occurred to Tara. “How old is he, anyway?”
“Twenty-three,” Kiki said.
“Too young for me,” Tara said.
“JoJo looks older,” Kiki said. Tara thought it was telling that she didn’t say anything about her brother’s maturity level. So far about the only details she’d provided were that he was unemployed and lived at home.
“Kiki’s right,” Dustin said. “I’ve seen her brother. All that facial hair does make him look older. You should go out with him, Tara.”
She shook her head. “Is everyone around here trying to fix me up?”
“Yeah,” Kiki said. “Pretty much.”
“I can find my own man, thank you very much,” Tara said, a mental image of Jack DiMarco flashing in her brain.
Kiki clapped. “You’ve got a man?”
Tara thrust Jack from her mind. “Maybe,” she said, which was the quickest way to get Kiki to stop suggesting a date with her brother.
“Ooooh,” Kiki said. “Tell me more.”
“Can’t,” Tara said. “Class is starting in a few minutes. I need to stretch.”
She ducked into the all-purpose room, where nine women awaited her, about two-thirds the number that usually showed up. Summer didn’t officially start for another week or so but vacation season had begun.
She changed the CD in the sound system to a mix she’d made the night before of songs with fast tempos. She climbed on the bike at the front of the room and started to pedal.
“Okay, class,” Tara called above the noise of the gears turning. “Who’s ready to work hard?”
“I am!” Kiki, unsurprisingly, was the first to raise her hand.
Forty-five minutes later, Tara was damp with perspiration. She always pedaled with enthusiasm to set a good example for her students. Today, however, she’d put in extra effort, the better to stop thinking about Jack DiMarco and Hayley Cooper—although here at the health club, where she felt so comfortable, she could almost convince herself that Jack’s presence in Wawpaney was innocent. He even seemed like a nice guy. He’d helped her out with that situation with Danny and the potato chips, hadn’t he? And she hadn’t even thanked him.
With the class dismissed, Tara finished off the water in her bottle and bent to remove a towel from her bag. She noticed a flash of bright pink out of the corner of her eye and realized Kiki was approaching.
“Now I understand why you don’t want to go out with my brother,” Kiki said.
“Excuse me?”
“I mean, JoJo’s kind of cute, I guess. But he’s got nothing on your guy.”
“My guy?” Tara asked.
“About six-two with a body to die for and that gorgeous thick brown hair. Early thirties, I’d say. Really hot. But then, I just love a guy with a widow’s peak.”
She’d just described Jack DiMarco.
Tara’s heart slammed against her chest. “Where did you see him?”
“He was watching the class for a little while,” Kiki said. “You had your back to him, so you must not have known he was there.”
Tara wiped off her face with her towel to hide her shock. Her hands were shaking. First the grocery store, now the fitness club. This couldn’t be a coincidence. Jack must not have believed her rationale when she’d denied she was Hayley Cooper.
“You’re a lucky girl,” Kiki announced. “I’d pump you for information about him, but I’ve got to get home. JoJo needs the car.”
KiKi gave a wave and hurried off. Tara packed up her things and rushed out of the room. The health club didn’t get a lot of traffic in the warm-weather months, but the weight room was never empty. A half dozen men worked out on the machines, but Jack wasn’t among them. Neither was his pickup in the parking lot.
Tara left the club and headed toward her car at a jog, thinking about her claim that she’d seen baby photos of herself. She was in front of the pale blue two-story house where she’d grown up before she consciously knew that was where she was headed.
Bright yellow flowers that matched the shutters on the windows spilled out of pots flanking the front door. Not bothering to ring the doorbell, Tara walked in through the unlocked front door, her tennis shoes making soft thudding sounds on the weathered wood floor.
“Mom!” she called. “It’s Tara.”
Her mother appeared from the back of the house almost instantly, a finger resting against her lips. She was dressed in another of her flowing dresses, this one in pale pink. “Shh. I just this minute got Danny to sleep. He is so excited about camp tomorrow he can hardly stand it.”
“Sorry,” Tara said, but her attention was only half on what her mother had said. In the hall, pictures were everywhere. Of her sister and father, their heads close together, their smiles almost identical. Of her parents with her sister at a carnival, at a park and in front of a Christmas tree.
There were a few photos of Tara, too, but none of her as an infant or a toddler. In the images, she was either alone or with her mother. Why had Tara never noticed that there were no photos of her with her father or sister?
“Is everything okay, honey?” Her mother’s question jarred Tara back to the present. She was gazing at Tara with her forehead furrowed. “You’re so darn busy on Sundays, I usually don’t get to see your pretty face.”
“Everything is fine,” Tara said, although suddenly she wasn’t at all sure of that. She thought about coming straight out and asking her mother about Hayley Cooper, but rejected the notion. Tara couldn’t just blurt out something like that. She searched her brain for an excuse to explain why she’d stopped by. “I’m just making sure we were still carpooling tomorrow.”
“Why wouldn’t we be?” her mother asked.
“No reason,” Tara said and fell silent. What did it mean that she’d never seen a photo of herself with her father or sister? Didn’t most parents delight in having their children photographed together?
“Can I make you something to eat?” her mother asked. “Get you something to drink?”
“No, thanks. I need to go home and take a shower.” Tara started backing toward the door, then stopped. If she didn’t at least ask her mother about the photographs now, she might never screw up the courage. “Mom, can I borrow your photo albums from before we moved to Wawpaney?”
Her mother’s hand flew to her throat, a reaction that seemed out of proportion to the request. “Why ever would you want to do that?’
“I guess because I’m curious,” Tara said. Her mother continued to gape at her, compelling Tara to come up with a better explanation. “Mary Dee has her kindergartners bring in baby pictures at the start of every year. She brings in one of herself, too. She’s always asking to see one of mine.”
Her mother’s hand was still at her throat. She was so petite, it wasn’t much bigger than a child’s hand. “The school year just ended.”
“Yeah,