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This Mystery Romance Story Was Written by Joan Raab
Electronically Enahnced by Antelope Publishing
E-Publishers of Browser Readable E-Books on CD-ROM Since 1995

Tangled Web

Barbara thought it was an easy enough favor to fullfill. She would simply pose as her sister long enough to put a dying birth-mother's mind at ease and then she would be on her way. But something went terribly wrong. The small town of Morton held a secret. A secret that someone, it seemed, would go to great lengths, even murder, to keep.

Read Part One of Tangled Web Before Placing Your Order

A high pitched yell followed by a loud crash echoed ominously throughout the apartment. Wondering what her nephew had managed to destroy this time, Barbara lay the knife on top of the half spread peanut butter sandwich and hurried across the kitchen floor. She pushed open the door that led into her small living room and found the four year old standing over a vase, looking down at the offending pieces of broken pottery as though thoroughly annoyed. The deep blue eyes that met hers were indignant. "I was just playing with Chester, Aunt Barb, when the vase got busted."

Chester looked down from his perch on top of the fireplace where he had taken refuge from his young tormentor. Sensing that he was safe now that his owner was present, the tabby leaped down onto the easy-chair and began to groom his thick fur.

"I've told you stay to off the furniture, Richie. And if Chester isn't in the mood to play, please leave him alone," she said testily bending to pick up the largest piece of what had been a housewarming gift from her mother. It was the last gift she had received from the woman before her death and therefore especially prized.

The boy shifted his feet uneasily, probably wondering how his aunt knew that he had been climbing on the end-table in his attempt to reach the elusive cat.

He was saved an answer as the front door opened and his mother stepped into the room. Barbara couldn't help but laugh at the look of dismay that crossed her sister's face.

"It isn't the end of the world, Linda. Come in and tell me what the doctor had to say."

"Oh, just the usual dribble, 'watch your weight' and 'let me know when your contractions come closer than five minutes apart'. Don't think you've heard the last of this, young man," she said sternly, turning her attention on her son as she placed her hands on a nonexistence waistline and fixed the boy with a disapproving gaze. "Now you march your little self straight into your Aunt Barbara's bedroom and stay there until I tell you otherwise."

The young boy realized that he was getting off lightly, but still shot his mother one quick glance as if to see how serious she was before grabbing up a surprised Chester and hurrying toward Barbara's bedroom.

"I'm afraid it's not much of a punishment, what with the wide screen and stack of videos you have in there," the boy's mother commented, sinking none too gracefully into the large easy chair where she picked up a magazine from the end table and begin fanning her flushed face. "You know, if you got married, Barb," she suggested, her blue eyes, so like her son's, sparkling mischievously, "you wouldn't need a television to entertain you in the evenings."

"The price of the sort of entertainment you have in mind is a little too steep for me," Barbara laughed, staring meaningfully at her sister's swollen stomach.

"It's not as bad as it looks," Linda assured, settling her expanded frame a little more comfortably into the chair. "And motherhood isn't all bad. Even Richie has his moments. But I suppose you're burned out on children. Having managed a room full of them day in and day out for the past four years."

"Ninth graders wouldn't appreciate your calling them children," Barbara pointed out as she picked up the pieces of broken pottery and laid them carefully on the end table. "And you forget, I do get summers off. Don't you wish motherhood had such benefits?"

"I thought you taught summer classes."

"Not this year," she said, not adding her reason for skipping the usual English Lit. class she taught during the summer months.

"I suppose you want to give you and Lawrence some space."

Barbara shot her sister a look of exasperation. Not at the words, but at her inability to keep anything from the woman.

"He'll be teaching Drivers Ed. classes," she explained, laying the last piece of shattered pottery on the table and leaning back on her heels. "It's not that I don't like him. It's just that he's pushing me too fast."

At this last comment Linda broke into rippling laughter. "I'd hardly call four years fast, sister dear. I expect what you mean is he's getting tired of being put off and wants some kind of commitment from you."

It was too near the truth to deny, so she said nothing.

"What's wrong with the man, I'd like to know?" Linda pressed. "Doesn't he always hold the door open for you? And he's not scared off by your hands-off manner. Heaven knows he's been patient enough! Waiting all these years for you to notice him. Not to mention he's quite attractive, for a history teacher that is."

"I can't explain it, Linda. I know he's a fine man. But he's so, so ..." she faltered, at a lose to voice what she didn't understand herself.

"So perfect?" Linda suggested.

"Well, yes, in a manner of speaking," she agreed, not sure that was the real reason at all.

"Maybe you'd be happier with that coach who nearly chokes on his gum every time his team makes a touchdown."

Barbara smiled, thinking how accurate her sister's description was.

"Coach White is married with three children of his own." She pointed out. "And his wife hops up and down in the bleachers and screams during the game."

"There you go. Maybe if you showed a little spirit Lawrence would respond in kind."

"I can't see Lawrence 'spirited' over anything," she said, getting to her feet and crossing to the small wastebasket that sat in the corner of the room.

"Well, there are other fish in the sea, or so they say. Since I married my high school sweetheart, I never had to worry about deciding which ones to keep and which ones to toss back."

The woman began to rub her fingers across her left temple in a manner that her sister was all too familiar with. Barbara knew the signs. The young woman was bothered by something and wanted her sister's advice or, more likely, help in dealing with her latest dilemma.

"You and Peter aren't having problems are you, Lin?" she asked, sinking down to the floor to sit cross legged next to her sister. "He isn't upset about the baby?"

"Land sakes, no! Specially since it's a girl. They're easier to raise than boys, they say." The woman put a hand across her swollen stomach and sighed. "You always knew when something was wrong, even when we were kids. It's odd, considering we're not really related."

"Since you were a newborn and I was barely two when you were adopted, I don't see that blood makes that big of a difference. And anyway, we look enough alike to be sisters."

It was true. Linda's hair was blonder and finer than her older sisters. Her eyes were a deep, lovely blue, while Barbara's were brown, and her younger sister was a good three inches taller and, when not pregnant, of more slender built. Still they looked enough alike to have people say that they could see the family resemblance. Sometimes they informed people they weren't really sisters, but usually they just smiled and kept their secret.

"So what is it? Have you gotten cold feet about having the baby?"

"It's a little late for that, isn't it?" Linda asked, and then fumbled for the purse whose strap was still slung over her shoulder. "It's this confounded letter I got the other day. I just don't know what to do about it." Linda withdrew a long, thin envelope which she held out toward her sister. "It's from my birth-mother," she announced bluntly.

"That's impossible, Linda," Barbara said reaching out to take the paper from a hand that trembled ever so slightly. "We were told that your mother signed away all rights along with the knowledge of who it was that adopted you."

"Yes, I know. That's what Mother and Father told us. But in this day and age I guess it's easy enough to track down adopted children, as well as adoptive parents. Haven't you ever wanted to find out about your biological parents, Barb?"

"No," she said flatly. Why should she want to contact a mother who had been willing to give her up? As for her father, she doubted he came into the picture at all. Both of her birth parents had abandoned her, and she wanted nothing to do with them. "Mother and Father Boone are all I ever needed in the way of parents."

"But now that they've passed away, haven't you every wondered about your history? What sort of stock you came from?"

"I've heard too many horror stories about people who tried to trace down their roots only to discover they didn't like what they unearthed. I prefer to leave the past buried in the past."

"I guess I would have too, if this letter hadn't come. Read it, Barb, and tell me what I should do."

Barbara scanned the short letter quickly, then read it again a second time, more slowly and carefully.

"I don't know, Linda. There's something odd here. If she's as ill as she says, why send a letter? Why not call instead? It'd be a lot quicker and more effective."

"Perhaps she hasn't the nerve to talk with me over the phone. Or maybe she tried and I wasn't home. What am I going to do, Barb? How can I deny such a request? All she wants is to see me before she dies and ask my forgiveness. Yet, how can I travel so far from home in my condition?"

"You can't, of course," her sister said, remembering that Linda was near term and that Richie had come two weeks early after a brief, but intense, labor.

"But it breaks my heart to think of her dying without knowing that I forgive her for giving me up." Sudden tears appeared in the young woman's eyes and spilled over to slide down her full cheeks.

"Don't start that, Linda!" Barbara, who had always hated to see her sister cry, pleaded. "What say we give the woman a call and explain why you can't come?"

"I have a better idea," Linda's eyes suddenly sparkled as she leaned forward to voice her suggestion. "You can go in my place. She'll never know the difference, and besides," she said as if in afterthought, "it will give you a change to get away from Lawrence."

"Really, Linda, you do come up with the most bizarre ideas."

"Why? What's wrong with it? You've said yourself that we look enough alike to be sisters. My mother hasn't seen me since I was born. All you have to do is pop in, say, 'Yes, I forgive you', then the poor woman can die in peace and I won't have to feel guilty for the rest of my life."

Barbara wracked her brain trying to think of a reason for not going in lieu of her sister, but came up empty.

"I'd only stay long enough to say the words," she warned. "And you can't expect me to get all sentimental over the woman."

"Darling, I never expect you to get sentimental over anyone. You'll go then?"

"Sure. Why not?" Barbara asked, as usual, tossing aside her better judgment where her sister was concerned. "I guess it beats staying home and painting the apartment."

"Wonderful! I'll order the plane tickets and you can leave as soon as possible."

Barbara had a sudden sinking feeling that she had let herself in for some unpleasantness, but, like the loyal older sister that she was, she buried her worries and smiled as she rose to her feet and grabbed her sister's hands, pulling the bulky woman up out of the chair.

"Come along, Linda, darling. If I'm to impersonate you, you must help me pack an appropriate wardrobe. Something frumpy and maternal, I should think."

"Hump! And I was about to let you have the pick of my evening gowns!"

Their jesting was interrupted by the sound of a distant crash. With a moan the mother rushed toward the bedroom, her sister following close behind.

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Tangled Web is twenty-nine chapters long, full of adventure and uplifting romance. Good wins out over evil, but only after lots of suspense, adventure and a few unexpected twists and turns.

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