Picture Perfect

by Sherry Lewis

  “That’s it? Mail a letter? I think I can handle that.”

  Michael seemed to sag, as if a weight had been removed from his shoulders. “It’s just a note to a friend of mine. It’s her birthday.”

  “Okay.” Kurt tucked the envelope in his pocket. “I’ll mail it for you tomorrow. Is that all right?”

  Michael’s face split in a grin. “Perfect. Thanks a lot.” Turning, he ran back to the house and slammed the screen door behind him.

  A few minutes later, Kurt remembered tomorrow was Sunday. And even if he made a special trip into town, the post office wouldn’t do anything with the letter until Monday. Fingering the envelope in his pocket, he told himself it could wait. If he mailed it from the office on Monday, he wouldn’t be breaking his promise.

  CHAPTER SIX

  ABBY PULLED the brush through Erin’s hair and tried to capture the curls in her other hand. Though she was concerned about Michael’s spending the night apart from her, she couldn’t help being glad to have a little time alone with Erin. Since the game, Erin had been even more withdrawn. But every time Abby tried to talk about the incident at the ballpark, Erin managed to dodge the conversation, and now Abby had no idea how to get her to discuss it.

  But avoiding the issue only helped Erin suppress her fear and anger. And that didn’t help her heal.

  Pulling a stubborn strand of hair into line, Abby put down the brush and used her fingers to smooth Erin’s bangs back. “Are you glad to have a night without Michael?”

  Erin shrugged, but didn’t say a word.

  “Did you get much time on your own in Tempe?”

  After a slight hesitation, Erin shook her head.

  “Tell me about things there—you know, your friends and other girl stuff.”

  “I didn’t have very many friends.”

  “Really? That’s hard to believe.” Though her heart twisted at the Erin’s tone, Abby was determined to keep her own manner light.

  “Why?” Erin asked tentatively.

  “Because you’re so smart and pretty.”

  Erin snorted in disbelief and stared at her feet.

  “I’m serious,” Abby persisted.

  “No, I’m not.”

  Abby shrugged. “I felt the same way at your age. I guess it’s natural.”

  Erin’s eyes darted up. “You did?”

  “Absolutely. I hated my hair, I thought my eyes were too small, I hated my nose—”

  “But you’re beautiful.”

  “So are you.”

  “I’m funny-looking. My hair’s too frizzy—like Medusa.”

  “Medusa? Erin, you have beautiful hair. Where on earth did you get the idea that these gorgeous curls look bad?”

  When Erin turned away and didn’t speak, Abby had her answer. Vic.

  Swallowing her anger, Abby kept her voice steady. “Sweetheart, you’re going to be an absolute knockout in a couple of years, and all your life women are going to be wildly jealous of this hair. Believe me.”

  Erin looked up hesitantly, a tiny smile on her lips. “Do you think so?”

  “I know so. What do you say we put a little of my makeup on you for fun? We can try some things out and maybe you can help me come up with some new ideas.” Abby returned the smile, but when Erin’s gaze shifted away, Abby’s nerves pricked. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.”

  Abby released Erin’s hair and took the girl’s hands in her own. “Tell me about it.”

  “Nothing. It’s okay.”

  Pulling Erin into her arms, Abby kissed her forehead and whispered, “Oh, Erin, can’t you see it’s not all right to never talk about it?”

  Erin didn’t respond immediately, but trembled slightly. Abby forced herself to wait for an answer, content to just hold her niece. After a few minutes she felt Erin relax slightly.

  When she spoke at last, the girl’s voice was so quiet Abby could barely hear it, even in the silent house. “I put on some of my mom’s makeup once and my dad…my dad hit me.”

  Abby had expected it, but hearing Erin admit it hurt more than she’d anticipated. She couldn’t frame a response, only held Erin tighter.

  In the early years when she’d gone home to Arizona, Abby had battled her own pain and envy watching Rachel and Vic with their children. Had she ever suspected the truth, even a little?

  If Erin and Michael had been her children, she would never have allowed anyone to hurt them. For one moment, as she held Erin, Abby imagined the girl as her child; and for the first time, anger at Rachel for allowing Vic to abuse the children rose to the surface of her consciousness. But as quickly as it came she pushed it aside, and guilt took its place.

  She knew how difficult it was for women to stand up to an abusive partner. She’d seen the damage that resulted from any show of independence too many times over the years to have preconceived notions about what women should do in abusive relationships. But she couldn’t shake the tiny seed of anger that had sprouted, and she couldn’t ignore the feeling that curled around her heart when she looked at Erin.

  She’d always loved children, but after learning she’d never have any of her own and then losing Steven, she’d started protecting herself from caring too deeply about other people. In just a short time with Erin and Michael all her efforts at self-protection had come undone. As though Erin and Michael had each tugged at a stray piece of string and unraveled the cocoon in which she’d wrapped her heart, she felt raw and exposed and more vulnerable than she had in years.

  Worst of all, she knew that when the time came to give them back to Rachel, she’d have to deal with a whole new heartache. Maybe it would’ve been better to keep her heart locked away. She didn’t know how she’d handle the pain of letting them go when this was over.

  She stroked Erin’s hair back from her forehead and smiled what she hoped was a reassuring sort of smile, praying the tears that stung her eyes weren’t visible. They’d made a little progress tonight and Abby’s hopes brightened.

  Pushing away a surge of longing to have Michael at her side, she told herself again that he needed this time with Kurt and Brody. Michael needed—so did Erin—a positive male figure in his life, someone who could help negate Vic’s mark on him. And Kurt Morgan could do it.

  Maybe she should explain their situation to Kurt and ask him to help Erin and Michael. Instinctively she knew he’d never do anything to hurt them. Giving herself a mental shake, she pulled back. She must never tell Kurt the truth. No matter how much she might want to. And letting the children grow too close to him would be a big mistake. The more comfortable they all got around him, the more likely they’d be to let things slip.

  Though she knew Kurt wouldn’t intentionally jeopardize their security, she worried that if anyone else started asking questions or probing into their history, the kids might make a mistake. She might make a mistake. And if they became the objects of deeper scrutiny, like internet searches, they could be at risk.

  She’d seen too many instances over the years where one seemingly insignificant detail had led to fatal disaster for someone. It was a chance she simply couldn’t take.

  STANDING IN THE MORNING sunlight as it streamed through her window, Abby folded the last towel and placed it on the foot of her bed. She stepped back to survey the stacks of clean laundry with pride. The longer she stayed in Pine Cove and the longer she lived this fantasy, the more she liked it.

  She glanced down the hall through the open door and smiled at the sight of Erin on her bed, an open book in her lap. If only she could find something that combined the best elements of her life in Baltimore and this one.

  But the best elements of this life included children, and she would never have any. Angry with herself for dwelling on the impossible, Abby scooped up the stacks of clean towels and headed for the linen closet. When a car slowed on the highway and turned into the drive, she shoved the towels inside and ran to the window. It was Kurt bringing Michael home.

  She hoped Michael had enjoyed himself
at Brody’s last night, but even the comforting light of morning hadn’t weakened her resolve to keep him from forming a deep attachment to Kurt. She knew how easy it was to be drawn to Kurt. She’d already made more than enough mistakes around him, and she couldn’t take the chance of any of them making more.

  Michael leapt from the Cherokee and raced to the front porch. An instant later, Kurt’s door opened and her heart began to hammer. Why was Kurt coming in?

  She sprinted to the bathroom and quickly checked her appearance. Jeans and a T-shirt, white tennis shoes and a pathetic-looking French braid. Not a speck of makeup. She tucked a few loose strands of hair into place and tried to rub some color into her cheeks as she heard the front door open.

  “Mom?”

  She took a deep breath. “Up here.”

  Footsteps pounded up the stairs and a second later Michael burst into her room. “Kurt’s here. He wants to talk to you.”

  Her heart beat a staccato rhythm. “Tell him I’ll be right down.” Was she imagining it, or did Michael look guilty? “What does he want?”

  Michael studied his feet. “I… I’m not sure.”

  There it was again, that guilty look. Only this time, Abby knew she’d seen it. Something was wrong. Why else would Kurt want to talk with her? Had Michael told him something he shouldn’t?

  She descended the stairs slowly, dreading what Kurt had to say. When she found him in the living room, his face confirmed her worst fears. This was no social visit.

  With his features schooled into a mask, he seemed reluctant to look into her eyes. “Sorry to barge in on you when you weren’t expecting company.” His voice sounded flat, almost wary.

  He knew. “Michael didn’t give you any trouble last night, did he?”

  An expression flickered across his face too quickly for Abby to read. “No. Nothing like that.”

  Abby sat on one end of the sofa and tried to steady her shaking knees. Michael must have really slipped up. She’d have to explain somehow. Would Kurt understand? Could she expect him to participate in her cover-up?

  “Would you like to sit down?” she said. With trembling fingers she indicated a chair, but he moved to the other end of the sofa and lowered himself onto it.

  “I don’t know quite how to start, so I’ll just say it,” he began uncomfortably. “Michael told me last night that you’re taking him off the team. He asked me to talk to you about letting him play.”

  Afraid she hadn’t heard right, Abby stared at him in silence. The team?

  “He’s really disappointed, Abby.”

  The team. Relief threatened to escape as a laugh, but she clamped her mouth shut and contained it. Kurt would never understand that reaction. “I see” was all she said.

  He looked away and took a deep breath. “I’m sorry for sticking my nose in where it obviously doesn’t belong, but the boys caught me in a weak moment and I promised I’d talk to you. Michael likes playing—you know that.” He moistened his lips and tried to smile before rushing on. “I know you had some reason for not wanting him to play this summer, but you let him join the team, anyway. And I think it’d be a big mistake to change your mind now.”

  He obviously hated doing this, and the mere fact that he’d let the boys convince him to approach her against his better judgment endeared him to her. She battled the urge to put her hand on his.

  She couldn’t sit this close to him or she’d touch him. And the desire to do so confused her.

  She got to her feet and walked to the front window, keeping her back to him. She had to lie to him again, but she couldn’t look him in the eye when she did it. “One of the reasons we decided to spend the summer away from home was because we had trouble with Michael in school last year—bad grades, that sort of thing. Nothing terribly serious, but my husband and I decided that Michael needed to spend the summer in more serious pursuits. Michael caught me in a weak moment and I agreed to let him play, but Bob isn’t happy about my decision and I can’t go against his wishes. I know how unfair this seems to you, but Michael understood how strongly his father felt…” She let her voice trail away, hoping Kurt would accept the story and let the matter drop.

  Heavy silence fell like a curtain between them. After several seconds, she heard the sofa creak lightly as he stood. “I’m sorry I interfered. Of course you have to do what you think is right.”

  She didn’t move until the sound of his footsteps had died away and the front door clicked shut behind him. Only then did she acknowledge her disappointment that he hadn’t followed her to the window, that he hadn’t felt the same need to touch her. Though she’d promised to keep their identity secret when she left Rachel in Tempe, though she knew the very real threat Vic posed to Erin and Michael, some part of her wanted Kurt to demand more acceptable answers than the ones she gave.

  He’d noticed the discrepancies in their stories—he’d be a fool not to. And Kurt was no fool. But his ready acceptance of her explanations bothered her. If their situations had been reversed, she would have wanted to know more. Her personal interest in him would have demanded it.

  But Kurt obviously didn’t share that interest. It had been easy for him to walk away.

  KURT FLIPPED through his appointment calendar and noted with satisfaction that he didn’t have any hearings or appointments penciled in. It looked like he’d finally found a free day. And he could use one.

  Client billing demanded his immediate attention, payday was at the end of the week, quarterly taxes were due soon, and he’d let his correspondence go begging for too long.

  And he wanted to make a few phone calls about Abby Harris.

  Rifling through a filing cabinet in Naomi’s office, he pulled out a stack of billing forms and an armful of files, took them into his office and grabbed his coffee cup. Near the coffeepot in the second-floor file room, he found Naomi.

  She looked up as he approached, her face a study in misery. “Hi. How was your weekend?” she asked.

  “Fine. Better than yours, I’d guess.”

  “I don’t know how much longer I can stand it. Bill spent the entire weekend in front of the TV with a case of beer. He won’t even look for jobs in the paper anymore, and now he’s talking about moving—as if he’ll magically find a job if we leave here.”

  “Maybe if you went to a big city…”

  “Kurt, I’m the only one bringing a dime into the house. If I lose this job, what are we going to do? How am I supposed to support Jason on nothing?”

  Kurt poured his coffee and let silence hang in the air for a minute. When Naomi started thumbing through the stack of filing again, he took the hint and changed the subject. “I thought we could spend the day catching up on some things we’ve gotten behind on in the last few weeks.”

  She closed her eyes and rolled her head back. “Not today,” she groaned.

  “I’m afraid so. I’ll have some billing slips ready for you in a little while, so come into my office after you’ve finished up here.”

  “Billing? Ugh.”

  “Pays our salaries,” he reminded her with a smile as he filled his cup. “Give me half an hour.”

  He went back to his office and closed the door. He pulled his Rolodex toward him and looked up the number of an old law-school friend who’d left his practice to become a private investigator in Seattle. He’d ask Tony to make a couple of discreet inquiries just to be sure Abby wasn’t hiding from the law or masking a criminal record. He dialed half the number, hesitated, then slammed the receiver back on the hook.

  Did he really want to do this? He had to consider Brody’s safety. And he had to consider his own heart.

  He picked up a file and tried to complete his billing slips from the pleadings inside, but concentration eluded him. Instead of briefs, petitions and affidavits, he saw Abby. He heard her voice, saw her smile, smelled her perfume. Instead of weakening, his attraction for her seemed to be growing.

  Kurt knew Abby was hiding something, and ignoring the discrepancies in her stories was no
longer an option. So he could either run a quick check and set his mind at ease, or he could forget about her. But he could no more forget about her than he could ignore the lies.

  This time when he picked up the phone, he dialed Zelda’s number. After he’d inquired about her health, answered her questions about Brody and the house, and promised to drive her to Seattle sometime next week, he posed the question he’d been dying to ask.

  “Did Abby give you a home address when she called to rent the old house?”

  “Why on earth would you want to know that?”

  “It’s not important, really. I can ask her later, but she wanted me to ship some things of Michael’s back home for her, and I can’t find where I put the note with her address on it.”

  “Well, you’re just going to have to get it from her, because I never talked to her. It all came up so suddenly….”

  Internal warning bells sounded and Kurt’s pulse raced. “Who did you talk to?”

  “My cousin Edith’s daughter, Lorna.”

  “Lorna? In Portland?”

  “Yes, that’s the one.” Zelda confirmed. “Oh, Kurt, my program’s coming on. Why don’t you just get the address from Abby? It would be so much easier than trying to pretend you hadn’t lost it. I don’t know why men have to be so silly about admitting they’ve made a mistake—”

  The connection severed suddenly, leaving Kurt staring at the receiver and battling a raging headache. Without giving himself another chance to back down, he punched in Tony Graham’s number in Seattle and left a message on his friend’s answering machine.

  “BUT THAT’S NOT fair.” Michael backed away from Abby, his eyes wide and glistening with tears. “Why did you even let me play in the first place if you’re going to take me off the team now? Didn’t Kurt talk to you?”

  “Yes, but I still have to do what I think is right.”

  “What did I do wrong?”

  “You didn’t do anything wrong, Michael.” Abby tried to explain. “It’s because of Erin.”