by Sherry Lewis
ABBY HELD Zelda’s arm and guided her across the uneven surface toward the edge of the school yard. Behind her, Theresa carried a lawn chair for the older woman and three large blankets for the rest of the group to sit on while they watched the fireworks.
The last remnants of the summer sun clung to the edges of the horizon as darkness muted the sky. Excitement mounted in the crowd. Even Abby felt it, and her anticipation surprised her.
Though they walked slowly, Zelda paused often to rest or to share a bit of gossip with Theresa about a neighbor. By the time they reached everyone on the lawn, the first of the fireworks exploded overhead, followed by a loud cheer from the crowd.
After she settled Zelda in her chair, Abby found Erin on one of the blankets with Brody and Michael, but she couldn’t see Kurt anywhere. She dropped down beside Brody. “Where’s your dad?”
Brody shrugged casually, but Abby sensed disappointment in the gesture. And she hated to see Brody so discouraged.
She’d seen Kurt only briefly after the parade, and then only at a distance. At the pageant, he’d neatly avoided her by staying behind the scenes. Afterward, he’d disappeared, and she hadn’t seen him since.
Avoiding her was one thing, but ignoring his son’s needs was another. Brody needed his father, and every day Brody seemed to grow closer to her and farther from Kurt. At first, she’d been convinced of Kurt’s love and concern for the boy. Now she didn’t know what she thought. She only knew Kurt ought to be here, sharing this experience with his son.
If she’d had a child like Brody, she wouldn’t have put anything before his needs. If she’d had a child. Tears burned her eyes and stung the back of her throat. Fighting back the empty feeling that always accompanied thoughts of what might have been, Abby struggled to focus on the present.
She couldn’t remember the last time she’d watched fireworks on the Fourth of July—at least not from a blanket on the ground. She’d forgotten how wonderful the cool night air felt against skin warmed by a full day in the sun. And the earthy smell of freshly mowed grass. And the taste of ice-cream cones. And the thrill of lying beneath the sky as it came alive.
Beside her, Erin sought her hand and held it. “I’ve never seen fireworks this close before.”
“It’s been a long time since I have, too.”
“Can we do it again next year?”
“I hope so.” Abby squeezed the girl’s hand.
“Can we come back here next year?”
The thought made Abby’s heart skip a beat. She’d like to come back next summer, to see the town and the people. Especially the people. Especially one person. “Maybe.”
“He’s awfully nice,” Erin said, as if reading her mind. “And I think he likes you. I wish you could be his girlfriend.”
“Erin—”
“But why can’t you? He wouldn’t tell anybody.”
“You know we can’t take any chances. And I don’t think we should discuss it here.”
Erin looked away and watched the fireworks without speaking, but a small sigh escaped her lips. At last she said wistfully, “I hope we can come back here next year. I’m never going to forget this night.”
At the other end of the blanket, Michael and Brody whispered and laughed and cheered aloud when a particularly bright explosion lit the sky. Abby wanted the evening to go on forever. With all her heart, she wished she could promise the children the permanent security they craved. But she had only this moment to give, and it wasn’t enough.
Zelda interrupted her reverie. “Brody,” she said, “I wonder, dear, if you would do me a favor. I’m a little chilly and I wonder if you’d run over to the house and get my sweater.”
Brody sat up reluctantly, but Abby motioned him to stay and stood up herself. She wanted the children to at least have this night. “I’ll go, Zelda. Where is it?”
Zelda shook her head. “No, my dear. You don’t need to go. Let one of the children—”
But she wanted the children to stay. “I don’t mind. Really. Where is it?”
“Well…if you’re sure… It’s the blue one and it’s probably on my rocking chair in the living room.”
In less than fifteen minutes she’d made it to Zelda’s house, located the sweater and started back. She walked slowly, watching the fireworks explode overhead. If anything, leaving the crowded lawn heightened her awareness of the display. In the silence of the deserted street, the explosions and noises of the crowd seemed remote.
Following the broken sidewalk back to the school, she reveled in the momentary solitude, pulling the tangy river breeze into her lungs and seeking the rhythm of the current. Who would’ve thought she’d grow to enjoy this little town so much?
Without warning, a shadow stepped onto the sidewalk in front of her and a scream tore from her throat. Vic had found them.
The shadow shifted and moved closer. “Abby, it’s me,” Kurt said softly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you. I thought you saw me standing there.”
Fighting to control the trembling of her limbs and the tears of relief that stung her eyes, Abby let anger take over. Stepping away, she said sharply, “What were you doing there?”
“Trying to stay away from you.”
His answer stopped her in her tracks and brought her back around to face him. Another explosion of red and gold lit the sky, reflecting the fire in his eyes.
“What?”
In answer, he closed the gap between them and took her face in his hands. “Oh, Abby, I can’t stay away from you.”
She knew she should turn away, but she wanted to stay. Her throat constricted, preventing her from speaking. And her heart hammered in her chest, almost choking off her breath.
He searched her eyes for the answer to his unspoken question, and she knew what answer she gave. He slowly lowered his head and gently touched his lips to hers.
He pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly against his chest. His kiss deepened, seeking her on a level she’d never known before. And she replied, melting into him. When he ended the kiss, he continued to hold her against him, kissing her hair, her eyes, her brow.
Rational thought returned slowly, hazily. Hope swelled within her, keeping pace with the rhythm of the grand finale above their heads, fading only after the last flare paled, silence returned, and Abby remembered who—and what—she claimed to be.
Summoning her courage and resolve, she forced herself to break away. She walked quickly, afraid that if she hesitated, she’d never leave.
CHAPTER TWELVE
OVER HIS MORNING COFFEE, Kurt decided he was an idiot. He shouldn’t have let Abby run away from him last night. He shouldn’t have been so afraid of losing his chance with her that he hadn’t told her about the letter while they were alone. He hadn’t wanted to spoil their day yesterday, and he’d believed his decision to be the right one. But this morning he realized that keeping the truth from Abby an extra day increased the risk of danger. And she’d be angry with him for doing it.
He drained his cup and slammed it down on the table. “Brody?”
Pride sidled around the corner and raised his big eyes, but Brody didn’t answer.
Yesterday’s pleasant weather had disappeared with the night. Today had dawned gray and gloomy. Now rain fell in heavy sheets, darkening Kurt’s mood even further.
“Brody!”
“What?” Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Brody padded into the kitchen.
“Get dressed. We’re going to Michael’s.”
“Why?”
“I need to talk to Abby. What’s wrong? Don’t you want to go to Michael’s now?”
“Yeah. I want to, but you sound mad.”
Fighting his frustration, Kurt tried to soften his tone. “Not mad, son. But there’s something important I have to talk with Abby about, and I thought you’d like to come with me.”
Brody shrugged and turned away. “Sure. I guess.”
Kurt poured another cup of coffee, settling back to wait. But in spite
of his apparent lack of interest, Brody dressed and returned to the kitchen before Kurt had a chance to finish it.
Driving the rain-slick highway, Kurt practiced what he wanted to say to Abby, changing his words over and over. Finally, realizing that nothing he said would make up for the damage he’d done, he gave up.
He refused to allow himself to imagine her potential responses to his confession, but he feared the worst. She’d be angry about his deception and frightened at the possibility of discovery. She’d probably never speak to him again.
Slowing in front of her house, he pulled into the gravel drive. Empty. Abby was out.
“Let me just make sure they’re not home,” he said to Brody as he shifted into Neutral and set the brake. But even as he dashed up the walk, he knew the house was empty.
Still, he rang the bell three times, just to be certain, before heading back to the Jeep through the rain. He didn’t know where she’d gone or for how long, but he couldn’t wait. He had to find her and tell her before he lost his nerve.
Though he’d turned the defrost on high, the windows were steamed over. Using his sleeve, he wiped the windshield and the driver’s-side window, trying to improve visibility. “Any idea where they might have gone?”
Brody used his own sleeve on his window. “Nope. Unless they’re at the store.”
Determined not to act as desperate as he felt, Kurt shrugged. “Want to check?”
Brody frowned up at him uncertainly, then nodded. “Okay, if you want to.”
“We might as well, I guess. Nothing else to do today, right?”
“Right.” But the boy’s voice reflected skepticism, and his face betrayed doubts about his father’s mental condition.
And maybe Brody was right. What Kurt hoped to accomplish by chasing Abby into town he couldn’t begin to explain. He had no idea how he’d get her alone or what he’d say to her when he did.
The windshield wipers zinged back and forth, barely clearing the window enough to allow Kurt to see the center line.
Beside him, Brody peered through the glass. “Dad, look.”
Trying hard to concentrate, Kurt kept his eyes focused ahead. “I can’t—”
“I think it’s Abby’s car.”
Tearing his attention from the road, Kurt saw the small dark car on the side of the highway as they passed. Easing his foot off the accelerator, he came to a stop several yards in front of the Toyota. When he stepped from the Cherokee into the rain, he could see Abby and the kids inside.
“Stay here,” he told Brody. Hunching his shoulders as if that would keep him drier, he ran back toward them.
As he approached, Abby rolled down her window. With her bedraggled hair and wet clothes, she looked as bad as she had the night he met her. Only this time, he wanted to pull her into his arms and warm her.
“I’ve never been so glad to see anyone in my life,” she said.
“What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know. The car just died. I wiggled every wire I could find under the hood, but nothing worked.”
“Maybe it’s the distributor cap. Pull the hood release.”
Kurt knew a few basics about cars, but within minutes he’d eliminated every possibility he could diagnose. “We’re going to have to get it towed into the garage. Lock it up and I’ll give you a ride.”
While Abby gathered her things, he ran back to the Cherokee, turned it around and pulled in front of the Toyota.
The three kids climbed into the back, and Abby took the front passenger seat. When she smiled up at Kurt from under her wet hair, electricity raced through him. Her face was fresh-scrubbed and her hair smelled of rain and she looked beautiful.
As he studied her, Kurt’s shivering slowed and a welcome warmth enveloped him. “Where to?”
“Home.”
“I don’t mind taking you wherever you were headed.”
“No, that’s all right. It’s probably better if I don’t go grocery shopping right now.” Her eyes sparkled and he liked her this way: happy, and comfortable. Comfortable with him.
He hated to destroy the mood. He wanted to prolong her smiles, to hear her laugh again. But he also knew he had to tell her about the letter and he might not get another chance.
Pulling into the driveway, he laid his hand on her arm. “I’d like you to let the kids go into the house alone for a minute. I need to talk to you.”
Her smile faded. “I—”
“It’s important, Abby.”
She pulled her keys from her purse and handed them to Erin, but her eyes never left Kurt’s face, and the question in them didn’t fade. “You guys go on in,” she said. “We’ll be right there.”
Kurt watched the children run through the rain and up the stairs. He watched until they disappeared inside and, because he dreaded telling Abby what he had to say, he stared mutely at the empty porch after they’d vanished. “What’s wrong?”
He shifted in his seat so he could face her and gauge her reaction. “I think I’ve made a mistake.”
Her face fell and she looked away. “It was a mistake, but it doesn’t have to happen again.”
Her reaction baffled him. Had Erin told her already?
“I was as much to blame as you,” she went on. “I guess the fireworks got to me. I don’t know what it was—”
As enlightenment dawned, he held up a hand to stop her. “I’m not talking about kissing you. That wasn’t a mistake.”
“Then what…?”
His throat constricted. Maybe he didn’t have to tell her. Maybe she didn’t need to find out.
“Kurt?”
“I wish I knew a better way to say this. Or that I didn’t have to tell you at all. After Erin saw Naomi and Bill Franklin arguing in the parking lot the other day, she said some things. She was upset and worried and she slipped. I promised her I wouldn’t tell you unless I had to, but yesterday I remembered something I think you need to know.”
Abby’s face paled and she touched the fingertips of one trembling hand to her lips. “What did she tell you?”
“That you’re her aunt. That her mother is still in Arizona and she’s worried about her. And that you’re protecting them from their father.”
“No.”
“She couldn’t help it, Abby. Don’t be angry with her. That’s a horrible burden for an eleven-year-old to carry. I wouldn’t be telling you about it now except yesterday I remembered that Michael gave me a letter to mail the night he slept over. To Rachel Harrison in Tempe, Arizona. I thought you ought to know.”
“He what?”
“If I’d had any idea what you were doing here I never would have mailed it.”
“You mailed it?” She covered her mouth with both hands and closed her eyes. Kurt reached for her, touching her arm softly.
She pushed the door open, moving away from his reach. “I’m glad you told me.” She jumped from the Cherokee and ran toward the house, away from him.
As Abby pounded up the front steps, her heart hammered crazily. This couldn’t be happening. Not now. Not when everything had started to feel right.
She slammed the door and leaned against it for a second or two until the trembling in her legs forced her to move. How could she tell Erin and Michael? What should she do? Where could they go?
Panic drove her the length of the hall and back. Terror refused to let her mind function clearly. What had Michael been thinking when he wrote that letter? Why had Kurt mailed it?
In an attempt to calm down, Abby tried to count the days since Michael had given Kurt the letter, but she had to start over twice in her confusion.
It’d been a week and a half—more than enough time for Rachel to receive the letter and get word to Abby that security had been breached. But Rachel hadn’t sent word. Why? Because she hadn’t received it. Because Vic had it. And now he knew where they were.
Kurt’s footsteps echoed up the walk and Abby tried to stem the tears that burned her eyes. She swallowed thickly, but her heart beat so rapidly she
couldn’t draw a breath. When he knocked on the door, she stepped aside and let him in, but she couldn’t see him clearly through her tears.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. And before she knew it, he’d gathered her into his arms and hugged her tightly.
She melted against him, wanting to believe the soothing words he whispered, wanting to trust his assurances. But in her heart, she faced the inevitable: they couldn’t stay in Pine Cove.
Kurt held Abby until she refused to let him comfort her any longer. He felt the moment her resolve strengthened and released her reluctantly when she pushed him away. She paced the length of the front hall. Obviously frightened, she plowed her fingers through her wet hair repeatedly.
“Let me help, Abby—please. I feel responsible.”
The look on his face twisted her insides. “You aren’t responsible,” she said softly. But in the next breath, her voice hardened. “She must not have received the letter or she would have called.”
“You can’t be certain. Before you panic, you should call her and make sure where things stand.”
Immediately she turned on her heel and walked rapidly toward the kitchen. Though he knew she didn’t want him here, Kurt followed and watched as she punched out a long-distance number on the telephone.
She waited, shivering in the chill of the kitchen, for what must have been several rings before someone came on the other end. “Ted?…I’m afraid so.”
Ted?
“Something’s wrong. Michael wrote a letter to Rachel over a week ago. No, I just found out about it. She hasn’t called and I’m afraid…” She paused for a moment, listening. When she spoke again, her voice sounded calmer. “You will? Oh, Ted…”
Kurt’s heart plummeted. Just because she wasn’t married, he’d assumed she was free. He should’ve known there was a man in the picture.
“Thank you,” she said, her voice softer still and almost husky. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
Replacing the receiver, she stood with her back to him. Kurt wanted to go to her, to take her into his arms and comfort her, but he couldn’t. The sound of her voice when she talked to Ted held him at bay. He wanted to ask her who Ted was and what he meant to her, but he couldn’t waste breath on something as trivial as his own insecurity when her and the children’s lives might be in jeopardy.