by Gayle Roper
It looked just like it might if the car had careened around a corner and scraped along the sides of several cars as it tried to avoid a little girl crossing the street.
Fourteen
NEVER SEEN A car that needs body work?”
Abby jumped at the unfriendly voice and spun. She lost her balance with the quick motion and put out her hand to the car to steady herself, feeling the rough gouges in the metal under her palm. A big man with dark angry eyes and dark hair swept straight back from his forehead stared at her from the other side of the convertible, placing him between her and her own car.
“Such a shame, this damage.” She hoped she didn’t sound as unnerved as she felt. “It was a lovely car.”
“You’re an authority on cars, are you?”
His sarcasm was so sharp she flinched. What had she ever done to earn his ire? “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bother you. I just couldn’t resist looking.” She hurried to her own car, giving him a wide berth, not caring how badly she limped. Speed and distance were all that mattered. She was aware of him watching her. She shivered in spite of the warm day.
“Is that Walker’s father?” Jess asked in a small voice as Abby slid behind the wheel.
“I don’t know.” Abby grappled with her keys, which didn’t want to slip in the ignition. “Maybe someone besides Mr. deMarco rents the top floor, like I rent above Dr. Winslow.”
“He’s mad, isn’t he?” Jess stared at him with wide eyes. “Daddies get mad. Then they leave.”
“Oh, no, Jess.” Abby’s hand stilled on the keys as she turned to the girl. “Lots of times men get upset about something, but they don’t leave. They work it out, especially Christian men who love Jesus.”
Jess looked skeptical, and why not? In her limited experience, men left.
Abby tried again. “My dad would never leave my mom no matter how angry he got at her. He made a deal when he got married, and he’ll keep it. Lots of men are like that.” Marsh would be like that, she thought. She didn’t know how she knew, but she did.
Abby glanced next door, catching the dark-haired man, eyes closed, shoulders slumped, running his hand through his hair. She started in surprise. He looked absolutely miserable and anything but threatening. Pity began to replace her fear. Something was upsetting him, and he was dealing with it by lashing out.
He must have felt her watching him because he straightened his shoulders, opened his eyes, and glared. Abby, overwhelmed at the animosity she saw, felt the blood drain from her face. She quickly averted her eyes. Her fledgling pity disappeared from one heartbeat to the next. There was no doubt; the man was not a nice man. But was he dangerous? Abby wasn’t taking any chances, especially with Jess in the car. Slowly she extended her index finger to the door lock, and pushed. All four locks snapped down.
The man heard the click. He took a step toward her. She stabbed at the ignition again. This time the keys slid home. She backed out of the drive with more speed than caution. She wouldn’t feel safe until she and Jess were several blocks away.
“Jess, would you reach into my purse and grab my cell phone for me?” Abby was pleased her voice sounded steady. “I also need the business card in the zipper pouch.”
Jess rummaged around for a minute before she pulled out the phone and the card. She held it to Abby who took it, pulled to the curb, and dialed the number Greg Barnes had penciled on the back.
“Mr. Barnes, this is Abby Patterson calling.”
He didn’t sound surprised to hear her voice. “Mrs. Patterson, how are you today?”
“I’m fine, but I just saw something you might want to check.”
Greg listened as she recounted finding the damaged Lexus. “I know it’s probably nothing, but I felt I had to call. Besides, the guy was scary.” Like a hit-and-run driver would be.
“You did the right thing,” Greg said. “We’ll check it out.”
Abby felt the tension leave her shoulders. “Thank you.”
“I take it that seeing the car didn’t jog any memories loose?” Greg’s voice was curious but not hopeful.
The undefined feeling of failure that had been sitting passively on her shoulder much of the time since the accident reached out and grabbed her by the throat. She actually coughed. “I’m sorry. I wish it did.” With a sigh, she disconnected.
A small hand reached out and patted her leg. “Don’t feel bad, Mrs. Patterson. You’ll remember when God wants you to.” Jess took the phone, putting it back in Abby’s purse. “That’s what Mommy says.”
Abby wished she felt as certain as Celia.
At the hospital it didn’t take long to spring Karlee. Abby signed the necessary papers at the nurses’ station. When she and Jess got to Karlee’s room, the little girl was waiting in a wheelchair. She looked fragile and weary, but she giggled like any little girl as the orderly who wheeled her to the front door called, “Make way for Princess Karlee and her royal steed.” Abby doubted that Karlee knew what a royal steed was, but she certainly liked being a princess and having people wave to her as she rolled past. Soon she was settled in the backseat of the car, reclining on the pillow Abby had brought for just that purpose.
As they drove down Central, they passed a police car coming toward them. Abby tried to see if Greg Barnes was in it, but she couldn’t. Tinted glass. Still she didn’t doubt that it was coming from the deMarcos’. She started to sweat at the idea of seeing the man next door again. If he’d been angry before, what was he now that she had sent the police to his house?
It was with great relief that she saw no one as she pulled into the drive beside her father’s car. The damaged Lexus was where it had been when she left, but the irate man was gone. She’d half expected him to be lying in wait for her, yelling and screaming and furious.
She climbed quickly from her car, her goal to get Karlee and Jess upstairs before he reappeared. He had already frightened Jess once, and poor bruised Karlee had had more than enough trauma.
“Put your good arm around my neck, sweetie,” she instructed Karlee as she reached into the backseat for the little girl. “Jess, will you carry the pillow for me?”
Abby was straightening with her armful of child when a large palm slapped the roof of the car, making her jerk and smack her head on the top of the doorjamb. Jess and Karlee gave little screams at the abrupt sound.
“Just who do you think you are to sic the police on me?” His roar made Abby’s stomach drop. “What did I ever do to you to deserve that?” His scowl drew his eyebrows together in one fearsome line from temple to temple.
Abby straightened, Karlee in her arms. Her head throbbed where she’d smacked it, and fear made her mouth dry, but she looked at the man as calmly as she could manage. She had to for the sake of the children. She’d never forgive herself if somehow she added to their fear. “You’re frightening Jess and Karlee.”
The man blinked, seeming to see for the first time the little girls who stared white-faced at him. Karlee had Abby’s neck in a vise grip, and Jess pressed against the back of Abby’s legs as she tried to make herself invisible.
A look of bewilderment raced across his face, followed by what appeared to be genuine concern. “She’s hurt.” He pointed to Karlee.
“Yes, she is. Automobile. Hit-and-run.” Abby watched him for a reaction.
“Hit-and-run? That’s terrible!” Then his face turned red as he fit pieces together. He pointed to his car, so upset his hand was shaking. Then he pointed to Karlee. “You think I did that to her?” He looked stunned. “That’s why you called the cops? You actually think that if I hit anyone, especially a kid, I’d keep on going?”
“How do I know?” Abby wanted to yell at him, but she couldn’t get the words to come out.
“What kind of man do you think I am?” He was back to angry again. “I’ve got kids of my own!”
“What’s the trouble here, Abby?” Marsh strolled off his porch, coming to stand beside her. Without thinking she leaned toward him for protection, for comfort
.
“She called the police on me,” the man said before Abby could figure out how to explain everything. This time there was more disbelief than belligerence in his comment.
Marsh extended his hand. “I’m Marsh Winslow, by the way, and this is Abby Patterson. These lovely ladies are Karlee and Jess Fitzmeyer. And you are?”
“Rocco deMarco.” He shook hands, then rubbed his hand along his jaw. His heavy beard rasped even though he’d obviously shaved that morning. His black eyes were stormy as he looked at Abby. “She called the cops on me!”
Abby lifted her chin and leaned closer to Marsh. She would not apologize. It had been a logical thing to do, the right thing to do, given the situation. She winced as her hip began to complain, shooting sharp pain darts across her lower back. With a start she realized she was placing unwise weight on her vulnerable side. Hoping Marsh hadn’t noticed her leaning into him, she straightened, cheeks flushed. Immediately her hip felt better but she felt vulnerable.
“I’m sure she had a good reason for making the call, didn’t you, Abby?” As he spoke, Marsh moved until his shoulder lightly brushed hers.
Thank you, she thought. Thank you for somehow knowing.
“His car,” she said, nodding toward the vehicle. With disgust she heard the quiver in her voice. Still, she was doing better than the old Abby would have done. The old Abby would have gone to pieces with someone screaming at her. The new Abby was like Catherine of Aragon standing up to Henry VIII when he wanted a divorce. Catherine fought Henry, Cardinal Wolsey, and the Pope for eight long years and never did yield. All Abby needed was strength for a few more minutes. Of course, Catherine ended up in prison for years for her efforts.
Marsh ran a gentle hand over Karlee’s head. “Hey, Karlee, sweetheart. Remember me?”
She peered up at him without loosening her grip on Abby’s neck and nodded. “Church,” she whispered.
“Good for you. And don’t you worry. Everything’s going to be all right.”
Karlee’s grip on Abby’s neck eased.
Marsh smiled as he patted Jess on the shoulder. “Do you remember me, Jess?”
She studied him from behind Abby, then nodded. “I don’t remember your name.”
“I’m Dr. Winslow. I live right here.” He pointed to the house.
“Mrs. Patterson lives here, too,” Jess said.
Marsh nodded. “She lives upstairs, and I live downstairs.”
“Where does he live?” Jess whispered, looking toward Rocco deMarco.
“He lives next door.”
“Is he Walker’s father?”
Marsh looked at the man, who nodded. “Yes, he’s Walker’s father.”
“He’s very mad.” Jess looked at Abby.
“Yes,” Abby said softly, “but he isn’t leaving. We’re going to work it out.”
Marsh gave Abby a glance and a little smile. “I’ll be right back.” He walked to the battered Lexus, Rocco following on his heels. A blond fallen angel-cum-hero and a black-haired villaincum-father. What a pair.
Marsh raised an eyebrow as he examined the damage. “What happened?” he asked Rocco in an easy, interested voice.
“A guy driving one of those rented vans and pulling his car behind ran me off the road. He pulled in too soon after passing me. I had to swerve or get creamed.” He turned from Marsh to Abby to Marsh as he talked. “If there hadn’t been a guardrail, I’d have gone down an embankment.”
Abby wanted to believe him for Walker and Jordan’s sakes, even for Vivienne’s, but she was uncertain what to think.
Marsh nodded as he rubbed a finger along a particularly deep gouge. “Where did this near accident happen?”
In spite of Marsh’s neutral tone, Rocco erupted again. “Who do you think you are, questioning me? You got no right! I’ll get a lawyer after you. I’ll sue for defamation of character!”
Marsh waited until Rocco took a breath, then jumped in, his voice firm but uncompromising. “We’ll talk again sometime when you can talk, Mr. deMarco, not scream. Until then—” Marsh turned and walked back to Abby and the girls, leaving the astonished Rocco to stare after him, mouth hanging open.
Marsh winked at Abby, then turned to Karlee. “Hey, sweetheart. Let me carry you upstairs, okay? Abby’s arms must be wearing out by now, holding a big girl like you.”
Karlee lifted her head; her eyes were dark with fright and fatigue. Abby’s heart broke. She bent to place a kiss on the little girl’s cheek. She transferred Karlee to Marsh and watched as she snuggled against his chest, her cast resting in her lap.
“Comfy?” Marsh asked.
Karlee nodded, her little face too serious.
“Relax, honey,” Abby said, resting a finger against her little nose. “We’re all fine. The trouble is over.” At least for the moment. “Dr. Winslow has you, and he’ll keep you safe.”
Marsh looked at Abby, his expression somber. Then his eyes glinted, and Abby held her breath.
“She’s right. I’ve got you all right and tight. I know you’ll be easier to manage than Abby was. She was an armful when I carried her up the stairs, let me tell you. She kicked and squirmed the whole way. I almost dropped her on her head.”
Jess looked from Abby to Marsh in disbelief. “Did you really carry her upstairs?”
Marsh grinned at Abby. “I did. And she weighs a ton, Jess. A ton!”
Abby scowled with exaggeration. “Don’t you believe him. I’m light as a butterfly.”
Jess giggled and followed Marsh and Karlee up the steps, dragging the pillow behind her. Shaking her head at Marsh’s nonsense and flexing her arms to get the circulation going again, Abby started toward the steps and froze. Standing where the cement and sand met was her father. One look at his face told Abby that he heard everything Marsh told Jess.
“Did you have a good walk?” she asked brightly.
“Abby!”
“There’s nothing like an invigorating morning walk on the beach, is there?”
“Abby, what’s he talking about?”
She just shook her head and grasped the banister. She was still quaking inside from the confrontation with Rocco deMarco, and her arms ached almost as much as her hip. Not now, Dad.
“What did he mean, he carried you up the stairs?”
Abby didn’t know what to say, so she said nothing.
“Was he being forward? Inappropriate?”
“Marsh was fine, Dad. He’s never been anything but fine.”
“But why would you let him carry you? Oh, Abby, what would Sam say?”
Thinking that for obvious reasons, Sam’s opinion was the least important thing to consider at the moment, Abby began pulling herself up step by step. “Marsh was just teasing Karlee, Dad. He likes to joke.” She knew she’d be more convincing if her cheeks weren’t so red.
Her father reached out a hand and held her still. “Are you saying he didn’t carry you?”
She couldn’t meet his eyes. How had such a silly episode taken on all the trappings of a major seduction?
“Abby, I don’t like that man touching you. You can’t stay here.”
“Dad.” She swallowed her frustration. “Marsh is fine. He really is. I—I like him.” What would Dad say if he knew Marsh had waited up for her last night? That didn’t bear thinking about.
A slammed car door drew her attention. Rocco deMarco had climbed into his battered Lexus. She watched him careen into the street and bolt down Central. She hoped no one was between him and his destination, given his present ugly mood.
“I say the man is unsavory.”
Abby glanced at the empty parking spot. “It’s okay. I can stay out of his way.”
Dad stabbed his finger toward the deMarco house. “Not him.” He jabbed at Marsh’s place. “Him.”
Marsh was unsavory? She almost laughed. Infuriating, yes. Aggravating, yes. Kind to children even when they invaded his privacy, yes. But unsavory? “Dad, he’s a tease. He’s also a seminary professor.”
Dad
blinked, nonplussed, though he recovered quickly. “That doesn’t mean you can trust him.”
“Trust him with what?” Abby asked. “My jewels? My virtue? My life? He’s just the guy who lives downstairs, nothing more. Don’t go making mountains out of molehills.”
Dad looked at her. “Now I know you’re hiding something.”
Abby stared at him. “What do you mean?”
“Mountains out of molehills. A cliché. You always talk in clichés when you’re hiding something.”
Abby resisted the urge to scream. She took a deep, calming breath. “Dad, give it a rest. Even if I were hiding something, I’m allowed. I’m twenty-nine years old. I can have secrets if I want, even from my parents.”
Dad stared at her, eyes heavy with sorrow. “Abby, you’ve changed.”
I hope so, but she knew to say it would just hurt him.
“Come home with us, baby, before it’s too late.” His eyes pleaded, repeating the entreaty in his voice.
She turned back to the stairs and continued up. “No, Dad. This is my home now.” She passed Marsh midway as he returned to his place. “Troublemaker,” she hissed without looking at him.
“My pleasure,” he hissed back, laughter in his voice. As he passed Dad, he nodded his head and said in a most civil tone, “Sir.”
“Uh,” Dad managed, and it was all she could do not to giggle at his disgruntled tone.
When she reached the porch, she found Karlee lying on the chaise lounge with Mom arranging pillows behind her.
“This dear child was hit by a car,” Mom said, appalled.
“Yes, I know.” Abby put her purse on the now cleared table. Mom had been at work, and this time Abby appreciated the help.
“She saw it.” Jess pointed at Abby.
Fortunately Mom was too busy cooing over Karlee and Dad was too busy staring suspiciously down the steps after Marsh to have heard. Abby breathed a sigh of relief. She caught Jess’s eye, put her finger to her lips, and shook her head. Jess looked surprised, but she nodded and put her hand over her mouth. Abby relaxed. At least there was one topic she wouldn’t have to explain to Mom and Dad.