“Known a lot of guys in hard hats, have you?”
Anne flashed him a warning look before leaning into the back to place the baby in his car seat. “As strange as it is to picture you on the other end of a pile driver, I suppose it’s as likely as your being a priest.”
“Oh? How so?” Tom asked.
“Well, you have to admit you don’t look like a priest.”
“What do I look like, Anne?”
She twisted toward him and the sunlight fused with her hair—copper alloyed with gold. Her eyes turned a misty pearl as she studied him in rapt concentration, as though trying to decide. She had no idea how stunning she was, or how stunned he was by her.
“Actually, you look like a bank robber I once prosecuted while I was working for the D.A.’s office,” Anne said.
She turned away and busied herself with strapping in the baby.
“And you saw that he was acquitted,” Tom said, unable to keep himself from baiting her.
“I saw that he got twenty years,” she called over her shoulder. “Although, if he hadn’t been so good-looking, I might have gone for twenty-five.”
Tom chuckled. She was intelligent, self-assured, beautiful, irreverent and attracted to him. He couldn’t think of a more alluring set of qualities.
The baby began to wail again the moment he was out of Anne’s arms. Tom hated to hear his anguished sounds.
Circling the car, he got into the driver’s side and started the engine, enjoying its pantherlike growl. Apparently, the baby did, too. Tommy stopped crying whenever the car was in motion. Just as he did when he was cradled in Anne’s arms.
No doubt about it, the kid had great taste.
“Give me your professional opinion about something?” Tom asked Anne as he spun the car away from the curb.
“What?”
“How would you go about finding someone? In an unofficial sort of way.”
“You mean the baby’s mother, don’t you?” Anne asked.
“Does it matter?”
“Seems strange you don’t know where she is,” Anne said.
“Does it?” Tom replied.
Anne turned to study his profile. “You answer a lot of questions with questions.”
He snapped her a grin. “Do I?”
She was trying not to grin back. Trying hard. “Tell me something.”
“Anything I can.”
“Did you even know about Tommy before yesterday?”
Tom slowed to round the corner, carefully thinking about her question.
“No,” he said finally.
“I figured as much,” Anne said. “Did she dump the baby on you in order to embarrass you?”
“It’s a confidential matter,” Tom said carefully.
“So we’re back to that again. What can you say?”
“I’d like to find her.”
Tom felt Anne’s eyes studying him again. He waited.
“The logical place to start is her last known address,” Anne said after a moment.
“She’s not there.”
“Family? Friends?”
“Dead ends, as well. I’m looking for more official channels, Anne, ones that can be accessed unofficially.”
“Running her name through the registry of motor vehicles?” Anne suggested.
“I doubt she has a driver’s license.”
“She was driving a vehicle.”
“Is it possible to trace that vehicle even if we don’t have the license number?” Tom asked, sidestepping Anne’s implicit question.
“If we had a good enough description, I could ask the state police to be on the lookout for it and pull her over.”
Tom shook his head. “I don’t want her pulled over. That wouldn’t help either her or the baby.”
Anne was quiet for a moment as she cast a look back at Tommy. “I might be able to call in a favor.”
“Favor?” Tom repeated, trying to sound as uninformed as possible until she made the suggestion he’d been leading her to.
“I could ask the state police to let me know if they see the vehicle, but not stop the driver.”
“Good idea, Anne,” Tom said as he pulled into the church’s parking lot. “As soon as Trudi arrives with the crib, we’ll get the vehicle’s description from her. I’m glad I asked for your advice on this.”
* * *
ANNE REALIZED SHE’D been had. As she stood over the sink in Tom’s kitchen, washing dishes, she could see how adroitly Tom had set her up every step of the way. First the doctor’s, then the store, then tricking her into agreeing to find the baby’s mother.
And now, somehow—she couldn’t even remember the specifics—here she was cleaning up his kitchen!
If she’d had any doubts before, she had none now. Father Tom Christen was a very dangerous man.
Anne told herself that if it weren’t for the baby, she’d leave right this minute. But little Tommy hadn’t liked the new formula any more than he had the old, and had just spit it up all over Tom.
And was screaming at the top of his tiny lungs again. Poor little sweetheart.
She figured Tom was getting everything he deserved. But Anne was very worried about Tommy. How could his mother have left him when he wasn’t well?
She set the last of the dishes in the drying rack and went over to lift the baby out of Tom’s arms. As he had every time before, Tommy stopped crying, snuggled his little cheek against her chest and with a soft sigh went right to sleep.
Ah, the sudden quiet was wonderful!
Anne sat on a kitchen chair, cuddled the baby close and wondered at this odd role that had been so suddenly thrust upon her.
When her co-workers brought their babies to the office, she always said the polite things she knew a parent wanted to hear. But she never asked to hold their babies. And when she had helped her sister with her nieces and nephew, she felt very much an outsider—awkward and unwanted.
But she didn’t feel awkward or unwanted now. Not with this surprising little baby who fit so perfectly into her arms. Since the first moment she’d held his warm little body next to hers, it had felt so natural to cuddle him and keep him close.
Why did Tommy stop crying only when she held him? And why was it she who felt comforted whenever she cradled him in her arms?
“You’re a natural mother,” Tom said from the chair beside her.
Anne kept forgetting how deep and rich Tom’s voice was until it suddenly hummed through her ears and her blood.
“I have a ton of screaming testimonials to the contrary,” she said. “Just ask my sister. And her kids.”
“You were married for four years,” Tom said. “Why no kids of your own?”
The surprise of his question beat like butterfly wings inside Anne’s chest. Her eyes shot to his face.
“How is it you know about my marriage?”
“I asked Maureen about you.”
His eyes were as clear and warm as a summer day and looking directly into hers. The butterfly in Anne’s chest suddenly grew eagle wings.
The doorbell rang through the rectory.
“That will be Trudi with the crib,” Tom said. “Be right back.”
He was out of his chair and gone in a flash.
Anne took a deep breath and let it out very slowly. Her pulse was fluttering and her nerves were skipping. And all he had said was that he’d asked about her. This was definitely not a good sign.
Tommy whimpered in his sleep.
“It’s okay, little guy,” Anne soothed as she rocked the baby. “We’re going to find your mommy. And then everything will be all right.”
Hearing her own words brought a frown to Anne’s face.
Tom would find the mother of his child. A
nd when he brought her back to Cooper’s Corner and reunited her with their baby, what then?
Would he marry her?
It’s none of your concern, that wise voice inside Anne’s head admonished. So stop wondering. And stop letting that priest get to you.
* * *
TRUDI KARR SEEMED older than her eighteen years. She was short and thin, her hair the color of the mud that made the unpaved county roads around the village a quagmire. She wore jeans and a faded yellow sweatshirt. Her wary brown eyes never looked straight at Anne.
The three of them sat together in Tom’s study—a cozy space with tall, narrow windows, a polished brass wood stove and walls filled with an eclectic assortment of books neatly stacked on sturdy pine shelves.
Trudi perched on the edge of her chair, her elbows braced on her bony knees.
Anne had seen young women like Trudi in her court. Their old faces had always made her sad.
“I’m sorry I haven’t made it to church, Father,” Trudi said. “I’m grateful you got me the job with the Tubbs and all, it’s just...”
“You don’t have to explain, Trudi,” Tom said. “And you don’t owe me anything. Whether you come to church or not is your choice.”
The tension in Trudi’s thin shoulders didn’t abate, despite Tom’s reassurance.
“I understand you saw the vehicle that drove by the church around eight o’clock last night?” he asked.
“Yeah. It passed me on Church Street, going real fast. Kicked up a mess of mud.”
“Could you determine its make or model?” Tom asked.
“A rusty-red VW Bug—one of those real old ones, not the new models.”
“License plate?”
“Massachusetts, probably. Sure I would’ve noticed were it different.”
“You remember any numbers, letters?”
Trudi shook her head.
“Anything else about it, Trudi? Anything at all?”
“It had a bumper sticker on the back. Driver’s side.”
“What did it say?”
“Red Sox Rule.”
“You a baseball fan, Trudi?” Tom asked.
“My older brothers had the games on TV all the time,” Trudi volunteered, then looked down at her hands as though she had said something wrong.
Anne thought Trudi was exhibiting all the nervous habits of a witness on the stand who wasn’t being totally candid. She wondered why.
“You have amazing eyesight,” Anne said carefully. “Reading a bumper sticker on a car that whizzes past you at night on a road without any lights.”
“Oh, I didn’t read the bumper sticker last night. I read it when the car was parked in the church’s lot yesterday afternoon.”
“Yesterday afternoon?” Anne repeated, her voice rising in surprise.
“You’ve been a big help, Trudi,” Tom said, quickly coming to his feet. “I’m sure Lori needs you back at the café. I’ll get the door for you.”
When Tom returned after seeing Trudi out, Anne was ready for him. “You saw Tommy’s mother at the church yesterday.”
“I didn’t see the car,” Tom said. “Do you have enough of a description of the vehicle to call the state police?”
Tom knew Anne wasn’t satisfied with his explanation. Her gray eyes were as cloudy and cool as an overcast day.
“If I’m going to help you find this woman,” she said, “I need to know more about her.”
“I’ll tell you what I can,” Tom said.
“Let’s start with her name.”
“Lindy.”
“And her last name?”
Tom shook his head.
“You won’t tell me?” Anne asked.
“I can’t,” Tom said.
Her eyes aimed at him like two silver bullets. “Is she married?”
“No, Anne, she’s not married.”
“Lindy wants to marry you, though, doesn’t she?” Anne asked.
Tom hesitated. He knew exactly where Anne was heading. Unfortunately, there was no way to stop her now.
“Yes.”
“But you don’t want to marry her.”
“No.”
Anne looked down at the baby in her arms.
“I don’t know why I’m surprised,” she said. “I’ve heard at least a hundred cases just like it in my court. He wants instant gratification. She wants romance with all the trimmings. And because they are so focused on their own wants, neither of them thinks about the life they end up bringing into the world.”
“It wasn’t like that, Anne.”
Her eyes rose to his. “No? Then tell me what it was like.”
He wished he could. God help him, he wished he could.
“I can’t,” Tom said.
The disappointment on her face was heavy enough to bury a man. Tom felt the weight of it like an anvil over his heart.
For a moment, he thought Anne was going to press him for the whole truth. But then she sighed as though in defeat and reached for her shoulder bag, to dig out the cell phone inside.
“I’d rather do this without an audience if you don’t mind,” she said, pointing at the phone.
Tom nodded and stepped out of the room so she wouldn’t have a sense of his hovering. But he listened in from the adjoining hallway. He had to know if she was going to mention him or the baby.
A moment later she was chitchatting with some guy named Fred in the state trooper’s office. After exchanging a few pleasantries, she asked Fred to keep an eye out for the old rusty-red VW Beetle with a woman driver. She said nothing about Tom or the child.
Tom was relieved until he heard her sign off.
“Let’s have dinner Monday night,” Anne said into the phone. “Pittsfield is good. Yeah, I like it there. Seven o’clock will be fine. I love you, too.”
Anne loved some guy named Fred with the state police?
No. Tom didn’t believe it. Fred had to be an uncle, or brother.
Not that it mattered now. Anne had lost what little faith she had left in Tom after his jarring admissions during their previous conversation. He had read that clearly in the freezing chill of her eyes. It would take a miracle for him to have a chance with her now.
Fortunately for Tom, he believed in miracles.
The telephone rang. He walked down the hallway to answer it.
Anne could hear Tom’s side of the conversation as he spoke on the kitchen telephone. He really had the most amazing ability to project his voice—even when he didn’t seem to be trying.
He was being asked to console parents whose young daughter had just been diagnosed with terminal cancer. Tom told them he was on his way.
Anne wondered how anyone could bring comfort in a situation like that. It seemed to be asking a lot of someone to try. Maybe that was the problem. The job asked too much. Maybe that’s why it was just too hard to meet all its demands.
Like the one that called for control over sexual urges. The one Tom had failed.
What disappointed her so much? Was it that he had had a child out of wedlock? Or that he didn’t want to marry the mother of his child?
No, it was the fact that he had put his desires first—just like any ordinary man. Tom wasn’t special, after all. And she had wanted him to be. Because she was so damn attracted to him.
It’s better this way, that wise voice inside her said. You know the truth. Now you can stop the silly fantasies about the guy and get on with your vacation.
As soon as he got back from his visit to the distraught parents, that was exactly what Anne was going to do. And this time, she was not going to let herself be talked out of it.
CHAPTER THREE
ANNE AWOKE SUNDAY morning to a raven’s angry croak. She slipped out of bed and cros
sed to the window. The raven was perched on a nearby tree, scolding a sleek ginger cat that was in pursuit of whatever had ducked beneath the deck below. The cat was clearly oblivious to the bird’s tirade.
A prowling tom, no doubt, Anne thought with irritation.
She cracked open the window and leaned out. The raven eyed her curiously, then ignored her completely as it proceeded to preen its silky black feathers.
The morning mist drifted like a delicate silver veil through the meadow below. Ribbons of pink and purple light encased the sleepy village of Cooper’s Corner like giant bows decorating a birthday present. The images were lovely, the air sweet with the kiss of spring.
But it was way too frosty for a thin nightgown and bare feet. Anne leaned back and shut the window.
She knew when it was time to retreat. And not just from a chilly morning.
If and when Fred called to let her know about the rusty-red VW Beetle, she would pass along the information to Tom as promised. But by telephone. There was absolutely no reason to ever see him again. And she wasn’t going to.
Smart women stayed clear of unsuitable men.
Yesterday, she’d gotten carried away, become too involved in a business that shouldn’t have concerned her. It had been a mistake. Not her first. Probably not her last. But one that she definitely was putting behind her.
Today was a brand-new day—the day when she really started her long-awaited vacation.
A gentle knock sounded at the door. Anne padded across the thick carpet to see who it was. Maureen stood in the hall, holding a tray with two cups of coffee.
“You are a great hostess,” Anne said as she opened the door wide to invite Maureen inside.
“Newlyweds and friends get special treatment,” Maureen replied with a smile.
They settled on the daisy brocade bedspread, backs braced against the headboard, softened with fluffy pillows. Anne polished off her coffee in one long delicious gulp. The rich liquid left a trail of warmth, more than welcome after her brief taste of the chilly morning air.
“Thanks,” she said, returning the cup to the tray when she had finished. “I really needed that.”
Maureen eyed Anne over the rim of her cup. “You didn’t sleep well.”
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