In Hope's Shadow

by Janice Kay Johnson

  “Deal.”

  Eve set her bag on the counter and began removing the contents, including a can of soda, a small bag of red grapes, and the plastic-lidded container holding the chicken and cashew main course.

  They could just visit, she thought. Talk. It would make her mother happy. She didn’t have to say anything that would make Mom unhappy.

  But...everything she and Ben had said last night had kept turning in her head while she was trying to sleep. She thought he’d meant every word, settling a part of her that had remained uneasy. Which gave her the idea that she and her mother could have the same kind of resolution. If Eve could make her mother understand...

  She waited until they were sitting at the table, food in front of them, before she said, “I know I’ve upset you lately.”

  “Oh, the less said about it the better.”

  Why was this one of the moments when Eve was unnerved by awareness of how much Mom looked like Bailey? Except it was the other way around, of course.

  “I just...wanted to say I’m sorry.” Oh, there was a major cop-out.

  Her mother smiled gently. “Love means never having to say you’re sorry.”

  Eve set down her fork. “Isn’t that a bumper sticker?” She couldn’t help herself. Snide just slipped out.

  Mom chuckled. “That doesn’t mean it isn’t true.”

  “We should say we’re sorry when we behave badly.”

  “Eve, we understand more than you think.”

  Suddenly, she found herself mad. “Then why—” Oh, no. She’d sworn she wouldn’t do this.

  “Why what?” Mom looked pleasantly puzzled. Yep, there she went again. Not a clue what was brewing in her daughter. Had she never noticed undercurrents? Did she actually think she understood anything?

  Eve said it very quietly. “Why did you never notice how jealous I was of Hope?”

  They stared at each other.

  Mom very subtly...withdrew. “We love you.”

  “I don’t doubt you love me. I’ve never doubted that.”

  “Then what’s this all about?” Karen Lawson was an attractive, mild-mannered woman whose most powerful emotions had always been grief and guilt. Emotions having to do with Hope, never with Eve.

  “I don’t think you ever let yourself see how it felt to me to know I couldn’t set foot into that bedroom across the hall. The pretty, perfect bedroom. To know I couldn’t have a pink bedroom, oh no, because Hope’s already was. To be talking to you, and realize your gaze had strayed past me to the mantel, and sadness would fill your eyes. To always suspect you’d trade me in in a heartbeat to have her back.”

  The gradually dawning shock on her mother’s face found an echo in Eve. Why was she so driven to say these things, despite her best intentions? What had she hoped to accomplish?

  “That’s cruel,” Karen said in a voice that shook.

  “I don’t mean it that way. I do understand how hard it all was for you. I count my blessings every day. It just...bothers me that you can’t see why I struggled sometimes to believe I mattered, too.”

  “I grieved for Hope. I doesn’t mean I came to love you any less.”

  “I know that. I do know it. In my head.” Eve touched her fingers to her forehead. “In here—” she touched her breast “—it was harder. Can’t you understand that, Mom?” She heard herself begging, and saw the resistance even before her mother answered.

  “You haven’t asked your father, have you.” It wasn’t a question.

  “I think he saw me more clearly.”

  “Maybe because he had no reason to blame himself for what happened to Hope. We both knew it was my fault.”

  Eve’s mouth fell open. “He never blamed you.”

  “Of course he did. He should have!” Her mother stood, gathered up her untouched lunch, and marched into the kitchen. “I can’t do this, Eve. You’ll have to excuse me.” Again—always—she vanished down the hall, and Eve heard a door close quietly but firmly. Not slam, oh, no, Mom never vented that way. Or at all.

  Eve looked down at her own, equally untouched lunch and, after a moment, carried everything into the kitchen. She scraped it into the garbage, rinsed out dishes and put the plastic container back in the brown paper bag.

  She’d blown it, big-time. Damaged her relationship with her mother yet again, maybe irreparably.

  But then she felt a small spurt of her own anger. If you loved someone, weren’t you supposed to listen? Had Karen really not understood how broken that little girl she and her husband took in had been? Why was she determined to remain totally blind to why Eve had been jealous and felt undermined when Hope reappeared in their lives?

  Letting herself quietly out of the house, she nourished the spark of anger rather than sinking into the depression lurking beneath.

  Face it. Her mother had been blind. Or hadn’t wanted to know.

  Maybe she’d been so damaged by the loss of her daughter, she’d only had so much left to give. Maybe, because of her own pain, she’d been looking inward instead of at the other people in her life. If so...poor Dad.

  Lord, Eve hoped this empty feeling inside her wasn’t the kind of hollow she and Ben had talked about.

  * * *

  BEN HAD BEEN back to the high school. Back to Clement Rowe’s neighborhood. He’d searched Rowe’s house, top to bottom, looking for something, anything, that would help. Wouldn’t you think Rowe might have started watching for the next trick? Even set a trap? Maybe used a digital camera to try to catch someone in the act?

  But he didn’t own a computer, a cell phone or a camera, not even a Polaroid.

  Ben didn’t find a diary, either. Binoculars, yes, sitting on an end table in the living room where the old man could grab them anytime. Which set Ben to wondering how good Rowe’s vision had been. He had clearly used reading glasses—Ben found a pair in just about every room. He had maintained his driver’s license, although there wasn’t much to the vision test. Like every other cop, Ben was unhappily aware someone could pass it who had no peripheral vision, or had a blind spot, trouble with depth perception.

  But Rowe had believed his tormentor was Joel Kekoa, not Gavin Shaffer. Why? Only because Joel had taken the one, defiant step onto his lawn? Had Rowe ever seen even movement in the dark?

  Ben had to leave, knowing no more than he had when he arrived.

  A troop of teenage boys was passing as he walked out, a couple on skateboards, one wobbling on a bike because he was pacing them, another one walking. They were issuing challenges to each other, laughing, reaching out to take mock swings at each other, but went quiet when they saw him.

  “Got a minute?” he asked them.

  They stopped. One of the boys with a skateboard kept a foot on it, while the other picked his up. “Uh... I guess,” he said.

  “Do you live around here?”

  Only one lived on the block, almost to the corner. Ben turned to see the house he was indicating. The others’ homes were spread along the next eight blocks or so.

  He asked if they knew Joel and Gavin.

  They exchanged cautious glances with each other.

  “I’m on the football team,” the biggest kid said. “I mean, I’m a freshman, but I kind of know Joel. He’s awesome out there.”

  Two others were sophomores. Only the boy on the bike admitted to being a junior and having a couple classes with Gavin, although he insisted he didn’t really know know him.

  “What about Mr. Rowe?” Ben nodded at the house.

  He got shrugs. Sure, they’d seen him out in his yard sometimes, and otherwise he watched them from the front window.

  “To be sure we don’t go in his yard or drop trash or anything,” the football player said with rolled eyes. He looked embarrassed then, probably having remembered what happened to Mr. Rowe
.

  Ben finally let them go, having failed to learn a single useful fact.

  Which pretty well summed up the two days since Kylie Burke had approached him. Good thing he was used to this kind of frustration. It pretty well defined his job. What he’d learned was, keep poking, keep looking around corners, keep talking to people you’ve already talked to three times. Secrets were really hard to bury forever. They had a way of leaking out.

  He sat in the car for a few minutes, trying to decide what his next move should be. He still hadn’t started the engine when he saw Gavin’s car coming. Heard it coming, too.

  Gavin spotted him and slowed almost to a stop, then turned into his driveway only a few feet away from where Ben was parked. What Ben wanted to do was just keep sitting there. Play chicken.

  Impulse, but not the smart thing to do. Gavin must already be on edge; he’d know Ben was still asking questions at the high school. Too much pressure could be dangerous.

  Ben put the car in gear and pulled away from the curb as Gavin got out. Ben nodded, raised a hand as if at a casual acquaintance, and kept driving. In the rearview mirror, he saw Gavin staring after him, then turning to saunter toward the porch.

  No problem, he’d be telling himself, reassured at Ben’s lack of interest in him. The police tape was still on Mr. Rowe’s house. No surprise the cop was taking another look.

  Too bad, Ben thought. He’d have enjoyed making the kid sweat.

  Yeah, but would Gavin have sweated? he wondered. Your average teenage boy got stupid when he was nervous. A tough street kid might become more aggressive.

  But there was a third option. Nerves implied some kind of conscience, or at least an awareness of fallibility. Gavin Shaffer might remain completely cool, because hadn’t he always gotten away with everything?

  “Not this time,” Ben murmured. Somewhere, there was another witness, and by God he was going to find him.

  * * *

  EVE JERKED AWAKE and lay very still, listening. She would swear she’d heard something...

  A grunt—a snort?—stirred her hair. And then she became aware that an arm lay heavily across her, and that a body, hot and hard, spooned hers.

  She wasn’t alone in bed.

  She shouldn’t have been startled, because—now that her mind was clearing—she remembered making love with Ben. They had mostly quit eating out the evenings they got together, and instead cooked for each other, or, after an especially long day, bought takeout. Last night he’d come to her place. It was just that he’d never spent the night. She was pretty sure he hadn’t intended to this time, either.

  Either Ben’s forearm or hand were blocking her view of the lighted numbers on her clock. She had to lift her head a little to see them.

  Five forty-seven.

  Eve almost groaned, before it occurred to her she should be glad she had woken up when she did. Presumably, she and Ben both had fallen asleep while cuddling, which meant she hadn’t set the alarm. Which she would have set for six thirty.

  Had his arm just tightened around her?

  Yes, because the hand was no longer blocking her view. Instead, it squeezed her breast gently. And, if she wasn’t mistaken, an erection pressed against her bottom.

  “You’re awake,” she murmured.

  “Mmm.” His hips rocked, and his hand skated down to slip between her legs, his fingers deft considering she’d swear he’d been asleep thirty seconds ago.

  But, oh, it felt good. She tried to turn over, but he held her in place.

  “Let me,” he whispered.

  There wasn’t much she could do except reach back and stroke his flank, all lean muscle, hard bone and sleek skin.

  Morning sex had never held much appeal for her before. She tended to wake up grumpy, her mood not improving until after at least one cup of coffee. Plus, there was the bad breath issue.

  But there was something deeply arousing about not really being able to participate. The hard ridge of his erection jerked when she wriggled a little against him. And, oh, heavens, what he was doing with his fingers. She suddenly wanted more than his fingers.

  “Ben.”

  That was all she had to say. He gripped her topmost thigh and lifted it forward, and was between her legs, nudging her where she ached. Eve groaned, and he pushed slowly inside her. Retreated as slowly. It was torture.

  She tried to move, to lift her hips to meet him.

  “Patience,” he said in a gritty, early morning voice, and maintained the steady, almost languid rhythm that had her belly tightening even as it made her crazy.

  “Please. Please.”

  He laughed, low and husky, slid one finger between her folds and pressed. The climax that grabbed her and then let her fly free was shocking in its intensity. Ben made a sound, lifted her to her knees and thrust a few times hard and fast until he made a raw sound and she felt him jerk inside her.

  Then it was his turn to groan as he fell back onto his shoulder, letting her collapse, face buried in her pillow. Eve turned her head and blinked a few times, trying to bring the green numbers on the clock into focus.

  At last she succeeded. 6:08.

  “Oh, my God,” she mumbled. Twenty minutes. Probably less. And she felt... She had to think about it before reaching a conclusion. Amazing. “You’re still here,” she said.

  “You noticed.” He pushed hair aside and nuzzled her nape. “I’m flattered.”

  Eve giggled. “That was a surprisingly nice way to wake up.”

  “I thought so.” He made a grumbly sound and said, “I wish it was Sunday.”

  “So you could go back to sleep.”

  “Yeah.” His teeth closed gently on the tendon running up the side of her neck, sending a zing through her. “Then wake up and do it again.”

  “Too bad, so sad.”

  Ben laughed. “Unfortunately, I have to hustle enough to get home and change clothes.” There was a pause. “Do you think anybody would notice if I wore the same clothes as yesterday?”

  She mulled that over, not in any hurry to move. “Given that you wear basically the same kind of pants and shirt every day—probably not.”

  “I can skip the shorts,” he said thoughtfully. His hand roved over her hip and waist, cupping her breast again. “Not enough time to go back to sleep. The doing it again, though...”

  Pressed against her as he was, she couldn’t miss the way his penis thickened. Already. She would have sworn she couldn’t get aroused this soon. She’d been wrong.

  “Maybe,” she whispered.

  “I like a positive woman.”

  Astonishingly, they still had time for breakfast.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  THINKING ABOUT EVE visiting Joel this morning, Ben hoped like hell she could resist sharing information she shouldn’t. No, not fair; she kept promises. And it was hard to worry about much of anything when he felt so exceptionally relaxed. Man, he wanted to wake up like that every morning. Sleep every night with his arms around her.

  He wasn’t shocked or even mildly surprised by the realization. Maybe falling asleep in her bed last night had been one of those accidental-on-purpose things. He’d begun to hate the nights when he wasn’t getting together with Eve. He wondered how she felt about living with a man.

  Guaranteed, Nicole wouldn’t like it. Which had him wondering, as he so often did about her. Would she object because she liked jabbing at him? Or because she was jealous? And if she was... So what, he told himself, frowning.

  And give her some credit. She might also be genuinely trying to protect Rachel from getting hurt down the line if/when Eve disappeared from her life.

  Damn it, focus, he told himself. He was walking into the mortgage company where Lynne Carter worked. He felt the need to take another shot at her and her husband—and to do so in
dividually, instead of meeting a united front. This time, he wasn’t taking any chance Gavin could overhear, either.

  Called from her office, Lynne did not look thrilled to see him.

  “Can you get away for a few minutes?” he asked, conscious of the receptionist and a couple who were waiting for a mortgage consultant and looking curious. He hoped it wasn’t Lynne they were waiting for. “We can get a cup of coffee or just go for a walk.”

  She sighed, looked at the clock on the wall, and sighed again. “I have twenty minutes before my next appointment.”

  Ben smiled and held open the door for her.

  Outside, she blinked in the sunshine. “It’s really a nice day, isn’t it? Why don’t we just walk. I’ve had my morning quota of coffee.”

  “Me, too,” he lied. “I’m hoping the weather holds. I’m taking my daughter and my girlfriend to look at the daffodils.”

  “What a nice idea. Except for the traffic,” she added, which was the default for locals, even newly minted ones like her. The Tulip Festival brought in substantial business, but visitors en masse had a way of gumming up the works.

  After a moment, she asked, “What did you want to talk to me about?”

  “Just hoping we can run through the various incidents with Mr. Rowe again.” He held up a hand, forestalling the expected protest. “I know we’ve done it before, but people remember things. I’m pretty well lacking any real evidence tying Joel to the various tricks.”

  “Oh, but—” She’d hurried so much, her speech stumbled.

  “But?”

  “Well, his window screen wasn’t quite attached.”

  “And could have been that way for months.”

  He encouraged her to talk about her first encounters with Rowe, anything Rod had said about him, both the boys’ complaints.

  She seemed genuine initially, wrinkling her nose when she described her first meeting, when she was being friendly and hoping to get to know the neighbors. But as she continued, her tone became more and more constrained.

  Reading between the lines, Ben thought she hadn’t actually seen anything. But she wasn’t stupid. Every one of the vicious pranks—if you could call them that—were replays of incidents that had occurred in her former neighborhood. Ones for which she must know neighbors there believed her son to be responsible. A loyal mother to the bitter end, she wasn’t saying, though.