by Adrianne Lee
Even this memory failed to stir emotion in her. “From the first moment I held her, I felt such a connection with her.” Barbara stared at the toes of her boots, absently thinking they needed polishing. “The last thing I remember is stroking Missy’s cheek and whispering to her that I wished she was my daughter. Then someone shrieked and I looked up to see a semi-truck coming through the middle of the bus.”
Barbara heard Chad curse quietly. She drew a shuddery breath and closed her eyes. Her pulse roared in her ears. She could still hear the screech of metal smashing metal, still feel the whoosh of air as the bus ripped apart, still hear the screams, still smell the acrid smoke. Why couldn’t she feel anything? And why were there still gaps surrounding the accident—chunks of time, events she couldn’t recall?
She glanced at Edie. “I don’t remember getting out of the bus or how I got to the hospital.”
A wan smile touched Edie’s lips. “Probably, you never will. It’s symptomatic of the amnesia.”
That was the only good piece of news Barbara had had in the past few days. She shifted on the sofa and glanced at Chad as she felt a weird fissure in her chest and realized it was her heart, splitting in two. “You were right. Missy is Marshall Emerson’s daughter.”
He raked his hand through his hair. “Believe me, that doesn’t give me any pleasure.”
The two halves of her heart began falling away from each other. “I don’t have any legal right to her.”
Edie sniffled.
Chad grasped Barbara’s hands, dismayed at how cold they were. “The courts will have to take into consideration that you’re the only parent she’s known for five years.”
“Will they? You’re a reporter, Chad.” Her voice was devoid of the pain that he knew was ripping her apart inside. “The news has been full of natural parents’ rights versus adoptive parents’ rights lately. The natural parents seem to win every time. And I haven’t even adopted Missy.”
She fell silent with that, pulling free of his grasp and hugging herself as if the rest of her were as cold as her hands.
Utter helplessness descended on Chad. She’d nailed the problem dead on, he thought, hating that a ready solution eluded him. If only there was something he could do or say—a few words of solace he could offer this woman who every minute meant more to him than he would have thought possible.
He couldn’t bear the look on her face. If only she would cry or scream or something. Anything but this weird calm. He’d covered a hurricane once and he’d seen its destructive force, had spent a good part of the afternoon wondering what it would be like to be at the center of that storm—where calm prevailed while all around it the world shattered and blew apart like confetti in a wind tunnel. “Barbara, I won’t let Marshall Emerson take Missy from you.”
She raised her eyebrows. “But you’re the one who advocated that he should have his daughter.”
“I said Missy deserved to know her father. I didn’t say she should live with—” The doorbell interrupted his feeble attempt to explain. All three of them jerked toward the foyer. Barbara lifted herself to her feet. Chad caught her arm. “Ignore it.”
“No. It might be the police again. Or Missy’s babysitter.”
He stood and handed her the clean handkerchief from his pants pocket. “Then let me get it.”
Realizing she must look a mess, she agreed, then daubed beneath her eyes and dried her cheeks with the handkerchief, gently wiping her nose last.
As Chad reached the door, the bell rang again; the high-pitched sound grated across his tensed nerves. He pulled the door open, blocking the view into the living room with his body. Elvis and Marshall Emerson. His stomach hit the floor.
As a rule, Chad prided himself on his quick wits. He’d wriggled his way out of lots of tight spots, and getting rid of unexpected visitors with bad timing should have been a piece of cake. Would have been if the visitors had been anyone other than these two men.
“Does a Jane Dolan live here?” There was a flicker of recognition in Elvis’s bleached-blue eyes.
Chad scrambled for something to say, but his acumen seemed to have deserted him. Was it because he was personally involved in this? He shifted his weight to his other foot “She’s unavailable.”
Elvis puffed up his considerable chest. “Well, when will she be available?”
“Maybe tomorrow.”
Marshall leaned forward. “Look, Mr…”
“Ryker,” Chad said.
“Mr. Ryker, I’m Marshall Emerson. Ms. Daw—Dolan is my former sister-in-law.”
“I know who you are, Dr. Emerson.”
Marshall frowned. “Sorry, I don’t—”
“You know my boss, Victor Lansing.”
Disquiet darted through Marshall’s green eyes. “You’re a reporter for the Courier?”
“Yes.”
Marshall looked uncomfortable. “What are you doing here?”
“He’s a friend of mine, Marsh.” Barbara appeared beside Chad, her hair freshly brushed, lipstick freshly applied, her nose freshly powdered.
Chad could hardly tell she’d been crying and doubted either of these men would pick up on it. Hoped neither would.
“Hi, B.J.” Elvis grinned at her lasciviously.
She eyed him as if seeing him for the first time. “Why, you’re the man I bumped into in Cle Elum yesterday.”
Chad watched her with disbelief clattering inside him. Barbara was too calm again. But he decided he would follow her lead and back her up wherever she was going with this. She invited the men inside.
He stepped aside, and they all went to the living room. Edie wasn’t there. Since the apartment had no back way out, Chad assumed she was in one of the bedrooms or the bathroom.
Elvis patted his hair with his hand, his gaze sweeping the tidy room. Landing on Chad’s travel bag.
Marshall’s eyes never left Barbara. “You can imagine how I felt when Elvis said he’d run into you in Cle Elum. Why, I couldn’t believe it was true. I had to come and see for myself.”
Slick, Chad thought. Just the right amount of concern in his voice. Good-looking, poised, self-assured. The man not only looked like an actor, he was one. It probably explained why smart men were taken in by him. But a scratch across the glossy public surface and they would soon realize Marshall Emerson was all facade.
Barbara said, “I’m sure it’s a shock to discover that I’m alive, but believe me, you’re not the only one finding it difficult to believe. You see, I didn’t recognize Elvis yesterday because—”
“She’s been suffering from amnesia.” Edie entered, her own hair and makeup showing signs of repair. “In fact, she still is. I’m her doctor. Edie Harcourt.” Edie shook hands with Marsh as Barbara made the introductions.
Two cool cucumbers when the chips were down, Chad thought. If he didn’t know they were both going through hell inside, he would never have guessed. His only fear was that they couldn’t carry it off for long. He wanted the Emersons out of here as fast as possible. But how?
“Amnesia?” Elvis grinned. “So that’s why you acted like you didn’t know me in the bar last night. I thought you were putting me on.”
“No, I don’t play those kinds of games.” A rosy hue touched Barbara’s cheeks. Chad wondered if Elvis realized she didn’t like him.
Even Marshall seemed offended by his brother’s redneck manners. Marshall cleared his throat. “Melissa?”
The sudden silence in the room was thick enough to slice. Marshall frowned, a wary glint coming into his eyes. “Is she alive?”
“You can’t have her!” Edie snapped, startling everyone. She had stepped in front of Barbara like a human shield.
“Hey!” Elvis whooped. Grinning, he slapped his brother’s shoulder. “She’s alive, bro.”
Marshall swallowed so hard his Adam’s apple bobbed. When he spoke again, his voice rasped. “Was she injured in the accident?”
“No.” Barbara shook her head. “She escaped completely.”
“It was a miracle those who survived did,” Edie interjected, still angled between Marshall and Barbara, a miniature force field. “And that a few escaped with nothing more than minor burns or contusions.”
Marshall glanced down at her. “Is she a healthy child?”
Chad had the distinct impression that he wouldn’t want Missy if she weren’t perfect. After the one evening he himself had spent with the little girl he couldn’t imagine not wanting her, no matter what imperfection she might have.
“She’s perfect.” Edie’s hands were on her hips, her chin high in indignation.
“May I see her now?” Marshall directed his gaze at Barbara.
She stiffened. “She’s at school.”
“Then, I’ll go there.” Marshall nodded to Elvis. “Where is it located?”
“Please, don’t.” Chad stepped forward. He’d had enough and was pretty certain Barbara and Edie had, too. It was just like Marshall Emerson to think the whole world would bend to his outrageous ego. But he had to make him see reason. “If you love your daughter—let Barbara explain this to her first. She won’t understand who you are and is likely to be terrified if you show up at the school claiming you’re her father.”
“Claiming?” Elvis stepped toward Chad, looking as though he would like an excuse to punch him. “He is her father.”
“No one is disputing that,” Chad said, deliberately keeping his voice calm. “But this is a hell of a mess. Barbara has only just discovered she isn’t Missy’s mother. Imagine what the child will have to deal with. I’m only asking that you wait a—”
“Like hell, we’ll wait!” Elvis retorted angrily. “He’s already waited five years.”
Marshall raised his hand, signaling for his brother to back off. “It’s all right, El. Mr. Ryker has a point. A five-year-old needs time to adjust.”
“Thank you,” Barbara said.
Chad couldn’t believe the man was giving up this easily. Doubted he would.
Marshall glanced at Barbara again. “I’ll give you tonight to tell her. I’m staying at the Thunderbird Ho—” He broke off, his gaze catching on a photo of Missy displayed on the far end table. “Is that her?”
“Yes.” Barbara hugged herself.
Chad wanted to hold her up, steady her, reassure her that he was going to stay and see her through this. But he knew if he reached for her now, she would fall apart. He sensed it was important to her that she not do so in front of these two men.
He watched Marshall cross to the end table and lift the gilded frame. The doctor’s expression altered, softened. His hand trembled as he touched the photo, one finger gently tracing the line of Missy’s mouth, the shape of her hair, the curve of her nose. He was looking at her much the way Chad’s father might have gazed upon a childhood photo of him—had Tom Ryker ever been sent such a photograph.
Chad’s loyalties wavered. Kayleen had wanted Marshall and his money more than anything Chad could offer. She’d tossed away his love as though it didn’t matter. He’d been hurt, bewildered, and angry. Especially when he learned she’d gotten pregnant right away to reestablish her union with Marshall. He’d never understood nor forgiven her for running off with the baby. It had hit too close to the bone.
Then, out of the blue, Kayleen had called, claiming the reason she’d run was because she feared Marshall would kill her. Before Chad could find out why, she’d been murdered. He’d naturally suspected Marshall. Had set out to prove it.
But the truth was, the police had a suspect in custody whose fingerprints were all over the weapon. Chad shoved his hands into his pockets. Had Marshall hired someone to kill Kayleen and Betty? Or did he just want that to be the case, so that Barbara wouldn’t lose Missy?
Marshall’s green eyes glistened. “She resembles Kayleen.”
“Yes,” Barbara said. The word sounded choked. “The likeness is even more striking in person.”
Chad saw Marshall flinch, and his own throat constricted. Did Missy’s resemblance to her mother bother the good doctor? What kind of man was he? The decent guy Chad’s boss thought him? Or the monster Kayleen had hinted at? If he had anything to do with Kayleen’s murder, wouldn’t the little girl be a constant reminder? A thorn in his side?
The thought sent a chill through Chad’s stomach. Somehow, he had to find out why Kayleen had feared her husband would kill her. And he had to do it before the little girl spent one minute in her father’s custody.
Marshall set the photo back on the table and pinned Barbara with a hard stare. “Tomorrow.”
CHAD SHUT THE DOOR on the Emersons and returned to the living room, his face scrunched in fury. “Tomorrow. You’d think the jerk would realize you need more time than that.”
“He’s only asked to see Missy tomorrow.” Edie was using her best “voice of reason” tone. “He hasn’t said he’s going to take any further steps.”
“Yet.” Barbara scrambled to stave off the sorrow that threatened to weigh her down. Missy needed her to be strong. She needed to be strong for herself, as well. “You don’t know him as Chad and I do, Edie. He’ll stretch that inch into a mile in a heartbeat.”
“This has been an awful day.” Edie’s feeble attempt at stoicism crumbled, and she looked on the verge of tears again. “Maybe you should lie down.try and get some sleep.”
She should be offering herself this advice, Barbara thought. “I couldn’t sleep, Edie.”
“I could give you a sedative.”
“No, thanks.” She’d lived in an amnesia fog for five years. Now that it was clearing, she didn’t want a druginduced one taking its place. “I’ll get through the rest of this day by tackling one problem at a time, and the first thing, Chad, is the signing of our statements at police headquarters. I’d really like that behind me.”
“Sure.” Looking as though he wasn’t at all certain she was up to going anywhere, he gathered his coat and car keys. Handed Barbara her parka.
“I’d say that was my cue to take off.” Edie donned her own coat. She squeezed Barbara’s hand. “Call if you need me.
Barbara nodded. Those words had brought her comfort over the past five years, knowing Edie was only a phone call away, should the need for a friend arise. It had arisen more often than she could count.
She thought now of what Edie had done for her—letting her believe she’d given birth to Missy. She’d held a terrible secret, but by doing so, Edie had saved her sanity. She could never hope to repay this woman for her friendship.
“Thank you…for everything.“ Barbara hugged Edie tightly, whispering in her ear. “Don’t you even think about finding a new best friend—you’re stuck with me for life, lady.”
Edie hugged her back, then pulled away. She nodded in silent agreement. Tears stood in her eyes again—tears of compassion and relief. But distress also radiated from her.
Barbara’s nerves ached. She feared she knew why Edie was worried. And it had nothing to do with Missy.
“WHAT AM I GOING TO tell Missy?” Barbara asked Chad as they returned from signing their statements. “How will I explain this to her?”
Chad pulled his car to the curb in front of her apartment building, then turned in the seat. He brushed her hair from her cheek, his cool fingers touching her flushed skin. “Yesterday you told me that you’d tell her the truth.”
“But she’s only five years old. Will she even understand this mess I’ve made of her life?”
He feathered a lock of her hair between his finger and thumb as though testing the texture and finding it to his liking, but he kept his gaze fixed on hers. Tenderness, kindness shone from his compelling eyes. “She’s old enough to understand that people sometimes get sick and then get well. Just explain it that way.”
Mulling over his suggestion, Barbara got out of the car and walked beside him to the building. Purposely, she avoided looking at the smashed snowman and the police tape surrounding it. “For a man without children, you seem to have some great insights into parenthood.”
Chad opened the door. “I’ve covered a lot of tragic stories—with children at the center of some of them. It’s never easy, but in that experience I’ve made one solid observation: Kids deal better with the truth than lies.”
They started up the stairs, neither talking, his shoulder colliding with hers. The intermittent touch both comforted Barbara and disconcerted her. With her memory basically restored, she realized the last man she’d relied on for comfort was her dad. He’d died the day before her sixteenth birthday, and his death had stirred in her a rebellious streak that had lasted until she’d ridden that fateful bus.
But never had a man disturbed her as Chad Ryker had. Did she really want him in her life? Or was he merely arousing long-dormant urges?
On the second floor, they strode the long hallway toward her apartment. The moment she unlocked the door and stepped inside, a sense of dread descended on her. But she wasn’t alone. Chad was here, she reminded herself, finding strength in the thought.
He stood behind her, his hot breath delicious on her neck as he helped her out of her coat. “What did you tell Missy the first time she asked about her dad?”
Barbara sighed and spun to face him. “You know, I nearly followed the same path as your mother and pretended he was dead.”
Chad made a noise that sounded like a grunt, but the warmth in his eyes, although tinged with cold memories, lacked reproach of any kind. She admired his self-restraint. It was a subject that had to twist his guts into knots.
She watched him hang her parka on the coatrack, then start to shrug off his jacket. She didn’t know why his mother had told him his father had died, and she wouldn’t judge the woman without all the facts, but Chad’s bitterness made her glad she hadn’t chosen that route. “It would have been easier. For me. But not for her. Besides, I always feared I’d regain my memory and regret the lie.”