“When did Todd’s mother die?” she asked when he finally caught up and was running beside her.
“When Todd was two. She had a fatal heart attack. Mike and Carol had him later in life. She was thirty-five or so. Carol had been warned against getting pregnant, since she’d had heart problems as a kid. But they wanted a child so desperately, she decided it was worth the chance.”
“Mike was a cop?” She slackened her pace.
He geared down to match it. “Yeah, he was doing undercover work in New Castle. After Carol’s death, he played the single parent role for about a year, and then hooked up with his second wife, Clarisse. It was a match made in hell.”
“Clarisse?” She pushed a tendril of hair from her eyes that had come loose from the braid.
“I don’t know if it’s her real name or one she just decided to use. Anyhow, Clarisse despised the time Mike was away from home. She liked her nightlife, and Todd was always in her way. Mike came home one night unexpectedly and found some sleazebag in his bed and the rest is history. He filed for a divorce, asked for a transfer, and moved here with Todd. He’d been here less than a year when he was killed in a car accident. Hey, can we take a breather before I pass out?”
She stopped beside a stone wall separating the field from a long, narrow pasture with a trail leading to the wooded knoll above the house. “All right, we have to cross here anyhow.” She scrambled up and sat down on a flat, lichen-covered rock. He hoisted himself up and sat beside her, dangling his long, athletic legs over the edge. Color had begun to come back to his face.
“So you moved here to get the child,” she said matter-of-factly.
He wiped the beads of sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. “It’s a little more complicated. You see, Clarisse has resurfaced and is trying to get custody of Todd, too.”
“Why, that’s crazy! The divorce was granted?”
He pulled a well-muscled thigh to his chest and retied his shoelace. “I believe so, but there are some insurance policies still unresolved, and Clarisse can smell money a mile away.”
“There was no will?”
“None I can seem to locate, which isn’t like Mike. The insurance money will naturally go to Todd, but if Clarisse gets guardianship, she has control of it. There is enough to pay for her nightlife without her having to be a cocktail waitress for a while. Not that she would abandon the job. I’m told she likes her customers a lot, a whole lot.”
“She’ll never get guardianship, not with a blood relation standing in the wings.” Staring over the pasture, Elise scowled. The sun was coming up, changing the horizon to gold. Far off, beef cattle grazed in the early light, their coats a rich red. Until now, she had not realized how much she actually missed the farm where the clear, clean-smelling mornings were blissfully peaceful and the rolling hills so exquisite. Stands of light green, just-budding maples made the darker lush green of spring look dazzling.
“I have to prove myself a fit guardian as well, Liz. Why would the courts want to give the kid to a guy who lives in Atlanta, drives fast cars, and hasn’t had a meaningful relationship with anyone in his life?”
His hand went to his stomach. He slid onto the other side of the wall and stretched. Wincing, he bent forward and placed his hand on his thighs.
“Are you all right?” She was beside him instantly, one hand on his shoulder, the other reaching for the pulse at his neck. Satisfied his heart rate wasn’t erratic, she withdrew her hand. “Jeez, Lucas, you’re not going to recycle that coffee, are you?”
He shook his head. “No, it’s just stomach cramps. I’m not as young as I used to be.”
“Here, sit down,” she said gently. Noting his shallow breathing, she didn’t think age had anything to do with what he was feeling at the moment.
Lucas slumped down onto the grass, and she knelt on one knee, facing him. Pushing aside a shock of hair, she felt his forehead.
“Breathe deeply. You’re overheated.”
“Of course I’m hot, Clara Barton. The putrid alcohol in my system is having a toxic reaction with this clean country air.” Lucas sucked in a slow, cleansing breath. “There’s more. When Mike was working here, he was working undercover on drug deals. Supposedly, he had access to a hundred thousand dollars never recovered after his death. As his only family member, it puts me in a tight place, under suspicion.”
“So what do you think happened to it? Was he a gambler?” While he talked, her hand came up to the back of his head and stroked it gently. His dark unruly hair, in need of a cut, curled over the back of his shirt and had the barest threads of gray below his temples, only noticeable on close inspection.
“No, I think things got hot with a deal, and he stashed it somewhere for safe keeping. The biggest gambling Mike ever indulged in was a few hands of poker with his friends every so often. I didn’t know my brother for very long. We just started communicating a few years before his first wife died, but from what others tell me, he was one of the most honest, untainted cops on the force.”
“Debts?”
“None I can find.” He swiped a hand over his face and pushed out a lengthy breath of air.
“Can you stand up?” Elise asked worriedly.
“Keep caressing me like a lap dog and everything will stand up.”
“Just concentrate on the feet first, Rover.” She removed her hand and stood. “Come, we can just walk the rest of the way.”
She could see the suggestion was heaven to his ears. He grinned, lips curving upward from both corners. She tried not to think of those lips, solid and demanding against hers the night before.
Lucas stood, and they circled the house ending up at the back steps to the kitchen. As soon as they entered, he headed straight for a chair and collapsed. Bess dropped to her rug behind the door.
“See,” she said. “You didn’t die.”
“Yeah, well, just because I’m talking doesn’t mean I’m not on my deathbed.” He gestured to Bess. “Look, even the poor dog is frazzled. Dear Lord, now I can better understand the term ‘dog-tired.’”
“You’ll feel better after a shower. You still haven’t told me about Todd.”
The luster in his face faded. “There’s not much to tell. He lost his mother and father and has been tossed into foster care with the Johnsons. I’m trying to get temporary custody. Thomas is working on it, but he’s not hopeful anything can be done until the investigation of Mike’s death is completed. I guess it’s standard procedure when a cop gets killed working under cover. I’ve been lucky enough the Johnsons let me have him on weekends.”
“Is it allowed?” Elise opened the bread drawer and withdrew a half loaf of bread.
Lucas rose and walked to where she was working. “Well, it’s bending the rules a little. Someone is supposed to be with him at all times, but they trust your father, and God knows the Johnsons need a break. In case you haven’t noticed, they’re not in shape for chasing a child Todd’s age.”
He slapped a palm against the refrigerator. “Damn it, Liz, it’s not fair. The kid is the one being punished, taking the brunt of things he had no part of. He’s so lonely he cries himself to sleep at night. He doesn’t understand what’s happening. He doesn’t even know where he belongs.”
“So we spring him.”
“It’s not that easy!” He gave her a disgusted look.
“Of course, it’s not going to be easy.” Elise forced herself not to shout back. “But it doesn’t mean it’s impossible, Lucas. Sit down, will you? I’m cooking this morning.” She waved the half loaf of bread at him, then withdrew four slices and dropped them into the toaster slots.
He blinked. “Toast? You call making toast cooking?”
She blew out an exasperated breath. “Okay, so name something you want to eat. I’ll try to cook it, but the question will be...will you eat it?”
She saw his face blanch as he considered the thought. He waved her away and then gestured at the toaster. “Good God, just don’t burn it.”
/> When the toast popped up, Elise buttered the slices, and they sat at the table, sharing the meager feast in silence.
Elise could still see the turmoil clouding his face. He was probably hurting as much as the kid. Lucas had always been the champion of the underdog, the downtrodden, even when they were kids. She remembered the many times when they used to choose teams in a game of pickup baseball in the neighborhood. Lucas was always the one who selected the less experienced, less skilled players first. Initially, she thought it was only an act of kindness, but later she realized he wanted them to win, wanted them to know how glorious it felt to be anything but last all the time.
“Dad knows a few people down at Children and Youth Services, Lucas. I could see if there’s anything we could do, maybe to hurry things along,” she said.
His gaze found hers. “I don’t want to get you involved. You have your hands full already.”
“I don’t mind. I can’t spend every minute at the hospital.”
He shrugged. “Have a go at it. Nothing can hurt, that’s for sure.”
“I’ll need a car.”
He motioned to the top of the refrigerator. “Take the Trans Am. I’ve been using your Dad’s truck for the last two weeks to haul materials for renovating an old garage I bought.”
“What’s Dad been driving?”
“The Trans Am.”
“My father’s been driving the Bandit’s car? You’re kidding?”
Lucas smiled. His eyes were bright and clear now, like polished silver. “Yeah, it makes him look kind of cool and funky. He was a fan of Smokey and the Bandit, just like Fritz and me.” He finished his toast and glanced at the phone. “I’m glad we have the answering machine. I have some shipments coming up this weekend from Atlanta. Although I’m far from getting the restoration garage up and running, I figure if I put some cars on the lot, it’ll look like there’s at least some leasing activity about to start. Sort of like advance advertising. I’ll get you something new from Atlanta to drive once I get the lot set up.”
“One more thing. Who’s this Ranger Todd was talking about the other night?” she asked.
“It’s a tiny beanbag dog, golden brown in color, and about five inches tall. Mike gave it to Todd when he was younger. For some reason, it was like a security blanket or lucky charm at one time in the kid’s life. From what I can gather, he used to take it everywhere with him. During the move or commotion of Mike’s death, it was somehow misplaced or lost. He keeps asking me to look for it among the boxes at the cottage where I stashed Mike’s belongings. I was hoping to sort them someday.”
She nodded, and they rose together and carried their plates to the sink.
“First dibs on the upstairs bath,” she announced and inched her way backwards across the floor.
“It wasn’t the original deal. Nights only, remember?”
“I modified the rules for today.” She made a mad dash for the stairs, but he was quick for someone who claimed he was on the brink of death. He grabbed her around the waist with one arm just as she flew through the archway. He lifted her off the floor, her feet pedaling in thin air.
She laughed. “I give up. Put me down!” She wished he’d stop touching her. A series of lightning shivers coursed through her.
“If I forfeit the upstairs bath, am I forgiven?” His breath was hot in her ear.
“I was never mad, Lucas,” she admitted truthfully. “Maybe just a little ticked off. Put me down, I’m all sweaty.”
With an agile motion, he set her on her feet, but not before his lips lightly brushed against the side of her neck. “I’d never hurt you, kid, I promise,” he said with brutal honesty. “With everything that’s happening I feel like I’m inside a speeding car and can’t get control of the wheel.”
She skidded out of his reach and started for the stairs. “I know,” she agreed, taking the steps two at a time, but halting long enough half way up to turn and look down at him, “but remember, out-of-control cars have been known to crash and burn.”
Chapter Six
“I’m sorry, Miss Springer, but Mr. Morrison is a busy man. If you care to make an appointment, I can check his schedule.”
The secretary from Children and Youth Services tapped the upended pencil on her desk and spoke in a clipped voice. She had been schooled by the very best to run interference for her employer. With pursed, no-nonsense lips, she peered over slim bifocals magnifying the pores on her aging, late-forties face.
Elise had met her type before, on the telephone, in boardrooms and offices, at conventions—any place where industry and service-related businesses scratched out their daily profits. They were the secretaries from hell, meagerly paid, but loyal as guerrilla soldiers to their bosses.
“We’re old friends, and I’m just in town for a short time,” Elise said, trying the first thought to cross her mind.
“Hmm, is that so?” The woman laid down the pencil and opened her planning book. “Mr. Morrison specifically insisted he wanted no interruptions. His time is very valuable, you understand. Let’s see, he does have an opening on Friday.”
“I don’t.”
The secretary’s eyebrow shot up. “How unfortunate.”
Elise smiled. So she wanted to play hardball. She had won imaginary blue ribbons against secretaries more hostile than this one. “I’m sorry, your name is?”
“Linda.”
“And your last name, Linda?” Elise prompted.
“Cook.”
“Well, Ms. Cook, would it be possible to slip a note under Mr. Morrison’s nose?” She lowered her voice to a near whisper. “I’d hate to see my relationship with Jack...or maybe yours...jeopardized because I wasn’t able to connect. You know what I mean?”
From her purse, Elise withdrew a pen and small tablet. “Have you known Jack long?” she asked, scribbling away. She could feel Linda Cook’s eyes burning holes through her.
“A little over a year.”
“Well, Jack’s a great guy. A real charmer, isn’t he?” Elise mused aloud as she finished the note with a flourish. She folded the paper into neat quarters. Rising, she brazenly reached across Linda Cook’s desk, snapped off a piece of tape, and sealed the note from prying eyes.
“I have another meeting across town in a half hour. I’d hate to keep my client waiting. Could you... ?” Elise nudged the paper toward her and glanced at the clock on the wall.
Frowning, the woman accepted it, and with a back stiff as a telephone pole, she strode toward a door across the room. A minute later, she emerged, clearly displeased. “Mr. Morrison will see you, Ms. Springer.”
Elise smiled a phony, beguiling smile. “Thank you.”
Jack Morrison rose from behind a large oak desk entirely devoid of paperwork. The shelves behind his desk held books, all categorized in alphabetical order with no folders intermixed with them. Everything looked like it had been organized with serious thought and never touched again. Beside him, a chair held a stack of golf and fishing magazines. In the corner of the room was a golf bag with clubs.
“Lizzie Springer, I did not break your nose,” he uttered, defensively, almost irritably. He crossed the space between them. “I can’t believe you still remember that silly little incident. What was it? Sixth grade pickup baseball?”
She laughed. “You bloodied it, Jack, and it was eighth grade. I hope you’ve learned to drop the bat when you get a hit, or better yet, have given up baseball completely. How’ve you been?”
She extended her hand, and he shook it. Then he pulled her close and gave her an unexpected giant hug. “How are you?”
“I couldn’t be better,” she replied and stepped away quickly. “What about you?”
“Fine, fine.” His eyes did an undisguised perusal of her, and she was glad she had decided to change into a black business suit at the last minute. “Well, well, no one mentioned you were back in town.”
The last ten years had not looked favorably on Jack Morrison. He had lost a lot of hair and gained weight. Once
bright brown eyes were now marked with crow’s feet, and his hawk-like nose only seemed more prominent with age. His clothes, though well-made, lacked a crisp, put-together look. Or maybe it was just his blinding tie in swirls of reds, blues, and yellows, she decided.
“Here, here, sit down,” he said. “Back in town, huh? Everyone eventually gravitates home, it seems.”
“I guess.” She chose a chair in front of his desk. To her right, she noticed his computer screen held a game of solitaire before a swirling screen saver flashed on to obscure it.
“What brings you here?” Morrison asked.
“A little of everything. Dad injured an ankle and leg, so I’m taking time to be with him. I’m looking up old friends and helping some others out. Dad and I are especially interested in a foster child with your agency.”
“What’s the name?”
“Todd Fisher.”
“Todd Fisher?” He leaned back in his chair and linked his fingers on his stomach. “Yes, I vaguely remember him. His parents are deceased. His dad was a cop. No will has been found stating who the father wanted for custodian of the child. It’s a sad story.”
“I need to know what it takes to get temporary custody.”
“Who wants it? You, your dad, or his uncle?”
Vaguely remember? Right, she thought. “Actually, Dad and I’ve taken a shine to him. He’s been staying down the road from our farm with the Johnsons.”
“There may be extenuating circumstances to prevent it, you know,” he said, hedging. “If it’s a special case, you’ll have to go through the department head, Mrs. Pedmo. You’ll have to go through her anyway to become eligible as a foster parent.”
Elise sighed. “Do I have to go through Miss Congeniality out there to get an appointment?”
Rubbing his jaw, he chuckled. “I suppose I can see what I can do.”
The words were like the harps of heaven singing out to her. She wanted to ask when, but dismissed the urge, not wanting to appear too eager. She caught him checking her hands, obviously looking for a ring. She hoped he wouldn’t stray too far from the subject at hand. She had promised Lucas she’d meet him at the garage at noon, and she was already a half hour late. Luckily, she had already visited her father at the hospital, but she still had to pick up a list of names of private duty nurses from the local Home Health office.
Key to Love Page 5