by Style, Linda
“I don’t know how it can be normal after all this.” Her voice was a whisper. She reached into the back seat and picked up the stuffed rabbit Bobby had dropped when he fell asleep. “Chloe used to have a rabbit just like this. It disappeared around the time Rob died. Do you suppose…” She shook her head and tucked the toy back in Bobby’s arms. “What kind of life will Bobby have in Cabacera?”
“He’ll have a better life than what he had back where we just came from.”
Her eyes came to life. “But we don’t have to do that, do we?”
“Do what?”
“Leave him in Costa Rica with Father Martinez. We—I can take him home with me.”
Adam gritted his teeth. “Pardon me? This heat must be making me delusional. I’m hearing some really strange things coming out of your mouth.”
“I’m his aunt, remember? I’m supposed to be taking him to America. And the more I think about it, the more I think it’s a good idea.”
“You’re crazy.”
Her expression hardened with resolve. “On the contrary. I’m finally thinking clearly.”
He sputtered for words. “You…you can’t just decide to take a kid out of the country.”
“I can and I did.”
“There are laws—”
“There are laws against exploiting children, too. And this is different. His mother wanted him to live in the U.S. Besides, it’s the right thing to do.”
Okay. The woman wasn’t rational. He kept on driving, trying not to act as if that wasn’t the most idiotic, impulsive, totally irrational decision he’d ever heard anyone make about a life-changing event.
“And why, pray tell, is it the right decision?”
“Because.”
He snorted. “Because? You decide you’re going to smuggle a kid into the U.S. posing as his aunt and the only reason you can give for doing it is because?” He jerked the steering wheel to avoid going over a hump in the road. “I don’t believe it,” he said. “I was right the first time. You are certifiably crazy.”
She laughed. “Maybe. Maybe I am a little crazy, but you know what?” She didn’t wait for a response. “It feels good. Damn good. That’s why I know it’s the right thing to do.”
“It feels good? Jillian, this isn’t…” Glancing at her and seeing the hopeful, excited look in her eyes, he stopped. Hope was infinitely better than the despair that had consumed her less than ten minutes before.
“Okay, I can understand not wanting the boy to stay where he was. I couldn’t leave him there, either. But why on earth would you want to take him with you? Wherever he goes, he’ll get put into foster care, and he won’t be any better off in Chicago than he would be here with Father Martinez. At least the priest can find a family for him in his own country.”
“If he goes with me, he’ll be in his own country. He’s an American citizen. Says so on his passport.”
“Which doesn’t change anything. He still wouldn’t be any better off.”
“If I can…I’ll adopt him.”
The air left Adam’s lungs in a whoosh. He stopped the car, took her hand in his and looked directly into her eyes. “One word. Why?”
“Because—” her voice faded to a whisper “—he has no one. He’s Chloe’s brother, Adam. How can I do anything less?”
As they rolled into Cabacera an hour later, Jillian realized she’d been so intent on finding the man in the photograph she hadn’t really given much thought to the ramifications if the man in the photo turned out to be Rob. Oh, the worry had been there, festering in the back of her mind. But now she had to deal with it.
Her mind reeled with random thoughts. Adam had said she was crazy to consider taking Bobby home with her, and maybe he was right. She had to think of Chloe, too. What would she think or feel about it? What on earth would she tell her daughter? Or anyone else, for that matter?
What could she say without telling people that Rob had been a bigamist? Wouldn’t hearing that break Chloe’s heart? Her daughter idolized her father. How could she knowingly rip that belief to shreds? Especially when she didn’t know the truth herself.
Jillian realized then that it didn’t matter what anyone else thought. If Rob was alive, sooner or later, everyone would know. And if he loved his son, he’d come looking for him.
The bottom line was, she couldn’t leave Bobby here, not when she could give him a loving home with his sister. Chloe would adjust.
Adam drove directly to the church. “We’ll see if Father Martinez has any suggestions on getting to San Jose. We may have to stay overnight again if we can’t take a different route out of here.”
Once the car had stopped, Jillian leaned into the back seat and gently rubbed the child’s arm to wake him up. He’d slept the entire trip, so he must’ve been exhausted. “Bobby, we’re in Cabacera,” she said.
Bobby yawned, stretched and sat up. He looked a little confused at first, but then smiled brightly at her. “Is that in America?” Both Jillian and Adam laughed.
“We’re still in Costa Rica, kid,” Adam said. “And we’ve got a few things to do before we go anywhere.” He shoved open the car door, flipped the front seat down and reached in to give Bobby a hand.
As the three of them headed toward the church, Bobby skipped between them, reaching up to hold both her hand and Adam’s. The gesture seemed completely natural, almost as if they were a family. The irony was almost laughable … if it wasn’t so tragic.
Inside the church, Father Martinez stood near the altar talking with a man in a flowered shirt. The man looked like a tourist, but something about him made Jillian think he wasn’t.
“Wait here with Bobby,” Adam said, and immediately headed toward the priest.
Watching the two men greet each other with exuberant handshakes and then the priest introducing Adam to the other man, Jillian had a feeling that something was going on that didn’t include her.
She nudged Bobby toward an ornately carved wooden bench near the door and sat there with him. As before, it was cooler inside than outside. She scanned the church’s interior, noticing things she hadn’t before: a marble basin by the door, a sign in front of a long narrow hallway on her left that read Alto, and a stairwell leading up to a tiny archway.
A musty antique-shop scent permeated the air. Farther inside the church, on both sides, two racks of candles flickered in the shadows, while refracted light from the stained-glass windows near the altar glittered like diamonds off the gilded statues.
A peaceful feeling settled over her. Everything would turn out okay, she was certain of it.
Her gaze returned to the men, still deeply engaged in conversation. Moments later, a smiling Adam strode to the bench where Jillian and Bobby were sitting.
“Who was that man?” she asked.
“He said he was a tourist.” Frowning, Adam glanced back at Father Martinez and the man, who were now walking off in another direction.
“And you don’t think so?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know what I think. But the good news is that there’s a fairly decent road to Puerto Viejo, and Father Martinez knows someone there with wings, who for a price, will fly us to San José. With luck, you’ll be home by tomorrow night.”
Jillian’s breath caught and held. Just like that she’d be home. Home where everything made sense.
Here, she felt as if the sultry, exotic surroundings had switched on all her senses at once, stoking up old needs and emotions, dredging up latent desires and unrealistic fantasies that confused as much as excited her. More than once she’d thought about a future with Adam. More than once she’d banished the notion for what it was. Unrealistic.
Yes, it would be good to be home where life was predictable, and she should feel happy about that. But she didn’t.
As excited as she was about seeing Chloe and helping Bobby get a new start, something was missing.
Adam. Adam wouldn’t be there. She’d go home to Chicago and he’d go back to L.A.—and she’d never see him ag
ain.
The thought made her heart ache.
Until sanity returned.
What kind of woman was she? Her husband was alive—if those men hadn’t found him and… No. She couldn’t be in love with another man.
“Great!” she said, forcing enthusiasm into her voice. “It’ll be wonderful to see Chloe. I’ve missed her so much!”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
JILLIAN WATCHED THE FAMILIAR buildings of Chicago flash by the window in the taxi. Bobby was asleep on her lap and they were headed, unbelievably, toward her suburban home.
The journey from Costa Rico to the U.S. had passed without incident. After a whirlwind drive along a coastal road to Puerto Viejo, where she saw white sand beaches and the turquoise waters of the Caribbean, Jillian had made a vow to return one day.
One day when she could appreciate the beauty of it all without yearning for something more.
The flight from Puerto Viejo to San José had been in a plane that looked like a battered 1930s crop duster. From San José, another more leisurely flight to Houston, where Adam had departed for L.A. and she and Bobby had changed planes for Chicago.
Gazing now out the window at the city she’d come to love, Jillian had a sense that things were different here, but she couldn’t put her finger on what had changed.
Maybe she had changed.
She’d been surprised at the ease with which they’d been able to reschedule their two flights so they could all travel together. Because Bobby was a U.S. citizen, had a passport and the same last name as Jillian, there had been no problem with Immigration or Customs.
Adam had said he’d be coming back to Chicago the next day—exactly one week from the day he’d shown up at her door. He wanted to meet with Rob’s mother and suggested that Jillian not contact Harriet until they could go there together.
Fine with her. How could she explain to Harriet that the son she’d thought dead for four years wasn’t really dead? Then again, considering Harriet’s memory these days, the woman might not think it strange at all.
The question Jillian had was, should they even tell her? Would she know and remember it? Wasn’t she confused enough as it was? Jillian had told Adam they should talk to Harriet’s doctor before they did anything.
With so much going on, Jillian was also happy to have a day to get things sorted out. Shortly, she’d need to enroll Bobby in school, kindergarten, probably. Which meant she had to figure out what to do to keep him with her legally.
Dana would be able to give her advice. If one of Chicago’s top attorneys didn’t know about these things, no one would.
In fact, Jillian might do well to take a cue from her friend; Dana had given up her position as Cooke County’s prosecuting attorney to spend more time with her family. While Dana still worked more than she should, she’d cut her hours considerably. The Wakefields were a wonderfully happy family.
A sudden ache of longing twisted inside Jillian. She wanted more than anything to experience what Dana and Logan had. She realized now that there’d always been something missing between her and Rob. She didn’t know exactly what it was…a connection, a bond between members of a family, something that was felt but couldn’t really be explained.
It was a connection she felt with Adam.
After Rob died, Chloe had filled the void. She’d given her all to Chloe. And to her work.
Which brought her back to her problem. She had to think of a way to tell her daughter about Bobby without destroying her father’s memory. Jillian let out a sigh. There would be time enough for all that when Chloe came home next Sunday.
She was glad to have the next week alone with Bobby. Right now it was important that she help him grow accustomed to his new surroundings—important that she get her life back to normal.
She glanced at the boy. His thick brandy-colored hair was shiny and clean now, and he was wearing his new Mickey Mouse T-shirt she’d bought at the airport in Houston. The shirt was like Adam’s, and Bobby had insisted on wearing it immediately.
His whole life was about to change—for the better, she believed. From the moment they’d left Cabacera, he’d stayed glued to her side, almost as if he was afraid someone was going to snatch him away. Children needed to feel secure and loved, and it was obvious the boy hadn’t.
She vowed to do everything she could to make him feel that way. He was a sweet child, and she was certain Chloe would love him, just as she was beginning to.
As they neared the house, Jillian’s stomach churned. Soon she’d need to introduce Bobby to everyone, explain who he was and how he’d come to be with her. She’d have to find care for him when she went back to work, because kindergarten was only half days.
And then everyone would know about Rob. What he’d done…and that he was still alive.
She sighed. Despite all the unknowns in the rest of her life, she couldn’t suppress her excitement about seeing Adam tomorrow.
She’d extended an invitation for him to stay at her place which he’d accepted. They’d spent so much time in close quarters already, she felt as if she knew him better than she’d known Rob. Maybe she didn’t know all the details of Adam’s life, but she knew the kind of man he was.
He was a caring man, honorable to a fault, loyal to his family and friends, and he didn’t give himself enough credit for any of that. He’d never even mentioned that he’d been awarded the Medal of Valor from the LAPD.
He went to work every day, never knowing if he’d return. But he’d never once mentioned the dangers of his job. Never once complained. It took a special kind of man to do that.
Her bias against involvement with a cop was, of course, the result of her experience with her father’s brutal tough-cop attitude. She knew that now.
Because of that, she’d lumped Adam into the same category. But it hadn’t taken long for Adam to dispel her long-held beliefs. He wasn’t like her father at all, and she was grateful to Adam for giving her that insight.
She wished with all her heart that things were different, wished there could be a future for them. But the facts were, she was still married to Rob, and he was Chloe’s father. And Bobby’s.
Sighing again, she remembered the words Adam’s had repeated from his father. “Wishes have no substance—it’s what you do that counts.”
And right now, she couldn’t do a thing.
***
When Adam returned to L.A., he’d gone to the station and immediately begun going through the old files Bryce had been working on before his death. Adam punched in name after name into NCIC, the police database, hoping something would click.
So far, he had pieced together that Sullivan may have been hired by the Manolo drug cartel to transport multi-ton shipments of heroin, methamphetamine and marijuana from Mexico into the U.S. via Tijuana. The only scenario that made sense was that Sullivan had somehow received a tip that the feds were on to him. So he’d done a disappearing act.
But using his own last name didn’t make sense, unless Sullivan was too stupid to realize someone might track him down, which seemed unlikely. Obviously there was more to it. From what Bobby’s caretaker had said, the guys who were looking for him weren’t out to give him a medal.
For Jillian’s sake, he hoped Manolo’s men hadn’t found Sullivan. As it came, the thought totally surprised him. For so long he’d wanted to be the one to bring the guy down. Wanted it more than anything. And now, because of his feelings for Jillian, he was in a no-win situation.
“Yo, bro. Gonna join us at Nick’s tonight?” Rico asked, his New Jersey roots still alive and well. His partner was pulling a weekend shift and Adam was glad to see him there.
“Nope. I’m still on vacation and headed to Chicago in the morning.”
“Yeah?”
Adam cleared his throat. “Yeah. I think the motherin-law might shed some light on this.” He pulled out the phone number. “The kid’s caretaker was told to call a stateside number if Sullivan didn’t return. And it just so happens that it’s Sullivan
’s old lady’s number.”
He flipped open another file, punched in another number.
“Is that the only reason for going to Chicago?” Rico circled Adam’s desk, then settled his butt on one corner. “From the goofy look on your face, I’d think you were going to the South Pacific on extended R and R with three hot tens.”
“You’re nuts.”
“Methinks he dost protest too much.”
“Cool it, Shakespeare. It’s strictly business.”
“Right.” Grinning, Rico headed for the coffee machine.
Rico knew him too well. Fact was, Adam missed Jillian already. What was that about? Hell, he’d been with more than his share of women and he’d never felt like this…like… a teenager who couldn’t wait to see his girl again, even though it had only been a few hours.
He tipped his chair back on two legs and clasped his hands behind his head. Jillian’s face formed in his mind’s eye. He’d never met anyone like Jillian Sullivan before. Not anyone who made feel as she did. And not just physically. She challenged him, made him look at his righter than right opinions in a different way, made him think on a deeper level. Made him think about her…twenty-four-seven.
Rico returned with two cups, gave Adam one, then sat on the edge of his desk again. Waiting.
Adam said in a softer voice, so nobody would overhear, “The woman is still in love with her husband. I can’t compete with that, even if I wanted to. Which I don’t.”
“You sure about that? What’s it been? Four years? Five?”
“Doesn’t matter. Too many obstacles.”
“Yeah. Like geographically undesirable?”
“Right.”
“So, is this an overnighter or an extended stay?”
“Don’t know yet. Depends.”
“And you’re not in love with her?”
Adam looked at Rico, surprised at the question, yet unable to deny it. Scowling, he turned back to the computer, punched Enter and stared at the screen, waiting for the information.
Rico chuckled. “That’s what I thought.”