One True Love

by Barbara Freethy

  Roxy gave her a doubtful look. "You're making that up."

  She smiled. "Maybe. Roxy, can we have a truce -- until your mother comes back? No more sneaking out on me, okay?"

  "Okay."

  "Good. And in return, I'II show you how to wear makeup so you don't look like you're wearing it."

  "What's the point of that?"

  "The point is making those boys think you're naturally beautiful."

  "Oh."

  Lisa kissed Roxy on the cheek in an impulsive, motherly gesture, then tucked the covers around her chin. "I'll tell you one other thing. You have lots and lots of time to do it all, Roxy. If you're in a rush to grow up, you might just miss some of the best things of being a kid."

  "Like what?"

  "Like everything, honey. You can be whatever you want to be. The sky is the limit. And believe it or not, boys usually prefer girls who have their own interests and goals. Because those girls have more to talk about than makeup and clothes. They're fun and interesting."

  Roxy made a face. "I'll never be popular. My nose is too big, and my legs are too skinny, and I'll never have boobs."

  Lisa laughed. "You will, don't worry. Besides that, you're funny and smart and a good person. That's really what counts."

  Roxy snuggled under the covers with a contented smile. "Good night, Aunt Lisa."

  "Good night." Lisa got up and walked to the door.

  "Aunt Lisa?" Roxy said one more time.

  "What, honey?"

  "I'm glad you're here."

  Lisa smiled to herself. "Me, too." She turned off the light, closed the door behind her, then went into Dylan's room.

  Dylan was already fast asleep, sprawled on top of the covers of a messy bed that was littered with sweatshirts and socks. She gently pushed the laundry to one side, then moved him slightly so she could pull the blanket over his bare legs.

  "Mom?" Dylan muttered sleepily, not even opening his eyes.

  "It's okay. Go back to sleep," Lisa said, not bothering to tell him who she was.

  "Love you, Mom," Dylan said as he turned on his side and fell back to sleep.

  "I love you, too," she murmured, feeling a rush of emotion. How lucky Maggie was to have these beautiful children.

  "Lisa?"

  She turned and saw Nick standing in the doorway. Things had been tense between them all evening, and ever since Silvia and Carmela had gone home, they'd tried to stay out of each other's way.

  She walked into the hall and closed Dylan's door before speaking to him. "I'm tired, Nick. I don't want to argue with you. I don't want to sleep with you. In fact I don't even want to talk to you."

  "Then talk to Mary Bea," he said roughly. "She has a stomachache."

  She turned, startled by his words. "She was fine at dinner."

  "She's not now."

  Lisa walked across the hall and into Mary Bea's bedroom.

  The little girl was curled into a fetal position. Lisa sat down on the edge of the bed and rubbed Mary Bea's shoulder. "What's wrong, honey?"

  "My stomach hurts."

  "Do you feel like you're going to throw up?"

  "I don't know. Kind of."

  Lisa put a hand on Mary Bea's forehead, then looked at Nick. "She feels a little warm. It was probably just something she ate," she said. She wasn't sure she could deal with a sick child, not after what had happened to Robin.

  "A good night's sleep, and she'll be fine," Nick said.

  But as their eyes met, she knew he was just as worried as she was. "I'm going to call Maggie," she said.

  She headed into the hall and picked up the phone, but Maggie's phone went to voice mail. Her battery must have died. Dammit.

  "She's not answering," she told Nick.

  "Looks like we're in charge," he said. "It's going to be okay, Lisa."

  "I hope so, Nick."

  Chapter Fifteen

  Maggie crept out of bed just after seven o'clock in the morning. She felt uneasy, and she had tossed and turned most of the night. Since seeing Serena with a man who looked very much like her husband, she hadn't been able to think of anything but the two of them.

  They'd tried to follow the cab, but they had lost it in traffic. Eventually, they'd gone to dinner at a lovely Chinese restaurant where Jeremy had tried his best to distract her. But she knew she'd been distant, and when they'd gone back to the hotel, they'd gotten separate rooms.

  Now she walked to the window and pulled the curtain back. She could see downtown San Francisco from her vantage point -- the Transamerica Pyramid, the Bank of America building, the Bay Bridge in the distance. She'd been to the city only once, just after she and Keith had first married. He'd loved the cable cars, the steep hills, and the old Victorian houses. Had he been planning his mad escape from their life even then?

  She sat down in a chair by the window, thinking about the money Keith had taken out of their savings account -- money she could have used for the children, for the house, for all their bills. Of course, he had taken out more life insurance -- guilt money, she decided, to appease his conscience for faking his death and hurting his children and his wife.

  She'd thought she'd known everything about her husband, but she'd known nothing.

  But why had he faked his death? Why not just leave?

  A knock came at her door, and she got up to answer it.

  Jeremy stood before her, wearing beige slacks and a navy blue polo shirt. He looked clean and fresh, his hair still damp from a shower, his cheeks smoothly shaven. He smelled like heaven, and when he opened his arms to her, she could do nothing more than walk into his embrace.

  "You worried all night," he said, brushing her hair with his lips. "I knew you would."

  "I couldn't help it." She played with the button on his shirt. "I had a lot to think about." She stepped back so he could enter the room, then shut the door behind him.

  "I think you're wrong," Jeremy said abruptly.

  "What do you mean?" she asked in surprise.

  "Your husband can't be alive. It doesn't make sense. I analyzed everything you told me. There was absolutely no reason for him to take such drastic steps to carry on an affair or to disappear. Unless there's something you've forgotten. You said he worked in a lab. But you never told me what caused the explosion or if there was foul play involved."

  Jeremy sat down in a chair by the window, resting his arms on his knees as he waited for her to give him an explanation.

  Maggie stared at him blankly for a moment, trying to follow everything he'd said. Foul play was the only thing that stuck in her head. But that didn't make sense either. "They said it was a chemical fire," she said slowly. "My husband often worked with toxic and flammable substances. They told me it looked like an experiment gone awry. No one ever suggested that someone had set the fire deliberately. Although, to tell you the truth, I didn't pay much attention."

  "That's understandable. You were in shock."

  Among other things, Maggie thought, remembering how upset the children had been. That's when Roxy had become boy-crazy, Mary Bea had started crying all the time and Dylan had taken to spending his day in front of video games.

  "Didn't anyone at the company give you any more information than that?" Jeremy asked.

  "I don't know. Maybe they did. I can't remember. Keith's boss came up to me at the funeral and muttered something about it being a freak accident, but I didn't know him well enough to really question him. You see, when Keith started working at that company, he changed. He became less talkative, more stressed. At his old company, I knew everyone, but at this place, I didn't even know the names of his coworkers. Everything was classified."

  "Why?" Jeremy asked with interest.

  "Some of their work involved national security, chemical weapons, stuff like that." She sighed and sat down on the bed. "At least that's what he said."

  "Wow. Chemical weapons. The plot thickens."

  Maggie shook her head at the enthusiasm in Jeremy's voice. "I wish you could have known him the w
ay I did. You would have a lot more trouble believing the man was anything but a nine-to-five guy who never did anything remotely daring."

  "Tell me more about the company. You said you didn't know anyone?"

  "No, there were never any parties, not even at Christmas, and Keith travelled a lot. I'm not really sure what he did on the road. He was so vague about it. When I tried to ask, he'd just change the subject." And she hadn't tried that hard, because she'd had three kids to worry about.

  Jeremy stood up and began to pace around the room. "Okay, let's go over what we have. Keith takes a job at a new company that has something to do with national defense about a year and a half before the explosion."

  "Yes."

  "He doesn't introduce you to anyone. You're not welcome to visit or even hear about his experiments. He travels to other cities. You never call him. He always calls you. One night he goes into the lab after everyone has left. There is a mysterious explosion. Items of clothing and his briefcase are found at the site, but no body."

  "And some teeth," Maggie added.

  "Right, the teeth. Cavities matching Keith's dental records."

  "Yes. Don't forget about the money. Eight thousand dollars withdrawn from our checking account the day before he died."

  Jeremy paused and looked at her. "I still feel like we're missing something."

  "Me, too."

  "So we still need to find Serena."

  Maggie stood up and stretched her tired, tense limbs, eager to change the subject. "I tried calling her room earlier this morning. She didn't answer."

  He met her gaze. "I tried, too. And there's no room registered to your husband."

  "So we wait, or I give up."

  Jeremy walked over to her, sliding his arms around her waist. "You can't give up yet."

  "Why not?"

  "Because I'm not ready to say good-bye," he said bluntly.

  Her heart skipped a beat. "Really?"

  "You're the most intriguing woman I've met in a long time."

  She wasn't intriguing. She was a single mom with three kids and a dog, but she couldn't tell him that.

  "Maggie, I know we've only known each other for two days, but it feels like longer. I want you to make me a promise."

  "What kind of a promise?"

  "That no matter what happens you won't disappear as soon as we find Serena or Keith."

  Maggie hesitated. How could she promise that? They lived in different worlds. At least when she was living in reality, which wasn't in a hotel in San Francisco.

  "You just say I promise," Jeremy prodded, worry creeping into his eyes.

  She placed her hands on his chest and kissed him softly on the lips, taking the initiative for the first time in a very long time.

  Jeremy groaned as his mouth parted beneath hers, "I want you," he whispered.

  Maggie pulled back, frightened and exhilarated. "Maybe we should -- we could..."

  She glanced over at the bed, at the rumpled sheets, the soft pillows. She could see herself lying there, losing herself in Jeremy, forgetting about everything.

  A knock came at the door, startling her.

  "Relax. I ordered room service," Jeremy said. He strode to the door and let the waiter in. By the time the waiter had set up the table and pocketed his tip, the mood was broken. Maggie wasn't sure if she felt grateful or annoyed. She took one last lingering look at the bed and knew deep down in her heart that she wasn't quite ready to take that step, at least not yet.

  She busied herself by pouring two cups of coffee. "What do you take in it?"

  "Nothing. Just black for me."

  "I need a little sugar," she said, adding some sweetener to her cup.

  He clicked his cup to hers. "To us."

  "I've never made a toast with coffee before."

  "I have a feeling you and I are going to do a lot of things you've never done before," Jeremy said, his gaze drifting over to the bed.

  Maggie took a deep breath and slowly let it out. "Jeremy, I'm not ready."

  "I know," he said. "But maybe that will change.

  "Maybe," she murmured, seeing the light flare in his eyes.

  * * *

  Lisa felt Nick's arm slide around her shoulders as she took the thermometer out of Mary Bea's mouth and smiled down at the bright-eyed, red-cheeked little girl who didn't seem to have enough energy to smile back. "Let's see how we're doing," she said cheerfully. "It's still one hundred," she muttered to Nick. "Not high enough to worry, according to the pediatrician's office."

  "Not that that's going to stop you."

  "Or you. Don't think I didn't notice that you spent the night with Mary Bea."

  "I was tired of sleeping on the couch," he said gruffly.

  "My stomach hurts," Mary Bea said, repeating a now familiar phrase.

  Lisa sent Nick a helpless look, which he returned with one of his own. "You wouldn't think a case of indigestion would last this long, would you?"

  "I don't know. Maybe the food is stuck somewhere."

  "Thank you for your diagnosis. Dr. Maddux."

  "I want Mommy,'' Mary Bea proclaimed.

  Lisa frowned as she pushed Mary Bea's damp, sweaty hair off her forehead. "I know you do, honey, and I'll tell her you're not feeling well just as soon as she calls." She'd already left two messages for Maggie and hoped that her friend was on her way home or would find a phone to check in with them.

  "Is anyone going to drive me to school?" Dylan asked from the doorway as he slung his backpack over his shoulder. "Hey, how come Mary Bea gets to stay home?"

  "She's sick," Nick said.

  "She's probably faking," Dylan replied.

  "I am not," Mary Bea said hotly.

  "Dylan, get in the car," Nick said. "And tell your other sister to hurry up."

  "Like that will do anything."

  Lisa grimaced as Dylan screamed for Roxy to get off her butt and get in the car.

  "Well, at least she heard him," Nick said.

  "Along with the rest of the neighborhood. Nick, you better check Roxy's face before you take her to school. I'd rather she didn't look like a hooker while we're babysitting."

  "Ah, kids. Aren't they great? Do you want me to get you anything while I'm out?"

  "No, I think we're okay. We still have plenty of Tylenol." Lisa stood up. "I'll be right back, Mary Bea. I'm going to get you some more medicine, all right?"

  Mary Bea nodded, then closed her eyes against what looked like another wave of pain. It broke Lisa's heart to see her so uncomfortable, but she didn't know what else to do.

  Nick followed her into the hall. "You okay?"

  "I'm worried. What if I do the wrong thing, Nick?"

  "You won't." He stroked the side of her cheek. "Mary Bea is a healthy child with a simple case of the flu."

  "I know you're probably right. I just wish Maggie were here. Or that she'd at least call."

  "I don't get it," Nick said. "She's never gone off and left the kids like this. And why isn't she back by now?" His eyes narrowed speculatively. "You know something, don't you?"

  Lisa pushed him toward the stairs. "I'll tell you when you get back. The kids are waiting."

  "Now you've got me worried."

  "It's nothing, really." She smiled reassuringly when he looked unconvinced. "Maggie is just going through--"

  "Uncle Nick, come on, we're going to be late," Dylan interrupted with a shout.

  "I'll be back in ten minutes."

  "Nick, if you have to go to work, it's fine." Actually, it wasn't, but she was trying to act confident, hoping her act would turn into reality.

  "I'll be back in ten minutes," he said, then jogged down the stairs.

  Lisa felt relief at his words, but it vanished as Mary Bea stumbled out of her bedroom with panic in her eyes and a hand over her mouth. Lisa swept her into her arms and rushed to the bathroom, but Mary Bea threw up before they got there, all over Lisa's slippers, her bathrobe and the bathroom floor.

  "I'm sorry," Mary Bea said, sobb
ing.

  "It's okay." Lisa grabbed a towel and wiped Mary Bea's face, then set her down. "Do you feel better now?''

  Mary Bea nodded but couldn't help a shiver as her bare feet touched the cool tiles of the bathroom floor.

  Lisa gave her a commiserating smile. "How about a bath, honey? We can put in some bubbles."

  "Okay."

  Lisa reached over and turned on the tub. She added bubbles to the rushing water, then pulled Mary Bea's nightgown over her head. After getting Mary Bea into the tub, Lisa wiped the floor with a towel and a sponge and tossed her bathrobe and slippers into the growing pile of dirty laundry. "I'm going to throw these things in the washer," she said to Mary Bea as she turned off the water. "Will you be all right for a minute?"

  Mary Bea nodded, her attention focused on the red fire engine boat floating in a pile of bubbles.

  After convincing herself that Mary Bea couldn't possibly drown in the barely filled tub, at least not in the next two minutes, Lisa dashed down to the laundry room and threw everything in. Then she ran back upstairs, checked on Mary Bea and hurried into her own room to change into some jeans and a sweatshirt. She ran a brush through her hair, and went back into the bathroom.

  Thankfully, Mary Bea looked a little better now. Lisa hoped it would last. She finished cleaning the bathroom with disinfectant while Mary Bea played with her boat. Then she knelt down on the floor next to the tub and swirled her hand in the water.

  She'd pictured moments like this a thousand times, when she'd been pregnant with Robin, when she'd given Robin baths in the kitchen sink. The familiar ache settled into her heart, but it didn't feel as sharp as it used to feel.

  "Do I have to wash my hair?" Mary Bea asked.

  Lisa shook her head. "Not if you don't want to."

  "I hate it when the soap gets in my eyes."

  "So do I." Lisa tickled her under her chin, and Mary Bea giggled,

  "What's so funny?" Nick asked, as he came through the doorway and surveyed the scene. He tried to make his voice sound light, but there was a catch in his throat at the sight of Lisa and Mary Bea, looking so much like mother and daughter.