“Mmm.” Maureen nodded and pulled her sweater tight around her. To her it seemed a bit chilly, like a cool winter evening in South Florida.
“I don’t know how May is where you’re from—Chicago, isn’t it?”
“That’s right.”
“But …” Looking up at her, he shifted sideways and patted the step. “Come on, sit down.”
She hesitated, thinking this wasn’t such a good idea after all. Where was all her bravado of a few minutes ago? “I’m really tired, Sheriff. I just needed a little fresh air.”
Reaching up, Alan took her hand and coaxed her down next to him. “Just for a few minutes. And I thought we’d dispensed with that ‘sheriff’ stuff.”
Maureen sat, keeping herself as far from him as possible on the narrow steps. Still, he was too close. She could feel the heat from his body like a tangible thing, while the smell of his aftershave, subtle and all male, assaulted her senses.
“I don’t bite, you know.”
She turned to look at him, and he smiled, a slow, lazy smile. In the dark, his face was all shadows and angles, his eyes dark and unreadable, but his smile … she would have recognized the predator in that smile with her eyes closed.
“Don’t you?”
The smile faded. “Only when provoked.”
“I see.” She shifted again, moving closer to the rail, away from the heat of his leg, away from the threat of that smile. “Then I’ll be sure not to provoke you.”
Alan chuckled and leaned back, resting his elbows on the porch. “Your daughter’s a charmer.”
Maureen’s thoughts shifted to Katie and she smiled despite herself. “Yes, she is.”
“A real cutie.”
“Mmm.” She relaxed a bit. It was true, Katie charmed everyone around her.
“Kids have so much energy. It always amazes me.”
Maureen chuckled, thinking how well she understood. “It was nice of you to entertain her.”
They sat quietly for a moment, the night enfolding them. Maureen let her thoughts drift, the sweet silence soothing her. She’d never lived in a place like this, where you could smell the rich scent of pine while gazing at a million stars overhead. How strange that fate had brought her here under these circumstances. Why had she never thought to come somewhere like this before, where you could sit on a porch in the evening and be content?
“She must resemble her father.”
“What?” His words cut into her thoughts, bringing her sharply back to the present—and the man sitting next to her.
“Katie.” Alan pulled his legs up and leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “Her coloring is nothing like yours. I thought she must take after her father.”
Irritation replaced her momentary feelings of contentment. Probing. He constantly probed. Why couldn’t he leave her alone? And what could she tell him that would appease his curiosity? She thought of David and his blond, all-American good looks. No. Katie didn’t look like David. She didn’t look like either of them. But it wasn’t a question she could refuse to answer. Not without arousing Alan’s curiosity even further.
“Yes,” she finally answered, her first real lie bitter on her tongue. “A lot of people thought she looked like David.”
“Was he Latin?”
An image appeared in Maureen’s mind of a small dark woman-child with great brown eyes—so like Katie’s—and a soft melodic voice. “Yes,” she said, the words like ashes in her mouth. “Her father was Latin.”
Alan nodded as if satisfied, for the moment anyway, and went back to studying the darkness. Then he asked, “How did he die?”
With a sigh, Maureen hesitated. Strange that the memory of David’s death brought no pain, merely sadness, like an old wound properly healed.
“If you’d rather not talk about it …”
“No, that’s okay.” David was a safe subject. She could talk about him. It would keep Alan from asking other questions that she’d find more difficult to answer. “It was a car accident. He’d been out with clients. It was late …”
“Drinking?”
“Yes, but it wasn’t the alcohol. We were having problems.” She hesitated again, wondering how much to tell him. “He got home late. We argued, and he stormed out of the house. I think he was sober by then, but angry. Too angry to be driving.”
She stopped, thinking about that night and the way she’d lashed out at David. “Anyway, the next thing I knew, the police were at my door, and David was dead. He drove his car into a canal.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Yes, me too.” She’d been so angry with David, not just that night, but with what he’d become, what he’d been doing to their marriage. But, she had loved him. “I should have tried to stop him. I knew he shouldn’t be driving, but …”
“You didn’t.”
“No. It wouldn’t have done any good, but I should have tried. Actually, at the time, I was glad he left. I was afraid our arguing would wake Katie.” She looked away, feeling the same flush of guilt she always felt when she thought of those last moments with her husband.
“You can’t blame yourself.”
She looked at him and saw the sincerity in his eyes, the concern. “I don’t really.”
Sighing again, she pushed her hair away from her face and leaned back against the porch. Why was she telling him all this? She thought of Katie and reminded herself it was easier to speak of David than of other things. Besides, it felt good to finally talk to someone about it.
They sat quietly for a moment, Maureen thinking how strange it was that she had chosen Alan to tell about David’s death. She’d never told anyone before. Oh, she’d given the police the facts, but she had never told anyone the things she’d just revealed.
“What about Katie?” Alan asked after a few minutes. “How did she take it?”
This, too, saddened her. Katie hardly missed David. At least that’s what Maureen had thought. Until tonight. When Katie had made Alan promise, and it reminded Maureen of all the times David had broken his promises to the two of them.
“She asked about him for a while. She named her favorite stuffed animal after him. But she was only two, and she didn’t know him very well. He was very busy.”
“Too busy for his own daughter?”
She thought she heard anger in his voice, and it surprised her. “Yes, well, that’s part of what we argued about.”
“I see.”
Maureen closed her eyes and nodded, thinking that maybe he did understand—at least about what she’d told him. Of course, she couldn’t tell him about the money, the debts she’d known nothing about until after David’s death. Nor could she tell him about Katie, and the people who wanted to take her away. No, Maureen couldn’t tempt fate by expecting him to understand about that.
Alan watched her as she sat lost in her own thoughts. He hadn’t expected to find so many layers to this woman. Now there was this new side to her. This courage. The whole time she’d talked about her husband, there was a strength in her voice. Her husband’s death, and the circumstances surrounding it, saddened her. But she had dealt with it. She was not the type of woman to fall apart when left without a man.
Once again, he knew this woman was no drifter. So why was she here? What would make her pick up her daughter and leave home, only to end up waiting tables in a town like Wyattville?
“You intrigue me,” he said, shocking himself by saying the words aloud.
She opened her eyes and looked at him, surprised. Then he saw the slight tightening around her mouth, the stiffening of her shoulders.
“I’m just a novelty,” she said, her voice hard and cold. “Someone you haven’t known all your life.”
He thought about that. There might be something in what she said. He’d been back in Wyattville for ten years, and none of the women in town had sparked his interest. Hell, he had known most of them all his life. Maybe there was something in the fact she was new in town, but he thought there was more to it. She wasn’t
the first unattached stranger to visit Wyattville.
“No,” he said, turning to get a clearer view of her face. “I don’t think that’s it.”
She met his gaze head-on. “It must be my raving beauty, then,” she said, sarcasm lacing her voice.
He reached up and brushed the hair away from her face. It was all wrong. Her hair, short and lifeless, took away from her beauty. His fingers strayed to her temple, the softness of her skin drawing him, pulling him toward her. She trembled ever so slightly, while her eyes softened. “You are lovely, you know.” He realized only as he said it that it was true.
Her eyes widened, making her look even younger, more vulnerable. Then they shut down, closing him out. “I’m not interested,” she said, her voice sounding far-off, shaky.
“Liar.” He whispered the word, but she flinched as if he’d hit her.
Something undefinable sparked in her eyes. “How dare you.” But there was no potency in her words, no conviction.
He shifted on the step, moving closer, one hand slipping behind her while the other wove itself into her hair. He planned to kiss her. When the idea had first entered his mind, he couldn’t say. He told himself he wanted to comfort her, but he knew in a flash that comfort had nothing to do with what he wanted to give her. He only knew he wanted to taste her, to feel her lips under his.
He lowered his mouth to hers, anticipation sparking a deeper yearning … and stopped cold. Her eyes spoke volumes. She desired him, and she was angry about it. But more than anything else, she feared it. Taking a deep breath, he removed his hand from her hair and eased away from her.
“I’m sorry,” he said after a moment.
She didn’t answer, and he turned back to look at her. She sat coiled within herself, lost in her own thoughts.
“I guess it’s too soon,” he said, although he didn’t believe that was the problem.
“Yes.” She nodded without looking at him.
“Well, we have plenty of time.” She glanced at him quickly then, and he knew he’d said the wrong thing. “I mean …” He meant to say something to reassure her, but he didn’t know what.
“No, Sheriff,” she said, and there was steel in her voice once again. “There is no we. Not now. Not ever.” She rose from the steps. “And I’d appreciate it if you’d remember that.” Reentering the house, she closed the door firmly behind her.
As he watched her go, Alan wondered what she was running from. More than that, he questioned what he planned to do about it. Too many things about this woman didn’t add up, and he’d had every intention of finding out the truth about her. Now there was this other feeling, this attraction, creeping up on him, and he didn’t quite know how he was going to deal with it, either. For the moment, he would put it aside. But something told him he wouldn’t be able to ignore it for long.
Shaking his head, he turned back to the silence of the night. “You’re wrong, Ms. Maureen Adams,” he said quietly. “It’s just a matter of time.”
Maureen lay awake listening. Through her open window, she could hear all types of sounds: the chatter of insects, the rustle of the breeze through the trees, and Alan Parks. He was still down there, on the back porch where she had left him an hour ago.
What was she going to do?
It was bad enough yesterday, when he seemed curious about her from a policeman’s point of view. It was even worse tonight when he’d exerted his masculine charm to find out all he could about her. But the real killer, the thing making her long to bury her tear-streaked face in her pillow, was that she’d almost succumbed. She’d wanted him to kiss her. Lord, how she’d wanted it. And more.
Rolling onto her back, she gave up trying to keep her eyes closed. She stared at the ceiling, watching the shadows of dancing branches illuminated by the moon.
She never should have stopped in Wyattville. How often had she said that to herself in the last twenty-four hours? She wondered how many times she’d say it again before she found a way to leave.
She and Katie should have gone on to Seattle. That’s what she’d planned to do. But she’d been low on money, and Wyattville was so peaceful, so tempting. She should have resisted. One more short bus ride and they’d have been in a city. A place Maureen understood, a place where they could hide.
Now that was behind them. She’d used almost all of her remaining funds to get them settled here. She’d insisted on paying Rita two months’ rent in advance. Damn, why had she done that? Of course, she could ask for it back, and no doubt Rita would comply. But she’d also want to know why.
Maureen had a little money left, but settling in Seattle would be more expensive than it had been in Wyattville. There would be first and last months’ rent. And what kind of place could she afford? She knew her chances of finding another Rita Ember were pretty slim. Then there was day care for Katie. Maureen would have to find a job. Someplace that wasn’t too quick to check references or social security numbers. That, too, would be more difficult to find in a city.
She flipped back over on her side, and Katie murmured something in her sleep. Maureen reached over to her daughter and pulled the covers around her. She brushed her fingers along the child’s cheek. Oh, Katie, she thought, sometimes I just don’t know if I’ve done the right thing. Katie let out a soft, baby sigh and snuggled closer to her mother. Maureen’s heart constricted and fresh tears fell from her eyes.
For several minutes, she let the tears flow, allowing her mind to shut down. Then she shook herself. Reaching over to the small nightstand next to the bed, she grabbed a handful of tissues. She had no time for self-pity. It wouldn’t help her or Katie.
Think, Maureen, she said to herself. What are your options?
First, she and Katie needed to get out of Wyattville. She had no idea how she was going to manage that without money. But there had to be a way, she told herself. There were always alternatives.
She thought of her father.
Would he help her this time? A phone call was all it would take to find out. One call and she’d know. Would he come to her? She knew he would enjoy watching her squirm, making her admit she’d been wrong. Maybe he would help her if she begged. But then again, maybe not. He might do what he’d done the last time she asked for help—he might refuse her.
Closing her eyes, she held back a resurgence of tears. No. She couldn’t ask him for help, and she refused to cry over him again. He was dead to her as surely as David. Besides, the authorities would be waiting for her to contact him.
Or would they?
Gladly, she let her thoughts shift away from her father. She really didn’t know if anyone was looking for her. Maybe that was something she needed to find out. If she could get a look at some back issues of the Miami Herald, maybe there would be an article or something. It was doubtful that Wyattville’s small public library would carry the Herald, but the one in Seattle should. She could take the bus into the city and find out, once and for all.
As for getting out of Wyattville, that would take time and money. Meanwhile, she’d just have to deal with things. It was her only reasonable alternative. She couldn’t let a man she barely knew threaten what she’d come so far to achieve.
She would have to learn how to avoid Alan Parks until she could find a way out of Wyattville—not an easy task, but a necessary one.
Jacob Anderson sat in the dark, needing nothing to illuminate his thoughts. The lack of light fitted his mood, suited the way his guilt settled about him like a shroud.
He’d betrayed her.
His own daughter. The only person he’d ever truly loved, ever needed, and he’d turned his back on her. Now she was out there somewhere, alone with her child, running from the law.
It was ironic that she was fleeing from the very force he knew and understood so well. The very thing he’d put above everything in his life, including Maura and her desires. The force he could bend to his will so easily.
If she’d only come to him.
But he was being honest with himself, and
he knew why she hadn’t called on him. She had come to him once before, and he had refused her. She meant the world to him. Yet in his arrogance, in his confidence that he knew what was best for her, he had let her down. How could he expect her to come to him this time? There was too much of himself in the girl.
Now he waited.
Cooper wouldn’t fail him. He would find Maura and her bright-eyed child. Jacob had no doubts about that. But would it do any good? Would she accept his help? Would she even speak to him after the way he’d treated her? He didn’t know.
The phone rang, shattering the silence. Jacob hesitated a second, his heart suddenly pounding, his hands trembling as he reached for the receiver.
“Yes.”
The voice on the other end started without preamble. “She left Miami on a Greyhound bus around 1:00 a.m., January fifth. The night clerk ID’d both her and the kid from pictures the cops had shown him in January.”
“What about the authorities?”
“She’d been gone four days before anyone realized it. The cops put out a state-wide bulletin, even though they figured she was already out of the state by that time. It seems they have better things to do than look for your daughter.”
Jacob thought he’d reached the limits of his pain. But Cooper’s words sliced through his soul. “Anderson?”
The question in the other man’s voice forced Jacob to pull himself together. “Where did they go from there?”
“I was able to trace them to Georgia. A waitress at one of the truck stops thought she remembered the two of them.”
“And from there?”
“Don’t know yet.”
“Find them.”
“They could have gone in any direction. It’s going to cost a lot …”
“Money’s not a problem.” Jacob felt his strength returning. He wouldn’t let this thing beat him. He would have his daughter back. “Find her,” he said again, this time with more force.
“Sure. I’ll find them.” He heard Cooper’s hesitation on the other end.
“What else?”
Keeping Katie (A Mother's Heart Book 1) Page 4