He looked old and tired. Deep lines bracketed his mouth, and there was a dull hurt in his eyes. He was far removed from the man she'd left sleeping only twelve hours ago.
"My God, Flynn. What's wrong?"
"They found Becky's mother. She's dead."
❧
"You'resure Becky is all right alone?" Ann handed Flynn a cup of coffee.
"Thanks. Becky is plugged into a tape of Return of the Jedi. I don't think she'll come up for air for another hour, at least. I left the door open and she knows where we are if she needs something."
He took a swallow of the coffee, staring into the cup broodingly. "I just don't know how to tell her."
"I know." Ann sat down across from him with her own cup. "Tell me what Ms. Davis had to say."
"She came by this afternoon. I sent Becky out onto the balcony so we could talk. She said that they'd found Becky's mother. At first, I didn't know whether to be glad or sorry. I mean, I was glad for Becky's sake but I figured it meant that I was going to lose her and she sort of grows on you."
"I know." She did know. The thought of Becky going out of her life was a painful one.
Flynn set the cup down and leaned his head back against the chair, his face so weary that Ann wanted to smooth the lines away.
"Anyway, before I could say much of anything, she told me that Becky's mother had been found dead."
"Oh God. Poor little Becky. What happened to her? Do they know?"
He shook his head. "It's too soon to know much yet. All I know is that they found her body in one of the aqueducts. I guess they'll have to do an autopsy."
"Are they sure it's her?"
"The identification in the purse is hers and the landlady went in and gave positive ID just a couple of hours ago."
"Poor Becky."
There didn't seem to be anything else to say. After a long silence, Ann stirred, trying to gather her thoughts into some practical pattern.
"What did Ms. Davis say about Becky staying with you? They're not going to take her away now, are they?"
"No. She said that, under the circumstances, she thinks it would be cruel to remove Becky from our care. Becky feels safe here."
"That's something at least."
He stirred restlessly. "Not much in the face of her mother's death. And it's only temporary. They're going to try and find some record of Becky's father and contact him. If they can't find him or he doesn't want her, then she'll be put in a foster home."
Flynn surged to his feet, his long strides eating up the distance between sofa and door and then back
again. Ann watched him, uncertain of what to say to reassure him.
"You know, it isn't like the days of Jane Eyre. A lot of foster parents are really wonderful people."
"Sure. But what if she gets foster parents who aren't wonderful people? You know, she acts real tough on the outside but she's still just a little girl."
"I know." She watched him pace back and forth, his strides quick with pent up frustrations. "Maybe you could be her foster parent."
Flynn stopped and spun to face her so suddenly that Ann jumped. His eyes pinned her to the chair, bright blue with emotion. "Do you think I haven't thought of that? But what do I know about kids? I'm a bachelor. I don't even have a respectable job. Besides, a little girl needs a mother. And it wouldn't matter anyway because Davis made it clear that she had to work very hard convincing her superiors to let Becky stay with me. The only reason that they aren't taking her away immediately is because my parents have spotless reputations and she told them that Becky and I would be spending most of our time with them.
"Even that wouldn't have done it if she hadn't implied that the rest of the time you'd be around to protect Becky's impressionable young mind from any bad influences that I might exert. You'll be pleased to know, Dr. Perry, that your reputation is impeccable. Good thing they don't know that you spent last night in my bed."
The apartment was absolutely silent as they stared at each other. Color flooded Ann's face and then drained away, leaving her ashen. She stared at him for a long moment, hurt in her eyes before she looked , away, gathering her defenses around her like a cloak.
"I think—"
"Oh, God, I'm sorry, Ann." He covered the short distance between them in one long stride, dropping to one knee and taking her hands before she had a chance to draw away. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. I don't even know why I said it."
Ann looked anywhere but at his face. She felt very vulnerable and she didn't want him to see that vulnerability. "It's okay." She tugged on her hands but his fingers tightened over hers, denying release.
"No, it's not okay. I didn't mean to sneer about last night. That's the last thing in the world I meant to do. It was special." Unwillingly, her eyes were drawn to his face, reading the absolute sincerity there. Some of the ice that had settled around her heart melted.
"Was it special?" Ann hadn't meant to ask that. It sounded too young, too vulnerable.
His face softened magically, leaving Ann breathless. "It was incredibly special and I had no business throwing it in your face like that."
"It's okay."
"No, it isn't okay. It's just that it was pretty frustrating to realize that the only reason Becky was being allowed to stay with me was because you were around to make me look respectable. I've never thought of myself as quite that much of a rake and roue. I mean, I'm not a dedicated banker or lawyer but I'm hardly Don Juan, either. By the time Ms. Davis was through explaining all the half-truths she had to tell to get them to leave Becky here, I felt more like Jack the Ripper."
Ann's fingers tightened over his before pulling away. This time, he let her go. "It's all right. I know how worried you are about Becky."
"How do you tell a little girl that her mother is dead? That she'll never see her again?" The agony in his face made Ann's heart twist. Without thinking about it, she reached out to smooth the unruly lock of hair back from his forehead.
"We'll do it together. Becky's strong. She'll be okay."
"I just wish there was some way I could protect her from this."
"I know you do, Flynn. I know you do."
❧
John Williams's music blared out the finale as Princess Leah, Han Solo, Luke Skywalker and their assorted furry and metallic companions accepted the accolades of the rebel forces. Flynn stared at the screen over Becky's shoulder, wishing that George Lucas could arrange for real life to work out as neatly as it did in the movies. He picked up the remote control and shut the television off as the credits began to roll.
"I love Star Wars. When I grow up, I want to be like Han Solo and fly through space. Wouldn't you like to do that, Mr. Flynn?"
She turned to look at him, her face still lit up with the magic of the film, and Flynn had to swallow hard. He dreaded being the one to snuff that light.
"Becky, I need to talk to you."
She stared at him and then her eyes dropped away. Her face closed up, reminding him of the way she'd looked when he'd first found her.
"It's about that lady from the welfare."
"Sort of."
"Are you gonna send me away?"
"No. Of course I'm not going to send you away." He reached out to pick her up, setting her on his lap, feeling the rigidity of her small body, as if she were afraid that if she relaxed, someone would hurt her. "Didn't I promise that I wouldn't send you away?"
"People don't always keep their promises." It was said in such an adult, resigned way that Flynn could only stare at her downcast face. He looked at Ann, seeing the tears swimming in her eyes.
"Becky, I'm not going to send you away but I've got some bad news about your mother." She said nothing, only continued to stare at her hands and Flynn went on, feeling as if he were stumbling hopelessly but not knowing what else to do. "Your mother is dead, honey."
The words sounded so bald, but he didn't know how else to say it. In the quiet that followed his words, the video tape hit the end of its travel and beg
an to rewind, the quiet hiss sounding unnaturally loud. "You mean dead, like when Charly the cat died?" "I... yes, like when Charly the cat died." She lifted her head, looking at him out of clear gray eyes. "She won't be coming to get me?" "She won't be coming to get you." He waited for the tears. She dropped her head again, her small fingers picking at a spot of lint on her corduroy pants. "Can I stay here?"
"You can stay here for as long as you'd like." Later, there'd be a time to try and explain about foster homes and adoption. Now, what she needed was some security.
"Can I watch Jedi again?"
Flynn stared at her and then looked at Ann. She shrugged, clearly at a loss. "Sure you can, sweetheart. Do you want us to watch it with you?"
"If you want." She slid off his lap and picked up the remote control, pushing the button to turn on the screen and then starting the tape over again.
"Ann and I will be in the kitchen, if you need us."
"Okay."
Once in the other room and safely out of earshot, Flynn turned to look at Ann. "What's wrong with her? Do you think we should call a doctor or something?"
"I am a doctor."
"Of course." He thrust his fingers through his hair, ruffling it into wild disarray. "Why didn't she cry or something?"
"She's just a child, Flynn. Death is still a bit abstract to her. It may take a little while for her to realize that her mother is really never coming back."
"I suppose." He raked through his hair again. "I keep thinking there's something I could do to make this easier for her, something I should say."
"You've done the best you can. Now all you can do is be there for her when she needs you."
❧
Flynn had no idea what time it was when he came out of a light sleep, aware that something was wrong. He hadn't been asleep long. He was surprised that he'd fallen asleep at all. After tucking Becky in and telling her the obligatory story, he and Ann had shared a glass of wine and then she'd gone back to her apartment, leaving instructions to call her if he needed her.
Looking in on Becky, he'd experienced a feeling of total unreality. She slept so peacefully, as if this night were no different than any other. Was death really such an abstract concept to a child that she didn't realize what it was going to mean in her life?
But then who was he to question her reaction? Death had been an abstract to him until that night three years ago, when the police had called to tell him that Mark was dead and ask him to identify the body. Staring at his brother's face, forever wiped of emotion, death had ceased to be abstract and had become very real. If it had taken him three decades to understand the reality of death, why should he expect Becky to understand it in less than one?
The sound that had awakened him came again and he slid out of bed, slipping on a black silk robe as he left his bedroom and padded down the dim hallway. Pushing open Becky's door, the sound was clearer, easily identifiable. She was crying.
He crossed the room, easing himself onto the edge of her bed and gathering her'shaking body into his arms. Her arms came up to circle his neck and she buried her face in the thin silk over his shoulder.
"It's all right, honey. It's all right."
"Mama. I want Mama." The words were muffled by sobs but Flynn felt them like tiny knives in his heart. "Mama."
"I know you do, sweetheart. I know you do. Cry it all out, honey. I've got you safe."
He had no idea how long she cried. He held her, rocking her, brushing the tangled hair back from her face, murmuring soothingly and wishing that there was something he could do to take her hurt away.
She cried herself to sleep and, even in sleep, her breath came in shaken little sobs. Flynn lifted his long legs onto the bed, easing her into a more comfortable position across his lap and settled his back against the headboard.
He studied her face in the light from the hallway. Her lower lip still quivered with each breath. Her lashes made spiky little patterns against her pale cheeks. She looked like exactly what she was—a frightened little girl whose world had been turned upside down.
Looking at her, he was struck by how right it felt to have her small body cuddled so trustingly against him. His arms tightened and he brushed a kiss against her hot forehead.
He'd never given a whole lot of thought to the matter of fatherhood. If he'd thought about it at all, he figured that being a husband would come first and children would be a much later consideration. But then he'd gotten drunk and stumbled into an alley and come up with a whole new perspective on life.
He didn't want to give up Becky. He didn't want to lose her small presence in his life. He wanted to keep her with him and watch her grow up. And, it wasn't just Becky that he wanted in his life. He wanted a woman to share it with.
He leaned his head back against the headboard and closed his eyes, feeling exhaustion creep over him. It had been one hell of a day.
❧
"Mr. Flynn, what does being dead mean?"
Flynn dropped the spoon into the pancake batter and then reached in to fish it out, stalling for time. Becky had been unusually quiet this morning but, other than that, nothing seemed to have changed. Of the two of them, he wondered if he wasn't having a harder time coping with her mother's death than she was. And then a question like that came out of the blue.
He set the spoon in the sink and turned the heat off under the griddle. Wiping his hands on a towel as he moved over to the table, he sat down opposite the little girl. How was he supposed to answer a question like that?
"Well, when someone dies, they go out of our lives forever and we don't see them anymore."
Her eyes met his solemnly and he wondered if he'd explained it clearly enough. Should he tell her that her mother was in heaven or would that confuse her more than ever?
"You mean like when Yoda dies in Return of the Jedi?"
"Well, yeah, I guess so."
"Will Mama come back and visit me like Yoda visited Luke?"
"I...well..." He thrust his fingers through his hair, wondering how to explain that Yoda was make-believe and that make-believe and real life didn't always work out the same. He moved around the table to the chair next to hers, lifting her onto his lap.
"You won't see your mom like Luke can see Yoda. At least you won't see her standing in front of you and talking to you. But when you think about her and remember her, you'll see her in your mind and that will be sort of like having her there again."
Becky leaned her head against his shoulder, her fingers twisting a button on his shirt. "But, she won't really be there, will she?"
Flynn swallowed hard, his eyes stinging. "No, honey, she won't really be there. But that doesn't mean that she doesn't still love you." He brushed the hair back from her forehead, wishing it were easier to read her thoughts. "You know, it's okay to cry. You can even get mad because we all get mad when someone we love leaves us behind even when we know it wasn't their fault."
He didn't know if he'd said the right things. He felt woefully inadequate for explaining death and how to deal with it. He'd offered her the simplest of comforts. Surely there was something more to say.
He waited a long time to see if Becky would say anything else, ask any more questions, but she seemed content with his clumsy explanation. When she slid off his lap, he didn't try to hold onto her. Perhaps everyone had to deal with death in their own way, no matter what their age.
Flynn went back to the counter and turned on the griddle again. The last thing in the world he felt like doing was eating breakfast and he wasn't sure if Becky had any interest in food, but it seemed like a reasonable thing to do. He stirred the batter and decided it was too thick. A little milk would help. Turning toward the refrigerator, he bumped into Becky who'd been standing right behind him.
"Sorry, urchin. Would you get the milk for me?"
She went and got the milk carton and handed it to him. He watched her out of the corner of his eye as he splashed milk into the batter and stirred it. Instead of going back to the table, she stoo
d right next to him, watching every move he made.
Without comment, he hooked his foot around a stool and pulled it over to the counter, lifting her up onto it so that she could watch what he was doing.
"Hungry?"
She nodded, watching him flick water onto the griddle to test it. The droplets danced on the cast iron and disappeared instantly. Flynn reached for the bowl and ladle.
"Mama used to make me teddy bear pancakes for breakfast."
It was the first words she'd spoken in several minutes. Flynn hesitated with the ladle in midair. It hadn't been a request but still___
"Teddy bear pancakes?"
She nodded solemnly. "They taste better than regular pancakes."
"Teddy bear pancakes." His tone was flat and resigned. He studied the batter and the griddle, seeking some inspiration. Why hadn't his mother ever made teddy bear pancakes? She should have known that it would be an important skill in his life.
It took numerous failures and most of the batter but, with Becky's coaching and Flynn's imagination, they eventually turned out a credible facsimile of a teddy bear in pancake form. Flynn eyed his masterpiece with great pride as he settled it on the plate in front of his small judge and watched her devour a half hour's work in a few bites.
It was worth the burned knuckles and wasted batter to hear Becky giggle over his clumsy efforts. He dried his hands, watching as she consumed the teddy bear pancake, carefully cutting off first one ear and then the other and working her way down to the legs. Clearly, there was an established pattern to eating a teddy bear.
He stroked his hand over her head and she glanced up, smiling through a mouthful of dough. There was a shadow in the back of her eyes but for now, her world was safe, as long as Flynn was within reach.
Flynn only hoped he could keep it that way.
Chapter 9
"Dr. Perry to emergency please. Dr. Perry to emergency." The tinny voice echoed over the PA. Ann scribbled her signature on the bottom of a chart and handed it back to the nurse before hurrying down the hall to the elevator.
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