Magic Moment

by Adams, Angela

  Dick’s eyes held his son’s glare. “I can protect her until the baby’s born. Afterward, all bets are off. Don’t get too attached to Laura.”

  Dick’s words punched Chase in the gut. “Don’t get attached?” It took all his willpower to control his rage. “She’s my wife, damn it!”

  “You got your mother’s bleeding heart.” His expression warped into a sneer. “You married Laura and got her pregnant because you knew I would protect my grandchild. You’re a fool, and we both may end up being sorry.”

  Chase wasn’t sure if anger or fear rushed through him. “You know what I’m sorry for,” he said, his manner deliberate. “I’m sorry that when I found Laura bound, beaten, terrorized, I didn’t take her to the police. Have them haul your ass in.”

  “The choice was between my life, your life, or Laura’s. Her well-being didn’t even enter into the equation.” He looked Chase squarely in the eye. “But now she carries my grandchild.”

  “You have your cell phone?” Chase asked. This conversation disgusted him.

  “Yes. Why?”

  “Call yourself a cab and leave. Or I will call the police and, unlike Aunt Lonnie, I don’t mind causing a scene. Or care how much I tell them.”

  “Chase, when you were a little boy, nothing held your interest for long.” Dick frowned as if apathetic to these memories. “You got all excited over some new toy or game for perhaps ten minutes and then moved on. You were constantly searching for a new amusement.”

  Chase listened.

  “You wanted to be a lawyer,” Dick said. “I advised you to go corporate. Make money since you enjoyed spending it so much. No, you wanted to help the little people, the disadvantaged. That lasted perhaps fifteen minutes, and you asked me for something at the warehouse. But nothing to interfere with your drinking, gambling, and whoring. You have no idea what it’s like to have a real job.”

  “Does your homily have a point?”

  Dick continued. “You have this wife with a baby coming, a good time playing husband and father. Eventually, they’ll bore you, too. You’ll ask me for help in disassociating yourself, and to find you a new diversion. And I will, because you’re my son. I only pray when the time comes, we’re alive and not in jail.”

  Chase was untouched by his father’s monologue. “I guess I do have my mother’s idealism. I believed we could solve the fix you’re in, and be a family. Do you want to call that cab?” he asked. “Or should I?”

  Dick brushed by his son and walked out the front door. Chase moved to the living room’s picture window. His father stood on the porch and talked into his cell phone. Where Chase had been concerned, Dick never encouraged any trait or behavior that wasn’t his own. He had discouraged any quality, ambition, or temperament he hadn’t wanted in a son, especially when it came to Chase’s moral being.

  Chase had spent his life floundering, searching and hoping for direction and a reason. The drinking, gambling, and whoring were diversions that temporarily took away the emptiness, and at times, his worthlessness.

  He continued staring out the window. After ten minutes, the cab arrived and Chase looked on as the yellow sedan took his father away.

  Terror cruised through him, smelling the scent like a rabbit running from a fox. Chase was frightened. For his wife and baby. For himself. Even for his father.

  “Chase.”

  He turned to see Laura standing in the doorway, hugging herself. Her hands brushing up and down her arms in an effort to warm herself, not from cold, but from fear. She took a step toward him, and he ran to her, enveloping her in his arms in two quick steps.

  “It’s okay, honey.”

  “How did he find us, Chase?” she asked, a slight quiver in her voice. “What does he want?”

  She pressed closer to him, so close that he actually felt her heart’s rapid beating.

  “It took him a while, but he remembered how when I was a kid and angry at him, I ran to Aunt Lonnie.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead.

  “Chase, I’m frightened. I hate feeling frightened.”

  Added to his own fears, Chase hated feeling helpless. So he lied. Just like he had lied to the men on the boat. Again, this tale was a … good … lie, one for her benefit … or perhaps this time for his.

  “Don’t be, honey,” he said. “Dad wanted to tell me that you were safe.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Now, in her sixth month, Laura’s baby kicked and stretched, a lively, spirited little fellow. With an ear pressed to his wife’s belly, Chase continued having his one-way conversations with his son. Often, he insisted he heard the baby sneeze, hiccup, or snore. He fretted if he thought Laura wasn’t getting enough rest. He was always ready to accompany her on her daily walks. One day, while the couple browsed in a bookstore, she found him skimming a book on what parents should look for in a good preschool. Although they hadn’t discussed their feelings for each other, his actions proved to Laura his love and commitment to their child.

  It was a Friday evening in mid-September. Lonnie had traveled to Baltimore to attend a friend’s daughter’s wedding. She was due back Sunday afternoon. After a quick seafood casserole, Laura sat at the table, sipping decaf tea, while Chase loaded the dishwasher.

  “When we first arrived in Sea Tower, we looked at some house brochures,” he said. “Since then, we haven’t talked about where you want to live after the baby comes. Aunt Lonnie loves the idea of us staying with her. She’s dropped enough hints.” He placed her empty mug in the dishwasher.

  “She’s excited about the baby,” Laura said with a huge grin. “Little ones have that effect.” Her heart leaped. He had said us? As in Laura, Baby Donovan, and Chase?

  He took Laura’s hand, eased her up from the straight-back chair, and led her into the living room.

  “I love my aunt, but trust me, you don’t want her hovering.” He helped Laura get comfortable on the sofa, tucking a small throw pillow behind her back. “How’s that?”

  “Fine, thanks.” She loved the way he cared for her. “I don’t want to keep imposing on Aunt Lonnie. I like Sea Tower. I can sell my condo in Philly and set up house here. Quiet, peaceful, Sea Tower is the perfect place for a child.”

  He sat on the ottoman, facing her. “You don’t need to sell your condo.”

  “I can’t afford a house and the condo’s upkeep.”

  “Rent out the condo. I’ll lease a house in Sea Tower. You’ll live in it. If you like it, I’ll buy it.”

  “Chase.” She wasn’t comfortable with him buying her a house. “I can’t have you buying me a house.”

  “The house is for my son, and you go with him. You two are a package deal,” he said with a grin.

  His sly, impish smile, especially the twinkle in his blue eyes, curled her toes.

  “Where will you live?” Recently, Laura had had her fantasies. The three of them living together in Sea Tower as a family was her favorite.

  “In my son’s house. If he approves. I’ll bring the idea up to him after he’s born.”

  Her fantasy come true. “Ask him now.” She enjoyed Chase’s one-way conversations with his son, topics ranging from sports to politics to the weather. His warm breath would tickle her belly, and his comical expressions amused her.

  Chase paused. “Remember when you were in the hospital, the first conversation I had with him?”

  “Umm-hum.”

  “He forgave me for my disgusting words at your condo. When I said that I didn’t care about you.” Gently, Chase caressed her left hand, twirling her gold wedding band between his thumb and index finger. “This is one smart kid we’re having. He knew I didn’t mean any of what I said. He told me I was in love with his mother.”

  Tears stung Laura’s eyes, and she dissolved at the tenderness etched in his features. “Chase … ”

  H
e gripped her hand, as if afraid she might leave. “I love you, Laura. I love you so damn much. Sometimes I feel like you’re aware, and other times I decide it’s only me pretending you love me.”

  Her free hand reached up, running her fingers through his brown, wavy hair. “Oh, Chase,” she whispered. She had hoped so long for this moment, often resolving the utterance would never happen. When she did imagine the scene, it was dramatic and soap-opera-like.

  But the reality moment was short, simple and sweet — like the ceremony making her his wife.

  “Our first night together, when I said I was thinking,” he said softly. “I was thinking I was falling in love with you.” He paused before a mischievous smile widened on his handsome face. “Do you think a gorgeous, introverted, smart, unassuming bookkeeper could love a former spoiled, overindulged, self-absorbed playboy?”

  “You’re a bit confused there, pal. In case you didn’t notice, I’m not exactly introverted.” She kissed him quickly. “And you are not self-absorbed.” She kissed him again. “I love you, Chase Donovan.”

  He smiled at her. “This is from the bottom of my heart. You, me, our son, us together, it doesn’t get any better.” He kissed her lips before resting his forehead against hers. “We’ll make this work, Laura. Please say you want us to be a family.”

  His mouth covered hers, all warm and moist, devouring her with an overpowering passion. Her arms slid around his neck and she kissed him back. She clung to him as if he were a life preserver pulling her upstream.

  Laura drew away. “We’ll be a happy family, Chase.”

  They sat, kissing, whispering, soaking in their love. Then, excited over their own home, they browsed through the real estate brochures. Months outdated, more recent ones were needed. Nevertheless, they pored through pages, picking out neighborhoods, house styles, and discussing their preferences.

  “This is a pretty house.” Laura surveyed the room. “I like the fireplace in the kitchen. Aunt Lonnie said her father bought the house as the family vacation home.”

  “Yeah. When he passed away, he left the house my father and I live in to my mother,” Chase said. “Aunt Lonnie got this one. With both her parents gone, her sister married, Aunt Lonnie hung around Philly for a few years, then moved here permanently.”

  He sighed, then continued. “I think the real reason Aunt Lonnie left Philly was she couldn’t stand seeing my mother married to my father.” He hesitated. Laura waited for him to speak, clutching his hand.

  “Aunt Lonnie feels my father beat my mother.” He was quiet, shaking off a memory before going on. “I never saw any marks on Mom. Not that it means much. But I did hear her cry. A lot.”

  Laura held his hand tighter. “Oh, Chase,” she whispered.

  “Even if his abuse wasn’t physical, I’m sure my mother got plenty of emotional cruelty from him.”

  Although Chase was a grown man, he still lived in his childhood home. He joked that the house was so big, he and his father went weeks without bumping into each other. Eventually, while they waited out the rainstorm on Madre, he confided to Laura that if he moved out, he felt as if he were leaving his mother alone with his father.

  That sentiment, she knew, stemmed from the depths of his heart and was part of what made her love him.

  “Chase, why didn’t Aunt Lonnie marry?” Laura asked. “I never wanted to embarrass her by asking, but I’m curious. She’s a great lady.”

  “Aunt Lonnie was engaged. Doug was a soldier and killed in Vietnam.” He paused for a moment remembering. “She said he was the love of her life, the best, and no one could replace him. She wasn’t going to try.”

  Chase got up and took two steps toward the varnished-stained desk. “There’s a scrapbook with some pictures.” He opened three drawers before he found the book. “Here we go.”

  He sat down next to Laura, their feet propped on the ottoman. Chase’s arm automatically swung around her shoulders, and she nestled against him.

  The first picture was a black-and-white snapshot of two dark-haired little girls in bathing suits, one about four years old, the other about six. Chase pointed to the older girl. “That’s Aunt Lonnie.” His index finger moved to the other child. “That’s my mother.”

  “Chase, you look exactly like your mother.”

  He snickered. “Much to my father’s chagrin. Of course, he would rather that I resembled him.”

  A page flip revealed a similar picture, but this one in color. Michelle Donovan, as a child, stared back. Full head of mixed dark and light brown wavy hair, big sapphire blue eyes, long, lean nose. Chase would never allow Dick Donovan to forget his late wife.

  “Your mother was beautiful,” Laura murmured.

  “Yeah, she was.” He stared a few long moments. He flipped the page. “That’s my grandmother and grandfather.”

  The picture appeared to be a Christmas card photo, in color. A toothily grinning family dressed in their Sunday best, sitting on a sofa surrounded by a mass of holly. Mother, father, and the two girls who were perhaps ten and twelve.

  “Or as Aunt Lonnie refers to your grandfather, the dummy who convinced your mother to marry your father,” Laura said.

  “That can get her on a pulpit.” Chase frowned. “Aunt Lonnie feels strongly my father married my mother for the business. I hope she didn’t bore you with her stories.”

  “No, I don’t find Aunt Lonnie boring at all.” Laura truly enjoyed the women’s breakfast chats. “She filled me in on the family history. She talks about her days as a teacher, and funny ‘whatever happened to’ stories of her students.”

  They looked at several more pictures of a teenaged Lonnie with Chase’s mother before they came across a young, twenty-something woman, with waist-length dark hair wearing jeans and a white tank top. With her was a soldier, around the same age, in U.S. Army fatigues. Smiling, wrapped in each other’s arms, were a beaming Lonnie and Doug, her soldier/fiancé.

  “Chase, she’s positively radiant. I’ve seen Aunt Lonnie smile, but never like that.”

  He studied the picture. “Yeah, it’s as if these days, she only goes through the motions.”

  “You can tell looking at this picture. They were so much in love,” Laura noted with a touch of melancholy.

  “While I was growing up, Aunt Lonnie talked about Doug all the time. Almost as if he hadn’t been killed. She doesn’t anymore.”

  Chase flicked through several more pictures with Lonnie and Doug before stopping at a bridal party. The bride dressed in layers of white chiffon, three bridesmaids in pink satin and lace, and a groom with his three groomsmen wearing black tuxes.

  “Mom and Dad’s wedding,” he said, eyes glued to the group. “I’m sure there was lots of arm twisting to get Aunt Lonnie to be Mom’s maid of honor.”

  “She loved her sister more than she hated your father.” Laura looked at the photo more closely. “It’s uncanny how much you resemble your mother. You both have the same beautiful blue eyes. I love your eyes.”

  “Me, too. They help me see,” he quipped.

  Laura’s elbow poked him playfully. For a man who claimed he was self-absorbed, Chase had difficulty accepting a compliment.

  He turned the page. “This is the happy group at some momentous anniversary bash,” he said. “The twenty-fifth, I’m pretty sure. It wasn’t long after this party my mother started feeling sick.” He turned back to the original wedding party, then over to the anniversary photo, comparing and contrasting. “Same people twenty-five years apart.”

  “Chase, Oliver Daniels was your father’s best man.”

  Chase stared at the pudgy man. “Oh, yeah. I forgot.”

  “And these other two men?” she inquired curiously.

  His index finger pointed to a tall, lanky man next to Daniels. “This one is Chuck Hunter.” His finger moved to the man next to Hun
ter. “This is Alan Blair. If you’re up on your politics, Blair’s some fancy federal judge.”

  She studied the picture. There was something familiar about the two men with Dick Donovan and Oliver Daniels. The mass of silver hair on one man, the tall, stick-like figure of the other.

  “I’ve seen these men,” she muttered.

  “In the newspaper, sure. Blair presides over a lot of drug cases. Chuck Hunter. Well, he’s far from an upstanding citizen. He was convicted of embezzling from his company some years ago. Drug charges, too, but they were dropped on a technicality. He’s probably still serving time.”

  Laura stared at the photo. She was totally convinced. “Chase, Chuck Hunter isn’t serving time anymore. I’ve seen all these men, together, with your father at the warehouse.”

  “My father hasn’t seen Blair or Hunter in years. Since my mother’s funeral,” Chase said. “If Blair knows what’s good for him, he’ll stay far away from Chuck Hunter. An embezzler slash drug trafficker hobnobbing with a judge, old Alan can kiss the federal bench goodbye. You’re mistaken, honey.”

  Laura was adamant. “No, Chase. I saw your father with these three men. About a month before Saunders came calling.”

  He looked at her seriously. “Tell me what you saw.”

  She paused, gathering her thoughts. “Those warehouse guys never remember to send the packing slips up with the receipts. I need both for the invoices. One day, it was pretty late. Rachel had left so it was after five, and — ” she stopped to recall more.

  “It was a Thursday, and I was taking a vacation day on Friday for Kate’s wedding rehearsal dinner,” she said quickly. Laura had been her friend’s maid of honor.

  “I wanted to print checks and leave them for you to sign,” she told Chase.

  He nodded his head, acknowledging. One of his few, but major, responsibilities was to sign account payable disbursement checks. If he were in the office while Laura printed checks, she passed them over for his signature. But if he wasn’t around, she left a note letting him know checks were locked in the safe, awaiting his signature.