Her Reason to Stay

by Anna Adams

  “I no longer believe her story about not having a problem.”

  “Did you ever?”

  “I thought she believed it. She has to realize something’s wrong if she’s willing to send a guy who shouldn’t be out of a jail cell to bring her son to whatever hole she calls home now.”

  “Good night.” He couldn’t let himself look at images of Will in a filthy room with Lisa and her ever-spiraling sickness. “And we don’t actually know for sure she arranged a kidnapping. I assumed it.”

  “With reason.”

  His mother gave up lecturing and headed into the night. He watched her get in her car and drive away. Then he locked the doors and set the alarm.

  The stairs seemed endless as he climbed toward Will. Would the cops find Lisa through her accomplice? He walked into his son’s room.

  He’d painted the bedroom wall with airplanes and balloons. Amateurish, but Will loved them. From the first time a jet had passed overhead on its way to Reagan National, Will had strained toward it from his baby carriage.

  Good thing Patrick wasn’t looking to share a family-law office with his son. If Will wasn’t a pilot-in-training, no one was.

  Will rolled over and held out his arms. “Where’s my Airbus, Dad?”

  “Here, buddy.” He picked it up from the floor. Once upon a long time ago, Lisa had cut and assembled a cloth Airbus and stuffed it to keep Will from poking his eye out with his plastic one while he was sleeping. Patrick tucked it into the crook of Will’s arm. “Night, son.”

  “Daddy?”

  “Huh?”

  Will flung his free arm over his head. “I miss my mommy.”

  “I know, bud, and she misses you, too.” The reassurance made him feel as if he’d swallowed poison. “Everything will be all right.”

  “Okay.”

  With a heavy heart, he turned down the dimmer on Will’s light switch. Ever since the divorce, Will was afraid of total darkness. Today wouldn’t change that for the better.

  The pediatrician said it was natural because his world had changed. For Patrick, it was a lot more specific. He and his son had learned there were monsters in the dark.

  He started toward his own room, but a knot of fear dragged him back. He lay down beside Will, who curled into his body.

  How would it be if he could lie here until Will’s nearness convinced him it was safe to go to his own room? And then in his bed, to find someone like Daphne—hell, to find Daphne—waiting for him? Wanting him with passion uncomplicated by fear and mistrust?

  It couldn’t happen.

  Even if his son were safe, would he or Will ever feel secure again? He stroked his boy’s hair away from his face and then kissed his temple.

  And eventually, after his mind stopped working at a frenetic pace, Patrick fell asleep.

  “I DON’T GIVE A DAMN about Patrick right now.” Raina opened her front door and reached back for one of Daphne’s bags, which she flung into the front hall.

  “Maybe he needs to relax once in a while,” Daphne said. “I don’t think he’s detached as he wants to be.”

  “Are you willing to let him use you?”

  Daphne tossed the rest of her things into Raina’s hall, as well, sobering at last. “He’s your best friend. Why would you think he’d use me?”

  Raina shut the wide door in silence. Immediately, the shadows gathered around them, and Daphne felt the house’s emptiness.

  “I know how afraid he is,” Raina said, calmer at last. “Will is his priority, Daphne, and you don’t strike me as being naive.”

  “I’m not.”

  “Then how do you explain tonight? How would you have felt if I was some cop? You have to know that your face would have been all over the paper because Patrick and I are news in this one-paper town.”

  “Are you worried because my face is also yours?”

  “I’m worried because you did a reckless thing this afternoon, helping Gloria knock that guy down, and then tonight you were downright courting disaster. Patrick blames Lisa for everything that’s happened to Will. He’s reluctant to be with you because you’re fighting an addiction. When you’re not sitting in his lap, he’s going to remember why he was unwilling to be with you.”

  “You sound like one of my foster mothers,” Daphne said, and then held up her hands as Raina looked disgusted. “I put that wrong, but she always said men were out for one thing. It’s not that simple, but you are right. He will remember, and I will be the bad woman again.”

  “Then what were you thinking?”

  “I have been a bad woman.” She went to the duffel where she hoped to find pajamas. “I’ve wanted safety more than anything else in the world. I understand Patrick’s instincts.”

  “Even if they’re designed specifically to hurt you?”

  “I’ll protect myself in the end, Raina. I won’t let him hurt me, but I’m feeling confident these days. I have you, and Miriam values me as a friend and an employee. Tonight was a nice night with good friends after something terrifying happened.”

  “So you and Patrick were simply reacting to fear for Will?” Raina opened a zip-up tote and yanked out pajamas and toothpaste and a toothbrush. “You are so disorganized.”

  “I’m happy.” Daphne caught her hand. “Because you accepted me, you made me start believing in myself, and I can’t go back. I won’t. You don’t need to worry.”

  “I love Patrick,” Raina said, “but you’re my sister.”

  Daphne hugged her. “Thanks for the room.”

  “Sure. Sorry I was so—”

  “Bossy?” Daphne suggested with a grin.

  Raina’s laugh matched the weary set of her shoulders. “You’re kind. Are you hungry? Thirsty?”

  “Ready for bed, if you’ll show me where it is.”

  “Let’s leave your stuff here. We can deal with it tomorrow.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  SECOND THOUGHTS KEPT Patrick from doing the right thing the next night and for twenty-some nights after that. He never contacted Daphne as they’d agreed. As he turned on his son’s night-light, he told himself he was being fair to her. Those moments in the car had changed their relationship and he didn’t want to hurt her.

  She wasn’t just a woman who made him want sex. She wasn’t like Lisa, some symbol of a wasted life that could put his son in the back of another freezing car.

  Daphne made him feel easier in his own skin. If not for Will, he’d have been unwilling to let her go, even with Raina.

  But he did have Will, and Daphne had a past she didn’t try to hide. Her problems kept her going to a church most nights for a meeting of people who no longer wanted to ruin their lives with addiction.

  Patrick went to his own room. His house was clean. His ritual was safe. His son slept down the hall, in part because Daphne had put herself in the way of Danny Frank, a junkie who’d refused in the past three weeks to admit he even knew Lisa.

  Patrick wasn’t as worried about Danny Frank. If he had a connection with Lisa, the police would find it, and her visitations with their son would be so restricted she’d never find the energy to carry through on the judge’s instructions to get treatment.

  His worry now was Daphne and his own ungovernable need. He’d been an attorney for a lot of years. She’d admitted to questionable behavior, but he needed dry facts without the emotion of sharing all the terrified moments she’d experienced in her life. He was hurting her and killing himself with his silence.

  Confirming the facts she’d shared, and learning more details was as simple as turning on the computer. Someone would have kept a record of a young woman who’d passed from foster home to foster home.

  He had no right to search. She’d revealed the part of her life she’d wanted him to know.

  Patrick went downstairs to his office in the back of the narrow house and turned on the computer. It whirred and clicked.

  He took a note from his desk drawer, the copy Daphne had sent to his office when she’d confirmed the time and da
te for her first meeting with Raina. Patrick stared at her name.

  Love had been missing from his life for a long time. Passion was a dim memory that haunted more than comforted.

  Until Daphne.

  Why couldn’t he just accept what she’d said? Why couldn’t he believe she’d never hurt Will?

  Staring at her note, he was struck. There was a reason he’d found only track-and-field results when he’d searched for Daphne Sodar. He’d spelled her last name wrong.

  Patrick stared from the note to his computer, up and running, humming in anticipation of a little work.

  He could let it all go. Concentrate on Will and work and recovering a livable life.

  Or he could believe Daphne. Accept her version of everything and let the rest of the world go hang. Except the biggest part of his world lay upstairs, already a victim of his father’s bad judgment.

  Swearing, Patrick tapped out Daphne’s name and the birth date he knew because he’d known her twin all her life. Several hits rolled up.

  A sealed juvenile record. His gut tightened, and he pushed back.

  It shouldn’t be a big surprise. She’d told him and he’d been startled to find nothing. But seeing it in black and white…Knowing that Lisa had come from a good family and a fine education and still couldn’t control the need that was ruining her life…

  Patrick had come to the bar believing humans learned the difference between right and wrong and knew how to choose a path that caused the least harm.

  But he’d been so blind he hadn’t seen the harm and neglect in his own home. The divorce had peeled the self-congratulatory film from his eyes. These days, while he’d ached for his son, he’d also found more sympathy for clients.

  The pattern was right there on his monitor screen, an incident that required police intervention, followed by periods of quiet. Trouble and redemption.

  What chance would Daphne have of staying out of trouble? With only her own instincts—loving, kind, courageous instincts—to support her she might easily succumb.

  He twisted his neck, his skin crawling at the thought of Daphne facing a cop, having chosen badly from her few options.

  “Damn it. Who the hell am I to judge?”

  He wasn’t even decent enough to turn his back on the electronic trail of Daphne’s history.

  He scrolled through the records on his monitor, the criminology degree, her success as a jury consultant. A phenomenal record. He’d have hired her in a heartbeat.

  A few screens later, her name came up in Milton Stegwell’s case. Daphne’s instincts had abandoned her. She’d believed the bastard. Four months later, Daphne had been arrested for driving under the influence.

  That had been a year ago. Nothing more showed on her record. She’d told him everything there was to discover. But was this the calm before her next storm?

  Patrick pushed back his chair again, his stomach heaving.

  SLEEP? It seemed to be avoiding her again.

  This wasn’t her kind of place, a mansion on a hill clinging like a vulture to the side of a Virginia mountain. She’d given in too easily.

  Being rescued wasn’t her kind of choice.

  She eased out of the massive suite across from her sister’s room. The wide stairs, almost as wide as one of the town’s winding roads, creaked as she tiptoed down them.

  She found the library and searched for a book on the towering shelves. Raina had lent her David Copperfield already, and the rest of the Charles Dickens set was waiting, but they were all so perfectly arranged, in such mint condition, highly prized.

  Tonight, feeling vulnerable and lost—because a man had avoided her since the night they’d feverishly torn at each other’s clothes—she couldn’t make herself pull another volume down. She could get her books from the public library and avoid the worry of marring the pristine Abernathy books. She didn’t belong here.

  Patrick wasn’t her only problem. After all, she could tell him he needed her until she was blue in the face, but she understood she couldn’t make him feel safe with her. She loved living with Raina, loved her new, quiet life in Honesty, and the certainty that she was making good on all the promises she’d made after the DUI incident.

  But she was sheltering in safety. She had to live again, choose a future, not wait for it to come her way. Maybe she’d been hoping Patrick would love her and take away the responsibility of making choices.

  She turned toward the windows and nearly walked into the liquor cabinet. Cut glass glittered, flashing the rich colors of the drink inside.

  Daphne licked her lips.

  God, a drink would taste good. Would feel good.

  She clenched her hands behind her back.

  “Daph?”

  She whirled. Raina, dazed with sleep, stood in the doorway. An angel in the nick of time.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “I’ve never had a nickname.”

  “Daphne took too long. I’m dead on my feet, but I must have heard you come down here. Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.” Better especially since her sister was between her and the liquor cabinet.

  “Did you have a nightmare?” Clinging to the door frame, her hair falling in strands over her shoulders, Raina opened one eye. “Are you—” That question, she didn’t finish, but she didn’t have to when her gaze twitched to the abundant supply of booze. “What are you doing?”

  “Going back to bed.” She wouldn’t thank her sister for saving her because she didn’t want Raina to think she always turned to a bottle when she felt lost.

  “Wait for me.” Raina caught the light switch and followed Daphne up the stairs. “You have to work tomorrow.”

  “Uh-huh. That might be the answer.”

  “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  “I think you need sleep. I hear you walking around at night.”

  “I’ll be okay.”

  “Night,” Raina said at her room.

  “Good night.”

  Daphne closed the bedroom door behind herself and walked the mile it took to reach her borrowed bed. She climbed in, enjoying the texture of sheets that must have an astronomical thread count. She resisted pulling them over her head.

  Tomorrow she’d start a new résumé. Patrick and selling flowers and a couple of months of no pressure had been a nice diversion, but it was time to face real life.

  DAPHNE LEFT EARLY to work on her résumé at the library’s computers. With the file nicely begun, she stopped for a vat of strong coffee on her way to work.

  Thanks in part to Raina, she’d avoided temptation, but she felt as if she had the hangover anyway. She’d learned to be around alcohol. She had friends who drank and to expect them to abstain in front of her would have been ridiculous. But when the need came back, as it had last night, it terrified her.

  At the shop she pushed through the door and proved the maxim that eavesdroppers hear no good about themselves.

  “I don’t care what you say, Miriam. There’s something funny about a woman who comes to town practically the day her doppelganger buries her mother.”

  “You don’t know what’s between Raina Abernathy and Daphne Soder. Neither do I. What I know is that she works hard and takes on more work than I expected when I placed that ad, and I’m happy to have her. Now, if you want an arrangement, I’ll be glad to make it, but if you insult my employee and make her leave me high and dry, I’m going to be angry.”

  “You’re my cousin, Miriam. Don’t act like this isn’t my business.”

  “Until you start signing my mortgage checks, I’m not acting.”

  She walked into the main shop, all but herding an older woman toward the door. The woman’s perfect taupe linen suit proclaimed her one of Raina’s crowd. Daphne walked to the counter and pulled out an apron.

  “We should apologize,” Miriam said.

  “It’s okay.” Daphne had expected worse from the moment she’d parked that first day. “I’ll start sweeping in the back.”
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br />   “This is my cousin, Elaine Havers. Elaine, Daphne. My friend,” she said with extra emphasis.

  Elaine held out her hand. “Nice to meet you. I know Raina well.”

  Daphne left the bait in the water. “I’ll tell her you said hello.” She shook the woman’s hand, smiled as brightly as she could while someone played a cracked Liberty Bell in her head and marched past the two women, grabbing a broom along the way.

  The bell over the door tinkled, and then footsteps came back. She didn’t look up.

  “I wanted to talk to you anyway,” Miriam said.

  “It’s fine. Everyone keeps reminding me this is a small town. I’m happy to provide entertainment.”

  “Not about my nutty cousin. You’re doing more work than I’m paying you for. I need to give you a raise.”

  Daphne paused with the broom jammed under a shelf of orchids. “You don’t have to bribe me because your cousin was rude.”

  “It’s no bribe. Just bad timing. Let’s consider it done.”

  “Actually, I needed to talk to you.”

  “You’re quitting?”

  Daphne laughed, although she felt guilty because Miriam looked stricken. “I’m not leaving, but I am going to start advertising for my old job.”

  “I love Elaine, but sometimes I can’t stand her,” Miriam said. “She always judges people by the cars they drive, the clothes they wear. She’d never dare talk to Raina like that.”

  “It’s not Elaine. I’ve been feeling as if I needed to do this. Honesty is a small town and I probably won’t find cases right away. I may never find a steady stream of work, so I’ll be grateful for a steady paycheck here if you don’t mind my doing both. It would mean a change in schedule sometimes.”

  “We’ll work around it. You’re sure you’re not letting Elaine push you out of here?”

  “Not a chance.” She swept a couple of feet, raising more dust than she was collecting. Her hand trembled on the broom. Funny how making the right decision could shake a woman. “Do you mind if I take a long lunch today?”

  “I probably owe you time.”