SING ME HOME (Love Finds A Home - Book One)

by Jerri Corgiat

  Reaching the store, she set Michael loose to choose a present. He latched onto a lime green, stuffed dinosaur twice as big as himself and three times more expensive than anything else, but she didn’t care. She charged it, along with a new game for Hank and Daisy, a doll for Rose, and a few books for Melanie, on the card Peter had given her. She didn’t feel a twinge from her conscience.

  Herding the children out of the toy store, she glimpsed the greasy-haired photographer with a wart on his nose. He’d dogged their steps at every opportunity since the wedding. She ignored him. As long as he kept a civil distance, what would a few pictures of an innocent outing matter? What had Jon said? Feed the beasts a few morsels or something like that. In fact, Jon would probably be proud of the favorable publicity, since his career obviously was more important than anything else.

  After stuffing Puff the Dragon into the van, they moved on to the Belly-Up Bumper Boats, where they butted each other until all of them were soaked and laughing. After, they tramped dripping into the Levi Outlet for dry clothes, and Lil’s spirits lifted at the thought of more charges on Jon’s card. Wart-nose followed, hovering in the background, thumbing through a rack of shirts but keeping his eyes on them.

  Still ignoring him, Lil retired to a changing room to try on a pair of white jeans with the sweetest pink flowers embroidered on the pockets. They were the most expensive ones she could find. As she zipped up and turned to the mirror, a lens poked through the curtains. Whirling, she snatched the camera from a startled Wart-nose. She pushed her face into his narrow one. Up close, he had large pores, thinning hair and bad breath. She wanted to screech at him—at anybody, really—but kept her voice low. No scene would disturb Michael’s day.

  “If you don’t keep your distance, I’m smashing this on the floor.” She let the camera dangle from one finger. He nodded and gulped, Adam’s apple looking like he’d swallowed a marble.

  She hesitated a moment, tempted to let the camera drop to the floor anyway, but from the look of his frayed shirt and pants, shiny at the knees—not to mention the alarm on his face— she knew he didn’t have the funds to replace his equipment. She couldn’t do it.

  She shoved the camera at him so hard he banged into the wall behind him. “Get out of here.”

  He scampered back down the hall, and she whisked the curtains closed. Sagging against the mirror, she held her hands against her pounding chest. Maybe Jon had been right, maybe they should go home.

  Michael’s laughter sounded from the store, and she straightened, resolve returning. She wouldn’t let his son’s big day be spoiled any more than it had to.

  During the next hour, Wart-nose kept to their bargain. Without incident, they visited the Old Timers Photo Shoppe, where they dressed like hillbillies and posed with straw between their teeth, then went on to Hottest Wheels Go-Karts.

  While they belted into their carts—Michael and her in one two-seater, Rose and Zinnia in another and the older children opting for Little Bobbins—Wart-nose folded his stove-pipe legs into a Big Wheels racer of his own.

  For the first two loops, he clicked away from afar, and Lil, enjoying Michael’s squeals and the wind furrowing her hair, forgot him. But on the third loop, Wart-nose darted in front of them, twisting to frame them in his lens. Lil gasped, unable to slow their cart. They banged against his back bumper, and their small two-seater swerved out of control and smashed into the wall. His cart swung around and pinned theirs. Her head whipped back against the seat, and Michael cried out. For a second, Wart-nose looked concerned, but then he yanked up his camera and snapped away.

  Filled with equal parts fear and rage, Lil twirled the steering wheel and punched the accelerator, trying to find reverse. The tires whined, but the cart only rattled.

  Zinnia rounded the curve. The ribbons on her hat streamed behind her. From the set of her chin, Lil knew she’d grasped their predicament. Zinnia flung an arm in front of Rose and yelled, “Hold on!”

  Lil did likewise with Michael, just in case Zinnia missed her target. But she didn’t. With a satisfying scrunch, Zinnia smashed the rear of Wart-nose’s cart.

  Photographer and cart skidded across the track. The camera flew into the air, landing on an embankment. Wart Nose scrambled out of his cart and after the camera.

  Freed, Lil roared back to the starting gate, braked and waved her arms at the others to halt. Bug-eyed with excitement, Daisy and Melanie scrambled out of their carts while Lil unstrapped Hank with shaking hands. Then, Zinnia grabbed Rose’s hand, Lil clutched Michael’s, and they sprinted for the van. When they reached it, Lil looked over her shoulder. Wart-nose had paused at the exit, head swiveling. He spotted them and dashed toward a battered Studebaker.

  Breath coming in shallow gasps, she got the kids belted and jumped into the passenger seat. Zinnia slammed the gears into reverse. A Blazer raced out of nowhere and screeched to a stop behind them. Zinnia stomped the brakes, sending everyone into their seat belts. Rose whimpered. Frantically, Lil signaled the Blazer on, watching as the Studebaker coughed to life and lurched from its parking space. But the Blazer didn’t move. Instead, its tinted windows slid down and a flurry of cameras waved at them.

  “Dammit,” Lil muttered under her breath, grappling to undo her belt and urging the children to do the same.

  When they were ready, Zinnia counted, “One…two…”

  In a flurry, they all bailed and raced across the street to Frank’s Frozen Custard, Rose’s whimpers turning to tears, Daisy and Michael whooping with excitement, Melanie and Hank holding hands and running as fast as their skinny legs could carry them.

  They reached the door almost neck and neck with Wart-Nose, Lil pulled Rose and Michael in front of her and fumbled at the handle while Zinnia sandwiched the other three between her body and Lil’s. She swung her purse, a good half ton, at Wart-nose’s camera. Beyond him, Lil could see the other photographers at the curb, chafing against a surge of traffic.

  Zinnia puffed. “Get that thing outta here.”

  The bag connected with his elbow. He grimaced. “Why you…”

  Michael darted forward and kicked his shin. “Don’t you touch Grandma Zinnia!”

  The photographer lunged at Michael. “I’ll show you manners, my fellow,” he huffed, but a swarm of children engulfed him, pulling his greasy hair, pinching and slapping.

  Daisy got him a good right in the gut just as two other photographers caught up to them. The man doubled over, and his camera clattered to the ground.

  The door finally gave way, and Lil pulled the children inside. Zinnia backed in, bag still swinging. Lil slammed the door. They fell back against it as the photographers yowled like alley cats and pushed from the other side. Using all her strength, Lil drove the bolt home, then turned, panting, to face the two startled clerks behind the counter. The photographers hammered on the glass outside.

  Attempting to keep her voice steady, she explained their situation and asked for a phone. Their eyes rounded even more at the mention of Jonathan Van Castle’s name.

  Zinnia shooed the children into a booth at the back, then pulled a sobbing Rose onto her lap. Brown eyes big as baseballs, Hank huddled next to them. Melanie slid into the corner, her cheek turned to the torn vinyl, her hair hiding her face. Michael picked up a straw and shot at the photographers with his pretend gun from over the back of the seat. Her giggles bordering on hysteria, Daisy danced in front of the windows. The cameramen shot back with their lenses through the filmy glass.

  One of the clerks pointed to a public phone, and the other went to bolt the back door. Hands trembling, Lil fumbled in her purse. A quarter fell and rolled under a table. She bent to retrieve it and knocked her head on the chrome edge. She blinked back tears. Michael’s birthday should be a special day. Not this nightmare. Lil fed in her coins and prayed someone would be at the cabana. It was the only number she’d memorized, and in her rush, she’d forgotten the cell phone Peter had given her.

  On the first ring, Jon barked a terse hello.
<
br />   She swallowed a sob of relief. “Jon—”

  “Where in the hell are you?” Fury snarled across the line.

  Her anger sparked. How dare he growl at her? Maybe she’d blundered, but if it wasn’t for him, they wouldn’t be in this mess. “Maybe the better question is, where in the hell were you?”

  There was a beat of silence. “Okay, I forgot, satisfied? Zeke reminded me when I went to meet him, but if you only knew what I’ve been through, trying to get this show shaped up and—”

  “Spare me.”

  His breath came in tight rasps. He took a new tack. “When I got back here and found only a few balloons in the kitchen… Do you know how worried I’ve been? I’ve thought kidnapping, ransom, murder, mayhem. How many times have I told you—”

  “I know!” She dropped her forehead against the cool tile alongside the phone booth, anger subsiding. He was right. She should never have taken the children without Roy. In a small voice, she relayed a brief version of the day’s events.

  “That’s great, just great.”

  Couldn’t he offer at least a shred of sympathy? An ounce of understanding? She blinked back tears. “Please, don’t scold me now. Just send Roy.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  ON THE CABANA deck, under a hazy morning sun, Jon dragged a canvas chair within leg reach of the edge, flopped down and crossed his ankles on the railing. The deck was shaded by oaks and positioned to catch a breeze, but give it another hour, and living things would fry out here. He pulled a band from his pocket and yanked his hair back into a tail. He gazed out at the boats zipping across the ruffled green of Kesibwi and waited for Lil.

  Last evening, waiting by the window, it hadn’t been until he’d spotted the limo edging its way through the canopy of trees, Roy’s reassuring bulk in the driver’s seat, that his pulse had returned to anywhere near normal. He’d watched as Mel had unloaded first. Her tongue between her teeth, she’d tugged on the end of something bright green and finally succeeded in freeing a monstrous stuffed animal attached to Michael at the other end. Then a slim foot had appeared, and Lil had stepped out.

  He’d ignored the leap in his heart when he saw she was safe—that they were safe—and stoked his fury instead. Then he had to stifle it when two bodies had hurtled through the door and wrapped themselves around his legs. Lil had hovered uncertainly in the doorway. While the kids had babbled about their day’s experiences, he’d lofted Michael onto his shoulder and wrapped an arm around Melanie, feeling a faint glow of self-righteousness when he’d granted Lil only a cool stare. Tit for tat. Almost immediately, though, the glow had faded in a fit of self blame. Only the day before he’d promised her more time, and look at him now, he’d forgotten Michael’s birthday.

  But it was still Michael’s birthday. As the kids had chattered on, Michael in a high, excited voice, Mel’s more trembly, he’d inserted a word here or there and elicited an enthusiastic response for his just-thought-up plans for a poolside cookout for Michael. Zeke gathered the crew while Lil, with downcast eyes and a dutiful expression that made him want to shake her, had gathered the party goods. They’d all trekked down the hill, the party had gone off without a hitch, and then Lil had packed the kids to bed while he’d packed himself off to rehearsal.

  But not before Lil had stuffed a wrapped package in his arms. “For Michael,” she’d said. “He’ll never know you didn’t pick it out.”

  Damn her. Damn her stubbornness, damn her know-everything blue eyes and her clenched jaw and her gentle smile and her thoughtfulness and the soft curves of her body, which swept through his dreams. He gave his knuckles a good workout and then pulled a pop from his pocket and stuck it in his mouth. He let the wrapper flutter to the wood planks and lay there.

  About ten minutes ago, he’d surprised Roy and his family with a pre-noon appearance. They’d been having brunch on the deck, the kids still pajama-clad and Lil wearing her ratty, old robe. Shortly after he’d returned near dawn, he’d heard them rise but decided a few hours sleep was necessary before he faced Lil. He didn’t know whether to pounce on her or beg her forgiveness.

  She’d just gone in to change her clothes, apparently having decided she’d be better armored without the bathrobe for whichever tack he decided to take. She was likely formulating an attack on his broken promises, but, goddammit, this was one thing he did know something about, and she couldn’t just—

  Behind him, Lil cleared her throat.

  “What in the hell did you think you were doing?” Each word was an ice chip.

  She didn’t respond, and he twisted to see her. She stood in front of the doors in white jeans and a white top, both sprinkled with dusty-pink flowers, hands clasped, head bowed, her curls a pale yellow halo. His heart softened, but when he thought of what might have happened to her—to them—it hardened again.

  “I know I shouldn’t have taken them without Roy, but I—”

  He stabbed the lollipop stick at her. “You sure as shit shouldn’t have. I’ve told you over and over, it’s not safe for them. But no. Lil always knows what’s best. Lil knows what’s best for her family, for Mari, for me, for my kids, for my life.”

  She flashed him a look that held—what, anger? She should be glad he didn’t turn her over his knee. The thought was tempting.

  He unlocked an ankle and kicked at a chair only a few inches away from his. “Sit.”

  She sat, a demure pose, hands clasped in her lap, eyes lowered.

  “Dammit, Lil, you can’t just go off half-cocked and do whatever you want. Give me some credit, woman. I’ve lived this life for a lot of years. I know what can happen. And I’ve told you what can happen. Yesterday you risked your—risked their lives. There aren’t any excuses.” He emphasized his words by hurling the lollipop toward the lake.

  Lil’s head shot up, and she regarded him with arctic eyes. “Excuses? You want to talk about excuses? All right, then. Let’s start with why you seem to break promises faster than you can make them. And then there’s the big one. How could you forget Michael’s birthday? If you’d seen your son’s face when you didn’t show up for his party.… You didn’t, but I did. I did! His heart was in pieces, and you left me to sweep up the mess. So I did the best I could. I took them out because they don’t have a father they can count on.”

  He flushed with anger, with shame—and with something else, something that escaped him, something that made heat flare in his gut and the hairs rise on the back of his neck. Lil was dynamite in her outrage. Twin spots of red stained her cheeks. Her chest rose and fell with each indignant breath. Her eyes flashed blue lightning. She was fire. She was ice.

  And…she was right.

  He stared at her, nailed by her defiant gaze, and the atmosphere shifted. Out of the embers of fury rose an emotion as illusive as smoke. He could see it in the sudden, confused swirl of gray that veiled her eyes, hear it in her sharp intake of breath. It drifted between them whispering of need and want, of desire and longing.

  He leaned toward her. Her eyes widened and grew wary, but she didn’t move from the hand he laid on her arm. Her skin was soft, warm silk. She shuddered once, then stilled.

  His nostrils flared at her sweet scent. “Lil…”

  Roy banged open the sliding door. Lil gave her head a slight shake and drew back. Jon looked at Roy in annoyance.

  Roy shook his head. “Sorry. But I think you’d better come in here.”

  Inside, Jon heard a breathless voice with a shrill undernote. Belinda.

  His jaw clenched. “How’d she get past the front desk?”

  Lil’s curious gaze bounced between them. Roy shrugged, hands spread in a what-can-I-do gesture. Jon sighed and nodded. He knew from experience not even Roy could fend her off. Might as well get this over with—whatever this was.

  Sighing, he got to his feet and moved indoors, Lil close behind him.

  “There you are!” Belinda traipsed toward him with the effervescence of a cheerleader.

  Roy snuck toward the kitchen, a
nd Jon wished he could follow.

  He glanced at Lil. Her eyes had widened. No wonder. Belinda looked great. Her figure was petite but curvy, handfuls in all the right places. A short dress revealed her well-molded legs and stretched to barely cover her tush, but its pale pink color and the tiny, gold chains wrapping her waist and one ankle were demure. Matching links dangled from her earlobes. Her waterfall, brown curls fell in shiny waves, her brown eyes were clear—and lit with spite when they landed on him.

  Jagged shards of anger over what the kids had suffered at her hands pierced the ballooning guilt he always felt when he saw her. He studied her with the same fascination he’d give roadside kill. What was she? Demon or misunderstood soul? He tamped down his rage. He didn’t want to tip his hand too soon.

  His expression a mix of embarrassment and dopey lust, the guy—Neil?—from Serenity Gardens trailed behind her like an adoring beagle. Jon took one look and didn’t need a score to tell him Belinda played Neil like a fiddle.

  “What’re you doing here?” he asked.

  Lil frowned at the abrasion in his voice, but Belinda only shot him a look that would wither grass. Hand extended, she tripped over to Lil. “Good thing I still have friends among your guard dogs, isn’t it? Else I’d never get to meet the second Mrs. Van Castle, the… What was it? Oh, yes. Weeping Beauty. Lifesaver Lil.” Her laugh trilled. “Don’t the press think they’re just so clever? Since Jon is being rude, let me introduce myself. I’m the first Mrs. Van Castle.” With a polite smile, Lil took her hand. “Mother of our children.” Belinda continued, then added with no change in her pleasant expression. “And don’t you ever forget it.”

  Lil dropped Belinda’s hand.