"I'm just glad that you are." He walked toward her and waved a hand toward a nearby pew. "Will you sit down?"
Sarah did as he asked, sliding down, leaving several cautious feet between them as he joined her on the bench.
"Can you tell me what has gone wrong in your life? What has brought you such pain?" he asked.
She didn't say anything for a long moment, her face turned toward the ground, her long hair providing a curtain to guard her expression. Jonathan didn't move. He didn't press. He just waited, hoping the quiet of the church, the spiritual strength of their surroundings, would give her the courage to speak.
"I made a big mistake," she said finally.
"What kind of a mistake?"
"My baby."
A sense of dread filled his soul. He prayed that he wouldn't hear she had harmed her child. For how could he protect her from the consequences of such a horrific deed?
"What happened to your baby?" he asked slowly, trying not to let any emotion show in his voice. He didn't want to scare her or threaten her; he wanted her confidence.
"I left her with someone without even asking. I couldn't stand her crying, and I wasn't sure I could keep her safe or provide for her."
Jonathan let the breath out of his chest with a feeling of relief that the baby was alive and, he hoped, well. "Why don't you start at the beginning, Sarah?"
"Where is that?" she asked in bewilderment, raising her head to look at him.
He saw the confusion in her eyes and a hopelessness that touched him deep inside. Sometimes he wondered how he could counsel those who had suffered so much more than he had suffered. How could he understand their pain? How could he reach them when he'd never been to that place where they lived, that bleak, despairing, hopeless place? He was a minister who had grown up in the suburbs, who had never known hunger or thirst, never had to wonder where he came from or where he was going. Sometimes the responsibility of his ministry overwhelmed him with feelings of his own inadequacy. But he couldn't give up. He had to try, even if it meant floundering like a bull in a china shop.
"Start wherever you want," he said to Sarah, hoping it was the right thing to say. For he wanted to help this young woman, wanted to help her more than he'd ever wanted to help anyone.
She looked away from him toward the altar where the candles from the service still burned brightly. She seemed suddenly mesmerized by the flames.
"Fire," she murmured. "I think it started with the fire."
"What fire?"
She started at his question, a shutter coming across her eyes, closing him out, and he silently cursed his own impatience.
"It doesn't matter," she said.
"Is your baby safe, Sarah? That's the most important thing. You must tell me if the child is all right."
She nodded tightly. "She's safe."
"A girl?"
"Yes. Her name is Emily." Sarah's face softened with the love that filled her eyes. "She's a beautiful baby. I never thought I could have anything so perfect."
He smiled gently. "Emily is a lovely name."
"I used to have a doll named EmmaLou. She was my best friend. She wasn't a doll really, just a stick with a doll face on the end of it. Mattie made it for me one day when I was crying because I wanted a dolly, and we didn't have any money to buy a real one." She jerked again, hugging her arms around her waist, as if afraid she had told him too much.
Jonathan had the urge to touch her on the shoulder or the hand, a gesture of comfort, but he held back, afraid even the simplest touch would send her running. She reminded him of the animals at his grandfather's farm, the skittish horses, dogs, and cats who had been mistreated elsewhere, then rescued by his grandfather and protected at his farm. Saving people and animals was a family tradition. His grandfather had had the touch with animals, his father with people. And Jonathan was still trying to find his touch, his way.
"I'd like to talk to you some more, Sarah. Why don't you come next door with me? We can have lunch. I promise it will be good, because I didn't make it."
Sarah didn't respond at all to his encouraging smile. Instead, she bit down on her bottom lip, which he could see she'd already worried into tiny red blisters. "Will anyone else be there?"
"Just me."
"I don't know. I don't even know why I came here. I can't seem to stay away."
"That's why I'm here, Sarah, to talk to people who need to be here. You can trust me. I won't hurt you."
"I don't trust anyone," she said quickly.
"I'm sorry to hear that. Will you come anyway?"
Her face suddenly crumpled and tears slid down her cheeks in quiet agony. "I'm so tired and hungry and scared. I don't know what to do. I don't know where to go."
"I can take care of the hunger and the tiredness," Jonathan said decisively. "And I can promise you that you'll be safe." He stood up and held out his hand to her.
"Come with me, Sarah." He had to help her. He had to save her. If he could do that, maybe he could be worthy of his calling.
She hesitated, then slowly took his hand. Her palm was ice-cold, and he felt chilled at the touch. At the same time, her hand felt completely right in his. She needed his warmth, and he needed, God help him, he needed her soul.
Chapter Eight
Matt stepped out of Caitlyn's car and stared at the large expanse of manicured green lawn leading up to a stately Spanish-style house with white stucco and a red shingled roof. The house was in St. Francis Wood, a San Francisco neighborhood he had never seen. And what a neighborhood it was, with large homes set on even larger lots, an unusual occurrence in a city where most houses shared walls and backyards. But these homes were set apart, as if daring anyone to compare them to each other. And this was where Caitlyn had grown up.
Matt had never really felt a class distinction with a woman before, but he had to admit that he felt like he should be using the servant's entrance. He glanced over at Caitlyn, wondering if she, too, was having second thoughts about having asked him to come to brunch, but she was busy unhooking Emily's car seat.
His breath caught in his chest at the sight of her feminine form, alluring in a tantalizingly thin floral dress the color of pink roses. Her legs were bare, her feet encased in thin strappy sandals, and her long blond hair was pulled back in a gold clip at the base of her neck. She was pretty, a ray of sunshine, a golden girl. He took a breath of much-needed air and wondered what the hell he was doing with such a girl.
"I've got her," Caitlyn said with a smile, holding the car seat aloft. "I think Emily has gained weight. She feels heavier."
"I'll take her," he said gruffly, still annoyed with himself and his ridiculous attraction to someone completely wrong for him.
"What did I say?" Caitlyn asked.
Once again she surprised him with her perceptiveness. Didn't she ever miss anything? "Nothing. Let's get this show on the road."
"All right, but you'll have to lose the scowl first."
He forced a phony smile on his face. "Better?"
"Not much. Relax, Matt. They're not that bad."
'Tell me again who will be here," Matt said as they walked up the flower-lined path.
"My parents, Marilyn and Colin, my cousin Jolie and her parents, Sharon and Brady, my aunt and uncle, and maybe the Myers, their best friends."
"And Brian."
"Yes, at least that's what he said. No one else saw fit to mention he had an invitation. They must be going for the surprise attack."
"My favorite kind." Emily made a little gurgle, and Matt flung Caitlyn a grin. "Speaking of surprises, I doubt they're expecting the two of us. Don't you think you should have called?"
"There's always enough food to feed an army. Don't worry. No one will care that you've come with me."
"Oh, I think they'll care. And so do you. That's why you brought me."
She put a hand on his arm, her brown eyes suddenly serious. "I brought you because I really need a friend today. And while Jolie is my dear, dear friend, she's always
torn between the family commitment and the friendship thing. Since you don't know any of them, you'll have to be on my side. I know we're not really friends, but maybe just for today you could fake it?"
She seemed unsure of his answer, and it surprised him, reminding him that this beautiful, bright woman had demons of her own to fight. "I'm on your side, Caitlyn. And I won't be faking it."
"Thanks." Caitlyn led him up the front steps. She took a deep breath, then rang the bell.
"Don't you have a key?"
"I don't like to use it. When they have to answer the door, it reminds them that I don't live here anymore, and I don't have to do everything they want me to do."
"Honey, if you're relying on a doorbell to state your independence, I think you've got a ways to go."
"It's a start. Mother!" she exclaimed as the door opened to reveal a stunningly beautiful blonde in a turquoise linen dress.
Matt had to stop his jaw from dropping. From Caitlyn's description, he'd been expecting someone formidable, stern even, but this woman was laughing and smiling and offering her daughter a hug. Then she turned her bright blue eyes on him with genuine curiosity.
"Hello," she said.
"This is Matt Winters," Caitlyn said. "My mother, Marilyn Devereaux."
"It's a pleasure," Marilyn said. "And who is this darling with you?" She leaned over and took a deep breath. "I love the smell of babies. Isn't she just precious?"
"This is Emily, Matt's niece," Caitlyn explained. "He's baby-sitting for a few days."
"How wonderful. I love a man who is good with children. I'm afraid Caitlyn's father was always a bit too vague to be trusted with the details," she said with a charming laugh. "But come in, please. We're so happy to have you here. Any friend of Caitlyn's is a friend of ours."
Matt stepped through the front door, feeling like Alice going down the rabbit hole. The house was exquisitely decorated, hardwood floors, antiques, mirrors... it all passed in a blur as they walked through the living room, dining room, and family room to the backyard, where a redwood deck spanned the entire length of the house. The rest of the group was sitting at tables on the deck, drinking what looked to be champagne cocktails. The gathering was rich, sophisticated, and out of his league. What on earth would he say to these people?
Fortunately, he didn't have to worry about conversation, because Emily proved to be an incredible icebreaker. After the introductions, he set her car seat down on the table, and the ladies in the group immediately encircled the baby, each pleading with Caitlyn for a chance to hold Emily. She laughingly told them to take turns, sending Matt a warm smile of her own. Caitlyn was pleased that the baby was getting all the attention and so was he.
Caitlyn's father had barely said hello to Matt. Colin Devereaux was engrossed in a conversation with someone named Jack Myers about the temperature conditions on a distant planet and an experiment to be conducted by astronauts aboard the space shuttle. The man didn't even notice the people moving around him, the other conversations, the housekeeper serving appetizers, the music playing softly in the background. No wonder Caitlyn had said her father lived on another plane.
"So you're Matt," a woman said, speculation ringing in her voice as she stopped next to him.
Matt glanced warily at the beautiful redhead with the stunning figure. She seemed to be the only female in the garden unaffected by baby mania.
"I'm Jolie," she reminded him. "I'm Caitlyn's partner in crime, or at least I used to be. You seem to have taken my place."
"Only temporarily," he said hastily, not sure he liked the inquisitive gleam in Jolie's eye.
"That's a shame. I haven't seen Caitlyn smile like that in a long time."
He followed her gaze, watching as Caitlyn swung Emily up into her arms as naturally as if she were Emily's mother. It struck him how good she was with the baby, how suited she was to motherhood. She was meant to be married, to be loved. He could easily see her with a bunch of kids running around her legs, laughing, squealing, loving her. And this setting fit her perfectly, too, the gardens, the champagne, the beauty of it all. Maybe Caitlyn was right. Maybe she didn't need to read the newspaper. Maybe she didn't need to know all the bad stuff.
They might live in the same apartment building, but they did not live in the same world, and he couldn't start thinking they did. Caitlyn wasn't his girlfriend, and hell, Emily wasn't even his baby. He had to remember that, remember all of it, before he got sucked into wanting all of this to be his.
"I'm surprised Caitlyn brought you," Jolie added, drawing his attention back to her.
He folded his arms across his chest, trying not to look any more uncomfortable than he felt.
"Don't worry, I know which fork to use."
"Ooh, touchy, aren't you? I just meant that Caitlyn doesn't usually bring eligible men anywhere near her mother," Jolie said. "Marilyn is like a shark. She can smell fresh blood from a mile away."
"I'm not eligible."
Jolie raised an eyebrow, perusing him in such a way that another man might think she was actually interested in him, but he had a feeling she was more interested for Caitlyn's sake than for her own.
"You look pretty eligible to me," she purred. "I don't see a wedding ring."
"That doesn't mean I'm available."
"I don't see a girlfriend either."
"That is none of your business. And Caitlyn and I are neighbors, that's it."
"Whatever you say."
She didn't believe him, and to tell the truth, he wasn't so sure he believed himself. It certainly didn't explain why he felt like kissing Caitlyn every other second, or why watching Caitlyn with Emily made him feel protective of both of them.
"How long will you be watching your niece?" Jolie asked.
"I'm not sure."
"Then you and Emily will be quite a distraction for our Caity. She loves kids, always has. How about you?"
"I -- I never thought about it."
Matt looked up as another man stepped onto the deck -- Brian. He wore slacks and a sport coat almost identical to the one Caitlyn's father was wearing, Matt realized. In fact, as the younger man greeted the older one, they could have been mistaken for father and son. Caitlyn's father's face lit up as he drew Brian into his conversation. It was quite a different response than Matt had received, although he supposed an astrophysicist had more in common with Colin Devereaux than a newspaperman who spent more time investigating the underworld than the heavenly sky.
"Ah, that's the reason you're here," Jolie murmured. "Caity suspected a setup." She nodded approvingly. "Good for her. Better to attack than to go on defense. Don't you agree?"
"That's always been my motto," he said, deciding he liked Jolie despite her prying. She struck him as a woman who'd seen a few games played in her life and had figured out a way to win. She also appeared to be loyal to Caitlyn, although Matt knew that alliances could be deceiving.
"He's here," Caitlyn said tightly, joining Matt and Jolie, having successfully handed Emily over to her mother. "Look at him, he's the prodigal son come back."
"Maybe if you told us all what happened," Jolie said pointedly, "we could treat Brian accordingly."
Matt shot Caitlyn a curious look. Why hadn't she told her parents and her best friend that she'd been devastated by Brian's departure when she was still in the hospital? Was she protecting him? If so, why? Because she still loved him? Because she was thinking of going back to him? For some reason the thought of that disturbed Matt more than he cared to admit.
"Oh, dear, I hope this won't be awkward," Marilyn Devereaux interrupted as she joined them with Emily in her arms. "I thought it might be nice for you and Brian to meet on neutral ground, Caitlyn. I didn't know you were bringing another man."
"This is hardly neutral ground, Mother," Caitlyn retorted. "And you might have consulted with me first."
Good for you, Matt silently cheered her on. Despite Marilyn's charming manner, he had a feeling this was a woman who had her iron fist hidden in a velvet glov
e.
"I'm sorry, dear. I've been so worried about you. You haven't been yourself. And I hate to see you just drifting along. You haven't even been able to draw lately. And you know how much you love to draw." Her expression changed to inquisitive as she turned her attention to Matt. "Are you an artist, too, Mr. Winters?"
"I'm a reporter for the Herald."
"How fascinating."
He suspected that the fact he was with Caitlyn was what made him most fascinating to her.
"And you're single?" Marilyn continued.
"Mother!" Caitlyn protested.
"I'm just interested, Caitlyn."
Emily started to squirm, and Marilyn Devereaux wrinkled her nose as the four of them were suddenly assaulted by a distinctive odor. "Oh, dear, not exactly conducive to brunch."
Matt took Emily into his arms. In truth, he was just as relieved to have this female to deal with; at least she couldn't ask personal questions or examine him like a bug under a microscope.
"Why don't we take Emily inside and change her?" Caitlyn suggested.
"You should speak to Brian, Caitlyn," Marilyn protested. "He's trying so hard to understand you, dear. Please give him a chance. I think it would be good for both of you."
"I spoke to him last night. Didn't he tell you?"
"He told me that you think it might be better to stay apart." Marilyn shook her head at her daughter. The expression in her eyes expressed frustration and disappointment. "He still loves you, Caitlyn. I'm sorry if that makes you uncomfortable," she said to Matt, who was trying to bounce Emily into better spirits. "I don't mean to intrude into whatever relationship you and Caitlyn have. I'm just very concerned about my daughter."
"I'm fine," he said shortly. "Don't mind me."
"Caitlyn and Brian were engaged, and they broke it off at a very difficult time, due to circumstances beyond their control," Marilyn continued. "I think they should talk."
"I'm standing right here, Mom," Caitlyn said with annoyance.
"I can see that. But I'd like you to be standing over there." Marilyn tipped her head toward Brian.
"I'm going to get the diaper bag," Matt said, eager to get away.
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