Some Kind of Wonderful

by Barbara Freethy

  "Good morning, sleepyhead," she said with a smile.

  "Oh, God, you're one of those."

  "Cheerful as a morning blue jay," she agreed. "Emily and I have already had breakfast, but I kept some eggs and bacon warm for you. Are you hungry?"

  He had the sudden desperate feeling that he should say no, that he should somehow put a stop to it all before he started believing he could actually have all this. Apparently, Caitlyn sensed something was wrong, because the smile faded out of her eyes.

  "I overstepped, didn't I? I'm sorry. When I'm happy, I feel like cooking and eating..." Her voice drifted off in apology. "I guess you're not quite as happy. When you said stay, you probably just meant until morning, right? And you were hoping when you woke up that I'd be gone."

  "No." He ran a hand through his hair. "No. I meant stay as long as you like. I'm not awake yet, that's all."

  "Are you sure?" Her eyes pleaded with him to be honest. "Because this feels kind of strange to me, too. I haven't woken up next to a man in a long time. I'm not sure how to act."

  "I don't want you to act with me. Just be yourself."

  She stood up, setting the pad down on the table. "Can I get you breakfast? And you don't have to worry. I didn't sneak out and pick up a wedding ring while you were asleep, hoping to plant it in your scrambled eggs as a surprise."

  "Do I look worried?"

  She nodded. "Oh, yeah."

  "Sorry."

  "It's just eggs. There is no hidden agenda."

  He offered her an apologetic grin. "Then I'll have some eggs."

  As Caitlyn disappeared into the kitchen. Matt picked up the sketch pad and studied the dress she'd drawn. He didn't know anything about dresses, especially wedding dresses, but he liked the bold lines, the sway of the skirt... and more than anything, he liked that Caitlyn had drawn something.

  Caitlyn came out of the kitchen with a plate of food and a glass of orange juice. She set it down on the coffee table. "Here you go."

  "Thanks." He held up the sketch pad. "This is the dress you're designing for that bride?"

  "Yes. What do you think?"

  "It looks like a dress."

  "That's good, since I was trying to draw a dress."

  "I don't know anything about this stuff. But tell me this, did it feel good?" He saw the answering light in her eyes.

  "It felt wonderful, like the cold layers of winter melting into summer. It's as if I had so many clothes on, I'd lost myself. But I'm slowly coming back." She paused, her eyes meeting his. "You had something to do with it, you know."

  "I've always been pretty good at peeling off clothes," he replied lightly.

  "I noticed. By the way, you snore."

  "I do not."

  "Yes, you do, cute little snores, you could almost make a tune to them. I was going to sing along, but I didn't want to wake you."

  He frowned at her, not feeling entirely comfortable with the intimacy between them. It was one thing to make love to a woman, it was another to share jokes at the breakfast table. "Well, you talk."

  "I do not."

  "Cute little words that make no sense."

  She laughed. "As long as I'm not spilling my guts in my sleep, I'm okay with it. Not that there's anything you haven't heard yet." And then she surprised him by throwing her arms around his neck and pressing a kiss against his lips. "I had a great time last night, in case you hadn't noticed."

  "Me, too."

  "I'm going back to my apartment to get dressed and go to work. You can have your space, get your bearings, pretend that nothing changed last night. But don't get too comfortable, because I will be back."

  "I'm counting on it," he said, surprising both of them with his answer.

  She paused in the doorway. "You aren't scared I'll ask too much of you?"

  "Are you scared I'll ask too much of you?"

  "I'm scared that you won't ask me for anything. You're a very self-sufficient man."

  "I used to be," he muttered as she left the room. "I used to be."

  Chapter Seventeen

  "Do you really think I have postpartum depression?" Sarah asked, stumbling slightly over the words. Jonathan sat next to her on the couch, the papers they'd printed off the Internet spread out before them on the coffee table. They'd spent most of the night going over the subject.

  "It's a possibility," Jonathan said. "What do you think?"

  She'd never heard of having a baby making someone sad, but she certainly felt like a lot of the women in the articles. "I'm not sure."

  "If your depression is related to the fluctuation of your hormones, it could explain why you've felt so overwhelmed since Emily was born, especially if she was a difficult baby."

  Sarah felt a kernel of hope take root and grow. Maybe she wasn't like her mother. Maybe she wasn't crazy or bad. Maybe she could take care of her baby.

  Jonathan put his hand on her thigh, and she relished the growing closeness between them. They'd parted for a few hours during the night to get some sleep, but other than that they'd been together every second. She'd never known a man to take such an interest in her problems, to want so badly to help her when he had nothing to gain.

  "I think you should talk to a friend of mine," Jonathan continued. "Her name is Karen Harte, and she's a psychiatrist. Now, don't get that look in your eye. She's a friend, not an enemy. I grew up with her and I trust her completely. Besides that, she had a baby about six months ago. If anyone will understand how you're feeling, it's her."

  "But I don't have any money," she said.

  "I'll take care of the first consult. We'll figure something out after that."

  Sarah hesitated. How could she tell her problems to a complete stranger? A voice inside reminded her she'd already told her problems to one complete stranger, why not two? And if she really did have something that could be cured, maybe... "All right," she said, making her first real decision in weeks. That step alone made her feel better, like she was taking control over something. "I'll go see her."

  "Good. I'll call her right now."

  "Right now?"

  "No time like the present." He flung her a smile as he walked out of the room and down the hall to his office.

  Sarah stacked the papers into a neat pile, again pleased with her ability to perform the simple task. It had been so long since she'd felt like her feet were under her, like she could stand up without swaying. She tested it out just to be sure, and it was true. She could stand up. She could stretch her arms above her head. She could... smile.

  Sarah felt the smile spread across her face, and she couldn't stop it. Nor did she want to. This feeling was better than the one she'd been carrying around the last two months, actually longer than that, the last thirteen years, since she and Mattie had said good-bye. She let out a sigh as she flopped back down on the couch.

  "It's set. I got you an appointment for Thursday morning at eight a.m.," Jonathan said, returning to the room.

  "That fast?" she asked in alarm.

  "Yes, that fast."

  "Oh." She looked down at her hands, feeling his gaze lingering on her. She didn't really know what Jonathan saw when he looked at her, and she was afraid to ask. There was something growing between them, and it was probably wrong. He was a minister, and she was just someone who needed his help. They weren't... they couldn't be anything more. But it was odd to have a friendship with a man. In her experience the only thing a man had ever wanted from her was sex.

  "Sarah?" Jonathan inquired.

  She looked up into his blue eyes and felt her heart jump into her throat. The fog in her head seemed to be lifting, letting in all kinds of other feelings.

  "I have a favor to ask of you," he said. "I know you think I'm selfless, but I am human."

  So he did want something from her. It only made sense. He'd helped her out. Now he wanted payback. She got to her feet and began to unbutton her blouse.

  His jaw dropped. "What are you doing?"

  "Giving you a favor."

&nb
sp; He put his hand over hers. "No. That's not what I meant."

  "It's not?" So he didn't want her, then? She felt horribly embarrassed.

  "I mean I do, but I won't," he said cryptically. "I can't."

  He tilted up her chin with his finger. "You're a very attractive woman. Don't think I haven't noticed."

  "You don't have to say that."

  "It's the truth. But I'm a minister and you're in trouble. I won't take advantage of that. I want you to trust me, and you won't be able to do that if..." His voice trailed away as he seemed to get lost in his thoughts. "You have incredible eyes." He gave a shake of his head. "Sorry. Where were we?"

  "You weren't taking advantage of me," she said, feeling a shy pleasure at the look in his eyes.

  "Right. I won't do that."

  "I believe you."

  "Good. Okay, then. Now, back to my favor.... You know that the board members are planning to make their decision about closing the church in the next week or so. Well, I have a plan." He paused, offering her a wry smile. "It occurred to me that I've been praying for a miracle instead of trying to make one happen. I may not be good with the masses, but I'm pretty good one on one. And I've helped a lot of people over the past year, good people. I think they'll want to know that the church may close, that I may leave."

  She smiled at the very un-reverend-like look in his eyes. "You want to make them feel guilty."

  "I want to get them in my church this Sunday, whatever the motivation. That's the first step. Then I'll try to keep them coming back. Because I don't just need them. They need each other, and they need this church."

  "What do you want me to do?"

  "Help me make calls, and tell me not to quit when I get discouraged."

  Jonathan was so endearingly uncertain. It wasn't a trait she'd ever seen in a man. Most thought they knew exactly what to do and when to do it.

  "I can do that," she said.

  "And one last favor."

  She eyed him warily this time, noting the change of tone in his voice.

  "I want you to make a phone call."

  "Me? Who do I have to call?" She knew the answer even before he said it.

  "Your brother. You have to talk to him, tell him you're getting help and that you miss your daughter."

  "I do miss her," she whispered. "But what will he say?"

  "We won't know until you call." He took her hand in his. "I'll be right here beside you. You're not alone anymore."

  Sarah took a deep breath and walked back to the office with him. He waited while she dialed the number she'd already put to memory. The phone rang, once, twice, three times, then the machine picked up.

  "He's not there," she whispered.

  "Leave a message."

  Sarah heard the beep but what could she say in thirty seconds that would make any sense? She hung up without saying a word. "I'll call back," she told Jonathan defensively.

  "I know you will, because you're a good mother."

  "If you keep saying that, I might start believing it."

  "And so you should. There's another place I want to show you today, too. It's a transitional home for mothers and children who are trying to start over for whatever reason."

  "They wouldn't want someone like me."

  "Sarah, you're exactly the kind of person they want."

  But I won't force you into anything. I just want to show you that there are options and there is help out there."

  "Do you really think Emily and I can be together again?"

  "I do," he said with a passion in his voice that couldn't be denied.

  Jonathan thought he didn't have the power to persuade. But he'd just about convinced her to believe in the future, something she hadn't been able to do for a very long time.

  * * *

  Matt pulled up in front of Laree's Hair Salon in downtown Sacramento and shut off the engine. The salon was in a strip mall next to a thrift store and a doughnut shop. He had no idea what Sarah had been doing in Sacramento, which was an hour and a half's drive from San Francisco, but he had a pay stub to prove she'd been there sometime in the last year. It was the best lead he had, and he hoped it would be worth the drive.

  Matt glanced at Emily, who was entertaining herself by blowing drooling bubbles out of her mouth. He took the edge of his sleeve and wiped her chin.

  She tried to push his hand away with her tiny fingers, but he simply smiled. "I know you think you're the boss, but I am. And Caitlyn says you'll get a rash on your chin if it's always wet. I don't know how she knows that, but I believe her. She's smart, you know. Not to mention beautiful. Sexy." His body tightened at the memory of the night before. "Pretty damn wonderful, in fact."

  Emily blew him another bubble, and he smiled. He had never thought he was a sucker for kids, but this child got to him, probably one reason why he hadn't been able to leave her with a baby-sitter. How could he trust her with someone he didn't know? He couldn't, so he'd told David he needed a few more days off work and decided he might as well drive to Sacramento. At least he was doing something instead of just sitting around. And Emily had enjoyed the ride.

  He took her out of her car seat and automatically checked her bottom for any wetness. It was amazing how things he'd never anticipated doing last week had become habit to him, like checking for a soppy diaper. Fortunately, she was dry. So he got out of the car with Emily in his arms and walked up the path to the salon.

  There were five women in the salon: two stylists, a receptionist and two customers. All five turned to look at him the minute the door clanged. He cleared his throat, feeling uncomfortable in the definitely female environment.

  "Would you like a cut?" the woman behind the desk asked.

  "Actually, I'm looking for someone named Laree."

  "Hey, Laree," she called to the stylist who had just taken her customer to the back room of hair dryers. "He wants you."

  Laree, a tired-looking brunette with a blond streak through one side of her hair, came forward with a towel in her hands and a wary expression in her eyes.

  "Can I help you?" she asked.

  "I'm hoping you can. I'm Sarah Vaughn's brother. Do you remember Sarah?"

  Laree didn't even blink. "Sure, I remember Sarah. Why?"

  "I'm looking for her."

  "She's not here."

  "Do you know where she might be?"

  "No."

  Matt forced himself to be patient. Laree looked like she was hiding something; he just had to figure out what it was. But he needed something to barter with -- make that someone. "This is Sarah's baby, Emily," he said. It was a gamble to share the information, but he took it anyway.

  Laree's whole face changed. "This is Sarah's baby?" She stepped forward. "She's darling." A frown settled across her features. "Why do you have her?"

  "Because Sarah left her with me. She wanted Emily to be safe. But now I want to make sure that Sarah is safe. To do that I have to find her. And I know that she worked here about six months ago."

  "She worked here," Laree admitted. "But she left without any notice. I figured Gary's band got a new gig somewhere. I didn't like the guy, but Sarah wouldn't leave him, especially not after she got pregnant."

  "Did you ever see him hurt her?"

  "Not physically, but he had a nasty tongue. Sarah just took whatever he said like she thought she deserved it. I hope she's okay, but I don't know where she is."

  "Do you remember exactly when she left? It might help me to pinpoint some dates."

  Laree thought about his question, then nodded. "It was mid-February, right after Valentine's Day. I remember because it was the day the fire truck blocked our driveway, and Sarah had to meet Gary down the street because he couldn't get his car in the parking lot. That's the last I saw of her."

  Matt's mouth went dry. Another fire? It had to be a coincidence. But then he remembered Sarah's fascination with candles and matches, and goose bumps ran down his arm. "Where was the fire?"

  "In the doughnut shop next door."

>   Of course, that was easy to explain, donuts, ovens, fire.

  Matt tried to shrug off the uneasy feeling that continued to cling to him. "Do you know how it started?"

  "I think someone threw a lighted cigarette into the trash. Why?"

  "No reason. So that's the last you saw of Sarah. She didn't quit or tell you where she was going?"

  "Just disappeared. Her baby sure is pretty," Laree said. "I hope Sarah comes back soon."

  "So do I." Matt walked outside, stopping to take a look at the doughnut shop next door. It looked freshly painted, all evidence of a fire completely erased, just the way it had been erased at the old apartment building, like it had never happened. But Matt couldn't erase the fire from his memories. And he wondered how Sarah must have felt to see flames coming out of the building next door. Had she panicked? Had she run? Had she been responsible?

  A part of him wanted to believe in his sister, in the good things he remembered about her. Another part of him was telling him to face the facts: Sarah was just like his mother, a loser. She'd run out on her baby. And she probably wasn't coming back. And even if she did come back, how long would it take before she ran again? What kind of a life could she give Emily?

  His arms tightened around the small baby in his arms. He had to protect her. But protect her from her mother? Could he really do that? He hadn't been able to protect Sarah from her own mother. And look how that had turned out.

  Matt opened the car door and settled Emily in her car seat. By the time he'd slid behind the wheel, Emily was starting to whimper for the bottle he'd packed earlier. He pulled it out of the diaper bag and popped it in her mouth. Fortunately, she wasn't particularly fussy about whether or not it was warm. With one hand propping up her bottle, Matt opened his cell phone and dialed information for Caitlyn's phone number. He knew he shouldn't be calling her at work or anywhere else. But when the number came up, he had the operator dial it for him. A second later he heard Caitlyn say, "Devereaux's."

  "It's me," he said.

  "Hi me."

  Her voice dropped down a notch, reminding him of the husky way she'd talked to him last night, telling him how good he felt, how good she felt. He swallowed, trying to remember why he'd called her.