Can't Stop Loving You

by Janelle Taylor

  Alan smirked.

  Noah wanted to haul off and hit him, and he would have if he wasn’t so desperate to hear the answer to his question.

  “I have no idea where she is,” Alan said. He stepped backward and held up a hand when Noah growled and reached toward him. “Hang on, I’m not saying I didn’t see her when she got to town. She thought I was you, man. She got here thinking she was going to meet her old man. So I let her think it.”

  “What the hell wereyou doing?” Mariel asked shrilly, in Alan’s face, glaring at him. “Was that your idea of a joke?”

  “Actually, it was,” Alan said with a shrug, not appearing the least bit perturbed by her outburst. “I mean, it was her idea to come to New York. When I offered to meet her and let her stay at my place, she was into it.”

  “She thought you were her father,” Noah bit out.

  “Yeah, well, she would have found out soon enough that you were her father. I was going to surprise you with her.”

  Noah stared at him in disbelief.

  “I was, man. I figured I would get her to New York, have some fun with her, show her around, and introduce her to you.”

  “What did you do with her?” Noah ground out. “Where is she?”

  “She took off the day she got here,” Alan said. “I swear to God, man. She got all spooked on me when she thought her old man was trying to put the moves on her. I told her I wasn’t really you before I tried anything, but she didn’t believe me. She thought I was lying and that it was incest or something, and she freaked out. She took off and I haven’t seen her since.”

  “Why should I believe you?” Noah asked, looking Alan in the eye, trying to decide whether he was telling the truth.

  “I don’t care if you believe me. That’s what happened.”

  “She took off.”

  Alan nodded.

  “And you didn’t go after her?”

  “Why would I?”

  “Because she was a teenaged girl alone in New York City,” Mariel shrieked, grabbing Alan’s upper arms and shaking him. “Because you betrayed her trust. What the hell is wrong with you? What kind of an animal are you?”

  Alan pushed her away, cringing back. “Hey, get your girlfriend off of me, Noah. Speaking of animals, has she had her shots?”

  “You’re pathetic,” Noah said, and slapped Alan in the face, hard. “Don’t bother coming back to my place for your stuff. The locks have been changed.”

  “You can’t do that.”

  “I already did. Come on, Mariel. Let’s go.”

  Together, they left the apartment, with Alan standing there, speechless, looking after them.

  “Do you believe him?” Mariel asked shakily.

  Noah nodded. “I think he was telling the truth.”

  “So she’s out on the streets somewhere,” Mariel said.

  “Probably traumatized, believing that her own father tried to seduce her,” Noah said, his insides recoiling at the very thought of what Alan had put Amber through.

  For a moment, they walked in silence, heading toward the subway.

  “You have to change your locks,” Mariel said.

  He nodded. “I’ll call a locksmith when we get home. At least I’m rid of him.”

  “Now all we have to do is find Amber.” Mariel sighed. “How impossible is that going to be?”

  “You don’t want to know,” Noah said wearily.

  “Do you think she’s all right?”

  “There are hundreds of runaways here,” Noah told her. “They find a way to survive.”

  He didn’t want to tell her that the vast majority fell into drugs and prostitution along the way. But when he looked at her, he could see by the glum expression on her face that she knew exactly what he was thinking.

  “Where do we start looking?”

  “At the Port Authority,” Noah said. “That’s the bus terminal on Forty-second Street, just off Times Square. A lot of runaways congregate in that neighborhood.”

  “Should we go there now?”

  He hesitated. They had almost reached the kosher restaurant again. Suddenly, he wanted nothing more than to sit down in a quiet place with a hot bowl of soup.

  “Let’s get something to eat,” he suggested to Mariel. “And we’ll figure out our strategy from there, okay?”

  “Okay,” she said easily, surprising him.

  He held the door open for her, and together, they went into the small neighborhood restaurant with its savory aroma.

  And for a little while, at least, they sat and ate and forgot the dark clouds that hung over them. They talked about pickles and New York and the Yankees.

  When they were done and waiting on the subway platform, Noah said, “Why don’t we go back to my place and get a good night’s sleep, Mariel?”

  He saw her hesitate.

  “You can have Alan’s bed,” he offered, thinking that was why she looked so indecisive. “I’ll change the sheets for you, and I’ll move his stuff out of the room.”

  “That’s okay,” she said. “It’s just that I feel like we need to keep looking for Amber. I feel guilty taking time off to rest, and to eat…We don’t know if she has food, or a place to sleep. It just doesn’t seem right.”

  “Mariel, stop beating yourself up over this,” Noah said. “You can’t carry this guilt with you. It’s going to eat you alive.”

  She shrugged, tears glistening in her eyes again.

  “What is it?” Noah asked, stepping closer to her. “Are you still thinking that none of this would have happened if we hadn’t given her up? Because you have to stop doing that. You have to stop wondering what if, and accept what is.”

  She nodded mutely, but he could tell that she was torn inside. Only days ago, he had wanted to hurt her because of the decision she had made. Now it seemed impossible that he had ever felt that way. He wanted only to ease her pain, to make her see that what was done was done. There was no changing things, no going back.

  “Mariel, we did the right thing,” he said, reaching for her, pulling her into his arms. He held her against his chest, stroking her hair.

  “You don’t really believe that, Noah,” she said. “There’s a part of you that still isn’t sure. And sometimes I think that that part of you still resents me for the choice I made.”

  “That isn’t true,” he protested.

  “Yes, it is,” she said, and pulled back to look at him as the train roared into the station, shaking the platform. “You still haven’t forgiven me. You might want to, but you won’t. Or maybe you can’t.”

  He turned away, unable to maintain eye contact with her, knowing that she was right.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Mariel turned onto her side, bunching the pillow beneath her cheek, willing herself to drift off to sleep again.

  But slumber refused to take over, just as it had for the past—she lifted her head and glanced at the clock—thirty-five minutes.

  It was past three A.M. now. Six hours ago, she had climbed into this bed, exhausted, her body aching from the exertion of walking all over New York City. She had fallen into a deep sleep the moment her head hit the pillow, only to find herself wide awake now, in the wee hours.

  Her mind just wouldn’t stop working.

  The unfamiliar bed and the sounds of the city didn’t help. Especially the sirens. There were always sirens, she had come to realize. Some were nearby, some racing just below the window, and some off in the distance. Here in Manhattan, sirens were as omnipresent a night sound as the cicadas were back home.

  She couldn’t stop thinking about Amber being out on the streets somewhere, perhaps only blocks away from where Mariel was now.

  She wanted desperately to hold her daughter in her arms and tell her that she loved her—that everything was going to be all right. She wanted to bring her home to Rockton and to hell with everyone else and what they thought. So what if her secret was exposed now, fifteen years later. Bearing a child out of wedlock no longer had the stigma it had carried e
ven as recently as a decade ago. Everybody did it these days—celebrities, royalty, regular people.

  But there was more to it than just bringing Amber back to Rockton to live and shrugging off the scandal.

  Mariel knew in her heart that even if she found her daughter, it was unlikely that they would spend the future under the same roof. Amber already had a mother who loved her. A mother, and a father, and they weren’t Mariel and Noah.

  The Steadmans deserved to know what they had discovered. Noah had told her as much on the subway ride home. But Mariel was still reluctant to have him call them to reveal what had happened. She still feared that Noah might somehow be dragged into this—that there might be suspicion that he had been involved. She couldn’t bear to think that anyone would suspect him of playing a role in Amber’s disappearance. She couldn’t bear to think of anyone hurting Noah.

  So why had she?

  Every instinct she possessed told her to protect Noah. To trust him. To believe in him.

  Why couldn’t she allow herself to love him?

  Why did she feel as though the two of them living happily ever after in Rockton was about as likely as Mariel bringing Amber home with her to live happily ever after?

  Why didn’t she believe in happily ever after, dammit?

  How long was she going to punish herself for what she had done fifteen years ago?

  She heard a muffled sound and instantly went still, listening.

  There was a thump in the next room.

  Her heart started pounding.

  Had Alan come back?

  Noah hadn’t changed the locks. He had called a twenty-four-hour locksmith upon their return and was told that there was a three-day waiting list for non-emergencies. This wasn’t considered an emergency.

  It had to be Alan, Mariel thought, slipping silently out of bed and moving across the room to the door. She reached for the knob, telling herself that she would open the door a crack and peek into the next room to see what he was up to.

  She slowly turned the knob, wincing when it clicked softly. She waited a long time before pulling it toward her, and she realized that there was silence in the next room now.

  Had it been her imagination? Maybe there was nobody there.

  But when she pulled the door open a crack and peered through, she saw the outline of a man in front of the living room window.

  She gasped involuntarily, and he jerked toward her.

  “Noah!” she said, recognizing him in the shadowy room. “You scared me!”

  “You scared me, too,” he said. “What are you doing up?”

  “I couldn’t sleep.” She stepped into the living room. “I heard something, and I thought it was Alan prowling around. What are you doing?”

  “I couldn’t sleep either,” he said, standing beside the window. Silvery moonlight spilled over the sill, illuminating him.

  Mariel tried not to notice that he was bare-chested, wearing only a pair of thin cotton shorts. The night air was pleasantly cool. She felt goose bumps prickling the bare flesh that was exposed by her summer nightgown, yet she knew that they weren’t a reaction to the temperature, but to Noah.

  A familiar craving took hold somewhere deep inside of her as she remembered what it had been like to be held in those masculine arms.

  “I keep thinking that she’s out there somewhere,” Noah said, looking out over the street five stories below.

  Mariel came up behind him and looked over his shoulder.

  Even at this hour, there were lights in the apartments across the way. Traffic zoomed by, more traffic than Main Street in Rockton had ever seen. Somewhere in the distance, there were sirens, of course, and a car alarm bleated its incessant rhythm.

  Mariel wondered if she would ever get used to the commotion outside her window if she lived here.

  She wondered if Amber was as thrown by it as she was.

  “Do you think she’s sleeping on the street somewhere?” she asked Noah.

  “Maybe. Or in a shelter. There are shelters for kids like her. We’ll start searching them tomorrow.”

  She nodded.

  He turned to her. “I keep thinking about what you said earlier.”

  “What did I say?” she asked, though she knew, instinctively, what he meant.

  “The thing you said about me still resenting you after all these years. You were right. I do still resent you for the decision that you made.”

  She shrugged, feeling a pang in the vicinity of her heart.

  Well, what did she expect?

  For him to gather her into his arms and tell her that he loved her? He had never done that, not even when it would have mattered most. When it could have made a difference.

  “I’m not surprised,” she said quietly. “And you certainly have a right to your feelings.”

  “The thing is, I don’t know what to do about my feelings,” he told her. “I’m wondering why it is that I can’t let go of that last little bit of anger. Lord knows I’ve tried these past few days. But I think that I have an idea about what’s holding me back.”

  “What’s that?” she asked dully.

  “You are.”

  She blinked. “I am? I’m holding you back?”

  He nodded. “You don’t want my forgiveness, Mariel. You’re afraid of it.”

  “I am not,” she said, about to take a step back, away from him, when he turned and put his hands on her shoulders.

  “You’re afraid of what might take its place,” he said softly.

  “I’m not afraid, Noah, I just don’t—”

  Her words were snatched away by his mouth as he swooped down and kissed her hungrily.

  “You don’t what?” he asked, lifting his head, running his hands over her hips, positioning her against him so that she could feel his straining arousal against the most intimate part of her own body.

  “I don’t…”

  “You don’t what?” he asked, raining kisses down her throat.

  She moaned, at first in protest, and then in helpless ecstasy when he pulled her nightgown over her head, tossing it aside, and she felt him suckling her breast. She squirmed in his arms, but he held her fast, his hands stroking her naked body, his gentle touch everywhere at once. They sank to the floor, and she willingly leaned back, writhing as his wet mouth moved lower, across her belly, and then lower still. She felt his tongue graze her tender flesh that yearned for him most, and she gasped at the electric sensation.

  She squirmed, aching for him to do it again, a ticklish need building rapidly inside of her, and when he obliged, positioning himself between her quivering thighs, she quickly reached the brink.

  “Noah,” she gasped, and then she was shuddering, violently exquisite ripples coursing through her. When she thought it was over, he continued to nuzzle her, pleasuring her with his mouth and then with his hands, and finally, with his manhood. She opened herself to him, and he sank into her, breathing her name. They moved in perfect unison, panting in rhythm until they exploded together, rocking back and forth in each other’s arms until the spasms subsided.

  “That’s what you’re afraid of,” he whispered softly when it was over.

  “I’m not afraid of that.”

  “Then, what is it? What’s holding you back?”

  “Do we have to talk about it now?” she asked, tracing his jaw with a fingertip, her cheek resting against his chest. “Why can’t we just be? Why can’t we just let things happen?”

  “We just did.” He leaned back to look down into her eyes. “You can let go physically, Mariel. Why can’t you let go with the rest of you? The part that’s holding back?”

  She was silent.

  “It’s okay,” he said, pulling away from her. “I’m going to go take a shower. This is a good time to head over to the Port Authority and see what I can find out.”

  “It’s three thirty in the morning.”

  “Exactly.” He looked over his shoulder at her. “Are you coming with me?”

  “Definitely,” s
he said, scrambling to her feet.

  “Okay.” His eyes gleamed. “Come on.”

  “I thought you said you were going to take a shower.”

  “I am,” he said, and repeated, “Come on. Why waste water?”

  She broke into a slow grin and followed him.

  * * *

  The next three days passed in a blur.

  A blur of seedy streets and unfamiliar faces and making love to Mariel in his apartment.

  Noah didn’t know whether to be grateful that she had given him this—this last chance to fulfill himself, or this last chance to try to capture her heart, or whatever it was that she had given him. All he knew was that they seemed to have reached an understanding. As long as they were in this state of limbo, searching for their daughter on the streets of New York, they would be together, physically. In every way.

  He was free to put his arm around her as they sat together on the subway, or to hold her hand as they walked down the street, or to start kissing her the moment he had closed the apartment door behind them in the twilight of each day.

  They were sleeping together in his bed, making love until they fell asleep in each other’s arms, exhausted, and then waking in the wee hours to hit the streets again. The early morning hours were the most rewarding time they searched, because it was then that the streets were alive with the nocturnal inhabitants who saw things and knew things that escaped the others—the commuters, the old-timers, the mothers, the nannies, the businessmen.

  With Mariel in tow, Noah talked to prostitutes and pimps, to drug dealers and undercover cops and homeless people and those who tried to help them. They had printed out Amber’s photograph and carried it everywhere they went, showing it to everyone they met. A few times, she was recognized by somebody they questioned, but those sightings never led to anything concrete. Several people vaguely said that they had seen her around; that it had been recently; that she hadn’t been turning tricks or dazed on drugs.

  Noah and Mariel were grateful for that information, but they yearned for something more concrete.

  They got it at dusk on Saturday, when, on Eleventh Avenue, they approached two multipierced, tattooed girls who couldn’t have been older than fourteen or fifteen. Both wore too much make-up and skirts that in another neighborhood might have been considered fashionable, but here only pegged them as hookers.