Never Alone

by Lyn Cote

“I’m not an actor, Tom.” Cash found it difficult to speak. A knot clogged his throat.

  “You’re a businessman. A successful businessman knows how to start negotiations. Always start in a position of strength.”

  “Giving in is a position of strength?” Cash asked.

  “In this case, yes. If you let guardianship go as the will dictates, you and Jane will stay in the driver’s seat. If you quarrel at this point, the state of Illinois will take the steering wheel. In that case, none of you will ever be the same.”

  A tense silence mushroomed until it dominated the room.

  Like a man slowly freezing to death, Cash felt himself slipping into numbness. His gaze fastened on Jane’s bright hair. While everything else in the room had dulled, it still gleamed like a lamp through a thickening haze.

  “Cash?” Tom prompted.

  “Angie can go with Jane.” Even to himself his voice sounded rough with emotion.

  Jane closed her eyes.

  Cash felt one last surge of energy. “For now.”

  Jane stepped into Cash’s black Lincoln and felt the whoosh of cold air as Cash closed the door beside her. He entered the driver’s side, started the car and pulled out of the parking lot of Tom’s office.

  This morning, because Jane hadn’t trusted her emotions enough to drive herself to Tom’s Chicago office, she had ridden in on the commuter train. So now Cash and she sat in his sleek car on their way to a Department of Child and Family Services office to take custody of Dena’s five-month-old daughter.

  I will be taking Angie home with me. The words held no reality for her. Suddenly images of diapers, bottles, formula crowded her mind. Thank You, Lord, for Mother and Grandmother. What would I do without them? Being named Angie’s guardian had never crossed her mind. Dena, why did you do this?

  Flashes of the cold, dreary city passed by the car window, red brick apartment buildings and offices, city snow in shades of dirty white to black, people bundled in down jackets with hoods in winter colors: navy, gray, brown.

  She glanced at Cash’s profile. He drove smoothly as though this were any drive, but his calm outward appearance didn’t deceive her. Riding alone with him was like sitting in a lion’s cage.

  Deep below his unruffled surface, even the overwhelming shock and sorrow he suffered hadn’t blunted his dominating presence. No matter how she fought it, no matter what the circumstances, Cash Langley could always touch her heart, make her long to press her hand against his hard, chiseled jaw.

  She was suffering, too. Six days ago Dena had called her full of news about Angie sitting up by herself for the first time. If I’d only known it was our last call, Jane thought Pain gripped her heart, nearly forcing a gasp from her.

  Her own anguish made her yearn to comfort the solemn man so near but so distant. He was a handsome man with fine, straight features, steel blue eyes and black hair combed back from his face like folded wings. His profile always put her in mind of a medieval king. Today he was a brooding king, dark emotion making the determined line of his jaw even more grim than usual.

  She ached to pull him close, to murmur words of solace. But it was impossible, had always been, would always be. Cash didn’t want comfort, now or ever.

  “Here it is,” Cash ground out the three words. He parked on the street. Shivering in the mid-January wind, she preceded him to the door. He opened it and held it for her. They walked side by side to the desk.

  Jane cleared her dry throat. “I’m Jane Everett. I’m here to pick up Angie Johnson.” She and Cash were asked to take seats. They sat silent, miserable, separated by an invisible wall of Cash’s making. Jane tried to pray, but the overheated room and the grieving man beside her sapped her energy. She could only pray within. Dear God, Dear God.

  Several minutes later a woman in a dark suit asked them into her office. She said, “Good day,” without the slightest touch of warmth.

  A chill shivered through Jane. All of Tom’s warnings played through her head once more. She forced herself not to give Cash a sideways glance and tried to behave as though picking up a baby were an everyday occurrence in her life.

  “May I see a picture ID, Ms. Everett?”

  Jane fumbled in her purse, dropping tissues and her lipstick, but she managed to bring out her wallet.

  While Jane retrieved the items she had dropped, the woman read her driver’s license thoroughly.

  “You live in Wisconsin, Ms. Everett?”

  “Yes,” Jane croaked, then moistened her dry lips.

  “Mmm,” the social worker said. “That might not be advisable—”

  “Why?” Cash snapped.

  The woman widened her eyes and stared at him. “And you are, sir?”

  “Cash Langley, the child’s uncle.”

  “I see.” She pursed her lips. “I would feel better if the child weren’t going to be moved such a great distance so quickly.”

  Jane cleared her throat. “I’ll be staying with my parents in Lake Forest for a while.”

  “Lake Forest?”

  “Yes,” Jane said, holding tightly to her budding panic.

  The woman eyed Cash momentarily, then changed subjects. “I have some papers for you to sign.”

  The woman explained each document as she placed it before Jane on the desk. The small printing on the documents wavered in front of Jane’s tired eyes. She could barely focus on where to sign her name. Document followed document. Jane lost count.

  Finally the woman gathered up all the papers, tapped them neatly into one stack and slid them into a pocket folder. “I’ll see if the child has arrived yet.”

  Jane and Cash waited silently in the small, crowded office. Though she kept her attention forward, she noted the tenseness of his face. She couldn’t let him suspect she yearned to kiss away the crease etched across his forehead and the small tight lines around his mouth. He would never return her feelings.

  “Here she is, Ms. Everett.” The social worker held the squirming baby like a sack of potatoes across one arm.

  Jane jumped up to take Angie from her. The baby whined and rubbed her eyes fretfully. “Are you tired, sweetheart?” Jane murmured. Love for this child and sorrow nearly choked her with their force, but she held on to her self-control grimly. Then she recognized the white snowsuit with a bunny tail and ears Angie wore.

  Tears rushed up in Jane’s eyes and a sob caught in her throat. Helplessly she felt her composure give way within. “Cash,” she gasped.

  Before she finished speaking, he was next to her, lifting the baby from her trembling arms and leading her back to a chair.

  “Is there some problem?” the social worker asked.

  “I gave Dena…this snowsuit…as a shower gift for Angie,” Jane gasped between sobs.

  “Ms. Everett, are you sure you are able to take custody of the child today? Perhaps you aren’t up to—”

  “Jane will be fine,” Cash insisted. Angie fussed louder.

  Jane fought down her sorrow. She subdued the sobs, but was unable to staunch her tears. “My…my mother and grandmother are waiting at home.”

  “I’m driving,” Cash added. “Are there any more formalities?”

  “No, but do you have a legal car seat in your vehicle? It is against state—”

  “A brand-new one from Marshall Field’s is waiting for Angie in my back seat.” Cash didn’t bother to look at the woman.

  Angie began howling in earnest, and the social worker quickly ushered them out of her office.

  Jane, tears still washing down her face, stinging her skin in the biting cold, stood outside the car while Cash placed a screaming Angie into the new car seat. Feeling overwhelmed once more by the reality of Dena’s death, Jane slipped by Cash into the passenger seat. Then Cash, behind the wheel, glanced at the city traffic and pulled out at his first opportunity.

  Angie screeched with frustration from the back seat. Jane wept. With each passing vehicle, gray slush splattered the windshield. Though the car’s heater blew full blast int
o her face, Jane still trembled, feeling like a frozen maple leaf fluttering on a bare tree.

  At last they left the congested Chicago streets behind. After a few minutes of smoother highway driving, the baby shuddered with several more loud sobs, then dropped off to sleep slumped to the side in her car seat.

  Jane laid her head back against the headrest and took a calming breath. “I’m sorry I fell apart like that. Somehow seeing the snowsuit—”

  “I understand,” he cut her off.

  Jane bit her lower lip. Guilt clutched her. “I’m sorry about this, Cash. I didn’t know—”

  “Are you willing to give Angie to me now?”

  Jane looked down, avoiding eye contact. “It’s not that easy.”

  “Why not? I’m Dena’s brother.”

  “And I was Dena’s best friend. I need time to think—”

  “Think about what? Angie’s mine!”

  “Cash, there must be more to this.”

  Cash made a sound filled with irritation.

  “In my whole life, I never told one secret of Dena’s or broke one promise to her. She has given me Angie. I will not betray her trust.”

  Jane watched the self-sufficient mask Cash had lowered for just a few moments snap back into place. Jane felt him withdraw from her. The distance between them grew until she felt cramped by its presence.

  The man beside her drove expertly down the interstate toward Lake Forest. He finally pulled into her parents’ driveway. Jane looked at the house next door where he and Dena had grown up. Though Jane couldn’t have stopped herself from looking toward the house if she tried, Cash never glanced in its direction.

  He lifted Angie out of the car seat, handed her to Jane, then unhooked the car seat and set it on the recently shoveled sidewalk to the house. “You might need it.” He turned back to the car.

  “Cash.” Jane grabbed for his arm. Angie woke up and began to squall. “Come in with me. My parents—”

  “I need to go.” He walked around the rear of the car.

  “Where? Come in. I don’t want you to leave this way.”

  “Then give me Angie.” Over the top of the car between them, he stared at her.

  “Come in. You’ll be better among friends.”

  “No.” He shook his head and got into the car.

  “Cash, please come in. I don’t want you to be alone.”

  Jane barely heard his response over Angie’s wails.

  He said, “I’ll be better off alone.”

  “When will I see you again?” she called after him.

  Holding a squirming, whining Angie, Jane watched as he drove away. Then her parents, their coats thrown over their shoulders, helped her into the house, where Jane struggled and won the battle against more tears. Cash might not need her, but Angie did.

  Cash stared at the deep blue door of Jane’s parents’ house. It had taken him over a week to gather the strength to face once more Dena’s giving Angie to someone other than himself. If Angie weren’t on the other side of this door, he wouldn’t be here. But Angie was. Pressing all his anger into a tight ball of resistance, he knocked firmly.

  “I was just thinking of you.” Jane’s grandmother, Lucy, peered around the door.

  “Am I that popular here?” Cash asked gruffly and stepped inside.

  “Well, why haven’t you listened to your answering machine?” Petite, frail with age, Lucy stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek.

  Momentarily he stood still, then leaned down and returned the kiss. “How are you, Lucy?”

  “Heartbroken. The same as you.” Lucy pulled him into the foyer. “You arrived just in time to say goodbye. Phil is in the garage loading my suitcases into the car.”

  Cash wanted to thank her for flying home from wintering in Florida for his sister’s funeral, but he couldn’t bring the words to his lips. How could he put into words his gratitude for her years of putting Band-Aids on his scrapes, her gentle way of brushing his childhood bangs out of his eyes before she bent to kiss his forehead? Past images of the loving matriarch of this house threatened to drown him in sorrow over all he’d lost. First his mother, then his father, now Dena…and Angie. Instead he cleared his throat. “Headed for O’Hare?”

  She nodded and led him into the living room, urging him down beside her on the beige sofa. She took his hand in hers and searched his eyes. “I won’t waste words on sympathy. You and I know each other too well. If you need me for anything, you have my Florida phone number.”

  “There’s only one person I need—Angie.”

  “I know, but Dena must have had her reasons.”

  “Of course you think I should leave Angie with Jane.”

  “Don’t say ‘of course’ like that. You know if I thought Jane were wrong to keep Angie, I wouldn’t mince words.”

  Her militant tone brought a slight smile to his lips. “I know,” he murmured. “I just don’t agree.”

  “How could you?” she asked. “If I were you, I’d do anything to be near my niece.”

  “But?” He lifted one eyebrow.

  “But it’s an Everett family law. We never contest wills. It’s disrespectful to the departed and only makes lawyers rich and a family poor.”

  “Don’t you think this is—”

  Cash was interrupted by the appearance of Lucy’s daughter-in-law, Marge. He stood and let her embrace him.

  Marge murmured, “Lucy, we must leave now.” Cash helped Lucy into her vintage tweed coat, and the two women hurried toward the kitchen.

  Lucy turned back briefly. “Jane is upstairs with Angie.” She motioned him to go up, then called over her shoulder, “God bless you, Cash. He would, you know, if you’d only let Him.”

  In the stillness of Lucy’s wake, Cash stood at the bottom of the familiar staircase. He knew this house as well as he knew the one next door. Looking up, he pictured Jane and Dena, as young girls in matching white terry cloth robes, standing at the top of the stairs. Good night, Cash, they called down to him.

  Gathering his strength against these memories, which might weaken his resolve to reclaim Angie, he walked up the steps and followed the sound of a baby’s sudden wail. He stopped in the doorway of Jane’s childhood room. She was lifting Angie, dressed in fuzzy pink pj’s, out of a crib.

  Jane turned and gave him a startled, then a questioning look.

  Cash’s chest tightened. Jane had never looked so feminine. With a child in her arms, she no longer struck him as his kid sister’s pal. But Angie belonged within his arms. He stretched himself to his full height. “I’ve come for Angie.”

  Chapter Two

  “Oh?” Jane’s tone was calm, but her heart pounded so loudly in her ears its drumming drowned out the baby’s crying. Cash’s unflinching power washed through her senses, calling her as always to draw near him. But panic, so like what she’d experienced that awful day in the social worker’s office, snaked through her and threatened to immobilize her.

  “Is she hungry?” Cash asked.

  “She just finished ten ounces of formula after a bowl of rice cereal.” Outwardly calm, but reeling inside, Jane fell back on the routine she had devised to deal with Angie’s frantic crying every time she needed sleep. Feeling like a windup toy, she carried Angie to the white-flounced changing table.

  “What’s making her cry?”

  “I’m checking her diaper.” Jane slid a finger between two pj buttons. “She’s dry.” Fighting for control with each measured motion, she reached back and pulled a pink baby blanket off the side of the crib. “Where have you been for eight days, Cash?”

  “To the ends of the earth and back again. You don’t look too happy to see me tonight.” He still stood propped against the doorjamb.

  “My grandmother was worried.” I was worried.

  “I want Angie.”

  Her stomach twisted, but without showing the effect of his words on her, she finished tightly bundling up the crying baby and sat in the rocker.

  “What’s wrong with her?” he ask
ed sharply, peering through the shadows at Angie.

  Jane felt like shouting the question back at him, What’s wrong with her? But she forced herself to reply mildly, “My grandmother says that’s what Angie’s asking us. This is the only way we’ve found to get her to sleep, day or night.” With that, Jane began rocking vigorously, firmly patting the baby’s rump through the wrapping of the blanket. Under Cash’s scrutiny, Angie’s wails and Jane’s fear mounted in intensity.

  “Cash, this is hard enough without you glaring at me,” she said with bravado.

  “I’m not leaving. I want my niece.”

  As Jane met the challenge of caring for Angie in spite of the stress, she gained more control. She held her index finger up to her lips, motioning him to speak more softly. “Why did Dena give your niece to me, then?”

  “I can’t explain it.” He stopped, then lowered his voice. “People make decisions. They change their minds.” He held up his palms in a gesture of not knowing. “Maybe my sister made this decision after we disagreed about something.”

  Angie hiccuped between her sobs. Jane rocked and patted, not missing a beat, though inwardly the urge to flee the small room and Cash’s moody regard still tempted her.

  “That doesn’t seem to be working.”

  “It takes time.” Jane warned him away with a shake of her head. Am I afraid of Cash?

  “Why aren’t you back in Wisconsin? How long can you leave your dress shop closed?”

  “My shop isn’t closed. I have two trusted employees taking care of things.” Still pushing down tremors of alarm, she made herself continue to concentrate on her physical movements.

  “How are you going to take the stress of this when you have to get up the next morning and go to work?”

  “The same way you would,” she spoke in time to her rocking.

  “I would have help—”

  “I’ll have help. I’ve got friends and my Uncle Henry, Aunt Claire and their daughter, Tish. I’ll arrange day care just like you would.”

  “Family help won’t last. People say they’ll help—”

  “Everetts help Everetts,” Jane said tightly. She noticed she had forgotten one of the elements needed to calm Angie. She nodded toward the wall next to him. “See that mobile of lambs? Wind its knob, will you?”