For Joy's Sake

by Tara Taylor Quinn

  Hunter never seemed all that serious. Different from Smyth, who was charmingly serious. The son of a financier. Because he didn’t seem to take life seriously, she’d somehow assumed Hunter came from a...less responsible background.

  “And he married Edward’s sister?” Betty.

  “Yep.”

  Looking ahead to the older couple walking in front of them, Julie felt herself getting emotionally drawn in to the scene about to unfold.

  They were still several yards from the door that led to another hall that ended at the kitchen. There was time for her to escape to the safety of her car before things got too intense, before she found herself entwined in an emotional moment that included the man at her side. Like that would somehow bind them. They weren’t going to be introducing Edward to Joy. This was just a walk by. Joy didn’t need her for that.

  She could get home to her studio.

  No one would be there. Or know that she’d spent the evening holed up alone. Even if they’d known, she had the right...

  “How long have they been married?” She could hardly get the question out. It was innocuous, unimportant. But it kept her there.

  “Ten years.”

  About as long as Edward had been estranged from his daughter.

  “So you’ve never met Cara?” Joy’s mother was a mystery to Julie. And yet, her heart was calling out to the woman. Praying that she had the strength to stay alive until she could be found. Praying that the tirade her husband had been on was over.

  “Nope.”

  She was running out of questions. She was running out of time, too, if she was going to escape. They were almost at the last little hall.

  “I had no idea The Lemonade Stand was one of your charities. Makes sense, with the association between your brother and Brett Ackerman, but you weren’t involved with the last fund-raiser...”

  “It’s not one of my charities...” Too late she realized the answer could lead to questions she wasn’t going to answer. “I’m not on the board.” She scrambled for an answer that held the truth, but also protected her. “I’m a volunteer.”

  Beyond that, he didn’t need to know. Their worlds, his so unfettered and free, and hers crippled by angst and mistrust, were total opposites.

  “That’s how you came to meet Joy?”

  “Yes.”

  They’d turned the corner, were heading toward the big double swinging doors that led to the kitchen. Doors that were currently open.

  She could still leave. Could still...

  Then she saw Joy. The little girl sat unmoving on a stool, her arms clutching one of Julie’s books to her chest, staring at a huge bowl of cookie dough in a commercial-size mixer. There was no expression on her face.

  Not sadness. Or fear. No contentment or longing, either.

  Sara had slowed, which brought all of them close together.

  “Is that her?” Edward’s voice was a broken whisper.

  “Yeah,” Lila answered, looking at him. Julie figured Lila was assessing whether or not she felt Edward could keep it together long enough to see Joy without alarming her.

  More might have been said, but the woman with Joy noticed them. Smiled. If they were going to be unthreatening, on a nonchalant tour, they had to keep moving. As a group, as though they were tied together, they did.

  The others in the room faded for Julie as they drew closer to the little girl. She could almost feel Joy’s disconnect—her state of fugue—as life went on around her. Without her. Joy didn’t seem to care that strangers had entered the room.

  But Julie knew the second she started to care. As the five of them moved toward the counter where Joy sat, with Sara describing the coming movie night for which the cookies were being baked, Edward stepped within a foot of the child. Joy bent her head, resting her chin on the book.

  “She’s afraid,” Julie whispered. If she spoke any louder Joy would hear, and having attention drawn to her could have an adverse effect. Julie didn’t know that because of any studying she’d done regarding the kind of feelings Joy might be experiencing. She knew because she’d lived them.

  “Cookie dough!” Hunter moved to stand beside her, startling her. “That’s what Edward here was hoping to see,” he said, pushing to the front of the group. Then, before Julie had any idea what he’d been planning to do, he stuck his finger in the big bowl of dough, came up with a glob and thrust the whole thing in his mouth. “He’s just too polite to do this,” Hunter said, his words garbled around the dough.

  Julie would’ve smiled but was too worried about the little girl. About doing more harm. Sending her further away from them, deeper into her mental hell. She glanced at Joy—and stood there, openmouthed.

  Joy was watching Hunter. Holding her breath, Julie watched as Hunter stuck his finger in the bowl a second time and offered the glob of dough to Edward who, without losing a beat, took it in his mouth.

  “Mmm, that’s good,” the doctor said with his mouth full.

  Joy looked at the older man. Studied him.

  “Anyone else want some?” Hunter asked, putting his finger back in the bowl of now-ruined dough. He held out his finger to Joy, but didn’t keep it there when she didn’t react. Instead, he moved around the group, first in front of Lila who shook her head, and then Sara, who did the same. When he got to Julie, Joy was watching her.

  She did not want Hunter Rafferty’s finger in her mouth.

  Didn’t want the cookie dough, either, for that matter.

  But Joy was watching.

  Opening wide, Julie took in the entire glob of dough. She tried to pretend she hadn’t felt Hunter’s finger against her cheek from inside her mouth. Tried to pretend she hadn’t liked it.

  “Over here is where our team of mostly volunteer cooks prepare all the salads...” Sara had moved on. So had Edward and Lila. Hunter put a hand on Julie’s shoulder and she moved, too. Away from him.

  Away from Joy.

  But when, with cookie dough still on her tongue, she turned back for one last glance at the little girl, Joy was watching her. And continued to watch as the group moved away. Julie smiled at her. She didn’t get a smile in return, but she believed that Joy had found comfort in her presence.

  And was thankful she hadn’t run home to hide.

  CHAPTER NINE

  HUNTER HAD TO rearrange some things, delegate some tasks early Saturday. Edward had received a call indicating that he and Hunter were welcome to stop by the small art room where Julie would be working with Joy that morning. Lila and Sara would be there, too. The same group from the day before.

  He’d been invited specifically because of the way he’d stuck his finger in the cookie dough the other day. They believed Joy would welcome him more than Edward at this point. Or be more open to having Edward in the room if Hunter was there with him.

  So fitting. Some guys did heroic deeds. Hunter ate cookie dough.

  There were no immediate plans to tell Joy that Edward was her grandfather. They were taking things one step at a time—but trying to take those steps as rapidly as possible, in case she could give them some information about her mother.

  “There’s been no activity on their credit cards,” Edward was saying as Hunter drove the two of them from Edward’s hotel to The Lemonade Stand. “No money taken from their bank accounts.”

  “They’ve been gone a week,” Hunter said, telling himself he was not looking forward to seeing Julie Fairbanks again. Sure, he’d thought of her in the hours they’d been apart, picturing her with Joy, using her art therapy to draw her out. That was because of Edward, he told himself. And, of course, the little girl. “How could they not have used any money?”

  “Shawn could have a place somewhere, ready for such an instance. Could be holed up with a friend. Or he could have had cash on him enough to pay for a se
edy motel somewhere where there’d be no record and no questions asked.”

  Or Cara could be with him willingly. They could’ve made plans together. Hunter knew it was a possibility. Didn’t see much point in bringing it up to Edward again.

  “They could be clear across the United States by now. Or even in Mexico. From what friends told the police, Shawn used to like it down there.” Edward frowned and Hunter felt for the guy.

  It’d been good the night before, having Edward with him at the medical fund-raiser. He’d seen a different side to him. The professional, confident side. The group had taken in almost double what they’d hoped for. He figured Edward’s working the room accounted for at least part of that.

  “They’ve gone through all the records for Amos Surfing,” Edward continued. He’d had a conversation with the Ventura detective in charge of his daughter’s case early that morning, but most of what he was saying now they’d already discussed. “There’s nothing amiss. He just finished a hugely successful summer.”

  “Maybe he goes down to Rocky Point to teach when it gets too cold here,” Hunter said, mentioning a vacation town an hour across the US border. He knew Edward was talking because he needed to. Knew that Edward needed more than that. He just had nothing to offer that would do any good. Except what he was doing. Accompanying him on this visit with his granddaughter.

  “The police are in touch with the Mexican authorities. So far, nothing.”

  “What about their house here?”

  “It’s in Mary’s name.” Right. His dad had said something about that.

  “Any change in her condition?” He should have asked the night before. His mind had been on other things.

  “The swelling hasn’t gone down enough for them to start waking her up.”

  Edward had been to see her, though. Every day.

  The more time Hunter spent with the guy, the more he liked him. Not just as a favor to his father.

  It was good to know his dad had married into a decent family.

  Something he might’ve known sooner if he’d accepted any of the myriad invitations he’d been issued over the years. Instead, John and Betty had to come visit him. Not easy for a dedicated doctor with a thriving practice.

  These weren’t thoughts Hunter generally entertained.

  Edward had the passenger door open before Hunter had pulled his Cadillac Escalade to a stop at The Lemonade Stand. The SUV’s flashiness, while important to his job, seemed embarrassingly out of place in the small, unadorned parking lot.

  “Lila said she’d be meeting us inside,” the older man said.

  Hands in the pockets of his beige chinos, Hunter followed Edward. He’d purposely chosen the purple shirt with the sleeves rolled up because purple was a kid color. Seeing Edward in his suit pants, white shirt and tie, he wasn’t sure which of them was inappropriately dressed.

  “Thank you so much for doing this,” Edward said, his speech a little rushed as they entered the nondescript waiting room. Lila McDaniels, in what looked like the same gray pants, shirt and jacket she’d worn during one of their previous visits, didn’t seem to notice anything amiss as Edward shook her hand. But then she probably dealt with emotionally charged situations on a regular basis. Everything about her was contained. From the serviceable flat shoes to the gray bun at her nape.

  Admirable. Taking life in stride. Just like he did. She was bolder in her approach than he was, however. She actually saved lives while he planned parties to help people make the money to save lives.

  Hunter’s work mattered. He knew that. He just liked to keep himself in check. It told others not to expect more than he could deliver.

  All his life, his parents had looked to him for their happiness. He’d never quite succeeded in delivering that, either.

  They’d entered the same hall he’d been down before on the way to Lila’s office. Women milled around in small groups, but as usual, he didn’t make eye contact. The majority of them were there because they’d been abused by a man. Hunter wasn’t sure his masculinity would be welcomed. And didn’t want to invade the peace they were struggling to find.

  Although the hall was wide enough for the three of them, they’d take up most of the space if he walked with Lila and Edward, so he fell just behind them, content to be invisible.

  Instead of heading into one of the rooms along that hall, as he’d expected, they reached a glass door and went outside. To one of the most beautiful resorts he’d seen on the California coast. From impeccable landscaping, with flower-lined walkways and lush green grass, to a wooded garden off in the distance, the place was elegant. Beautiful. Filled with peace.

  Bungalows dotted the walkways in a neighborhood kind of setting, three or four to a circle. Lila was telling them about the pool that was just beyond a hill to the left, and the private beach on the other side of the woods. Residents had to have a key to get through a locked gate between the woods and the beach, but the beach was only accessible by water or through the private Stand entrance.

  “It could seem prison-like,” Lila was saying as Hunter came up beside Edward on the sidewalk. Glancing around, he didn’t think so.

  “But our residents aren’t locked in. Danger is locked out.”

  He liked that. Even as he thought about it, he was keeping an eye out for Julie Fairbanks. She’d be at the meeting. And while his first priority was being there for Edward and facilitating his meeting with Joy in any manner that would help, he was very much looking forward to seeing Julie.

  She worked practically full-time for no pay. He’d had to spend half an hour on the phone rearranging schedules and organizing deliveries just so he could afford to be there that morning and not lose a paycheck.

  Their worlds were miles apart. He still wanted to take her to dinner.

  Just once.

  So he could move on.

  * * *

  JULIE HADN’T HAD to wait for Joy to pick up the pencil that morning. As soon as Sara had walked the silent child into the room where Julie already had their easels and chairs set up, Joy made a beeline for her pencil. Black again. And she’d taken her chair. She didn’t draw, though.

  Not until Sara had stepped out—to wait for Lila and Edward and Hunter—and Julie had picked up her own pencil, did Joy’s small hand rise to the page.

  Unlike other days, Julie wasn’t drawing Amy. She was working on a big ice cream cone floating in the sky. A stuffed toy puppy would be next. And then maybe a beach ball. Under Sara’s directive, she was to draw “fun things” that a seven-year-old girl would love. The idea was to create an atmosphere of nonthreatening fun before bringing in their visitors.

  The only thing Joy seemed to be relating to so far was Amy and, through Amy, Julie’s drawings. So they’d use the drawings to assure her that everything was fine. That was the theory, in any case.

  “Amy loves chocolate ice cream,” she said, something she’d already mentioned to Joy. “And she looovvves sugar cones,” she said, drawing the pointy tip of the waffled cone in a light brown. “Do you like sugar cones?”

  With the page in front of her still blank, Joy was watching Julie’s page. She didn’t respond. So Julie kept talking. And drawing. Adding dimension to the ice cream.

  Joy’s pencil finally began to move. Making a V shape. With a circle on top. It wasn’t symmetrical. And all in black. But Julie’s heart started to pound.

  Had Joy just told her that she liked sugar cones, too?

  Miraculously Julie’s pencil didn’t falter. As soon as she’d finished the single scoop, she changed pencils, switching to a light blue, and outlined the clouds in the sky in which the ice cream cone was floating. Sara had told her to do what came naturally, as though she was in her studio working. When emotions got intense, she moved to more ethereal things. Or detail that was uneventful.

  She wanted so b
adly to free this little girl from the internal chains that were keeping her captive. She’d been there. She knew how horrible it felt to be locked up inside. To fear speaking out. And for the first time since she’d been so brutally raped, she felt...not like a victim in recovery mode.

  More like a survivor with something unique and valuable to offer.

  She started in on the puppy. Brown with floppy ears. She was fully aware of the big brown eyes watching her. Aware, too, of the adults who’d soon be joining them. She hoped their arrival in the room wouldn’t rattle Joy to the point of no longer being open to the work they were quietly doing there.

  As usual, while she drew, she talked. Uncoached by Sara. The therapist had told her to draw happy childhood things. She hadn’t told her what to say.

  She’d said that Julie’s own words, through her stories, were what reached the child. It had to come from her.

  So...

  “When I lost my mom and dad, I wanted a puppy,” she said. Lost. To an adult that meant death. But to a child whose parents were missing? She hoped Joy had only “lost” her mom and would soon find her again. Alive and able to heal. From what Julie had been told, the police had no reason to believe otherwise at that point. But she didn’t ask questions.

  “And even before that, I wanted grandparents.” Her neck felt tight. Maybe she was pushing things.

  “Amy wanted them, too,” she said, continuing to add detail to the puppy. He had big brown eyes like Joy. His little pink tongue lolled out of the side of his mouth. He looked like he was smiling. And prancing.

  “I don’t remember my grandparents,” she continued, “but my friends all had them. Do you know what grandparents are?” She paused for an answer, just in case, but didn’t look at the little girl. She didn’t want to put her on the spot. “Grandparents are your mama’s and daddy’s mamas and daddies,” she said. Amy called her mom “mama.”

  “And the magical thing about them is that they love grandkids as much as kids love ice cream and puppies.”

  She put the finishing touches on the puppy. Then she began outlining a beach ball. Sitting in the sand. Next to what was going to be a sand castle. She left detail and color to fill in as time allowed.