At Hidden Falls (Angel's Bay Novel)

by Barbara Freethy

  Charlotte felt as if she was losing her mind. The baby’s screams hammered the ache in her head. Would he never stop? She juggled him in her arms, trying to soothe him with rocking, bouncing, and calming words. But nothing seemed to work. He’d been crying off and on all night. He’d slept two hours at the most, and she’d probably slept one, because between crying bouts, she’d stayed awake, listening to every breath he took.

  “I don’t know what’s wrong,” she told him. “I’ve fed you. I’ve changed you. I’ve burped you.” His bottom lip jutted out as he grabbed more air to cry with. “No, please, stop. Please, please, please.” Exhausted tears gathered behind her eyes as she sat down in the rocking chair.

  She kept a steady rhythm, stroking his head with her fingers. An old song came to mind, and she began to sing, the words coming from some long-ago memory. It worked. After a few moments, his sobs turned to hiccups, then his eyes drifted shut, and he slept.

  She let out a breath, afraid to move. But it seemed he’d finally worn himself out.

  “I didn’t know you remembered that song.” Her mother stood in the doorway, an odd look in her eyes.

  “I didn’t know I did, either, but the words just came back.”

  “I used to sing you that song before you went to sleep.”

  “Really? I don’t remember you singing to me.” The idea seemed rather extraordinary.

  “I used to sing at the church, too. But then I got busy with you and your brother and sister and all your dad’s needs.” She sighed. “Those days seem like a million years ago.” Her soft, wistful gaze sharpened. “You should put him down. He’ll get used to you holding him, and he won’t be able to sleep on his own.”

  “So far, he doesn’t seem able to sleep much at all.” But some obedient-daughter gene made her get up and put the baby in his crib. He squirmed for a moment, then went back to sleep.

  As she moved across the room, she became very aware of her wrinkled pajama bottoms and her camisole’s odor of baby spit-up. She hadn’t brushed her teeth or her hair, and thank goodness she’d had her office reschedule her patients for the next few days. Because she would definitely not inspire anyone’s confidence.

  Her mother, on the other hand, looked positively glowing. She had on a skirt and a silk blouse with high heels and panty hose. There was eyeshadow on her lids and gloss on her lips.

  “Where are you going?” Charlotte asked as they walked into the hall.

  Her mother flushed. “I have some things to do.”

  “Like what?” she asked curiously. There was an almost guilty look in her mother’s eyes.

  “I’m meeting Peter at Kellum’s Antiques. He needs my help picking out some furniture.”

  Peter Lawson? No wonder her mother was blushing. The good-looking older man had been around quite a bit lately. Charlotte wasn’t sure how she felt about it. It was less than a year since her father had died, and her parents had been married for forty-plus years. It was difficult to imagine her mother with another man—any man.

  “He seems to need your help a lot,” she commented as they entered the kitchen. She poured herself a cup of coffee, desperately in need of caffeine.

  “He isn’t very skilled when it comes to decorating,” Monica answered. “You know how men are.”

  Charlotte sipped her coffee and leaned against the counter, keeping her thoughts to herself.

  Her mother cleared her throat. “We need to discuss what we’re going to do if Annie doesn’t come back.”

  “Let’s not go there yet,” Charlotte said, cutting her off. “I don’t want to consider that possibility.”

  “You can’t stick your head in the sand.”

  Charlotte smiled at her mother’s choice of words.

  “What’s so amusing?” Monica asked sharply, raising an annoyed eyebrow.

  “The irony of what you just said. You’re the queen of not seeing what you don’t want to see.” She regretted the statement when she saw thunderclouds in her mother’s eyes. Monica Adams could dish it out, but she definitely couldn’t take it—especially from her middle and always-disappointing daughter.

  “You’re the one who pretended she wasn’t pregnant for two months. Who was avoiding the truth then?” her mother challenged.

  There it was—the elephant in the room they’d managed to avoid for so many years.

  “And you’re the one who made me wait another month to go to the doctor, because you wanted to take me to someone out of town who didn’t know us, who wouldn’t spread my shameful behavior around,” she replied.

  Her mother’s lips tightened. “You blame me for your miscarriage. But some things just aren’t meant to be. You were lucky.”

  “Lucky?” Charlotte echoed in shock and anger.

  “Do you think you were ready to raise a baby at seventeen? Do you think you would have become a doctor—that your life would be anything like it is now—if you’d had that child? Because it wouldn’t have been. I know that for a certainty.”

  “You can rationalize all you want, but you can’t diminish the pain I felt. I was carrying a child, and I lost it, because I was young and stupid and I let you talk me into keeping it a secret. I wasn’t feeling well. I needed to see a doctor. I never should have told you or let you make me wait. I should have gone on my own.”

  “That wouldn’t have made any difference, and you know it. For heaven’s sake, Charlotte, you’re a doctor. Miscarriages happen all the time.”

  Logically, she knew that, but her heart and her head had never been in agreement when it came to that tragedy. Because no matter how terrified she’d been of having a baby, she’d still grieved for the life she’d lost. She’d still felt responsible, because she’d done so many things wrong, made so many mistakes, not all of which she could blame on her mother. Worst, she’d gone through it all alone, because her mother had convinced her that no good could come of talking about it after the fact. It was better if she stayed silent. Maybe it had been better—for everyone else. But for her, the pain had eaten away a part of her heart that she could never get back.

  It had been many years since she’d relived that pain. Taking care of Annie’s baby had brought back a lot of memories—apparently for both of them.

  “Charlotte,” her mother said uncertainly. “We shouldn’t have started this now. You’re tired, and I’m on my way out.”

  “This conversation has been a long time coming.” She paused. “I know that the miscarriage was probably inevitable, but you were wrong to keep me from going to the doctor.”

  Her mother’s face paled, her eyes dark beads of anger. “I did what I thought was best for all of us. And it was only a couple of weeks. You were a strong, healthy girl. I never thought you’d lose the baby.”

  “But you were happy that I did.”

  Her mother stared back at her. “What do you want me to say? I didn’t want that life for you, a single mother at seventeen. I wanted you to have more. And in the end, you got more. Things worked out the way they were supposed to.”

  “The lie split us apart. And keeping it a secret from Dad hurt my relationship with him, too.”

  “He would have been devastated if he’d known.”

  “Is that what you honestly believe?”

  “He was a man of God.”

  “He was a man who understood that people sometimes make mistakes.”

  Her mother crossed her arms in front of her chest. “Was it a mistake, Charlotte? Or was it deliberate?” she challenged. “Another act of rebellion?”

  “You think I got pregnant to spite you?” She was amazed by the thought. “You never knew me at all.”

  “You hated living under our rules. You were always challenging me. You could never just go along, to trust that I knew what was best for you.”

  “You didn’t always know.”

  “Yes, I did. I was your mother. I did for you what you’re doing for Annie’s baby. I stayed up all night while you cried. I held you and rocked you and fed you, and I loved
you every second of your life, from your very first breath.” Her mother’s voice shook with emotion. “I wanted you to have everything, Charlotte. The world would be yours. You would be happy. You would be successful. But you wouldn’t listen to me. You fought me at every turn. And as you got older, you looked at my life and decided you didn’t want anything to do with it.” Her gaze burned into hers. “Do you think I didn’t feel your judgment?”

  “My judgment?” she echoed in astonishment. “You were the one who criticized me.”

  “And you did the same, every time you defied me. You didn’t want the life I wanted to give you.” She took a deep breath, then said fiercely, “Whatever I did, I did because I loved you. And I wanted to protect you, so I made rules. I was willing to let you hate me, if it meant you’d have what I wanted you to have. But you couldn’t understand that.”

  Charlotte shook her head in bewilderment. “What I wanted to have was a relationship with my mother.”

  “That’s not true,” her mother said in disbelief. “You never wanted to spend time with me.”

  “When did you ever ask? You were always with Doreen. You got along so well with her. And Jamie was your baby. He couldn’t do anything wrong. They were always your first choice.”

  “My first choice? I couldn’t find you half the time. Once you hit puberty, you were always sneaking out. And after the miscarriage, you wouldn’t even look at me.”

  “It wasn’t just you I couldn’t look at it,” Charlotte confessed. “It was myself, too. I knew I screwed up.”

  Monica gazed back at her. “I don’t think you’ve ever said that before.”

  “And I probably won’t say it again,” she returned. “But it’s been a really long night.”

  A gleam of compassion softened her mother’s eyes. “You’re exhausted, aren’t you?”

  She nodded. “I could fall asleep standing up.”

  “I’m sorry I’m leaving you on your own.”

  “It’s fine. I’m going to lie down while he’s sleeping. I cleared my schedule for the day.” As she finished speaking, her cell phone rang. Joe’s number.

  Clearing her throat, she said, “Hello.” Joe’s words were concise and to the point, and a wave of fear ran through her. “Are you sure it was Annie’s?” she asked, then listened to his reply. “Of course, bring it by. I’ll be here.”

  As she ended the call, she glanced at her mother. “Joe said they found the bag of items Annie bought at the market yesterday. It was tossed behind a fence in a yard about two blocks away. On the sidewalk, they found a broken gold chain with a cross on it.”

  Monica’s lips tightened in dismay. “Annie’s?”

  “He’s bringing it over.” She paused, feeling suddenly very afraid and seeing that same fear reflected in her mother’s eyes. “He doesn’t think Annie ran away anymore.”

  “It’s still possible,” her mother said, a desperate note in her voice. “Annie could have thrown the bag away when she decided she wasn’t coming back.”

  For once, she wanted to believe her mother. “That’s true. But there was something in Joe’s voice.”

  “He’s a police officer. He’s used to dealing with the worst-case scenario.”

  The doorbell rang. “That’s Peter,” her mother said, casting a hesitant look over her shoulder. “Do you want me to stay, Charlotte?”

  “No, do what you need to do. I’ll talk to Joe.”

  “You’ll call me if anything comes up.”

  “Of course.”

  “I’ll be back by one. I can watch the baby this afternoon.”

  “That would be great.”

  As the doorbell rang again, Monica turned to leave, but Charlotte couldn’t help asking the one question she’d never asked. “Mom . . .”

  Her mother stopped, raising one eyebrow at the lengthening pause. “Yes?”

  She took a breath and said, “Why didn’t you ever ask me who the father of my baby was?”

  Her mother paled, but her eyes were steel. “Because I didn’t want to know. I still don’t.”

  And that was her mother, always operating on her own terms. But at least they’d finally kicked the biggest elephant out of the room. It was a start.

  In ordinary circumstances, Joe would have sent one of his officers over to Charlotte’s house. But it was Charlotte. He didn’t need any more reason than that.

  Talking to the prospective adoptive couples the night before had been depressing and not very illuminating. He’d seen and heard how desperate some of them were to have children but, not surprisingly, no one had stepped forward to claim paternity. A simple DNA test would prove who the father was, and now that he had evidence that Annie hadn’t run away, he intended to get those tests.

  But who would want to get Annie out of the way at this late date? She’d always had the freedom to reveal the father of her child. So what had changed?

  He was still thinking about that when he knocked on Charlotte’s door.

  She answered a few moments later, a little flushed and breathless. She wore jeans and a clingy knit shirt that showed off her curves. His breath stalled in his chest. She wasn’t wearing a speck of makeup, and there were weary shadows under her eyes, but she still had that just-got-out-of-bed look that reminded him of how much he’d like to see her in bed.

  “Joe, you got here fast,” she said with a smile. “Come in. The baby is asleep, but who knows how long that will last? It’s amazing how little I can get done while taking care of one small child. I was excited just to take a shower.”

  He smiled back at her. “I’ve heard my sisters say that exact same thing.”

  “Do you want some coffee?” she asked as he stepped through the doorway.

  “If it’s no trouble.”

  “No trouble at all. We keep the pot going night and day.” She led him into the kitchen, grabbed a mug out of the cupboard, and filled it up.

  “Thanks.”

  She waved him toward a small round kitchen table. “So you brought something to show me?”

  He took a plastic bag out of his pocket and set it on the table. A thin gold chain and cross were inside. “It could belong to anyone,” he said.

  She shook her head, worry in her eyes. “Annie had one just like it. And the fact that it was close to the bag from the market . . . Joe, what does this mean?”

  “It means we’re stepping up the investigation. I’ve got Jason canvassing the neighborhood around the market. If anyone saw anything, we’ll find them.”

  She nodded, concern on her face. “But why would someone grab Annie? Do you think it was random?”

  “I don’t. However, I have nothing to back that up but gut instinct.”

  “I trust your instincts. If you don’t think it was random, then who?”

  “That I can’t say.”

  “You spoke to the adoptive couples?”

  “Four of them. I have one more this afternoon. No one has stepped up to claim the child.” As he finished speaking, a baby’s scream came from the monitor. He winced. “That kid has some lungs.”

  “Tell me about it.” She got up from the table and hurried down the hall. Joe followed her, watching from the doorway as she picked up the baby and put him on the changing table. He was screaming and kicking his feet, mad as hell, and Joe had never seen Charlotte so flustered.

  “I’m not very good at this,” she told him.

  “How are you so rattled? You deliver babies all the time.”

  “I give them to their mothers right away. Still, I thought I was good with babies until this kid. He does not like me. Obviously, I wasn’t cut out to be a mother.”

  At her words, he remembered a night a few weeks ago when she’d told him about her teen pregnancy and miscarriage. Suddenly, it was clear where her insecurity was coming from. He crossed the room and put his hand on her shoulder.

  She gave him a nervous look. “What?”

  He gazed into her eyes, giving her a reassuring smile. “You’re the most loving, gener
ous, kind woman I know. From what I can see, you’re loaded with motherly instincts.”

  She swallowed hard, her eyes blurring with tears. “I’m so tired, Joe. You’re going to make me cry.”

  “Well, that’s not going to help,” he said lightly. “Just trust yourself, Charlotte. You’re not that scared pregnant teenage girl anymore, and he’s not the baby you lost.”

  She sniffed and lifted her chin. “You’re right. It’s the lack of sleep. It makes me a little crazy.”

  “Why don’t you let me take this diaper?” He pushed her gently out of the way.

  “Okay, have at it.”

  The kid tried to spray him when he took off the wet diaper, but Joe was ready for it and soon had him powdered and dry.

  “Wow,” Charlotte murmured. “If I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, I don’t think I would have believed it. The chief of police changing diapers.”

  “I have seven nieces and nephews. This wasn’t my first time.” He picked the baby up in his arms and pressed him against his chest, rubbing his back until he quieted down.

  “You’re good,” Charlotte said. “Why don’t you have children? Oh, sorry—that was rather personal,” she added quickly.

  “It never seemed to be the right time,” he said quietly. “Rachel and I talked about it a lot, but we couldn’t agree on when to do it. And it wasn’t always her putting things off. I did as well.”

  “It’s not too late. You’re still young.”

  “I’m pushing forty.”

  “Well, until you’re pushing up daisies, you’ve got time.”

  He handed her back the baby, who now snuggled into her soft chest with a satisfied sigh. “See, he does like you.”

  “Parts of me,” she said with a laugh.

  “They are very nice parts.” He grinned back at her.

  She shook her head. “I walked right into that one.”

  “You did.” He paused. “I’ll call you as soon as I find out anything about Annie.”

  She gave him a heartfelt smile. “Thanks, Joe—for everything.”

  “You’re more than welcome. I’m going to do more for this kid than change his diaper. I’m going to bring his mother back,” he promised.