by Marta Perry
Her mother switched gears immediately, getting abruptly to the reason for her call. Money. She persisted in believing that only selfishness kept her only daughter from funding her every whim.
“I’m sorry, Mom.”
She turned away from Ryan. He was pretending interest in a magazine on the coffee table, but he’d have to be stupid not to realize something was going on.
“I wish I could help you, but I can’t.” She thought of her dwindling bank account with a moment of panic. “I’ll call you back later. Goodbye.” She hung up quickly, before she could say something she’d regret.
She stood staring down at the phone for a moment, not ready to face Ryan yet, aware that her palms were damp and her stomach churning.
He let the silence stretch for a few minutes before he spoke. “Family troubles?”
She took a breath. “You could say that.”
He patted the couch next to him. “I bored you with mine. The least you can do is to return the favor.”
She managed a smile as she sat down. “It’s not much of a favor.”
“Your parents are out in Arizona, I remember.”
“For my father’s health.”
“Is he doing all right?”
“He’s been better since they’ve been out there.” She rubbed her forehead. “At least I think so. He always puts up such a good front when I talk to him that it’s hard to be sure of that.”
“You worry about him.” His palm settled on the back of her neck, moving in slow, soothing circles. “Won’t your mom level with you?”
How to explain her mother in a few well-chosen words? Impossible, but she had to say something.
“Mom seldom thinks of anything except as it affects her, I’m afraid. She sees my father’s illness as a personal inconvenience.” Her fingers were curling into a tight ball, and she deliberately relaxed them.
“She’s never stopped blaming Dad for selling their house here and moving into a smaller condo out there.”
“I’m sorry.” His tone was gentle. “I guess that kind of puts you in the middle.”
The movement of his hand was easing the tension away. “There’s always something. This time she wants me to put up the money so that they can move into a ‘real house’ instead of the condo.” She shrugged. “I can’t, obviously.”
“Doesn’t she understand that?”
“She’s convinced that my husband couldn’t possibly have left me as badly off as I say.”
She stopped. She’d already said more than she intended. She wouldn’t talk to Ryan about Jason.
It was Ryan’s fault—for being here, for insisting on offering friendship, for making her long to confide in someone. She shook her head.
“Sorry. I shouldn’t be unloading that on you.”
“Hey, we’re friends, aren’t we?” He touched her chin lightly, tipping her face up so that she looked into his eyes. “Friends can level with each other.”
“I guess so.”
The words came out breathlessly. She wanted to tell him that she was fine, that she didn’t need any help or anyone to lean on, but the words wouldn’t seem to come. They got lost in the nearness of him.
The deep blue of Ryan’s eyes seemed to grow even darker, more mysterious. His fingers stroked her cheek, warming where they touched.
She wanted to lean into his embrace and feel his arms close around her. Feel his lips on hers. He was going to kiss her—
Ryan pulled back, looking dazed and a little confused, as if he’d lost track of where he was and what he was doing.
“I—” He cleared his throat. “I guess I can see why you feel you have to stand on your own feet.”
She struggled for composure, looking anywhere but at Ryan. “I have to. I can’t count on them for any help, with Mandy or anything else.”
They were talking about her parents. Not about them. Not about how Ryan had almost kissed her and then pulled away.
She glanced at the clock. “Well, it’s getting late.” He obviously regretted what had almost happened. She’d give him an excuse to leave.
“I guess so.” He stood, and she could feel his relief. “Good night, Laura.” In an instant he was gone.
Punching her pillow was doing absolutely nothing to help her get to sleep. Laura sat up in bed and wrapped her arms around her knees. The red numbers on the digital alarm clock informed her that it was nearly three in the morning.
She simply couldn’t get those moments with Ryan out of her mind, no matter how she tried. She pressed her hand against her cheek, seeming to feel the warmth of his fingers. Denying the attraction she felt for him would be lying to herself, and she didn’t do that.
All right, she was attracted to him. This feeling wasn’t the hero worship she’d felt for him in high school. She wasn’t even sure she believed in heroes any longer. But she was drawn inexorably to his easy smile and to the goodness she sensed behind it.
“A merry heart doeth good like a medicine.” The scripture verse popped into her mind unbidden. It was probably something she’d learned in Siobhan Flanagan’s church-school class, now that she thought about it. Ryan’s mother had loved memorizing scripture, and she’d tried to pass that love along to a rambunctious group of early teens.
You never know when those words will come back to help you, she’d said.
What would Siobhan say now if she knew how far Laura had wandered from her teachings? She tried to push the thought away, but it clung. Siobhan would care—that she knew without thinking about it.
Siobhan and Laura’s mother had been the same generation, living in the same town, attending the same church, but they’d been miles apart in temperament. Laura’s throat tightened, remembering the emotional storms her mother had used to get her way, remembering the distress in her father’s face whenever he tried to deal with them.
She would be a better role model than that for her daughter. She might not have the faith of someone like Siobhan, but she would do that.
She slipped out of bed and went barefoot across the hall, easing open the door to Mandy’s room. The nightlight glowed softly, and the zebras and elephants kept watch. She tiptoed across the hooked rug.
Mandy lay on her side, teddy bear snuggled against her, one hand still on the puppy book. Laura smoothed the patchwork quilt over her—unnecessary, but she loved to feel the even rise and fall of Mandy’s breathing.
Love choked her throat, fierce and protective. She had to make things right for Mandy. No matter who had let her down, she wouldn’t let Mandy down. She bent to drop a feather-light kiss on her daughter’s curls.
I’ll make it right, my darling. I promise.
She went back to her own bedroom, still wired up and far from sleep. Once she’d have sought refuge in prayer or scripture at moments like this, but the barriers she’d put up between herself and God prevented that.
How could You let us down? Mandy is an innocent child. Where is Your help when we need it?
She rubbed her forehead. She shouldn’t—
The outside lights came on, blazing through the windows that overlooked the alley, startling her into a throat-choked stillness.
She pressed her hand against her chest, feeling the thumping of her heart. Ridiculous, to be so upset because the lights had come on. Maybe it was Ryan’s stray cat.
But he’d been kidding about that. He’d said so. He’d said they’d set the lights high enough that they wouldn’t be triggered by something so low to the ground. Only by something larger. Like a man.
Heart in her throat, she crossed the room on tiptoe, as if someone outside could hear. She stopped at the window, stepping to the side so that she wouldn’t cast a shadow on the shade. Carefully she eased the shade away from the window an inch so that she could look out.
The lights Ryan and Seth had installed illuminated the alleyway behind the house, casting every object into sharp relief. Nothing moved.
She leaned forward a little, scanning the area at the edge of the ligh
t. Was that something—a darker shadow within the shadows just beyond the circle of light? She held her breath, eyes straining to detect movement.
Nothing. She couldn’t stand here all night, watching a shadow to see if it moved.
Steeling herself, she grasped the window frame and shoved. The window shrieked, resisting her. She forced it up and leaned out to look again.
The shadow she thought she’d seen was gone.
Ryan pushed open the glass door to the department headquarters building and then stopped. Lieutenant North was coming out, his face possibly even a little grimmer than it usually was.
“Flanagan.” His curt nod substituted for a good morning. “Come on. It seems your girlfriend had an alarm in the night. She called in about it.”
Ryan tried to speak evenly in spite of the fact that his heart was clenching. “She’s not my girlfriend. Are they all right?” Please, Father.
North nodded, stopping at Ryan’s car. Obviously he expected him to drive. Ryan unlocked the doors and slid in, turning the ignition key even before the other man was settled.
“What happened?” He tried, without success, to keep the tension out of his voice.
North snapped his seat belt. “She claims the motion lights in the alley went on around three in the morning. Says she thought she saw someone there. And she’s found something she wants to show us.”
“What?”
“She didn’t say.” North settled back with an abstracted frown.
Maybe it was just as well that the lieutenant didn’t go in for idle chatter. His mind was spinning with images of the previous evening.
At least they’d put the lights up. Even if this turned out to be a false alarm, they’d taken that extra precautionary step. And Laura had been grateful, in spite of the fact that he’d had to talk her into letting them do it.
His fingers tightened on the steering wheel. After what he’d been able to read between the lines about her family, maybe he understood that fierce independence of hers a little better. The people in her life had let her down, and she was determined to stand on her own.
Still, she had begun to open up to him. Well, she had until he’d behaved like an idiot and let himself be distracted by the attraction he felt, instead of concentrating on what she needed.
Idiot. Jerk. Calling himself names didn’t seem to help. At least he hadn’t kissed her. That was one small thing to congratulate himself for.
Seth had been right, little though he wanted to admit it. Laura didn’t need romance in her life right now, not unless it was the real thing.
She needed a friend. Maybe, if he could keep his mind off his own reactions, he could be that.
He pulled up in front of Laura’s building, tension riding his nerves. What had happened after he’d left last night?
She was obviously watching for them, because she opened the door quickly and ushered them inside.
“Back in the old kitchen.” She led the way. “I don’t want Mandy to realize something is wrong.”
He glanced up the stairs, but all was quiet. Mandy, cocooned in her silent world, hadn’t heard them.
“The outside lights came on around three this morning.”
Laura was already talking as the door swung shut behind them. Probably she needed to go over the events a few times in order to wipe away the fear. He’d seen that in rookie firefighters after they’d gone through a bad experience. Each telling made the hard thing easier to take.
“But you didn’t see anyone in the alley that you could identify?” North leaned against the counter, pulling out the omnipresent notebook.
“No.” A shudder seemed to run through her.
Ryan had to resist the impulse to move closer to her. He was here on duty, not as a friend.
“Nothing moved in the light?” he probed.
She shook her head. “I thought I saw something or someone in the shadows at that end of the alley.” She jerked a nod toward South Street. “When nothing moved, I opened the window. It took a minute or two, and by the time I leaned out and looked again, whatever I’d seen was gone.”
“Gone?” North’s tone was crisp. “Or never there?”
Laura’s chin came up. “This morning I went out and checked. I found this.”
She lifted a plastic trash bag to the scarred table. It clanked metallically as she set it down. She pulled the plastic away, and Ryan’s nerves clenched. Inside the bag sat a battered can of paint thinner.
Chapter Six
Spring sunlight streamed through the stained-glass windows of Grace Church’s children’s wing. Laura went down the hall, her feet seeming to find the way by instinct. It had been years since she’d been in this building, but still, she knew the way to the kindergarten classroom.
Why had she come? She knew the answer, or at least the one she’d told herself this morning. She’d come because Ryan had been right—if she wanted to express her thanks to the church members who’d helped her, coming to the service was the way to do it.
Another reason lurked at the back of her mind, and it was one she had to force herself to acknowledge. She’d wanted to see a few friendly faces after that chilling experience two nights ago.
And after Lieutenant North’s response to it. The arson investigator had promised increased police patrols. He’d taken the paint-thinner can for examination. But the whole time she’d been talking to him, she’d been overwhelmed with the conviction that he didn’t believe a word she said.
Ryan might level with her about what his boss thought, if she had an opportunity to talk with him alone. Well, she’d make an opportunity. She and her child were the ones in danger. She had a right to know what was going on.
She paused outside the kindergarten classroom, peeking cautiously through the glass in the door. She hadn’t wanted to leave Mandy in the Sunday school class without her, but Nolie had been there, eager to sign for Mandy. Somehow, quite without her knowing how, she’d been eased out of the room.
Now the group of four- and five-year-olds clustered in a circle around the teacher, heads bowed. Nolie’s hands moved in the words of a prayer.
Laura’s throat clenched. Mandy held hands with the children on either side of her. She looked content, as if she’d found a place where she belonged.
The prayer ended. Mandy looked up, saw her and ran toward the door, her face alight. Laura opened the door and stepped inside to catch her daughter in a hug.
“Did you have a good time?”
Mandy nodded, her hands flying in an attempt to tell everything they’d done. Nolie approached, smiling.
“She certainly did. She participated in every activity.” She patted Mandy’s head. “Why don’t you get your papers and show your mommy?”
Mandy nodded and darted to the bulletin board where envelopes marked with each child’s name held batches of church-school papers.
“This really went all right?”
Nolie smiled. “Perfectly. I hope you’ll bring her again. I think this was a good experience for her.”
It was an experience she hadn’t provided for Mandy in the past. She’d wanted to protect her from the buffeting of children who wouldn’t understand about her deafness. Maybe she’d been underestimating her small daughter.
Mandy shoved papers at her, her hands flying as she explained each of them. Then she smiled at Nolie and took her hand.
“I’ll be teaching children’s church today.” Nolie patted her expanding waistline. “I told Gabe I’m getting in some mommy practice. Mandy would like to stay with me, if that’s all right with you.”
No! The instinctive response startled her. And made her feel ashamed, as well. She shouldn’t hold Mandy back from doing something she wanted just because she wasn’t used to being apart from her daughter.
“Fine.” She managed a smile and gave Mandy a hug. “I’ll see you after church, then.”
When she reached the hallway, somehow she wasn’t surprised to find Ryan waiting for her. The navy blazer, white shirt and
red tie suited him, but made him seem almost like a stranger. She’d gotten used to the fireman’s uniform that he wore like a second skin when he was on duty.
“How did it go?” He arched an eyebrow.
“Very well, I guess. Thanks to your sister-in-law.” She turned somewhat reluctantly toward the sanctuary, and Ryan fell into step with her.
“Nolie’s the best. Gabe is a lucky man.”
A man that Ryan had no desire to emulate, apparently, at least when it came to settling down. She glanced at him, wondering what lay behind that easy smile. She’d learned a lot about Ryan in the past weeks—his friendliness, his persistence, his physical courage. But there was more to Ryan than the obvious.
They mounted the stairs, coming out into the long hallway lined with stained-glass windows that led to the sanctuary. She looked at the carved wooden door at the end of the hallway, and her steps slowed.
Ryan slanted a glance toward her. “What’s up?”
“What do you mean?” He couldn’t possibly guess her half-formed thoughts.
“If we go any slower, we’ll be going backward. Don’t you want to hear a sermon from my cousin? Or are you trying to get out of sitting with the Flanagans?”
“Neither.” She shook her head. Okay, he did guess her thoughts. “I’m just a considerably different person from the teenager who used to be here every time the church doors were open. That’s all.”
Ryan came to a halt, propping one hand against the nearest window frame as if prepared to stay there all day. “Why is that?”
Annoyance flickered through her. “I’m not sure that’s any of your business.”
If she’d hoped to make him angry, she didn’t succeed. His interested expression didn’t change.
“Maybe not. But I’d still like to know what you’ve got against God.”
His perception took her breath away. Or maybe she was a lot more obvious than she’d thought.
“Do you really have to ask that question?” She looked at the rose and green glass of the window, hoping to hide the tears that filled her eyes.