by Lucy Farago
She glanced back at the car. Could she make it there and back without her mother going further off the deep end? She didn’t have a choice. She needed those pills. Her own car was too far away to risk going for her phone. She took a cautious step backward, closely watching her mother’s reaction. She was oddly thankful, for the woman was too busy fighting the demons in her head to notice Shannon inching toward the car. As long as she kept her movements slow, careful not to catch her attention, she might make it. She was never more grateful when her hand wrapped around the door handle.
On the passenger seat she could see her mother’s purse and there, just inside the open flap, the bottle. With a grateful sigh, she climbed over the driver’s side and grabbed the pills. Opting for less noise, she left the car door open and turned.
“Mom?” Shannon was alone. “Mom?” she shouted. Nothing. Where the hell did she go? The rumble of a large engine coming to life echoed through the cemetery. Someone had started the backhoe used to dig the plots. Were they not alone? She ran to where she’d last seen it and caught the tail end disappearing down the hill. There was still no sign of her mother. “Mom, it’s me, Shannon.”
A nauseating foreboding wrapped around her chest and squeezed. “Oh, no.” She tucked the bottle into her pocket and raced after the backhoe. She’d been behind those things in traffic; surely she could outrun it. They weren’t designed for speed. She caught the tail end as it disappeared out of the cemetery gates. Behind her she heard the groundskeeper’s shouts. Where was she going? And worse, what was she thinking?
She made her legs go faster, told herself to breathe because, as it turned out, a backhoe only went slow to piss off the person driving behind it. It veered sharply left. Every muscle except her legs clenched as she watched her mother overcorrect and take out a stop sign. Then she turned right. She was headed for the quarry. A pebble slipped into her ballet flats, but Shannon kept going. What if her mother drove into the swimming hole? She’d sink straight to the bottom.
Why the hell had she not taken Maggie up on her offer and learned how to jog? Someone honked. Was she too far into the road? She didn’t care. Blood pounded in her ears, her heart not made for this. Her throat began to ache and she forced herself to take a deep breath. Another honk, then someone shouted her name. Noah. Relief washed over her as she stopped. She tore open the passenger door and dove inside. Gasping, she couldn’t talk. She pounded the dashboard and pointed to the quarry. She threw herself back on the seat as Noah understood and floored the accelerator. They made it in time to see the back tires disappear into the cold water.
Shannon scrambled for the door handle, flinging herself out and shouting, “Mom” as she kicked off her shoes and ran.
Noah grabbed her arm. “No, let me.”
She opened her mouth to argue, but he cut her off.
“I’ve had training. You call an ambulance.”
She wasn’t going to argue and took the phone he thrust into her hands. He stripped off his jacket, kicked off his own shoes, and dove in. Hands shaking, she dialed 911.
*
Yesterday the police had met them at the hospital, and while Noah wanted to stay with Shannon as they questioned her, she’d insisted he get out of his wet clothes. It had taken him too long to resuscitate her mother. Trapped in the heavy machinery, she’d sunk right to the bottom. The old quarry was at least fifty feet deep and cold … very cold. In the summer months nobody cared; in late fall it would make your muscles seize. She’d been terrified for both of them.
Now she sat in her mother’s hospital room, waiting to see if she’d wake up. The doctors suspected she’d suffered permanent brain damage from lack of oxygen. If she had, there was little Shannon could do for her.
“Hey.” Noah put his hand on her shoulder, disturbing the thoughts she’d been having.
“I was wondering. Do you think she was off her meds when she killed him?”
“I wouldn’t count on it, but it didn’t make her stable. You should know, they found the bullet from Shelley’s gun in your mom’s car. She used a blanket to cover it up, but the backseat was covered in JJ’s blood.”
“In all her craziness she said she’d been trying to help him.” Was that what she’d meant?
“Shelley admitted to shooting him just outside that bar. The rain would’ve washed away blood evidence, but they recovered the casing. Your mom must have found him. Maybe she took the bullet out? Then they argued. He got out of the car, or she forced him out, but when she shot him, that bullet ended up in her tire. I’m surprised she didn’t get a flat.”
Shannon stood. “Let’s go outside. If it’s true and coma patients can hear stuff, I don’t want to upset her.”
There was something about Noah’s expression, as if he was hesitant to tell her something and yet eager all at the same time. He held her hand as they stepped out into the hallway.
“The only print on the gun was yours, which means she was wearing gloves. That would make it premeditated.”
“She planned to kill him?” Why? She’d tolerated him for all those years.
“Maybe. There’s more. We talked to your mom’s doctors. She’d been doing remarkably well, even had a job, but they hadn’t seen her in weeks. We also talked to the staff where she was staying. They hadn’t seen her in almost a month. She told them she was going on holiday.”
“Where the hell has she been living?”
“She’s been kind of leading a secret life.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Hang on to that question. I think she might have brought the gun to threaten him, and then things escalated from there when he wouldn’t give her what she wanted.”
“What the hell would she want from him?” This was so confusing.
“She told you that in the cemetery. Look.” He pointed down the hall.
“Maggie? What are you doing here? And … and who is this?” she asked of the little girl holding Maggie’s hand. It took a few seconds for it to register, but this was the girl from the trailer park … the one living in her old trailer. “Leah?”
“Are you my sister?” Leah asked.
Shannon glanced between Maggie and Noah, both smiling at her. Then she saw the tiny upturned face that waited patiently for an answer. Shannon bent down on one knee, better to see the eyes looking up at her: her eyes. “Yes, I guess I am.”
The child threw herself onto Shannon, nearly knocking her on her ass. After getting her footing she wrapped her arms around her sister. Her questions could wait; for now she had a little girl to take care of. She looked up at Noah and mouthed thank you, not doubting for one second that he’d been the one to find Leah.
The lying, cheating pig who’d called himself her father had finally done something right for once in his miserable life. JJ had not only reunited her with the love of her life but given her a sister.
*
“Maggie,” Mrs. P exclaimed, giving her a hug. “I happy to see you. And who is this?” she asked of the little girl clutching Shannon’s hand.
“This is Cecilia—”
“Leah,” the child corrected. “Cecilia is for old people.”
“Sorry,” Shannon said, biting back a grin. “This is Leah, my sister.”
“Oh?”
She couldn’t blame Mrs. P’s confusion when she herself felt the same. “I’ll explain later.” After it was explained to her.
“Well, Leah, you like cake?”
“What kind of cake?” she asked, her face lighting up the way kids did when you offered them sweets.
“Come,” Mrs. P extended her hand, “let us see. And if I no have what you like, we make.”
“I’m not allowed to touch the stove.”
“Good, good,” she said, drawing her toward the kitchen. “But I with you. I watch.”
Shannon had to smile, remembering the day she’d been taught to bake a cake. The kid was in for a whole lot of fun. “Why don’t we step out onto the porch where little ears can’t hear?�
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Maggie and Christian had taken the earliest flight available after Noah had called and told them about Shannon’s mother. Having her best friend here when she was united with her sister made it all the more special.
“So,” Shannon said to Noah, “I know there’s more to this than one of the neighbors figuring out my mother didn’t go home last night.”
“Actually” Noah said, “it all came together at once. The local sheriff got a call from a guy claiming he was watching Leah but was worried something had happened to your mother because she hadn’t been acting herself lately. Damon had flown out to the schools to show them a picture of Shelley Albinson. They’d never seen her, but both recalled Cecilia talking to a woman outside the school.”
“Leah,” Maggie corrected. “A stranger talks to a kid and no one thinks anything of it? In this day and age, really?”
“Oh, no, they warned Cecilia about talking to strangers, but both times she denied doing it. They just assumed she didn’t want to get in trouble. But each school gave similar descriptions of the woman: blonde with striking blue eyes. Clue number one. That got me thinking. So I called Christian. Shelley was adamant she didn’t know who Cecilia’s mother was. But she’d been with JJ for a long time. And was he really protecting the kid from her mother?”
“Did you guys ever establish why she shot him?” Christian asked, sitting on the porch swing and patting the spot next to him for Maggie.
“Turns out she didn’t shoot him over some lover’s spat. He was threatening to tell Santos she was helping herself to more than her paycheck.”
“Ah, self-defense,” Christian said.
“How is that self-defense?” Maggie asked, taking a seat next to her husband.
“Her life or his. Santos would have killed her. I’m guessing JJ hadn’t figured she was desperate enough to take him out of the equation.”
Maggie groaned. “Please stop swinging.” She clutched her stomach, turning green. “I forgot how much I hate these things.”
“Sorry, darling.” Christian rubbed her back.
“Shelley may have landed a rich husband, but she used to work at a county hospital. Care to guess which one?” Noah asked.
“Of course,” Maggie said.
Either Shannon was too tired or too overwhelmed to clue in.
“When your mom had that breakdown,” Maggie explained, “remember, she went off her meds for no reason. She must have been pregnant.” Shannon could see Maggie doing the math in her head. “Makes sense. Then Shelley helped JJ cover it up. She would have had access to medical records, and with JJ’s or her connections they probably had help from someone at the county offices. That’s why she wouldn’t admit to knowing who Leah’s mother was. She didn’t want to add more charges to the list.”
“So he was trying to keep Leah away from my mom. Why? Because she was an unfit mother? That doesn’t make sense. JJ giving a shit? I mean, if he did care for Leah, great, but what the hell happened to make him change?”
“Nothing.” Noah withdrew a paper from his back pocket and handed it to her. “This was his reason for keeping that little girl away from her mother.”
“What is it?” She opened the paper. It was a photocopy of a partial will.
“On their seventeenth birthday, any children of one Emma Lewis shall inherit the sum total of—oh my God.” Shannon was speechless. “Is this a joke?”
“Nope,” Christian said, standing to his feet and taking Maggie with him. “You’re still green, darling. Let’s say we stand.”
“You never knew anything about your grandparents?” Noah asked.
“No. JJ’s died when I was little and my mom’s disowned her when she hooked up with JJ. Is this their will?”
“As far as we can tell, they knew about you but didn’t want JJ to get his hands on their money. They’d arranged for a lawyer to show up and tell you on your seventeenth birthday, but you disappeared.”
“My mom never said anything about them having money.”
“She was a kid herself when she left home,” Christian said. “She might not have understood exactly how rich they were. They didn’t appear to be the flashy type; heavy into their church but not much for society stuff.”
“So the slimy son of a bitch was trying to cash in with Leah.” She knew JJ didn’t have it in him to be a good father.
“Can I see?” Maggie said, extending a hand for the paper.
Shannon passed it to her, still a little shell-shocked by the whole thing.
“Wow,” Maggie exclaimed, “this makes you as rich as me. I guess my little gift isn’t going to matter much.”
“What gift?” Shannon asked.
“It’s in the car.”
“I’ll get it.” Christian gave Maggie a concerned once-over. “Why don’t you guys go back in the house?”
Inside, Leah was still in the kitchen with Mrs. P. The pair stood over a brand-new KitchenAid stand blender and watched as it mixed batter, while Mrs. P explained something to her.
How in the hell had she gone from being an independent lawyer with no commitments and no responsibilities other than to her clients to having the most amazing relationship ever and a mother to her baby sister?
She took a seat next to Maggie, who was now starting to worry Shannon. Christian came in and handed Shannon a wrapped box. “Is it going to explode?”
“It’s from Maggie,” he said, as if, if it were from him, it might very well go bang.
“So is that a no?”
“Just open it,” Maggie said.
She glanced at Noah, to see if he knew what it was. He didn’t. She unwrapped it to find a ginormous cookbook covered in cellophane. It was hers, the one in her condo. “You’re giving me my cookbook?”
“No, silly. Noah?” Maggie stood and motioned for Noah to sit beside Shannon. Then she herself sat with Christian on the opposite couch. “I thought you might like to do this together.” She pointed to the book. “Plus, I don’t want Leah to get food poisoning when you cook your first meal in whatever kitchen you two decide to call home.”
Noah, rightly so, looked confused, but Shannon laughed. “Maggie, you’re a dumbass.”
“Hey, just looking out for the kid.” She leaned forward, took one of Noah’s hands, and placed it on the cookbook, then did the same to Shannon’s.
“Christian and I will go see what those two are doing in the kitchen.”
And then they were alone. Shannon had to smile. “Maggie bought me this book right after I graduated law school,” she explained. “But I never opened it. It’s a signed first edition of Mastering the Art of French Cooking.”
“You didn’t want to wreck it?”
“That’s not it. You see, I have this amazing kitchen but never use it.”
“You eat out a lot,” he said, thinking he’d understood her meaning.
“No, I mean, yes, but that’s not it either.” She set the cookbook down on the coffee table, separating their hands. “My kitchen is everything a home cook could want, and yet I haven’t used one pot. I make coffee and drinks, but that’s it.”
He shot a look at the book, then back at her. “You don’t like to cook? Not everyone does.”
“No, I cook, just not in my kitchen.”
“Why?” he asked with a quirky grin.
He was going to think she was nuts, and maybe she was. “Because my kitchen was a symbol of everything I didn’t deserve.”
He was silent for a moment, then said, “Sounds more like a reminder.”
“I guess,” she agreed.
“And now?”
“Now I have this little girl who needs me and it scares the shit out of me. There’s no room in my life for a pity party. But what do I know about being a mother?”
“What does anyone know? Besides,” he kissed her cheek, “you have Mrs. P and me to help you.”
“You’re okay with this?” They’d barely worked out their own issues and now found themselves with a child in the mix.
; “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Duh, kid.”
“What? You think I’d change my mind about wanting to be with you over one little girl? I don’t have a problem with kids. I love kids. And if you just got off your high horse and admitted you loved me, we could get married and work on giving Leah a niece.” He waggled his eyebrows.
As funny as that was, this wasn’t a joke. “This is serious. It’s not just my baggage anymore. I have a carry-on now.”
He pressed his mouth softly over hers. She’d never get enough of his kisses.
“I love you, Shannon. Baggage and all.”
“You mean that, don’t you?” How many men would be this accepting?
“I never stopped meaning it.”
Did he really understand? “Noah, when it was just me, commuting between our two cities wasn’t that big a deal. I can’t do that with Leah.”
“I know. So I’ll have to fly out more. I’m okay with that. And when she’s not in school, you and she can come here. Then, when you decide you want me in your life full-time, I’ll put in for that transfer.”
“When I decide?”
“I don’t care where we live, Shannon. Haven’t you figured that out by now?”
“That’s good,” she said and took a deep breath. “Because Mrs. P would kill me if I left with Mini-Me over there.” She nodded toward the kitchen and the now-screeching seven-year-old nailing Christian with icing. Shannon loved that kid.
“Are you sure?” he asked, understanding her meaning. “Maybe you want to think about it more?”
That fact that he was concerned with her decision might make another woman question his love for her. Not Shannon. He understood the importance of being able to make the right choices for her, but this wasn’t just about her life anymore. And she was okay with that.
“I hated this town, but I think I saw it through the eyes of a girl who was embarrassed by her parents and ashamed of herself. I look back at it now and remember your parents liked me. Maggie’s mom never saw me as ‘that kid,’ and the Polanskis … they were the family I never had. As much as I’ll miss my life in Vegas, it’s not a life I can raise Leah in. After what JJ did to her, she deserves someone to come home to. And I deserve a man who wants to make me that home.”