Promises to Keep

by Susan Crandall

  Riley was stretched out on his bed in the dark. From the light spilling from the hallway, Clay could see he was still dressed. He crossed the room and sat at the foot of the bed. “Something’s bothering you. Do you want to talk about it?”

  Riley rolled over on his side and faced the wall.

  Clay sighed. “Okay, if you change your mind. . . .” He got up and started to leave.

  He had his hand on the doorknob ready to close the door when Riley said, “Did you ever do something you were sorry for, but waited too long to undo it?”

  Clay stopped. He didn’t rush back in the room as he was tempted to do. From where he stood, he said, “More times than I care to admit.”

  Riley rolled onto his back. “How do you know when it’s too late?”

  Clay accepted this as an invitation back into the room. He moved slowly, as if he feared any sudden movements would close the door Riley had just opened. “If you were wrong . . . and it hurt someone else, it’s never too late to do something about it.”

  Propping his head on one hand, Riley faced Clay. “I don’t think it’ll make any difference.”

  “For you? Or for the other person?”

  After a moment, Riley said, “I don’t think she’ll forgive me.”

  “Sometimes you have to say it anyway. The forgiveness is for you; the apology is what you give to someone else.” Clay chanced sitting back down on the bed. Riley didn’t withdraw. Clay finally asked, “Is this about Codi?”

  After flopping on his back and blowing out a long stream of air, Riley said, “Codi never forgives. That would be wasted breath. She’s hooked up with someone else anyhow.”

  “Sorry.”

  Riley said, “I’m not. Am I terrible? She left and I don’t even care.”

  “I’d say it meant you didn’t care that much for her in the first place.”

  Riley started thumping his fist rhythmically against the mattress. “Yeah. But there’s someone else . . . I hurt her feelings a long time ago. I want to undo it.”

  “There’s no undoing. Once something’s done, you have to deal with it or walk away.” He paused. “A man deals with it and doesn’t make the same mistake again.”

  “I don’t know if I can stand it if she hates me.”

  “Do you think she’ll hate you any less if you don’t do anything?”

  Riley shook his head. “But I wouldn’t have to face her rejection head on.”

  Clay put a hand on Riley’s shoulder. “Anything worth having involves risk. My advice is be a man, step up and face her. You can’t be any worse off.”

  “That’s what you think.”

  It was four in the morning. Molly felt as if someone had taken a garden shovel and dug out her heart. There was nothing in the center of her chest but a cold, dark, aching void. She’d been pacing the floor of her empty house for hours, listening to her own ragged breathing, trying to corral her stampeding thoughts, fighting the urge to do the unthinkable.

  Why had Sarah (she just couldn’t think of her friend as Julie Coletta) lied about not having family? Had she been hiding from her brother too?

  Molly had made a promise—and it weighed more heavily on her in this moment than when she’d been coerced into making it. Now she loved this child as her own. She would lay down her life to protect him. If there was some reason Sarah wanted to keep Dean from her child, could Molly just hand him over?

  Stop! She crushed her temples between her palms. You’re just looking for excuses to do the wrong thing.

  She paused before the living room window and looked out on the quiet night. A light-colored cat trotted across the deserted street beneath the weak glow of the streetlight, giving her a greater sense of isolation. It seemed the whole world slept; it was just Molly and the creatures of the darkness. Would she ever again pass a peaceful night? It seemed no matter what choice she made, it was going to haunt her for the rest of her life.

  How easy it would be to just let Dean go back to where he came from. She would never have to see him again and he could think whatever he wanted about the fate of Sarah’s baby. It hardly seemed in Nicholas’s best interest to give him to someone who lived Dean’s nomadic life. Would he even want Nicholas?

  She quieted the little voice that said Dean had adapted with amazing swiftness to handling a baby. Especially considering the initial terror he exhibited the first time he held Nicholas. In fact, Dean looked . . . blissful . . . as he gave Nicholas a bottle.

  Her promise had been to keep Nicholas safe from his father. No more. She should stop trying to read more into Sarah’s motivation. Dean had been overseas, difficult to get in touch with—how could Sarah possibly have turned to him in this situation?

  That spawned another question. Now that Dean had reached a dead end in Glens Crossing, would he continue to probe until he found the baby’s father—and Sarah’s killer?

  She pounded a fist against her palm. “Sarah, why did you keep so many secrets? You trusted me with your son, why not the truth?” Molly’s voice bounced around the empty living room off the bare windows and stark walls, sending a chill over her.

  She tried to think of that last day with Sarah. Had she offered any clues that Molly had been too stunned to notice at the time?

  Clearly, Sarah had been afraid. But Molly didn’t for a moment think she’d planned on getting killed. On the contrary, she had planned on setting something in motion that would free her from the baby’s father forever. Something that would allow her and Nicholas to start over—safe.

  If she’d only told Molly who the father was, then perhaps she could piece together what Sarah had been doing on that last day.

  Had she gone to see the father? That seemed unlikely, but she had insisted wherever she was going, the baby could not. Had she been arranging transportation? Her body had been found near enough to the train station, bus terminal, and airport to make it possible.

  As Molly asked all of these questions, she realized none of them mattered in this moment. She was using them as a way to avoid asking herself the single question that meant everything: Was she going to tell Dean that Nicholas was his missing nephew—knowing that once she did, he would not only take her son away, but would have the power to ruin her?

  Chapter 16

  Even though this was a parent-teacher conference day and there was no school, Riley got up early. He skipped breakfast, slipping through the kitchen too quickly for his mom to ask her usual thousand questions.

  Getting in his car, he drove past the path that led to the foot of the dam, past the lake house, then into town to Mickey’s house.

  At the last minute, instead of stopping, he drove on by. It was probably too early; she probably wouldn’t even be up yet.

  He circled the square, looking at all of the people heading to work at the courthouse. They reminded Riley of ants hurrying toward an anthill. It made him sort of depressed. He’d had a weird mix of eagerness and dread since he’d awakened and thought about seeing Mickey. Seeing all of these people, none looking too happy, trudging into work, made the future appear as bleak as it felt at the moment. Was that what he had to look forward to?

  He left the square and headed toward the edge of town. He passed Kingston’s Market. Then he turned right, passing between the big rock pillars that flanked the narrow road that curled deep into the wooded park. He drove to the playground and shut off the engine. The mists of early morning were still clinging to the ground, the sun was not high enough to do more than add a ghostly light. It made the deserted swings and teeter-totters look like something out of a horror movie where all of the children had vanished.

  As he sat there, he stared at the spot where he’d led Mickey’s father into a trap. It seemed so long ago when he thought of his and Mickey’s friendship, but just like yesterday when he recalled how frightened he’d been. Closing his eyes, he leaned his head against the back of the driver’s seat. What if he had never set that trap? Would he and Mickey still be friends? He ran his hands through his hair an
d felt like screaming. It was too complicated to even try to figure out.

  He started the Mustang and drove back to Grant Street. When he pulled up in front of Mickey’s house, she was just coming down the front steps. This might make it easier. It’ll look like I just happened to be driving by.

  He pulled to the curb and rolled down the passenger window.

  “Hi!” he called.

  She gave him a sideways glance. “You’re up early.”

  He shrugged. “Can I give you a ride?”

  The look she cast him nearly made his heart stop. How could he be so stupid? He’d used nearly the same words Codi had taunted her with.

  Mickey started walking toward town. “No.”

  “Come on! I’m trying to be nice,” he called after her.

  She stopped in her tracks. Her back was stiff when she turned around and walked to where his car sat at the curb. “Riley Holt, I don’t need you to be nice to me.”

  He gripped the steering wheel so hard it set off cramps in his hands. Then, in desperation, he blurted out, “I want to go back to the way things used to be.”

  She tilted her head, her pale hair sliding over her shoulder. “For how long? Until we go back to school tomorrow?” Without waiting for any form of response, she turned around and stomped back up the steps and into the house.

  Feeling as if he had swallowed a bunch of bees, Riley peeled away from the curb. He drove too fast, but he didn’t care. Why couldn’t Mickey just give him a chance?

  When he got back home, his mom and Clay were upstairs. He heard footsteps on the floor overhead and muffled voices coming from their bedroom. They were going to the high school conferences later this morning, so Clay hadn’t gone to the marina as usual. Riley couldn’t understand why Clay wanted to go to conferences in the first place.

  As he entered the downstairs hall, their voices carried down the stairwell. Why couldn’t they have been gone? He already felt like breaking things; he didn’t want a bunch of stupid questions about why he was upset.

  When he heard his mom mention his dad’s name, he froze. Were they arguing about his dad? Things had been weird the last time he and Dad talked on the phone. For a heart-stopping moment, Riley feared his dad was drinking again. He held his breath, inched silently up the steps and listened.

  Clay said, “Peter’s made this threat before.”

  “I think he means it this time.” His mother sounded like she’d been crying.

  “What does he have to gain?”

  “At this point, I think he just wants to hurt anyone he can—even Riley.”

  Riley continued to creep up the stairs, anger balled in his chest burning like a fire.

  Clay’s voice grew rough. “Dammit. I knew we should have told him right away. It was just a matter of time before Peter would start with these stupid power games.”

  “We were going to . . . but so much keeps happening.”

  Clay lowered his voice, sounding sad. “We’ve allowed other things to get in the way. It’s time Riley knows. And I want it to be from our lips, not Peter’s.”

  There was a pause and Riley heard his mother sniffle.

  “We’ll tell him today,” Clay said softly. “As soon as he gets back. There’s no school. He’ll have time to adjust before he has to see other people. And this way we can be certain to tell him before Peter does.”

  Riley shoved the partially open bedroom door open and it cracked against the wall. “Tell me what?”

  After Nicholas went down for his morning nap, Molly’s head was splitting. Lack of sleep, wrestling with her sense of right and wrong, multiplied by the stress of fearing Dean would call—or worse, show up—before she was ready, had all taken their toll. She took a hot shower and lay down on her bed for a few minutes.

  She didn’t open her eyes again until she heard Nicholas cry. Bolting upright, she struggled through the confusion of being pulled from a deep sleep. She looked at the clock. Crap, it was one o’clock already. She had too much to do today to have lost that much time.

  Lily had said there was no school today, which worked perfectly with Molly’s needs. Before she got Nicholas out of his crib, she fired a quick call to Mickey, to ask her to babysit at three. That should give her enough time to get Nicholas fed and herself together.

  Promptly at three, Mickey knocked on the back door. Molly liked that, the backdoor neighborliness that Mickey was adopting. Molly hoped that a true friendship would develop between her and the teenager—Mickey could use someone on her side. As soon as Mickey had her coat off, Molly handed Nicholas over; that was another thing she liked about Mickey, the calm confident way she handled the baby.

  Molly then gave Mickey both written and verbal instructions—which the girl accepted graciously. Mickey might not actually need to hear all of this, but Molly still needed to say it. She hadn’t gotten a cell phone yet; she’d feel a lot better leaving him after—

  This could be the last time you ever leave him. The truth of that thought caused a hitch in her breath. But she’d made her mind up; she wouldn’t allow herself second thoughts now.

  Mickey was talking silly baby-talk to Nicholas. He responded with a sweet toothless smile that reached right in and wrung the life out of Molly’s resolve. He’d only been smiling for a week, and it defined him as a person unto himself—just as Sarah had sworn he would be.

  Molly turned quickly, swiping her tears so Mickey wouldn’t see. Then she put on her jacket. It was about twenty minutes to Brian’s lake cottage where Dean was staying. Give twenty minutes for him to raise holy hell; twenty minutes back; she should only be gone an hour or so.

  And then . . . would he demand she hand over the baby instantly? She wished for more time, even though she knew that would do nothing to dull the pain of separation.

  She kissed the baby on the head, drawing in the sweet scent of him as if it were the last time. She had her hand on the back door when the telephone rang.

  “Want me to get it?” Mickey asked.

  “Yes.” Molly was afraid it might be Dean. What she had to say needed to be said in person. She lingered a moment to see who it was.

  She could tell by the look on Mickey’s face that something was wrong.

  “No, Mrs. Winters, she’s right here.” She handed the phone to Molly. “She’s really upset. Something about Riley.”

  Molly snatched the receiver. “What’s wrong?” Even as she asked, her mind conjured the picture of Riley’s red Mustang wrapped around a tree.

  “Riley’s gone. He overheard Clay and me talking today and . . . oh, Mol, we’ve never told anyone . . . we were going to tell him, but everything’s messed up . . . I don’t know where he could have gone. Clay’s looked everywhere and checked with all of his friends. He might come to you, that’s why I called.” The words tumbled over one another as they rushed out of her sister’s mouth.

  “Take a breath and tell me one thing at a time.”

  Lily gave a hiccupping sob. “Oh, Mol, Peter’s not Riley’s father—Clay is.”

  Molly felt as if someone had just spun her head completely around on her shoulders, leaving her eyeballs to rattle back into place. “What?”

  “It’s a long story. Clay and I were together, then he disappeared, I married Peter . . . I was trying to do the right thing for the baby . . .”

  Molly could certainly understand that motivation; every move she’d made for the past six weeks had been trying to do the right thing for the baby. “All right. So he overheard you talking and you had to tell him. Obviously he didn’t take it well.”

  Another sob bubbled from Lily.

  “When did he leave?”

  “He was in his room. He must have gone out the upstairs window. Sometime between ten and one.”

  “He took his car?”

  “Yes. Oh, that car is too fast for him. We never should have let him keep it. And he was such a mess . . . what if he’s had a wreck?”

  “You’d have heard from the sheriff if he’d wrecked.” Mol
ly knew it sometimes took hours to notify families, but she kept that to herself.

  “Did he take anything with him? Maybe he went to see his da—Peter.”

  “He knows he’s not allowed to drive to Chicago!”

  “Lil, I don’t think he’s considering the rules right now.”

  Lily sniffled loudly. “I didn’t notice anything gone. Clay called Peter—just in case he was headed there. Oh, God, I don’t want him to run to Peter!” Hysteria was edging back into her voice.

  “I’m sure he’s not far.” Molly glanced at Mickey; she looked as worried as Lily sounded. “I’m coming out.”

  “No!” Lily took a breath. “No, Clay’s in and out. I want you to stay there in case Riley wants to go someplace other than home. I’ve called Dad, too.”

  Molly wanted to ask if she’d told Dad why Riley left, but felt now wasn’t the time. “I could have Mickey stay here and wait for him.”

  “I’m fine. Just stay there and call me if he shows up.”

  “All right.” She paused. “Lily, I’m sure he’s fine. This was a really big shock. He just needed some time alone to think.”

  “Thanks.” It was little more than a strangled sound. Then Lily hung up.

  When Molly replaced the receiver, she turned to Mickey. “Riley’s run off. There was some . . . troubling news. I guess I’m not going anywhere after all. Lily wants me to wait here in case he shows up.”

  Mickey said, “I’ll go ahead and put the baby down for his nap.” Then she walked out of the kitchen before Molly responded.

  Odd as it seemed, she was glad to have Mickey here. She only felt badly that Lily was alone. But Lily’s plan made logical sense; best to keep family members where Riley could find them. Poor kid. What a thing to discover at sixteen.

  And when were you planning on telling Nicholas?

  As things were working out, she might never have to answer that question.