He would return later, of course. This was his house and his daughter sleeping in the bedroom. But once he did, she’d head for her condo, yellow tag or not.
She’d known she was likely to lose him. But until now, she’d clung to her dreams like a fool.
Resting her head on her arms, Rachel surrendered to tears.
Chapter Seventeen
Russ wasn’t certain how he reached the nearest shopping mall without getting a ticket.
He ran a yellow light just as it flipped to red, and exceeded the speed limit by at least ten miles an hour. Luckily, Monday-night traffic was light and he had good reflexes.
Going to the mall was what Southern Californians did when they chose to be alone, he remembered reading somewhere. Alone in a crowd.
Not much of a crowd tonight, he saw as he strode inside. With Valentine’s Day past and Easter a month off, the mall lacked a festive atmosphere. That suited Russ. If hordes of shoppers had obstructed his path, he’d probably have bowled some of them over.
Fundamentally, we’re wrong for each other. Absolutely. He must have lost his wits to believe he had anything in common with a woman who’d tried to arrest him the first time they met.
He paced past a gift shop and a boutique window filled with frothy pastel dresses and tiny tops and shorts. Rachel would sniff at nonsense like that. She was too vibrant for such paltry colors, and too active for skimpy garments.
She led a no-holds-barred existence. Like that insanity with the bicycle and the swimming pool. That should have told him right there that the woman didn’t suit his conservative temperament.
Still, he admired the way she’d acted at his parents’ house. Straightforward and unpretentious, and not the least intimidated. And despite her openness, she guarded some areas of her heart. Only when she related the story about her abusive stepdad and alcoholic mother had Russ begun to grasp the whole picture.
A short while ago, he’d seen the pain glittering in her eyes as he stormed out of the house. Yet she was the one who refused to bend! She was the one who refused to make this relationship work!
Across the corridor, a toy store caught Russ’s eye. Lauren’s birthday was only a few weeks off. He might as well choose a gift while he had the chance.
Inside the store, stretching for a doll on a shelf, he noted a whiff of Rachel’s residual scent from his sweater. For a few agonizing heartbeats, he missed her so much he could hardly breathe.
“Can I help you, sir?” A young salesman presented an impersonal smile.
“What’s popular with five-year-old girls?”
“High-tech toys are big sellers.” The fellow steered him to an array of gadgets. “We have phone-style walkietalkies that she and her friends can use anywhere in the neighborhood. Or how about a digital camera?” He indicated a pink model with a daisy framing the lens.
“That isn’t what I had in mind.” None of this stuff inspired Russ. Too cold and impersonal.
“We just received a shipment of dolls that double as digital music players.” The salesman went on talking and demonstrating his wares. What a relief when the fellow excused himself to wait on a young woman.
Russ escaped into the mall, aiming for a bookstore. Lauren loved reading, and he decided to select a new release for his own enjoyment, too.
Movement drew his attention to the window of a hobby shop, where a finely detailed small train whisked through a station. Lights flashed and guardrails lowered as the locomotive raced through a village.
Far too complex for Lauren, but the old-fashioned appeal of the scene drew Russ into the boutique. Miniature railroad equipment shared space with model rockets and planes. The sight of video equipment nearly sent him into retreat—until he spotted a fully furnished dollhouse.
Would Lauren enjoy it enough to justify the high price and significant amount of space it occupied? Much as he’d love to see her face when she unwrapped it, Russ doubted that.
A saleslady approached. Mercifully a phone summoned her to the counter.
Russ slipped around a corner, scanning smaller doll-houses and other play sets. A fire station. An airport. A police department.
He stared at the hand-painted officers with their cruisers and uniforms. Although smaller than Officer Bud, they incorporated movable limbs, and each face showed expressive features.
Almost reverently, Russ lifted one of the figures. The careful workmanship reminded him of the soldiers his grandfather had bequeathed him. Perhaps owning them would help Lauren feel close to Rachel even when they didn’t see each other as often. He’d enjoy sharing them with his daughter, as well.
Joy rushed over him, as if he were being offered a chance to reclaim those long-lost treasures. Yet, on the verge of calling the saleslady, Russ hesitated. These delicate figures would get lost or broken before long. If Lauren took them to day care, the boys would wrench off the arms. Why invest so much emotion in a set that clearly wasn’t going to last?
He nearly abandoned the whole idea. And then shook his head at the awareness that he was standing in a store aisle obsessing about the impermanence of toys.
Or, more accurately, about the risks of loving and losing.
From an upper shelf, Russ grasped a boxed set of the police scene. He’d better hurry and pay for it, because he’d just realized he had another, much more important gift to buy.
RACHEL COULDN’T DECIDE what to do about the popcorn cart.
She’d packed her belongings, but she didn’t see how this thing was going to fit in the car. Initially, the traffic sergeant had dropped it off, and until now she hadn’t considered its fate.
Although she’d happily donate it to the household, when she announced the end of her engagement, Mark was probably going to inquire what happened to it. Maybe he’d even ask for it back.
Not that she cared about the darn machine. But right now her emotions were too wound-up for her to think straight.
Rachel was still stuck when a small sleepy girl emerged from the hall. “Where’s Daddy?”
“Had to go out for a while.” She left the matter at that. “Bad dream?”
A nod.
“Want to tell me about it?” Most likely related to the hostage situation. Any sane person would have nightmares about that.
“I was running and running and nobody helped.” Tears streaked the child’s cheeks as Rachel gathered her close. “Where were you?”
“On my way to rescue you,” she replied calmly.
“You won’t go away, will you?” Lauren asked.
A vise tightened around Rachel’s heart. Children couldn’t be expected to understand grown-up behavior, especially when the grown-ups didn’t fully grasp it themselves. She saw no way to admit she was leaving without portraying either herself or Russ as a villain.
“I was about to pop corn but I didn’t want to wake you,” she responded instead. “You’re welcome to join me, but you’ll have to brush your teeth again afterward.”
“That’s okay.” Clutching Officer Bud, Lauren plopped onto the couch while Rachel poured the corn. Soon an enticing scent filled the air, along with the rata-tat of the kernels.
“Bang bang.” Lauren shivered.
Rachel hadn’t considered the noise’s associations. “Sounds like gunfire, huh?” Talking about their experience might be helpful.
“Guns are louder,” the little girl replied. “Grandpa shot the bad man, didn’t he?”
“Grandpa Vince did,” Rachel confirmed.
“Grandma said angels watch over us.” Lauren seemed to be wrestling with a rather large metaphysical issue for such a small person. “Grandpa isn’t around but…but Grandpa Vince is. And Grandpa Max.”
“You’ve got a lot of people watching over you.” That seemed to satisfy the little girl, because she laid Officer Bud aside and ran to the popper. “Is it ready?”
“Almost.”
Rachel was filling their cartons when a car pulled into the garage. How awkward. She’d expected to leave as soon as Rus
s came home, but now that would upset Lauren.
A thump and a scrape warned that he was struggling to enter through the side door, probably with a package. Leaving Lauren on the couch, Rachel went to investigate.
The man had his arms around a large box, which he was unsuccessfully angling to fit through the narrow aperture. “I guess I’ll have to bring this around the front,” he told Rachel.
His efforts had scraped back the surrounding sack to reveal a picture of a play set on the box. “Lauren’s awake,” she warned.
“Oops.” With a grateful glance, he retreated into the garage. “I’ll leave this in the trunk.”
Rachel stood rooted to the linoleum. A birthday present. How sweet and therefore how agonizing. Her tears threatened to return.
Russ entered a moment later, no longer encumbered. “Why is she awake?”
“Nightmare.” Rachel found it amazing that she could stand here chatting normally despite the emotions jabbing her gut like a thousand glass shards.
“I’m glad you were here for her.” He seemed in no hurry to move out of the kitchen.
“If I hadn’t ticked you off, you’d have been here yourself,” she noted.
“She’s happier with both of us.” At last, he went to join his daughter.
The reply puzzled Rachel. She felt the roller coaster starting all over again—the surge of hope that would inevitably lead to disillusionment. She couldn’t handle any more of this. She needed to go home and lick her wounds until they healed.
No more insane optimism. No more agonizing falls.
Nevertheless, when she entered the living room, the touching picture lightened her mood. Russ and Lauren sat at opposite ends of the couch, each holding a carton of popcorn. He’d removed his shoes, and the two were pressing the soles of their feet together, bicycling slowly.
“This feels great when you’ve been walking around a mall,” he announced. “Like a foot massage.”
“It tickles!” Lauren giggled.
Rachel did her best to smile. How was a person supposed to act while being dragged in opposite directions simultaneously?
When she dug into her own pouch of popcorn, the stuff stuck to the roof of her mouth. She retreated to pour a glass of orange juice and hide out.
Soon she heard Russ give his daughter a horsie ride to the bathroom. She listened to the water running, mentally following the process as he brushed his little girl’s teeth and returned her to bed.
Rachel was still standing in the kitchen when Russ entered. She set her glass on the counter. “I’d better go. My bags are packed. I’ll collect the popper later.” She’d decided to restore it to Mark.
“You can’t leave yet,” Russ answered.
“Why not?”
“I haven’t given you your present.”
Her brain labored to switch gears. “That toy set was for me?” It did involve a police station, she recalled.
“That isn’t what I meant.” In his expression she read amusement, hope and anxiety. But why? “It’s for Lauren. I loved the set so much I nearly talked myself out of buying it.”
That didn’t sound encouraging. “Because it reminds you of me?”
“What? No!” Russ shook his head. “This gets complicated. Let’s go sit in the den. We do some of our best talking there.”
And some of our best cuddling. “No, thanks. Russ, I can’t keep going through this. One minute I’m on top the world and the next I’m bungee jumping into an abyss. Except, I never know when the bungee cords are going to snap.”
He didn’t argue. “Let’s go sit out front. That way you don’t have to worry that I’ll get sidetracked kissing you. I’m not a fan of necking in public.”
Although Rachel supposed she ought to refuse, what was her rush? She didn’t have to go to work tomorrow. “Okay.”
After fetching a blanket from the linen closet, Russ escorted her out front. In the absence of porch furniture, they sat on the top step while he arranged the wrap around their shoulders.
Although the hour wasn’t terribly late, many of the houses in the cul-de-sac had gone dark, yielding the night to a couple of streetlamps and an array of stars. On one lawn a cat rubbed its head against a forgotten tricycle.
Around the corner lay Keri’s house. Although she couldn’t see it, Rachel assumed the family had either gone to a motel for the evening or to Keri’s mom’s home.
Russ inched closer. “It’s warmer like this.”
Against her better judgment, Rachel relished this last bittersweet moment together. “I guess so.”
He gazed over the neighborhood. “Ever notice how many circles there are?”
“Circles?”
He pointed to the moon, then indicated a sphere defined by the fronds of a pineapple-shaped palm tree. Lower, he gestured toward the tricycle wheels, a car’s tires and a bush clipped into a globe. “Life’s circular like that. Remember those soldiers I lost?”
His reflective tone carried her along. “Sure.”
“I didn’t know how much they’d affected me until I almost decided against buying my daughter something I knew she’d love,” he explained. “I didn’t want her to suffer the way I did if they were damaged.”
“But that’s the definition of a good toy,” Rachel protested. “Stuff you play with till it falls apart.”
“Exactly. That’s when I had my epiphany.”
Her forehead scrunched. “You had a religious experience?”
He chuckled. “I mean a sudden, blinding insight.”
This made no sense to Rachel. “About toys?”
“About love,” Russ said.
A cloud of fragrance drifted from a flowering vine that draped the porch railing. Under its influence, she struggled to hold fast to her skepticism. Don’t you dare imagine that he means you. He’s referring to his love for Lauren.
“So you bought them anyway.” She hurried on. “She’ll adore having a family for Officer Bud. Hey, how about if I invite her to spend a night at my condo once it’s cleared?”
He caught her hands. His were warm; hers, icy. “Let me finish, sweetheart.”
All desire to move vanished. “Shoot.”
“Just as I gave away my gifts that Christmas when I was a kid, I’ve been denying myself things ever since. I haven’t bought half the items I’d like for this house. Porch furniture, for example. I figured someone might steal or vandalize it, so why bother?”
“This was your epiphany?” She didn’t get it.
Russ continued, unfazed. “I was doing unto myself before others could do unto me. How stupid is that?”
She began to see. “You were afraid to care too much.”
“Yes. As if we can control who and what we love! And as if anyone can control fate.” He rolled onward. “You terrified me today, Rachel. Here’s the weird part—you made me proud, too. In that horrible situation, when all I could think of was fight or flight, you rolled into high gear. Inventing that story about you and Borrego, maneuvering the guy to release us. Not many people have that gift or that strength.”
“Which is why I’m a cop.” Rachel braced for the expected demurral. If he started outlining why she ought to follow some other profession, she was leaving.
“I know.” The statement hung in the air.
Despite the chill on her cheeks, Rachel felt almost hot. “And you’re okay with that?”
He considered before answering. “Am I thrilled? No. I hate the fact that you’re a target for every loony who blows into town. But I’m not going to deprive both of us of the months and years we might share because someday, someone might take you away from me. And I’m hoping you feel the same, because speaking of circles…”
From his pocket, he withdrew a small object. The shadows obscured it until he laid a velvety jeweler’s box in Rachel’s palm.
“For me?” Guys didn’t give Rachel jewelry. The most romantic gift she’d ever received had been a set of weights. Until now.
“It’s not as fancy as Conn
ie’s, but we can pick out a better one later.”
As fancy as Connie’s what? she wondered.
“Aren’t you going to open it?” Russ’s eagerness made her realize he was nervous.
Gingerly Rachel pried open the lid. It budged slightly before clamping shut on her fingertip. “Hey! Is this booby-trapped?”
“The hinges are stiff.” He shifted position on the step. Definitely antsy. “Want me to do it?”
“Not necessary.” Rachel tried again, afraid to exert too much pressure in case whatever lay inside flew out. Finally she got it open, and then had to turn the little box to catch the glow of a streetlamp.
A ring. Gold, with an array of sparkly chips. “Are those diamonds?” she asked in amazement.
“They’d better be.”
All sorts of possibilities ran through Rachel’s head. A friendship ring as a going-away present. Or perhaps he meant it as a birthday gift for Lauren and sought her opinion. But people didn’t buy diamond rings for six-year-olds.
At the risk of sounding stupid, she asked, “What does this mean?”
Russ cleared his throat. “I prepared this whole speech in the car but I’ve forgotten it.”
“A speech about what?”
“How much I love you.” His eyes gleamed. “How scared I was of losing you. Will you forgive me, Rachel? Will you marry me?”
Those were the words she most yearned to hear, from the man she loved with all her heart. But she couldn’t agree. Not yet.
“Are you sure?” she demanded. “Russ, we all suffered a shock today. Trauma does strange things to people.”
“My decision didn’t start this evening. I’ve been trying to figure out how to keep you,” he protested. “My screwy method was to seek an alternate occupation, which you rightly pointed out was a boneheaded, arrogant idea.”
“I didn’t use those words!” She had a little more tact.
“Well, you should have used those words, because that’s what it was. I’m sorry I lost my temper.” The churning of a garage door down the street drew Russ’s attention, and they both watched as a neighbor’s car pulled inside. Another hum, and they were alone again with the stillness.
The Doctor's Little Secret Page 20