by Marta Perry
“I don’t—” She stopped, seeming to reconsider what she’d been about to say. “Well, I’m glad everyone is safe. I think your aunt appreciated having Stacy there for company while everyone was at the fire.”
“And you.”
She shrugged. “I left.”
Not until after you knew we were all okay. Why is it so hard to admit that?
Something told him to leave it alone for now. There was another subject he needed to discuss with her, anyway.
“Stacy mentioned that you were going with her to Ted’s apartment today to collect some of her things.”
She nodded, obviously relieved at the change of subject. “I’ll pick her up at your aunt’s around four. That’s the earliest I can get away from the office, but she says Ted will be at work then, so we can get in and out with him none the wiser.”
He could only hope Stacy was right about that. Steady employment had never been Ted’s strong suit.
“Let me go with you, all right? I don’t want the two of you going alone.”
She didn’t like the suggestion that she couldn’t take care of herself—he saw that in her eyes.
“We won’t be alone. We’ll be together.”
He gave in to the impulse to clasp her wrist, feeling smooth skin and a pulse that thudded against his fingers. He also felt her resistance. “Please. Humor me. It’s not such a big deal to stop at the church for me, is it?”
“I—”
“Hello, Claire. Having lunch with a friend, are you?”
The voice that interrupted them belonged to a man who might have been one of a dozen businessmen lined up to buy sandwiches. Tall, well-dressed, eyeing them curiously over the steam from his coffee.
“Just getting something to take back to the office.” Claire took a step away from Brendan, the gesture implying that they weren’t together.
“Jeff Phillips.”
The man held out his hand, forcing Brendan to take it. Claire was looking daggers at him for some reason, but he couldn’t ignore the gesture.
“Brendan Flanagan.” He shook hands briefly.
“Are you—”
“I think they’re calling your order.” Claire interrupted the man before he could get the question out. “Excuse me. I have to get back to the office.”
She spun and moved quickly down the aisle without a backward glance, her departure just short of outright rudeness.
She’d obviously prefer that Brendan head in the opposite direction, but he wasn’t going to do that. Instead he followed her, curious. She went out the door onto the street, and he waited until the crowd had closed behind them before he fell into step with her and spoke.
“Friend of yours?”
She shot him an annoyed look, as if asking why he was still there. “Friend? Hardly. A ‘colleague’ who would stab me in the back if he thought it would do his career any good.”
“He seemed friendly enough.”
“Believe me, Jeff doesn’t know the meaning of the word. He wants my job, and he’d do anything to get it.”
He processed that, adding it up to the obvious conclusion. “You don’t like it that he saw us together. You think he’ll say something to Gray.”
“He shouldn’t realize that there’s anything to tell, but you’d be amazed at how little escapes that man. I have to be on guard every moment.”
She was actually serious.
“You make it sound like your job is in some sort of a war zone.”
“It is. They don’t call it the rat race for nothing.”
“That’s not a very comfortable way to live, is it?”
Her lips tightened, and for a brief, insane moment he wondered what she’d do if he dropped a kiss on those lips. Slap him, probably.
Not that he would. He had enough trouble with the woman without adding that. He shouldn’t even be thinking it, but somehow Claire had flipped his usual control upside down.
“That’s my life.” Her tone was uncompromising. “And if you’ll excuse me, I have to get back to it.”
“Right.” He rejected the impulse to continue walking along beside her. “Just remember what I said about going to Ted’s, okay? Stop by the church for me on your way.”
For a moment he thought she’d refuse, but then she shrugged. “I don’t think it’s necessary, but if it matters that much to you, we’ll pick you up.”
“It matters,” he said. But she’d already swung around and started off down the street, and she gave no sign that she’d heard him.
“Are you mad at the Rev?”
Stacy fiddled with a strand of her long hair as she asked the question, and Claire had to suppress the urge to tell her to leave her hair alone. She wasn’t Stacy’s mother, after all. She was only—what? A friend? An advisor? A reluctant ally? She wasn’t sure just what her role was.
“I’m not mad at him.”
Claire frowned at the late afternoon traffic that clogged the narrow street leading away from the church. This part of Suffolk, with its gracious brick houses and tree-lined streets, had an old-world charm, but it could be miserable to get through at rush hour.
She glanced at her watch. They didn’t have all that much time, and they’d already wasted some of it waiting at the church for Brendan.
“You act like you are.” Stacy was persistent.
“Well, I’m not.” But he was the one who’d insisted they stop at the church for him, the one who’d made such a big deal out of their not going alone to Ted’s apartment. “He slowed us down, that’s all.”
“The Rev couldn’t help it if somebody else needed him.”
Stacy was being a lot nicer than she was about Brendan’s defection. He’d said he’d go with them, and instead there’d been a message from him, saying he was detained and to please wait.
But they couldn’t wait, because she had no intention of walking right into Ted while trying to collect Stacy’s things. An unpleasant shiver snaked down her back at the thought, and she dismissed it angrily.
Let that be a lesson to you, she lectured herself. You can’t count on people, even those with the best intentions.
She’d counted on Bruce when she’d stood with him in front of a justice of the peace and believed the promises he’d made. She’d learned the truth the hard way. It was better to control your own destiny.
“Maybe we should have waited for him.” Stacy looked out the car window, and Claire could feel the tension rising as they neared the block where Ted’s apartment was.
“Not unless we wanted to risk running into Ted.” She started looking for a parking place in the crowded block of elderly apartment buildings. “Look, we’ll get in and out in a hurry. It’ll be fine.”
Was Stacy worried about what Ted would do if he found them, or worried about how she’d act if he did show up? She could understand that, only too well.
“There’s a place, right in front.” Stacy’s hands twisted together, but she sounded determined.
Well, good. The kid had a right to collect her own belongings without being afraid.
Claire parked, then got out and locked the car. Even in the daytime, she didn’t like leaving the car on the street here, but it couldn’t be helped. This had probably once been a decent neighborhood, but not any longer.
She stepped over the trash in the gutter and followed Stacy into the dim hallway.
“The apartment is on the second floor.” Stacy started up a flight of dusty stairs.
Claire tried not to inhale, preferring not to identify the smells. “You have a key?”
She found she was keeping her voice low. Not that she was afraid, but there was no point in advertising their presence.
Stacy nodded, stopping in front of a battered door. She seemed to steel herself. Then she unlocked the door, pushed it open and stepped through.
Claire followed her, muscles tight. As soon as the door closed behind them, relief swept over her. Clearly they were alone. The whole apartment consisted of one messy room with no place for
any human sized creature to hide. Jeans and T-shirts were strewn on the floor, and pizza crusts littered the table in the kitchen area.
“Ted’s kind of messy.” Stacy took a step toward the kitchen, as if intending to clean it up.
Claire caught her arm. “Never mind that. If Ted wants to live like a pig, that’s his problem. Let’s just get your clothes.”
Stacy nodded, then took the duffel bag Claire held out to her. “It’ll just take a couple minutes. I don’t have much stuff here.”
The poor kid didn’t have much stuff anywhere, as far as Claire could tell. One thing they’d do before Stacy had another job interview was go shopping. At least she could afford to give the girl a decent interview outfit. And maybe a haircut, too, if Stacy would agree.
Stacy jerked open a dresser drawer and began shoving clothes into the duffel bag haphazardly. Her tension was both palpable and contagious. Claire found herself glancing toward the door.
She’d done this before. Scurried around a tiny apartment, trying to clean up, hoping there was nothing that would set Bruce off. At the time, she’d probably known inside that nothing she did would make a difference, but she’d done it anyway. That was a trap abused women fell into so easily, thinking they were to blame for what happened.
If the abuser’s temper exploded out of control, that was his problem, not yours. She’d learned that, eventually. Too late. If she could help it, Stacy wasn’t going to learn things the hard way.
She glanced at Stacy, who stood irresolute, an iron in her hand.
“What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know whether to take this or not. I bought it at the thrift shop, but Ted doesn’t have one. If he wants to iron something—”
“Since Ted seems to store most of his clothes on the floor, I’d guess he doesn’t have much use for an iron, does he?”
Stacy managed a weak grin. “Guess not.”
“Take it. Is that everything?”
“I think so.” Stacy stuffed it in the bag, glancing around. “I—”
Whatever else she’d intended to say was lost in the rattle of a key in the lock. She froze. The apartment door swung open, and Ted stood there, seeming to fill the doorway.
“You came back.”
For an instant a smile lightened his sulky face, and Claire glimpsed the charm that had probably attracted Stacy to begin with. Then he seemed to register the bag she held, and his face closed down.
“What are you doing?” He ground out the words, taking a step toward the girl.
Stacy made some indeterminate sound, and Claire’s stomach turned over as she recognized the symptoms. Stacy was too scared to speak. Any hope that she’d stand up for herself vanished.
Claire forced herself to move between them. “Stacy is getting some of her things.” She kept her voice neutral. If they could just keep this from spiraling out of control, they could get out.
A heavy frown settled on Ted’s face as he focused on her. “I know who you are. You’re the one who’s been telling Stacy I’m no good for her.”
“You told Stacy that when you hit her. She didn’t need anyone else to explain it to her.” It was amazing that her voice could sound so calm when her stomach was busy tying itself in knots.
Ted’s fists bunched, the muscles standing out on his arms.
Anger mixed with fear flooded through her. You said you’d come with me, Brendan. You let me down.
Ted looked past her at Stacy. “Come on, baby. You don’t want to go. We were happy, weren’t we?” His voice lowered, coaxing. “You remember the good times, Stace. Don’t you?”
“Yes.” Stacy’s voice was a whisper. “I remember.”
“Come back to me, baby. It’ll be good again, I promise.”
How many times had she heard that, believed that, gone back? A flicker of pain went through her, sharp and distinct from the anger and the fear. She’d lost her baby because she’d believed those promises.
She swung toward Stacy, seeing the weakening in the girl’s expression. Her anger took over, sharp and bracing.
“Stacy, don’t be an idiot. How long have his promises lasted before? A day or two? Then something makes him mad and he takes it out on you. It won’t be any different this time.”
“You stay out of this.” The fury in Ted’s voice reverberated in her head, bringing back echoes from the past. “It’s none of your business.”
“I care about Stacy. That makes it my business.”
Anger distorted Ted’s features, and for an instant it might have been Bruce looking at her, Bruce swearing at her.
“Get out!” Ted lifted a heavy fist. “Get out and leave us alone.”
For a terrible instant the fear almost made her cower away from him. She tried to beat it back. She couldn’t let it take control again. But even as she thought that, she felt herself weakening—felt the fear rising, taking over.
He must sense that, because he took a step toward her, as if he’d sweep her out of his way.
Help me. The words formed in her mind without a conscious decision. Help us. If You’re as real as Brendan thinks You are, help us.
Ridiculous. She didn’t believe. How could she cry out to Someone she didn’t believe in?
Ridiculous or not, she suddenly seemed to see the situation clearly. She wasn’t a helpless teenager with nowhere to go. She was a grown woman, a successful businesswoman. She wasn’t about to let some punk push her around.
“We’re leaving.” The words were suffused with enough power to make Ted pause. “We’re taking Stacy’s things and going, so just get out of our way unless you want to get more trouble than you know what to do with.”
“Yeah? Who’s gonna give me trouble? You?”
“Stacy has friends now.” Amazing, the confidence that flooded her, washing away any trace of fear. “We won’t let her be hurt again. So just back off.”
Hesitation flickered in his eyes at her words, and she knew he was weakening.
“Come on, Stacy.” She grabbed the girl’s arm. “We’re done here.”
She shoved Stacy toward the door, watching as Ted fell back a step. It seemed she held that confidence as a shield, protecting them from any harm.
Her muscles tensed as they reached the point where she had to turn her back on Ted to open the door, but he didn’t move. She pushed Stacy out into the hallway and slammed the door behind them.
“Hurry.” Stacy’s face had lost all its color, but she grabbed the rail and started down.
Claire followed her, senses alert for any hint that Ted was coming after them. Nothing.
They made it down the dingy stairs and out into the late afternoon sunlight.
“We’re safe.” She clutched Stacy’s arm. “It’s okay.” She almost felt like laughing. They were safe.
Stacy gave a shaky laugh that sounded as if it could spill over into hysteria at any moment. “You were so awesome. You were so brave.”
Brave? The word echoed in her mind as they got into the car and she pulled back into traffic.
She’d had the courage inside her. She’d just needed to remind herself of who she was, even if she’d had that momentary impulse to cry out to God. She’d been around Brendan and his church people a little too much lately. He could believe in answered prayers all he wanted. She didn’t.
Chapter Eight
Claire didn’t realize that her legs were trembling until after she’d dropped Stacy off and arrived at her town house. It hit her when she got out of the car. She stood for a moment, hand on the car door, letting herself adjust.
Okay, deal with it. She was going to be all right, if sandbagged by the aftermath of such an emotional encounter.
This had been the sort of encounter she’d spent the past ten years avoiding, until Brendan got her involved with Stacy. She added that to the number of reasons she had to be angry with Brendan right now.
The fact that he stood waiting on her front step didn’t help matters any.
“Claire, thank heavens
.” Brendan hurried to meet her on the sidewalk, grasping her arms as if checking for bruises. “Are you all right?”
Anger surged through her. How could he ask that, after the way he’d let her down? She jerked her arms free, giving him the full blast of her anger.
“I’m fine. So is Stacy. No thanks to you. What are you doing here, anyway?”
And why don’t you go away? She didn’t want to deal with him, not now. Maybe later, when she had herself back under control again.
She stalked past him and thrust her key in the lock. All she wanted was to get into her own private sanctuary and regroup. Surely he would leave now.
But he stayed at her heels, leaning against the door frame as she struggled with the lock.
“My secretary told me you and Stacy had left. I’ve been all over town trying to find you. I went to Ted’s, but no one was there.”
He must have just missed them. Well, that was fine. They’d managed on their own, hadn’t they? She pushed away thoughts of that surge of confidence that had seemed to come out of nowhere.
“Finally, Aunt Siobhan called and told me you’d dropped Stacy off and you were on your way home. I had to be sure you’re all right.”
“Well, now you see that I am.” She pushed the door open and stepped into the stillness of her own place.
“Are you sure you’re okay? Ted didn’t touch either of you?”
Brendan pushed into the hallway after her. Clearly he had no intention of leaving until he was assured she was safe. Guilt, probably, because he hadn’t been there.
Well, she didn’t want his disturbing presence in her private sanctuary. She dropped her keys into the basket on the hall table. She’d bought the table in an unfinished furniture shop, liking its clean, simple lines, and then painted it a pale cream color to match the walls. It was part of the ordered world she’d created. That orderliness was what she needed right now.
But she couldn’t relax until she’d gotten rid of Brendan. She swung to face him, wondering where all her confidence had gone. She felt like collapsing on the couch and pulling a blanket over her head.