“Oh, Julianne, I’m sorry,” Barry said softly. “I know how hard all this has been on you.”
She shrugged and placed a handful of potato chips next to the sandwiches on the plates. “Any-way, it hasn’t been a bad day…it’s been a bad year. But enough whining from me. How’s Miranda feeling?” She placed one plate in front of him, then joined him at the table.
“Pregnant. Morning sickness has hit her pretty hard. She’s at that stage where she’s miserable and it’s all my fault.” Barry chomped a potato chip and looked at her curiously. “I don’t remember you being so cranky when you were carrying Emily.”
Julianne laughed. “You weren’t living with me. I can’t tell you how many nights I woke up. Sam by hitting him over the head with my pillow because he could sleep on his stomach and I couldn’t.” Her laughter died, replaced by a piercing, bittersweet ache in her heart.
“Speaking of Emily, how’s she doing?”
“Emily is terrific. I’ve started her in a preschool, and she adores it. She even has a boyfriend, a little boy named Ian who has freckles that dance on his nose when he smiles.”
Barry laughed and shook his head ruefully. “Gosh, they grow up so fast, don’t they? Whatever happened to her imaginary dragon friend?”
“He disappeared about the same time that Sam did. Since then we’ve had an invisible frog, a magical headband and a stuffed bunny who only talks when I’m not around.”
“Nobody can say she doesn’t have an imagination,” Barry exclaimed.
Julianne nodded. “But her latest fantasy has me a little concerned.”
“What’s that?”
“She’s started telling me that at night Sam comes down from heaven and kisses her good-night.”
Barry took a bite of his sandwich and chewed thoughtfully.. “You don’t suppose she has seen Sam, do you?”
“Of course not.” Julianne sighed. “It’s just the wistful thinking of a little girl who misses her daddy.”
Barry touched her arm sympathetically. “You know Sam would be in touch with you if it was at all possible.”
She nodded. “I know, and that’s what scares me so much. Why hasn’t he gotten in touch with me? Is he in a hospital someplace, unable to tell anyone his name or where he lives? Or worse? Is he—” She broke off, the unspoken hanging heavy between them.
She flushed and looked, at Barry helplessly. “And if he is all right, and he finally returns, how is he going to fix this mess he’s in? He’s wanted by the police, and I’m so confused about everything.” She flushed, having said more than she intended. “We need a change of subject. So, how’s work? Garrison stopped by this morning, but he never talks business to me.”
Barry shrugged. “It’s all right. Everyone misses Mr. Baker and Sam. Things aren’t the same without any Bakers there.”
Julianne nodded, then smiled as she thought of Sam’s sisters. “I still can’t believe Carolyn and Bonnie are married and living in Casey’s Corners, Kansas, and Colleen just got married a couple of days ago. Now all the Baker brood is married.” She steadfastly refused to contemplate if her and Sam’s marriage would survive.
“Did you go to Colleen’s wedding?” Barry asked.
“No.” She frowned. “I had every intention to, even got dressed to go. Then I worried that maybe my presence would remind Colleen of Sam’s absence and ruin the special day for her.” She didn’t tell Barry that the thought of seeing two people so much in love and exchanging vows had been too much for her to handle. Afraid of breaking down in the middle of the ceremony, she’d chosen instead to stay at home, knowing Colleen would understand.
“Well, guess I’d better get out of here.” Barry popped the last potato chip from his plate into his mouth, then stood. “Thanks for lunch.”
Julianne smiled. “You know you’re welcome anytime.” She walked him to the front door. “Give Miranda my love.”
“I will.” He hesitated at the door. “You’ll let me know if you hear anything from Sam?”
“You’ll be one of the first I’ll tell.”
He nodded, then with a quick hug, he left. Julianne watched him go, again thanking fate for giving her supportive friends.
Barry had spent the time since Sam had disappeared working from the inside of the company to try to separate fact from fiction and get to the bottom of Joseph Baker’s death. As the head of security for Baker Enterprises, Barry had an inside line to gossip and was privy to much of the inner workings of the company.
Julianne knew with certainty that somebody within the company was responsible for Joseph’s death. She also knew with certainty that it couldn’t possibly be Sam.
Sure, Sam and his father had argued vehemently about the running of Baker Enterprises, their visions of the future at odds with each other. But Sam had loved his father, and Julianne didn’t believe under any circumstances her husband would be capable of taking another’s life.
So why wasn’t he here? Defending himself? Why had he run away instead of remaining here where he belonged? That’s the question the police kept asking her, the question that haunted her. As she stood in the lonely, empty silence of the foyer the question that haunted her even more was, if and when Sam eventually returned and cleared his name, would they have a marriage left?
* * *
Smoke. It was the smoke that awoke her. Thick, acrid, it seared the back of her throat and forced hot tears from her stinging eyes. She sat up, nauseous…disoriented as she saw the heavy layer of smoke swirl in the moonlight coming through the gauzy curtains at the bedroom window.
Was it a dream? She frowned, rubbing at her eyes, her lungs laboring with each breath she took. What was going on? What was happening?
Fire! Her brain screamed the alarm, but her body refused to acknowledge the urgency. She gasped for air, her chest aching, burning with each drawn breath.
Stumbling from the bed, a single name shot through her, one that pierced through the layer of fog that had momentarily held her inert. Emily! Dear God, she had to get to her daughter.
She groped toward the bedroom door, a frenzied, steady cough stealing most of her breath. She touched the doorknob, nearly sobbing in relief when she felt no heat. Pulling the door open, she gasped as a blanket of thick smoke enveloped her, disorienting her.
The hallway was pitch-black, the air noxious with smoke. Julianne steadied herself against the wall, trying to get her bearings. A burst of racking coughs tumbled her to her knees. She gasped for air and pulled herself back up to her feet, still coughing as her eyes watered copiously. Although she felt no heat, heard no ominous crackle and spark of flames, she knew the smoke was deadly. It burned her lungs and stung her eyes like nothing she’d experienced before.
She fell to her knees, knowing from some past source that the air would be cleaner close to the floor.
“Emily!” she screamed as she inched forward. Again a fit of coughing consumed her, leaving her weak and gasping for good air. “Emily,” she croaked.
“I’ve got her,” a male voice cried from out of the blackness ahead. He coughed, his voice muffled as he cried out once again, “Go back…I’ll get her out. Go back and get out the window.”
Julianne tried to see through the black fog of smoke. Who was it? Who was in her house? A neighbor? Where was Emily?
“Get out!” the deep voice commanded again. “I promise I’ll get her.”
Sobbing in relief, Julianne staggered back to her bedroom and slammed the door. Thank God. Emily was safe; she would be all right. Somebody must have seen the smoke and called the fire department. They had arrived and broken in to save them.
She stumbled toward the window, threw it open and gulped deeply of the cold night air. At the same time her fingers tore frantically at the screen.
Once the screen had been dislodged, she crawled out, her mind filled with only one thought. Let the fireman get Emily to safety. Please, God, let Emily be all right.
Her bedroom was on the second floor, but there was an overh
ang directly below her window. As she dropped down she heard sirens in the distance. The sounds of the approaching emergency vehicles disoriented her. Weren’t the firemen already here? If they weren’t, then who had been in her house? Who had Emily?
Hanging on to the slippery surface of the small area of roof, she peered over the edge, realizing it was a long drop to the ground below.
Taking a deep breath, she scooted her legs over the side and lowered herself until she dangled above the ground. With a scream, she released her hold and plummeted downward. She hit flat on her back, the air painfully whooshing out of her lungs.
Pain. Deep, intense, it tore through her as her mouth opened and closed soundlessly. She didn’t realize she was breathing again until she heard her own frantic sobs. She fought against a wave of darkness and struggled to her knees, staring at the house. Where was Emily? Don’t pass out, she demanded of herself. Find Emily, then you can let go. Where was the man who had Emily?
Before she could move, the front door of the house flew open and a figure emerged. It was a tall, masculine figure, and Emily was in his arms. As the figure moved closer, all sense of reality faded.
With the smoke swirling out the open front door like vaporous forms of ghosts in the moonlight and her brain foggy with smoke and fear, Julianne decided this was all a dream. It had to be a dream, she decided, overwhelmed with sensory distortions. It had to be a dream because as the moon illuminated the features of the man, Julianne recognized that it was Sam who carried Emily.
She watched, afraid to move, afraid of waking up if it was a dream, and half crazy with the thought it might not be a dream. Closer and closer he came to where she remained, unmoving. As he came nearer, she expected his features to melt into someone else’s. It couldn’t be Sam. Could it? Where had he come from? How had he gotten here?
He gently placed Emily on the ground next to her, then straightened.
“I—I thought you might be dead,” Julianne whispered, her voice barely audible above the piercing whine of approaching sirens.
“Keep thinking I am,” he answered.
Julianne gasped, fighting against the dark edges that crowded into her consciousness. She needed to stay awake, needed to talk to Sam, find out where he’d been. But it was no use. With a tiny sigh, she gave into the blackness and knew no more.
Sam stood in the shadows of the night, hidden from view by a small set of trees at the edge of the house. It wasn’t until the ambulance arrived and loaded Julianne and Emily that his heart began to slow to a more normal rhythm.
As the last of the emergency vehicles pulled away, he sank down at the base of a tree, trying to get a handle on the fear that still ripped through him.
When he’d smelled the acrid smoke drifting upward to his attic retreat, sheer terror had riveted through him. As he’d carried Emily to safety, hoping that Julianne had obeyed his command to climb out the window, he’d realized the smoke didn’t smell like something burning, rather it held a chemical scent that burned his nostrils and lungs.
He closed his eyes and brought his hands up to cover his face, a vision of Julianne burned into his brain. As he placed Emily beside her, he’d seen that Julianne was dazed, half-conscious. He’d wanted to take her in his arms, hold her close to his heart. He’d wanted to kiss away her fear, squeeze her in an embrace that assured her of safety. But he’d been afraid…afraid to let her know he was really near her, afraid of who might harm her to get to him.
Better that he let her believe she was crazy. Better she believe the smoke had addled her mind, conjuring the image of her missing husband.
He drew his hands into fists and slowly withdrew them from his face. Would this nightmare ever end? Would he ever be with his family again?
Chapter Three
Julianne jerked awake and sat straight up. Fire! The house was on fire. She had to get Emily. She was half out of the bed, then blinked and stared around her. Early morning sunshine streaked through the windows, reflecting off the white walls, the white bed, and the woman in the white uniform opening the window blinds.
A hospital. Immediately the events of the night before returned. Julianne eased back down and closed her eyes, remembering the fire trucks and the ambulance that had brought Emily and herself to the hospital. Emily! She sat back up again.
“Ah, you’re awake,” the nurse said as she turned away from the window.
“My daughter…where is she?”
“When I last peeked in at her she was devouring a breakfast of pancakes and entertaining her little roommate with stories of a singing and dancing leprechaun.”
Julianne once again relaxed back onto the bed, aware of a headache pounding at her temples. “So, she’s all right?”
“Fit as a fiddle,” the nurse replied. “She seems to think being in a hospital is a big adventure.”
Yes, that sounded like her daughter, Julianne thought. “When can we get out of here?”
“The doctor should be in here in just a few minutes to speak with you. In the meantime, how about some breakfast?”
Julianne shook her head. “No, I’m really not hungry, although a glass of juice would be nice.”
“Orange or apple?”
“Orange.”
“I’ll be back in a jiffy.” The nurse disappeared out of the room, and Julianne closed her eyes. She replayed again those moments just before she’d passed out, trying to make sense from the absurd.
She’d seen Sam. He’d walked out the front door with their daughter in his arms. He’d been leaner, the lines of his face deeper, but it had been Sam.
However, she was certain her faint had only lasted a moment or two, and when she’d regained consciousness fire engines were pulling into the driveway and she and Emily had been alone on the lawn.
Had she hallucinated the specter of her husband? Had it been one of her neighbors she’d mistaken for Sam? Had she somehow gotten to Emily and dragged her outside herself? Had Sam only been a figment of her trauma? It was all so muddied, so confusing, in her mind.
Odd that she remembered all the smoke but had seen no fire, had felt no heat. The entire events of the night were foggy, like a dream barely remembered upon awakening. She thought she’d seen Sam, but that was impossible…as impossible as dense smoke with no flames.
“Julianne?” Garrison peeked into the doorway hesitantly.
“Garrison, come in,” she said, relieved to see a familiar face. She sat up straighter, wincing slightly as a harsh tattoo beat at her temples.
“Headache?” he asked, his brow furrowed with worry. She nodded as he pulled up a chair to her bedside. “Yes, the doctor told me you’d probably have a headache. I hope you don’t mind, I insisted he tell me how you were the moment I heard you were here in the hospital.” He patted her arm reassuringly. “Thank God, you weren’t harmed more seriously and Emily seems just fine.”
“What about the house? Is it badly burned?”
Garrison looked at her in surprise. “Hasn’t anyone told you?”
“Told me what?” Julianne’s heart beat the rhythm of dread. Was the house completely gone? Had it burned to the ground? Tears stung her eyes and she blinked rapidly in an attempt to dispel them. Their house. Her home. No use. The tears seeped downward, warm against her cheeks. “Is the house…is it gone?”
“Oh, no, my dear.” Garrison took one of her hands in his. “The house is fine, without significant damage from what I’ve been told.” He frowned. “Hasn’t anyone been in to see you about all this?”
She shook her head, wiping at the tears with her free hand. “The only person I’ve seen this morning has been a nurse who promised she’d be back in a jiffy with some juice.” She frowned, thinking of Garrison’s words. “How is it possible there was no damage? There was so much smoke…the fire had to be huge.”
“There was no fire. Apparently some sort of smoke bomb was set off in your utility room.”
Julianne stared at him in disbelief. “Smoke bomb?”
“I’m
afraid I don’t know any more details than that. If I didn’t have friends on the police force and at the fire department, I wouldn’t have learned that much.”
Julianne wanted to tell him that she’d thought it was Sam who’d carried Emily out of the smoke into safety. But she didn’t mention it, afraid he would think she was crazy.
Maybe she was crazy. Perhaps the months of stress had finally managed to unhinge the door behind which her lucidity was stored. Like Emily with her imaginary friends and magical animals, Julianne imagined a missing husband acting as a hero. In a child such fantasies were acceptable. In an adult they were evidence of the need for a strait-jacket.
“Mommy!” Emily raced into the room and jumped up on the bed and into Julianne’s arms. The action and the jostling of the bed made Julianne’s head pound even harder, but she ignored the pain, soothed by her daughter’s sweetness in her arms.
The house didn’t matter, nor did it matter how Emily had gotten out of the smoke-riddled house. Nothing was important other than the fact that they were both safe and sound.
Emily wiggled out of her embrace and sat up. “I have a big bed just like you, and the buttons make it move funny ways. Aunt Letta says I can spend the day with her, and we can make cookies, and she’ll teach me how to sew. Can I, huh? Can I?”
“Slow down, honey.” Julianne looked at Garrison for confirmation.
He nodded. “Letta thought you could use some time alone, and you know she loves to spend time with Emily. The doctor told me she can be released anytime. And you’ll probably be released later this morning.”
“Please, Mommy, I love Aunt Letta and Uncle Garri,” Emily pleaded.
Julianne smiled and touched her daughter’s button nose. “I know you love them.” She looked back at Garrison. “If you’re sure Letta doesn’t mind.”
“Mind? It was Letta’s idea.” Garrison’s face softened as he spoke of his wife. “Her greatest regret was that we couldn’t have children. Emily fills a void in her life.”
Daddy On The Run Page 3