by Kate Douglas
“Tim Anderson gave us some background. He’d coerced Dearborn into a lot of illegal activity over the years, including siphoning off a huge amount of Alicia Dearborn’s estate. The day the smugglers were apprehended, you were pretty high profile, staying with Rose DeAngelo throughout the interrogation by the FBI. Dearborn must’ve blamed you and the arresting agents for all his legal problems. He’d been too close to Rose to want to put the blame on her. You guys were more convenient.
“His mother bailed him out, but once she found out how much money her baby boy had stolen from her, she pressed charges against him herself. She figured she’d teach him a lesson, let him spend a few nights in jail.”
Sandy shoved himself away from the bed and paced the small hospital room. “He got more of a lesson than she’d planned. Turns out he was tossed into a cell with a bunch of guys who beat the crap out of him then gang raped him. According to Anderson, Dearborn snapped. Anderson always felt like he’d had the upper hand with his buddy, but Dearborn came out of that jail cell a changed man...convinced everything bad that had happened to him was your fault...yours and Agent O’Rourke’s.
“By that time, both he and Anderson were hooked on drugs. Dearborn still managed to have enough money to feed his and Anderson’s addiction, so the power shifted. Anderson was working for Dearborn when you caught him trying to plant the bomb on the Jag.”
“My God, Sandy.” Kat shook her head in disbelief. “If you could’ve seen James Dearborn when he was arrested, you’d know why I never suspected him. He was such a mild-mannered sort, a real wimp. Blond hair, blue eyes, a real pretty boy. His mother was the original bitch on wheels, but she had to have known what she was setting him up for, sending him to jail. Rose told me that was his greatest fear—ending up in prison—a guy with his looks.” Kat stroked Michael’s cheek and he turned to her hand in his sleep, his mouth instantly puckering.
How could any mother do something so awful to her only son?
Sandy cleared his throat. “That’s the other part of my news. Turns out when the Pittsburgh cops went to notify Dearborn’s mother of his death, they found her decomposing body in the basement, all bound up with duct tape. The autopsy hasn’t been completed, but it looks like she’d been tortured and stabbed to death within the last few weeks. Dearborn’s the obvious suspect, though we won’t know for sure until all the results are in. The neighbors all thought she’d taken off on a European trip she’d been talking about, so no one checked up on her. Gardeners kept gardening, maid kept cleaning and her accountant kept making payroll.”
“How awful...and sad.” To be so isolated that no one even misses you? To die at the hand of your own son ... Kat shuddered, remembering the fear, the sheer terror she had lived through for almost a year. She had never known such dread, but then she’d never had so much to lose.
Sandy said something, but Kat missed it. “What did you say?”
“The doctor said they’re gonna release you tomorrow morning. Jane and I insist you come home with us for awhile, ’til you get stronger.”
Damned...er...darned tears... “Sandy, that’s so nice, but—”
“No buts, Kat. Jane’d never forgive me if I didn’t give her a shot at holding that little baby. She’s a frustrated gramma.” He stood up, grinning. “The closest she’s got to grandchildren is our son’s hyperactive border collie.”
Kat laughed. “Well, guess we can’t disappoint her.”
“It’s settled then.” Sandy headed out of the room. “I’ll pick you up at ten.”
Kat held her smile until Sandy left the room. Then she cried softly for a long time, holding her sleeping son.
“JANE, I’VE SPONGED OFF you and Sandy long enough. I really have to move on.” Kat threw the last of her few items of clothing into the sports bag she’d picked up at the drug store that morning, then stared at the huge pile of belongings Michael had accumulated over the past month.
His baggage outstripped hers by more than half.
“But where will you go?” Jane Wilson had taken Kat into her home and her heart without question when Sandy brought the new mother home from the hospital. She’d helped with Michael and mothered Kat, something Kathleen hadn’t realized how much she’d needed.
“I talked to my ex-partner and his wife last night. Rose and Mike Ramsey own a bed and breakfast in the Sierra foothills. They’ve been bugging me for ages to come and help run the place. She and Mike have twins who just started walking.” Kat couldn’t help smiling, thinking of Mike Ramsey with twin daughters.
She grinned at Jane and deadpanned, “I truly believe their offer is entirely sincere.”
“What about Seamus?” Jane was well aware of Kat’s feelings.
“What about him?”
“Don’t you think you should let him know you’re leaving?”
“He’ll find out. Eventually. If he really cared, don’t you think I’d have heard from him by now?”
“So, you’re really gonna leave us, eh, Kat?”
Sandy Wilson walked into the spare room and handed Kathleen a fat envelope. “This just came for you. I signed for it.”
Kat took the thick vellum envelope Sandy held out to her. “You had to sign for it? What is it?”
“Why don’t you open it and see?” Sandy hovered over her shoulder, obviously curious.
“Why don’t we let Kat open it in private, dear?” Jane grabbed her husband’s sleeve and dragged him from the room, laughing.
Kat watched them go with a sense of sadness that she would never share that kind of closeness with a man again.
With Seamus O’Rourke.
“Oh, Seamus, you’re such a dolt.” Why couldn’t he see what was right there in front of his face? He loved Michael. Kat was certain of that. She was almost certain he loved her as well.
Almost.
Kat knew she loved Seamus. How else could she explain the horrible sense of loss she’d felt when she finally accepted the fact he wasn’t coming back for her?
She stared at the thick envelope, noticing for the first time that it had been sent from an attorney’s office. Probably another subpoena. It was one of the drawbacks of working in law enforcement that convinced her she’d made the right decision to request a long leave of absence.
Kat slipped her thumb under the flap and removed the contents.
The first thing she saw was a bank statement in her name with a balance larger than any sum she’d ever earned in any given year. There was a checkbook enclosed with her name on it, and a bank signature card for her to fill out and return.
The note was brief and to the point. Seamus O’Rourke, through his attorney, was naming himself financially responsible for Michael Seamus Riley Malone until said child reached the age of twenty-one years, at which point, if further funds were needed, Seamus should be contacted through his attorney.
Other than that, and unless the child should wish to know his uncle, there would be no further contact between Seamus and Michael, except at Kathleen Malone’s discretion.
This time Kat didn’t cry. She merely dug through her papers for Michael’s birth certificate, stuck it in the stamped return envelope provided by Seamus’s attorney, grabbed her bags and Michael’s and stalked out the door.
She left the bank statement and checkbook on the dresser.
ALMOST EXACTLY ONE MONTH later, Seamus O’Rourke pounded on Sandy and Jane Wilson’s front door demanding to see Kathleen Malone. Sandy wasn’t home, but Jane calmly handed Seamus a slip of paper with an address on it and shut the door in his face.
Seamus didn’t recognize the street name, but he knew exactly where the town of Jackson was. If he could find the Honeysuckle Inn, he knew he’d find Kat Malone.
Chapter Twelve
“ARE YOU CERTAIN YOU’LL be okay here by yourself? I just hate leaving you and the baby all alone out here like this.”
“Rose, relax.” Kat turned her friend by the shoulders and pointed her toward the door. “Ramsey’s waiting in the car, and if
you don’t hurry, he’ll leave without you. Trust me...I know how the man thinks.”
Rose laughed, spun around and gave Kat a quick hug. “When you guys worked together, you didn’t have twin toddlers. Believe me, he is not going anywhere without The Mama. My status has been greatly elevated since the birth of the girls. The man really needs me now.”
“He’s always needed you, kiddo. Even before he met you, he needed you. Now go. Give your Aunt Rosa a hug for me, enjoy Hawaii and come home with a tan. Michael and I can handle the inn just fine.”
“There aren’t any guests scheduled for the entire month and you’ve got Rosa’s number if you need to reach us for—”
“Go. That’s an order.” Kat finally managed to push Rose through the front door and shut the screen behind her. Just then Michael started to cry. “The lord and master is calling. Send me a postcard.” Kat pulled the screen open to wave at Mike Ramsey. “Have fun, guys. I’ll keep the home fires burning.”
The mini-van pulled out of the driveway and disappeared in a cloud of dust. Kat watched them leave, grinning at the thought of her macho Department of Transportation partner, the best shot on the force, the guy who always got his man, driving away in a mini-van with two adorable raven-haired daughters firmly strapped in their carriers in the back seat and his beautiful wife beside him.
None of them had ever dreamed of such a life. Now Mike and Rose Ramsey had it.
Michael raised the volume, demanding to be fed.
Kat grinned even wider. Well, she didn’t have the husband beside her, but she definitely had her own man...and this little guy was demanding enough, thank you very much!
At least I know how to keep him happy.
After a quick diaper change Kat settled into the old rocker Rose had given her. Michael rooted and snuffled, impatient to latch on to her nipple and have his lunch. Nursing continually amazed Kathleen, that she could feed this growing child from her own body, nurture him completely and keep him healthy and happy.
Too bad I couldn’t do the same with Seamus. Immediately, the fantasy image of Seamus’s lips at her breast sent a shaft of heat through Kat. Michael snorted and wriggled, suggesting in his own way it was time to switch to the other breast.
Kat held Michael up against her shoulder and patted a deep belch out of him, then bared her right breast. The baby latched on immediately, already an expert at finding his next meal.
Kat rested her head against the back of the rocker and let her mind drift. Once again Seamus was the center of her thoughts...along with a conviction, deep in her heart, that if Seamus would only let her, she could make him happy.
“C’MON, SWEETIE. TIME FOR your bath.” Kat set the small plastic tub in the sink and added just enough warm water to bathe Michael. He’d grown so much it was difficult to recall how frightened she’d been the first time she’d bathed him.
“You were the equivalent of bathing a slippery seal, beast.”
Michael grinned up at her—something he’d been doing for the past couple of days. Just heading into his third month, Michael was the most entertaining, wonderful thing Kat could possibly imagine.
If only Seamus were here to share his growing, changing, amazing ways.
Kat blinked rapidly, as usual brought to tears by thoughts of Seamus. She’d never understand how he could have dropped out of their lives so completely.
She’d played the only card she had. Seamus hadn’t shown his hand. If Michael’s birth certificate couldn’t bring him to her, Kat was forced to admit he wasn’t ever going to come.
She wrapped Michael in a soft towel and carried him into the bedroom. Once he was diapered and dressed she settled into the comfortable old rocker to nurse him—hopefully—to sleep.
“You are such a sweetheart.” She stroked his satiny cheek, smoothed her fingertip along the dark wing of his eyebrow. So much like Seamus...and Riley. Odd, how she hadn’t thought of Riley at all since she’d come running to the Honeysuckle Inn in search of healing. The peace of the old house had seeped into her soul, had gradually left her with nothing but quiet memories of her time with the FBI agent.
Had the conversations she’d had with his vision actually happened? Even those amazing moments had mellowed in her thoughts.
Unlike her moments with Seamus. Good Lord, she’d never even kissed the man. They’d shared nothing more intimate than an occasional comforting hug.
Hugs, a pregnancy, Michael’s birth, a killer’s attack, near death by drowning...Seamus’s strong arms pulling her to the surface...saving her life.
No, they hadn’t shared anything intimate at all.
Kat’s eyes brimmed with tears. They came more easily these days since the birth of her son. She nuzzled her cheek against Michael’s satiny hair and let the tears flow.
HE SHOULD HAVE KNOCKED. He never should have just walked through the unlocked screen door, then unerringly followed his senses to Kathleen. If he’d knocked, though, he never would have seen her like this.
She appeared to sleep, she was so still in the shaft of sunlight falling on the old oak rocker. Her hair, longer than before, covered the side of her face. Seamus studied the tip of her nose, the curve of her chin, the swell of her breast. She held Michael to nurse, but the baby slept as well. His tiny rosebud mouth still pursed, but the nipple he’d recently fed from had escaped his lips. One tiny hand fisted, held tightly against Kat’s soft skin.
The urge to touch her, to run his hands through her hair, caress the soft curve of her cheek, to hold her in his arms and make love until both of them were too exhausted to move... Ah, Kathleen. Will you ever forgive me? Will you ever let me into your heart?
Seamus swallowed, forced himself to breathe. She was lovelier than he recalled, more beautiful than he’d even imagined.
He lifted his hand and caressed the folded envelope in his shirt pocket. She was Kathleen Margaret Malone, the mother of his son.
SHE MIGHT HAVE DOZED for hours. More likely it had only been minutes, but when Kat opened her eyes she sensed Seamus in the room. She wasn’t certain how she knew he stood close by, but somehow the air had taken on a new quality, her heart beat with a new cadence. Warm waves of pleasure coursed through her veins. She took a deep breath before raising her head to look toward the open bedroom doorway.
He stood there, dressed much as Riley might have on his days off, in worn blue jeans and a soft flannel shirt. The sleeves were rolled back and Seamus’s strong forearms looked tan and muscled. He leaned against the doorframe, feigning a relaxed pose she immediately guessed was a sham.
Somehow Kat found the strength to raise her eyes and gaze into his. Seamus studied her with a look of absolute longing that was almost her undoing. He’d lost weight. The familiar grooves and planes of his face were more pronounced, the line of his brow sharper. There was a hunger about him she’d never noticed before, a sense of need that physically reached out to enfold her.
Kat cleared her throat, but it was Seamus who broke the charged silence.
“I hear you’ve got rooms to rent.”
So. That was going to be his approach. Kat held her smile inside. “Not really,” she answered. “The inn’s closed for the month. I’m just watching the place until the owners return.”
Seamus pushed himself away from the wall, but he didn’t move from the open doorway. “Think you could make an exception? I’m willing to work. I...” He fumbled for his words, shrugged his shoulders and took a single step into the room.
Kat repositioned the sleeping baby to her shoulder, covered her bare breasts with her blouse, and stood up. Seamus faced her from a mere two paces across the room. Two paces and a thousand miles of misunderstanding and hurt.
Kat’s thoughts had never been clearer, her purpose more focused. She centered her gaze on Seamus’s dark green eyes and saw her future in their depths. “I love you, Seamus. I love you so much. Michael and I need you.”
She’d hardly gotten the words out before Seamus had crossed the thousand miles in two quic
k steps. He held her close, carefully wrapping his arms around Kat and the baby. She couldn’t understand any of the words he said, not with the sobs welling up from her chest and the tears blinding her to everything but the absolute goodness of his embrace.
Michael squirmed between them and Seamus laughed. “Lord, Kat. He’s huge! I can’t believe how he’s grown. C’mere, little guy.”
Kat handed Michael over to Seamus. The look of wonder on Seamus’s face told her more than words ever could.
He cradled the baby in his arms and carefully sat down in the rocker. Michael stared up at Seamus, his gaze so intense it was as if child and man, father and son, communicated on a level Kat would never understand.
Much as Riley and Seamus had once communed?
After a long moment, Seamus looked up at Kathleen. Tears streamed from his eyes and a look of wonder suffused his face. “I can never thank you enough. You know that, don’t you?”
Before Kat could answer, Seamus reached into his pocket and withdrew a familiar envelope. “My attorney just gave this to me yesterday. I’ve been out of touch for weeks. I... Why? When I treated you so terribly, Kat. Why?”
Kathleen reached for the envelope, opened it and removed Michael’s birth certificate. She read aloud, “Michael Seamus Riley O’Rourke, born to Kathleen Margaret Malone, mother. Seamus Patrick O’Rourke, father.” Kat carefully placed the certificate back in the envelope. “I told you why, Seamus. I told you when Michael was born, you were more a father to him than Riley ever could’ve been. We both know Riley wasn’t father material. Even Riley told me you’d be the better father.”
“You really saw him, too, didn’t you?”
Kathleen nodded, fluttered her hands in a helpless gesture then let them fall to her sides. “Yeah. I didn’t believe it at first. I thought he was just in my head, but he was there. In the room, in the car...”
Seamus nodded without looking in her direction, as if understanding her confusion, her sense of denial.