Kitabı oku: «A Daughter's Trust», sayfa 6

Chapter Nine

SUE HAD BEEN WANDERING around her house, touching things—a cold metal frame on the mantel, a picture of Grandma, the soft baby blankets on the edge of a bassinet. She rinsed the dishes in the kitchen. And picked up the toys left on the floor from her parents’ playtime with the kids.

She ended up in her bathroom, the baby monitor on the counter so she could hear if anyone needed her, and closed the door. Lighting a couple of candles, she switched off the lights, turned on the water in the garden tub, poured in bubble bath and started to undress.

All with her cell phone planted firmly at her ear.

“Joe and I went steady that whole year,” she told Rick, remembering. Speaking of things she’d never told anyone before. Not even Grandma. Because she could. Because she had a feeling he’d understand. Because, as he’d said, he was risk free.

Her blouse fell to the floor. Doing things with one hand was no problem for a woman used to living with a baby on her hip as an almost permanent fixture. The hooks on her bra were as easily mastered.

“Did you sleep with him?”

Why the question seemed appropriate, as if Rick Kraynick had a right to such intimacies, Sue couldn’t say. She unbuttoned her jeans, stepped out of them.

“Almost.” She told him the truth. “But no.”

After sliding her panties down her hips, legs and feet, Sue stepped into the soothingly hot water.

“So you think you sensed some kind of familial connection?” Rick’s voice sounded low. Sleepy. But not the least bit as if he was falling asleep.

“Maybe. I’d like to think so. I hurt him horribly.” She told Rick one of her secrets. She’d hurt too many people.

And wasn’t about to add another to her list.

No matter how much real estate Rick was taking up in her thoughts. Incredible, after only meeting this man twice.

“Was he at the reading of the will, too? This Joe?”

“Yeah. I was standing next to him when we found out we were cousins. He’s my boss now. I do bookkeeping for him from home. But we haven’t been close since high school. He’s all locked up inside. I’d hoped that finding out we were family would bring us closer again, but it doesn’t seem to have.”

“Give him time.”

Time. Everything took time. What happened when time wasn’t enough? She ran water down her neck, scooping it in her hand to splash over her breasts.

“Are you in the tub?”

Sue stared at her bare toes, sticking up from the bubbles and said nothing.

“I thought I heard the water running.”

Her nipples, also showing through the bubbles, were hard. What in the hell was she doing? And why?

“Would it offend you terribly if I said I wish I was there with you?”

It should. Instead, he was turning her on. She’d thought of little else but him since the first time she’d seen him. And these days, people thought nothing of going straight to sex. People, maybe. Not Sue.

“Are you saying it?”

“Are you offended?”

“I’m trying to be.”

“Don’t try so hard.”

“Rick…”

“I know. It’s complicated.”

This was the oddest…whatever it was…she’d ever encountered. “I’mnot offended.” But she was scared to death. What was happening to her? Who was this man who’d turned her inside out just by appearing in her life?

“Tell me if there are bubbles in that water with you. And let me imagine what you look like right now. Let me imagine, just for tonight, that I’m there with you…”

SUE DIDN’T ANSWER HER phone Sunday morning any of the three times Rick called. She didn’t answer it Sunday afternoon, either. Nor did she respond to the messages he left.

Her parents were gone. She’d said they were flying out early.

So maybe she’d gone to church.

And then out to lunch. And to a family get-together or to the park or out with friends he didn’t know about. Maybe there was a foster family group that met once a month.

Or…

By seven o’clock he’d run out of excuses for her. As conscientious as Sue was, she wouldn’t have those babies out all day, missing nap times, and then into the night, as well.

Which meant one of two things. Either she was avoiding him or something was wrong.

He couldn’t believe, after the incredible phone call they’d shared the night before, that she’d just avoid him. They’d started something. Sue wasn’t the type to tease.

A too-familiar fear tightened his chest. He’d rationalized that last time with Hannah, too. Made excuses when his six-year-old hadn’t called him immediately when she got out of class, as was their agreement.

Rick tucked his shirttail into his jeans, grabbed his wallet and keys and headed for the door.

Traffic was light—not many people out in the dark on a Sunday night in March—and he was out of town driving south in a matter of minutes. Made it to Sue’s before eight.

When he saw the lights on, he briefly considered driving on past.

He had to knock three times before she pulled open the door. She was dressed in jeans and a long-sleeved, red-and-white-striped pullover, her feet bare. As though she’d been home awhile.

“Is everyone okay?” he asked, still on edge with the heightened sense of awareness that tragedy struck without warning.

“Yes.” Since her gaze was focused somewhere around his chin, he couldn’t tell if she was angry, offended or secretly glad to see him. Rick took it as a good sign that she hadn’t shut the door in his face.

“I called.”

“I know.”

He nodded. Stood there with his hands in his pockets. And thought of her voice, soft and seductive. The sound of water trickling over naked skin…

“Last night was a mistake.”

So she had been avoiding him. “Why?”

In the doorway, a barrier between him and her home, Sue said, “I…with Carrie…it’s not right.”

At least she hadn’t said she wasn’t interested in him.

“I’m not going to be used,” she added.

Eyes narrowed, Rick hardly felt the fifty-degree chill. “Regarding Carrie, you mean.”

“It fits, doesn’t it? I fall for you. I give you what you want—your niece.”

“When did you come up with this theory? Before or after you shared your bath with me?”

“After.”

Her doubts were understandable. He blamed her for them, anyway.

“How about, I meet my niece’s foster mother. She’s different from any woman I’ve ever met. I want to get to know her. And the more I do, the more she’s in my thoughts all day long—”

“Can you honestly tell me those thoughts don’t include the fact that I can help you get Carrie?”

“My interest in you doesn’t have anything to do with that.”

“But you still hope I’ll help.”

“Of course I do.”

“Like I said, last night was a mistake.” She started to close the door.

“Wait.” Rick shoved his foot between the door and the jamb. “I hope you’ll help,” he said, “but last night…my interest in you…that has nothing to do with Carrie.”

“Uh-huh. And will it still be there if I recommend that your niece be placed with your mother?”

He didn’t like the question. “I think so.” His answer was instant, and honest.

“But you aren’t sure.”

“Last night did not happen with any thought in mind of you helping me with Carrie. I was thinking of you. Period.”

She glanced down—so did he—and saw her toes curling around the edge of the door frame.

“I don’t want a serious relationship,” she said when she glanced back up.

She’d said that before. “How about friendship?”

“I’m not going to help you with Carrie. If I think she’d be better off with your mother, I’m going to say so.”

“I know.”

“And you’re okay with that.”

“Not really. But I’ve been forewarned.”

“And you still want to be my friend?”

“I still want to explore last night further.”

When Sue grimaced, the tension between them escalated. “You’re not easy to peg, Rick Kraynick. Or to ignore.”

“Neither are you, Ms. Bookman. So at least we have that going for us, huh?”

She leaned back against the doorjamb, her arms crossed over her chest. “What makes you so…difficult?”

“Me? I’m as simple as they come. Boring, even.”

Her burst of laughter made him smile. “How does it work when you need time to yourself?” he asked. “With the kids, I mean?”

“Same as any other parent with kids. I call a sitter. One of the other foster mothers and I trade off whenever we can.”

“You think she’d be available one afternoon this week?”

“Which one?”

“Any one you’ll agree to spend with me.”

“Tuesday?”

“Tuesday. You think you can arrange it?”

Sue said she would. And before Rick made it back to his place, she’d already called him on his cell and told him that Tuesday was a go. She was going to meet him in the parking lot at school with her bike.

She talked to him for another hour while he sat in his underground parking lot, and had him laughing as she told him about embarrassing moments growing up with her dedicated parents. How they’d wear matching shirts with slogans, traipse through the grocery store as a threesome and flip coins in the middle of the aisle over ice cream flavors. And they showed up at lunch on the first day of school—every year until she started high school.

She had him laughing. Out loud.

Damn, that felt good.

His BUTT LOOKED EVEN better on a bike seat than it did in tight jeans. The deep tenor of his voice, familiar to her, from their phone conversations, distracted her from the vision. He told her about his climb from teacher to principal to administration in the Livingston school district—the system she’d attended—as they rode up and down streets she’d once walked on a regular basis. Some had changed. Some were exactly the same.

They were on their way to a new bike path he’d told her about. Along the route of an old railroad track, a paved path that stretched for more than twenty miles.

“This feels fabulous.” Dressed in black leggings and a matching long-sleeved formfitting tunic, she smiled over at him. “I used to ride all the time, but with the babies, I hardly ever have a chance anymore.”

“What do you do for exercise?”

“I used to hike Twin Peaks while Grandma played with the babies. But now that Grandma’s gone…”

There it was again. That reminder. Every single reminder was like finding out again, for the first time, that Grandma had died.

And that she’d lied.

“Sounds like the two of you were close.” Rick’s green eyes made Sue feel things she’d never felt before…as though he knew her better than anyone else ever had.

Which was ridiculous. Everybody knew how close she was to her grandmother. She was just vulnerable because she was missing Grandma.

“Very,” she said, turning her gaze back to the path in front of them, the trees sprouting new spring leaves. And she wanted the ride to last forever.

“They say it gets easier,” he said softly.

“That’s what I hear.”

“I’m not sure they know what they’re talking about.”

“You sound as though you’re speaking from experience, aside from your sister, that is.”

“I guess I am.”

“Recent experience?” Had he been in love? And she’d died?

Rick’s shrug gave Sue the idea she was on the right path. Did he find the subject difficult to talk about?

“How come you never married?” she asked, hoping to draw him out if he wanted to share with her.

Hoping he wanted to share with her.

He pedaled along easily. “She said no.”

Sue almost skidded off the path. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope.”

“How long ago was that?”

“Seven years.”

“Is she still alive?” Sue asked gently.

“As far as I know.”

“Do you ever hear from her?”

“Briefly, six months ago.”

So much for the lost love theory.

“And you haven’t met anyone since?”

“I wasn’t looking.”

“Married to the job, huh?” she guessed. He’d climbed the career ladder quickly.

“Maybe. I’m told I work too much.”

She was told the same thing. By her parents. Every time she talked to them.

They covered another mile, passing a couple of other bikers and a pair on in-line skates, and Twin Peaks came into view. Sue asked him if he’d ever been up there.

“Of course,” he said. “Hasn’t everyone who’s lived in San Francisco for more than a week?”

She chuckled.

“What’s going to happen to your grandma’s house?” Rick asked.

Sue stared at him before answering. Who was this man? Where had he come from? And why was he in her life right now? When she was most susceptible?

“Uncle Sam’s got it listed already. He and Mom already divvied up most of Grandma’s stuff, and movers are putting the things in storage bins.”

She’d heard the words. She’d processed facts. Period. Her life had revolved around that house in Twin Peaks. Around her grandparents.

Her life had been a lie.

“That’s quick.”

“Do you have any idea how much it would have meant to know that we were blood relatives while I was growing up?” she blurted. “Do you have any idea how many times I wished I was as much a grandchild to Grandma and Grandpa as Belle was?” Sue couldn’t believe she was saying this.

“You were! Come on, you more than anyone know that adopted kids are as loved, as valued, as important as biological children.”

“To the parents, that’s true. But just because adults have it all worked out doesn’t mean children do. We can explain, and love, but we can’t tell a child how to feel. Or an adult, either.”

“But you felt loved.”

“Yes, and now I feel incredibly betrayed. How could Grandpa never once look his daughter in the eye and tell her he’d fathered her? I just don’t get it.”

“At least he had her there to love.”

Sue pedaled harder as the questions pushed her on. She didn’t want to think about these things. Didn’t want to talk about them.

But they wouldn’t leave her alone.

“Still, it would have helped so much if we’d all known who we were. If Mom was truly adopted, unrelated by blood, then fine. That’s who she was. Instead, that’s only who she thought she was. And she has another full brother and a half brother…To know that your parents deliberately kept the knowledge from you…”

“I’m sure they had reasons.”

“That doesn’t mean they were right. Or that they made the best choices.” Sue’s thoughts raged on. “That’s one of the reasons I think Carrie being placed with your mother might be the best choice,” she said before she could think better of it. “As long as your mother adores her, and stays clean—and with her history, the state won’t give her two chances with this one—with her Carrie has a chance of growing up with a strong sense of self. And sometimes it’s only your sense of self that keeps you holding on…”

Her parents had given her that. And it had kept her alive at a time when she’d rather have been dead. When she’d prayed for death.

“Your mother knew Christy better than anyone,” she said, grasping the handlebars tighter. “She knew her likes and dislikes, her mannerisms and idiosyncrasies, how old she was when she took her first steps and what kinds of things made her laugh. She probably knows who Carrie’s father is, and she was around for Carrie’s birth. She’s the only one who can—”

“I disagree.”

His voice had changed.

“I know.”

And that was why she couldn’t start to count on this man’s friendship, no matter how much he engaged her. A baby’s life wasn’t something you could get around.

Or compromise on.

Chapter Ten

RICK TOLD HIMSELF to forget the woman pedaling beside him. After the way he’d been raised, he’d always wanted to have a family. A close family. That did everything together.

Sue’s goal was to remain single, detached. Alone.

Or so she’d said in more than one of their conversations.

And he knew with every fiber of his being that Carrie belonged with him. Whether Sue Bookman helped him get her or not.

If he got the baby, where would Sue fit into his life?

Where did he want her to fit?

She said something about turning back, and his thoughts skidded to a stop. What was he doing, thinking of this woman in terms of his future? He’d known her little more than a week.

“I will be a good father to Carrie,” he said aloud, as much to get himself back on track as anything.

“Rick, you don’t even know if you’ll get a chance. The court might go through with your mother’s adoption of her, regardless.”

He had to get the chance. That baby was not going to go to his mother by default. Fate wouldn’t be that cruel.

“Being a parent is so much more than changing diapers and giving baths,” she said. “It’s more than looking after younger kids in a foster home. It’s a lifetime commitment.”

They’d wheeled past a familiar road about a quarter of a mile back. He’d given it a brief mental acknowledgment and moved past. Now Rick turned back.

Sue followed without another word. Until he signaled the turnoff.

“Where are we going?”

He tried to tell her, but ended up saying, “Humor me.”

“Okay.”

He slowed, and she matched her pace to his. The road was quiet. And short.

“A cemetery?” she asked. “Are you sure we can ride in here?”

“Positive.”

He pedaled slower and slower until he pulled up in front of a headstone and stopped.

“Kraynick,” Sue said, reading the stone.

He nodded. Sort of. As always when he came here, he could barely move.

“Christy?” Sue asked softly. And then answered her own question. “It can’t be. The ground is too settled.”

But the grave site was still new enough that the edges were clearly delineated, the mound of dirt only partially covered with the spindly beginnings of grass.

There was a stone embedded in the ground at the grave’s head, and Rick expected her to get off her bike to read it, but she didn’t. She stayed with him.

And right now, Rick needed her. Needed her like he’d never needed anyone.

She stood between him and what he had to have. And yet, at the same time, she was part of what he had to have.

“I know exactly what it takes to be a father.”

Sue didn’t move, her gaze steady on the stone in front of them.

“Her name was Hannah.”

“What happened?”

“She died.” Stick to the facts, man. They’re only facts.

“I’m so sorry.” The tenderness in her voice—a woman who was a virtual stranger to him yet didn’t feel like a stranger at all—soothed the rawness chaffing a wound that would never go away. “How long ago?”

He’d started this. “Six months.”

“Oh, my God. Oh, Rick. I am so sorry.” Her eyes widened as she gave him a quick glance. And then her gaze returned to the stone. “How old was she?”

“Six. She’d be seven now.”

See, facts aren ‘t that hard. As long as you stick to them.

“Was she sick?” Sue turned on her bike, facing him directly. The look she gave him held a depth he couldn’t describe. She spoke without words. Which made no sense.

None of this made sense. Him with someone. Sharing Hannah.

“She was on the playground at school. A teenager high on acid lost control of his new Mustang convertible, drove through the fence and hit her.”

Yes, that was what the newspapers said. Mark had told him. The police hadn’t been as forthcoming. Rick had tried to read the clippings. Hadn’t succeeded yet.

He ‘d yet to make it through the boxes of cards that had come to the house. Darla had packed them up for him, left them in the spare bedroom. They were there somewhere.

“How awful. I’m…I don’t know what to say…”

Rick pedaled on.

The tragedy had nothing to do with them.

The past couldn’t be changed.

SHE STILL HAD AN HOUR before Barb’s daughter, Lisa, would be expecting her home. An hour before it was time for baths and bed for her three charges.

And she was with a man who’d disappeared into a private hell she couldn’t seem to penetrate. It was as though she’d been riding with a stranger, not the man who’d touched her so deeply in such a short space of time.

He lifted her bike into the van, and then loaded his into his SUV before turning back to her, keys in hand.

“I saw where Hannah is buried.” Sue said. “Can I see where she lived?” She was pushing. Requesting entrance into his personal space. Maybe it wasn’t wise, but it felt right.

Rick studied her, eyes narrowed, then turned away. “You want to follow me?” he asked over his shoulder as he opened the driver’s door on his Nitro.

Nodding, Sue got into the van quickly, buckling her belt and turning on the ignition at the same time. She wasn’t going to give him time to change his mind.

Looking around Rick’s living room ten minutes later, honing in particularly on all of the pictures of Hannah—of him and Hannah—Sue blinked back tears.

His daughter’s eyes were green, like her father’s. But her hair was darker than his by a couple of shades.

Sue didn’t mean to stare, but the little girl had been what child models were made of. Oozing happiness and confidence. She compelled you to look at her.

Glancing up, she saw Rick watching her. His eyes were glistening.

“I can’t imagine your loss,” she whispered.

“Neither can I. No matter how many months go by.”

He’d shown her only this room. The dark brown leather couches, coffee and end tables, home theater system. The room was nice. And there was nothing that spoke of anyone living there—no shoes left by the door, no opened mail or remote control on the table. No briefcase or keys or knickknacks. Nothing but the pictures.

“Can I get you something to eat? I was going to do grilled shrimp and onions.”

“Sounds wonderful. But I’ve only got another forty-five minutes or so. I promised Lisa I’d be back before bath time.”

“The shrimp’s already marinated,” Rick said, heading to the kitchen. Sue followed and fell into place beside him, slicing celery and cutting up broccoli, sharing the space easily. Naturally.

The refrigerator was covered with photos of Hannah and Rick. On bikes. On snowshoes. In swimsuits. There was one where their faces were painted gold and red—San Francisco Giants’ colors.

“The pictures, they’re all just of the two of you.”

“Yeah.”

Rick had said he’d never been married. “So you lived alone with her at the time of her accident?”

“We lived alone from the moment I brought her home from the hospital.”

Shocked, Sue stared at him. “Her mother died in childbirth?”

“Her mother didn’t want her,” he said, tipping the pan of shrimp to fill their plates. “Or me.”

“What do you mean, she didn’t want her?”

Rick brought silverware, napkins and iced tea to the table. Sue followed with their plates.

“I met Sheila shortly after I graduated from college,” he said a couple of silent minutes into the meal. Sue had been eating the shrimp. And waiting. “I’d taken a job at Globe High School. As math teacher and basketball coach.”

In the district where he was now assistant superintendent.

“Sheila was the varsity cheerleading coach—an after-school, mostly volunteer position. In her day job she was a model.”

Sitting there in her bike clothes, sweaty and with her hair in a ponytail, Sue wished she’d had a chance to shower. At least.

Rick’s lover had been a model?

“For a boy who’d grown up virtually on his own, never being in one place long enough to form any kind of lasting relationship, having Sheila around took some getting used to. But in a good way. She changed everything for me.”

He took a bite of shrimp, his gaze faraway. “She taught me about love. Taught me how to love.”

Keeping her eyes on her plate, Sue asked, “How does one teach someone to love? Either you feel the feelings or you don’t.”

“Love is action, Sheila always said.” He paused, and Sue looked up at him, then couldn’t look away. “According to her, when you do things for people, you are loving them. When you spoil them, you are loving them in a big way.”

The twinge Sue felt was simply because she was hungry. The bike ride and all…

“So did she?” she asked quietly, reminding herself there was no reason to feel jealous. Rick was with her. He’d cooked dinner for her. Pursued her.

And it wasn’t like she wanted anything permanent, anyway.

“Did she what?”

“Spoil you?”

“Yeah.” He didn’t seem that happy about it. “She gave me a foundation. When she got pregnant, I was thrilled. I immediately asked her to marry me. The quicker the better. I couldn’t wait to settle down. To raise our family. To be a part of a family.”

To have a family of his own.

The story, as it progressed, was harder to listen to than Sue had expected. Obviously this was the woman he’d spoken of earlier. The one who’d left him. There was no reason for her to envy this Sheila woman. The relationship Rick had tried to have with her was not one Sue would ever want.

“I couldn’t believe it when she turned me down.”

Sue paused, fork halfway to her mouth. “I can’t believe it, either.”

“Turns out I was just her current adventure. She had no intention of marrying anyone. Of settling down. And even if she did marry eventually, it would be to an adventurer, not a schoolteacher.”

“What a bitch.” Sue wanted to snatch the words back the second she said them.

Until she saw the slight tilt at the edge of Rick’s lips.

“Sheila was a wanderer. A nurturer, but a wanderer. She couldn’t help that any more than you and I can help who we are.”

Any more than Sue could help the fact that she was a distance runner when it came to relationships. She had to keep her space. And the second someone got too close, she ran. Not much different from a wanderer, Sue thought, chilled.

“She said that if she stayed, if she married me, she’d always be yearning for more. The first few months of her pregnancy, she really struggled with all of it. Trying to fit into the role of wife and mother. She helped me shop for the baby. Picked out furniture and every baby accessory she could find. Made a nursery out of the spare bedroom in the apartment we’d been sharing. But the closer we got to Hannah’s birth, the more panicky she became.”

Sue chewed, but was having trouble swallowing.

“I hoped that when Hannah was born, the miracle of her birth would convince Sheila that she wanted to stay with us. I counted on there being some kind of motherly instinct that would offset whatever else pulled at her.” Rick sat at the table but he wasn’t eating. “But I knew, ten minutes after Hannah was here, that Sheila had to go. She hardly looked at her. Didn’t want to hold her. At Sheila’s request I packed her stuff while she was in the hospital. Her sister came over to pick it up. When Sheila left the hospital, she left alone. And I haven’t seen her since.”

“Not even when Hannah was killed?”

“Not even then.”

“Does she know?”

“I sent a wire to an overseas address I had for her. She called, left a message. She was saddened, hurting for me, but couldn’t afford to get to the States. She didn’t leave a call-back number.”

“And you haven’t heard from her since?”

“No.”

Sue pushed back her not quite empty plate. Like Jo Fraser, these women had just walked away?

Sue might not want a marriage and children of her own, but if she had a child…

And she’d certainly never turn her back on family. Heck, she put up with Uncle Sam. Family was family.

Even when they let you down. Hurt you. Lied to you…“I don’t get people.”

“Yeah, me either. Don’t even try anymore. I gave that up when I was about ten.”

“So was it hard, raising a little girl on your own?” Sue wanted to know everything about him. Not to commit herself to him. But to know. And that scared the hell out of her.

“It was rough at first. I was twenty-four, in my first job, and learning about feedings and diaper rash all at once. But after those initial few months, it was surprisingly easy. Hannah was a happy baby, a great kid. Those years with her, they were the greatest. Every day, every hour, brought something new and good. Even if it was only sitting there on the couch at night with her head against me as she slept. I was happy. And if I never have another moment like that for the rest of my life, I’ll still die knowing I had the best life had to offer.”

Sue could feel the strength of his passion.

And could feel the emptiness of her own existence where those happy moments had never been.