Maria Redtree, standing still as the dry air, said nothing. She simply studied the child leaning over the playpen to see the baby. Her newest granddaughter had eyes the color of cornflowers, but other than that, there were too many similarities between her and the other children for her to ignore. From the way her features had softened, Eve suspected there were more similarities than she’d expected to find.
Maria’s glance brushed over Eve’s golden hair, then down to her pale, tightly clasped hands. The softness faded.
For the first time in her life, Eve knew what it felt like to be totally out of place. She was out of her element here, an outsider in the truest sense of the word. The sense of distrust radiating from the woman was the worst.
Not knowing what to do, afraid to say the wrong thing, she tried to imagine what the other woman was thinking. When that little exercise only increased her discomfort, she focused on the young woman surreptitiously glancing their way while she tended the children.
“Is that Fawn?” she asked, needing desperately to end the silence.
Maria’s brow lowered. “How do you know of her?”
“Rio told me about her. And the rest of your family,” she added, diplomatically avoiding specifics about the woman Maria had wanted Rio to marry. “He has spoken of all of you. And of his home.”
The same puzzlement she’d shown when Molly had identified the symbols reappeared in Maria’s expression. To Eve, it looked as if the woman didn’t believe Rio would have spoken of his home and family at all. Or, if he had, that his comments would not have been favorable.
Shana had said she wasn’t sure her mother would even talk to her. Taking it as a good sign that she was, Eve drew a breath of courage. “Mrs. Redtree,” she began, her voice quiet, “I know Rio has some problems here, but I hope Molly won’t be one of them. You’re all so important to him,” she added, “but she’s his family, too. He adores her. It would be so hard for him if he ever felt he had to choose between you.”
The faint lines in Maria’s brow deepened, her hand closing over the intricately beaded circle dangling near her waist. “He tells you he must choose?”
“No. He didn’t say that. I just got the impression the last time he was here that he was being pushed in that direction. I hope I’m wrong.”
The voices of the children drifted toward them, but Maria turned away from the yard. Facing the open expanse of ochre-colored land across the road, her fingers tightened around the amulet as if seeking comfort or guidance from the images it bore.
“Who do you see when you look at your child?”
Puzzled by the question, Eve studied the woman’s strong profile.
“I see Molly,” she replied, not knowing who else she was supposed to see. “A beautiful, loving little girl.”
Like every other glance Rio’s mother had sent in her direction, the one she shot toward her now was unreadable. Like the others, too, it also failed to meet her eyes for more than an instant.
“You see only her?”
Her initial response had been knee-jerk, and totally honest. The one she gave now was more considered. “And I see Rio,” she added, because the resemblances were definitely there and that was probably what his mother wanted to hear.
“But first you see your daughter.”
Not sure if she was making points or losing them, Eve gave her a nod.
The horizon drew Maria’s attention once more. “I cannot look at Rio and not see my husband.”
There was chastisement in her words, but it didn’t seem to be for Eve. It was directed inward, like her thoughts. “I did not realize until he came to tell me of his daughter that I had never truly seen my son. I never meant to drive him away,” she whispered, but she was speaking to herself and not Eve.
Seeming to realize that, Maria drew a deep breath and quickly glanced toward her again.
“I thought I’d lost Rio to the white man’s…to your world,” she corrected herself. “Like I lost my husband. But I see from what he teaches his daughter that is not true. He is intelligent like his father, and his mind seeks many answers. But he does not abandon us. For Rio, his heritage must be important to him, otherwise he would not pass it on to his child.” She pondered the thought for a moment, her voice growing quieter. “You can tell who a man is by his actions, Eve Stuart. It is not always the words he speaks. Pretty words can deceive. It is his actions that tell who he is and what he believes.”
Maria said nothing else. From the way she moved to the table and handed a mug of tea to Eve before picking up a basket of mending, it appeared that the discussion was over. It would have been over, anyway. An impish toddler with short black hair, sparkling ebony eyes and the deepest dimples Eve had ever seen, ran over and threw her arms around her grandma’s legs, begging to be picked up. With the deftness of a pro, the older woman swung the little girl up onto the bench and handed her a coloring book. Moments later, Fawn was chasing another toddler by them, this one in the two-year-old range, and Maria was off to get another mug so the younger woman, who seemed more shy than reticent, could join them.
Nothing else was said about Rio. Nothing was said about anything controversial at all. And while the next hour wasn’t the most relaxed Eve had ever spent, because most of the time she was holding, rocking or chasing a small child, she began to realize that Molly might well be a bridge between Rio and his mother—and to understand why Rio had been so concerned about Molly feeling accepted. It had little to do with being Indian in the white man’s world. It had to do with his mother never having accepted him simply as himself. It was no wonder he’d felt he didn’t belong.
As Eve and Molly started back for Grand Springs, after promising to bring Molly for little Alanna Redtree’s birthday celebration next month, there was something else Eve considered. Rio had been physically abandoned by his father and emotionally abandoned by both of his parents. Every time his mother had looked at him she’d been reminded of the hurt her husband had caused her. But Maria had compounded the pain by pushing her own son away from her—before he could leave her first.
Whether Rio was conscious of it or not, Eve knew that was exactly what he was doing with her. She had hurt him, and every time they started to get close, he pushed her away. Not that she could blame him. He’d probably grown up feeling that he couldn’t count on anyone; that any person he grew to trust would eventually let him down. As she had done. If it took the rest of her life, she needed him to know he could always trust her.
That resolution had scarcely been made when she heard the honk of a car behind her. The dark sedan had been following her little red Altima ever since she and Molly had come off tribal land. The only reason she recognized it was because it had been parked on the side of the road and had pulled out right behind them. Now, thirty miles later, it seemed the driver wanted to pass.
The road had started climbing upward, leaving the flats to enter forest. Because the highway was two-lane and twisting, passing was difficult at best. Having no desire to have an impatient driver honking at her for the next fifty miles, she slowed down and pulled over as far as she could to let him go by.
She slowed to thirty and he didn’t pass.
She dropped to twenty and he was still on her tail.
A quick glance in the rearview mirror and she could see two men in the car, both with dark stocking caps on their heads.
“Mommy? What’s wrong?”
Dear God, Eve prayed as, fear surging, she told Molly to hang on and gunned the engine to pull back out. The moment she did, the dark sedan pulled up, edging alongside her—and ran her off the road.
Chapter Eleven
Rio had an uneasy feeling. It had been with him all day, but by four-thirty he was ready to pace the walls. Not much had gone right. Because he’d stayed to talk to Eve this morning, he’d been late for a staff meeting. They’d waited for him to arrive before starting, so that had then made him late for an interview he’d scheduled yesterday. And this afternoon, he totally spaced a dead
line. That had never happened to him before. Never. But then, he wasn’t usually this preoccupied.
Molly’s unexpected request had filled his heart near to bursting. He was crazy about that kid. But he could have settled for telling Eve that he wanted their child to know he was her father for real, and let it go at that. The custody stuff could have been addressed later. As overwhelmed as Eve was already, the last thing she needed was another legal matter to contend with. Dumping something like that on her less than an hour after leaving her bed hadn’t been his most brilliant work, either.
He reached for the telephone, thinking of how withdrawn she’d been when he’d left. He’d tried to ease her mind, but he knew it hadn’t worked.
He got her answering machine. Thinking little of it, he left a message that he’d call back later, then called again before he left the office. He got the machine that time, too.
Figuring Eve had errands to run or a meeting to attend, he tried her cell phone. When she didn’t answer it, either, he left another message, this one telling her that he’d be there by seven. They had agreed to talk to Molly tonight, so he was sure she’d be back by then.
She wasn’t. She was still gone when he stopped by again at eight, and her answering machine was still picking up when he finally stopped calling at midnight. It wasn’t like her to not be where she’d said she’d be. Or not to let him know if something had come up and she’d be late.
When he knocked on her door at eight-thirty the next morning, she still hadn’t shown up.
He knew she wasn’t inside and just not answering the telephone. Her car was gone.
Growing more worried than puzzled, Rio turned back to where he’d parked in the tree-shaded driveway. Birds scattered in a dark, chirping cloud when he slammed the door and revved the vehicle’s engine. There could be a perfectly logical explanation for her absence. Unfortunately, he couldn’t think of a single one at the moment. Eve should be out front with Molly even now, waiting for the bus for day camp—unless something had happened to the little girl. Had Molly become ill? Been hurt?
If that was the case, why hadn’t Eve called him?
The questions had him cutting a U in the middle of the quiet street and heading straight for Millicent’s house. The woman, wearing a blinding yellow caftan, immediately invited him in, but all he wanted was to know if she had any idea where Eve was. She didn’t. She hadn’t seen her since the day before yesterday, but being her always-helpful self, she said she’d be sure to have Eve call if she saw her.
Something about those words, about having Eve call him, jerked hard at his memory. Eve’s mother had once said that very same thing to him, and six years had passed before he’d heard Eve’s voice.
She wouldn’t do it to him again. Would she? They hadn’t really argued yesterday. No more so than they had a half dozen other times, anyway. Had she been more upset than he’d realized?
A sick sensation roiled in his stomach at the thought.
“No,” he said aloud, refusing to consider that possibility taunting him. “She wouldn’t,” he repeated, reaching for his cell phone as soon as he was back behind the wheel. “She can’t.”
He had Vanderbilt Memorial on the line by the time he reached the end of the street. The hospital, however, had no record of Molly Stuart being treated or admitted. Not letting himself consider all the reasons it was so imperative that he find Eve, he had them check for her, too.
He was headed for town and St. Veronica’s Church when he was informed by the admitting clerk that there was no record of Eve Stuart having been there, either.
Rio pulled a deep breath, the only acknowledgment of relief he could allow himself. He was probably overreacting; he who always thought twice, weighed the possibilities and didn’t draw a conclusion until all the evidence was in. But with Eve, his objectivity had long since taken a hike.
Struggling for it, anyway, he jogged across the church parking lot. The sound of children singing directed him to the activities, but the closer he got, the harder it was to escape the feeling that something was terribly wrong.
The education rooms were in the long wing projecting from the back of white, spired church. That was where the preschoolers were, or so Rio was told by the prim, blue-haired woman who assailed him the moment he entered the open double doors.
The voices grew louder the farther down the hall he went, the words to “I’m a Little Teacup” becoming clearer when he opened the first door and poked his head inside. There had to be forty kids in there. Every one of them had a hand on one hip, the other in the air, and was bending at some angle or another from the waist.
There was blond hair and brown, a few shades of red and a couple of kids wearing baseball caps. When his glance swept to a head of long black hair pulled up into pigtails, he almost sighed. But then the pretty little Asian girl turned around to see what the other children were suddenly looking at and the relief he wanted to feel vanished like a ghost.
A woman in grass green shorts and a Swing Into Summer Camp T-shirt was leading the energetic group. She turned, too. Her hand still waving in time to the song, she backed toward him.
“May I help you?” she asked, checking him out without missing a beat.
“Is Molly Stuart here?”
“Molly?” she returned, her eyes narrowing. “Who are you?”
She wasn’t being rude. She was just protecting her charges. “I’m her father,” he said without hesitation. “I just want to make sure she got here all right this morning.”
It was the truth. Part of it, anyway. But it was enough to satisfy her.
“Molly’s not in my group. She’s in Mrs. Ankeny’s next door. Hold on.”
She turned to a skinny teenager helping one of the smaller children with his spout. Motioning her over, she asked the girl to check the next room for Molly Stuart, then, directing the music with both hands, she left Rio standing in the doorway.
The freckle-faced teenager was back in less than a minute.
Twisting the end of her curly ponytail, she spoke to the middle of his chest. “Mrs. Ankeny said she hasn’t seen Molly since her mom picked her up yesterday.”
“Eve picked her up?”
The girl nodded. “Right before snacks, she said.”
Something cold gripped Rio’s chest.
“What time would that have been?”
“We do snacks at ten-fifteen.”
He thanked the girl. At least, he thought he did before he backed away, oblivious to her puzzled glance. As he blinked at the too-bright hall, the cold sensation in his chest began to slowly seep through his body.
Posters lined the cream-colored walls, colorful scenes from Bible stories drawn by the children’s own hands. The cheerfulness of the images mocked him as he retraced his steps, his stride steady as he broke into the morning sunlight. Mind racing, Rio felt a red haze settle over his brain.
Eve had picked up Molly right after he’d left yesterday. Right after he’d told her he wanted joint custody. He knew how overwhelmed she’d felt with all she was dealing with, and he knew his timing had been lousy, but he couldn’t have garnered any sympathy for her had his life depended on it.
She had done it again. There had been no discussion. No chance to work anything out. Instead of believing they could resolve the issue together, she’d run off and left him—just the way she’d done before.
Hurt melded with anger, clouding his thinking and stealing rationality. But the pain was so much worse than it had been before. It hurt enough to know that Eve had felt so desperate to get away from him. But she’d also taken his little girl.
This time wasn’t going to be like the last, though. This time, he knew where to find her. And how.
* * *
“Hey, Rio. How’s it going?”
Rio didn’t answer. He merely lifted his hand in the general direction of the classified ad rep who’d voiced the greeting and kept heading for his desk.
Heads rose from computers as he strode past, the other re
porters in the room looking up from telephones to turn curious glances to one another. It wasn’t unusual for any one of them to dive for their desk when they were hot on a story. But the only thing that looked hot at the moment was Rio himself.
Someone had left a package on his chair. He tossed it onto the day’s copy of the paper that appeared on everyone’s desk, intent on getting online to book a flight to Santa Barbara. Eve was driving. With any luck, he could be on her doorstep when she got home. She wasn’t going to continue doing this to him. And there was no way in hell she was going to keep him from his daughter.
“Mr. Redtree, you’d better check that out.” The adolescent male voice cracked, causing the young man with the mail cart to blush as he pointed to the package. “Wendy said it was urgent.”
Wendy was the receptionist. Since Wendy had received it, that meant it had been delivered, not mailed.
In no mood to think about anything else, Rio started to ignore what the young man had said, then decided that ripping into something might not be a bad idea.
He grabbed the package. It was a large, padded manila envelope, thick on one end and surprisingly light. He didn’t bother to read the bold writing on the front. Gathering one corner in his fist, he simply ripped—then went stock-still when he saw the battered blue teddy bear inside.
The note with Ted froze the air in Rio’s lungs.
* * *
You now know how easy it was to get your girlfriend and your kid. Drop your story about Olivia Stuart or next time you’ll be burying them. You have from now until ten o’clock Thursday morning to decide what you’re going to do. You will be contacted at your office with their location at that time.
Father And Child Reunion Part 3 (36 Hours Serial Book 6.3) Page 5
