She’d stopped going, of course, when Ben and her daughter were killed. She’d talked to several priests since then, spent time on her knees. She’d gone to confession, prayed the Act of Contrition, done her Hail Marys. But none of it had helped her heart. She still felt too guilty and too wrong to partake of the elements, too angry at God for taking away her child.
“Is it anything to do with that stepdaughter of yours?” Kirk asked as they walked slowly toward Sunset Lane.
She frowned sideways at him and didn’t answer. He was too outspoken and too blustery, but he was also too astute. She didn’t want to talk to him about Imogene, but it was probably inevitable.
The sun peeked out through the clouds, making the day feel warmer. “Maybe it’ll turn into a nice day,” she said, trying to change the subject.
“Would you want to walk a little more?” he asked promptly.
Mary opened her mouth to turn him down, like she always did, but going home to her empty house didn’t hold a lot of appeal. “Okay, I guess.”
He put a hand on her lower back to guide her around the corner and toward downtown, but thankfully, after that he dropped it, and he didn’t try to hold her hand as he had several times in the past. They talked about the house she was buying, how the planned closing date was pretty close to the Christmas holiday, which wasn’t necessarily wise, but it was probably going to work out.
She really was grateful to have him on her side in this real estate transaction. His years of experience and persistent attitude were invaluable in getting the deal done. And she really, really wanted to get the deal done. Church and prayer hadn’t helped her guilt much, but doing things for other people did. If she could get the new project off the ground, she knew she’d be that much closer to making amends.
“Come this way,” Kirk said after they’d walked a block down Beach Street. He led the way down a short side street. Then they were at Goody’s house, which stood directly behind her restaurant, and he stopped. “I need to speak to Goody for a minute.”
“Do you want me to wait out here?”
“No. It’s too cold, and Goody won’t mind.”
As he hurried her up Goody’s front walkway, smiling a little, again with a hand on her back, suspicion rose in her. What did he have up his sleeve?
He knocked on Goody’s door, and there was the sound of Goody’s dog barking, and then Goody opened the door. She looked right past Mary to Kirk. “There’s only one left, and you’re not going to like her.”
The puppies! He’d brought her here to look at the puppies Ziggy had fathered. “Kirk!” Mary scolded. “You know I’m not interested in a puppy right now.”
“Oh, I know. But since we’re here, let’s just look.” Kirk said it like the salesman he was.
Maybe it was because they’d just come from church, or maybe it was her blue mood, but Mary couldn’t seem to muster the energy to fight off Kirk’s determination. They followed Goody into a back bedroom, where an area was penned off. A small, fluffy chocolate-and-white puppy sat alone in a corner of the pen.
“That’s what’s left?” Kirk frowned. “I was hoping for one of the white ones.”
“You and everyone else. Those two were snapped up right away. And then the spotted ones went, the ones with the cute black markings around their eyes.” Goody frowned at the remaining puppy.
Mary sat on the floor to see the little pup who huddled at the back of the pen, a pink collar identifying her as a female. Her face was chocolate colored with a white spot on one side. The rest of her body was white, except for a large brown spot toward her tail. Her uneven coloring, plus the way she cringed back from attention, made it clear why she hadn’t been a favorite of Goody’s puppy buyers.
“You can’t complain,” Kirk said to Goody. “Old Ziggy made you a lot of money in the end.”
“That’s true,” Goody admitted. “And they were nice pups, friendly as could be, most of them.” She reached down and lifted the chocolate-and-white pup out of the pen. As soon as she set it down on the floor, it darted away from her, right into Mary’s lap.
The dog would no doubt get huge, given the size of the father. Right now, though, she was almost exactly the size Baby had been.
“Cupcake is done,” Goody said. “She doesn’t want to nurse anymore. It’s ten weeks now and the others have all been sold, so she’s ignoring this little girl. If I can’t find someone to buy her soon, I may have to sell her to a pet store.”
“Oh, no.” Mary stroked the little dog. “She needs peace and quiet and love, not a bunch of loud people poking at her and knocking on glass to scare her.”
Goody shrugged. “You’re not wrong,” she said, “but I have a business to run. Honestly, I’ve had enough of puppies for now, too. I didn’t sign up for this.”
The little dog peered at Mary, and there seemed to be a plea in those brown eyes.
Mary looked up at Goody, then at Kirk, who had a hint of a smile on his face, the trickster. And then she ran a gentle hand over the puppy’s soft fur. “I’ll take her.”
* * *
PAUL ARRIVED HOME Sunday night feeling one hundred percent better about life, ready to resume the mantle of fatherhood. He unlocked the door of the cottage and looked around the empty front room, then checked his watch. Ferguson and Georgiana must be upstairs giving Davey a bath. It was almost time for bed. “Davey boy! I’m home!”
Except for a welcoming bark from Sarge, the house was dark and silent.
He frowned and walked through, trotting upstairs and then back down, flipping on lights. “Davey, buddy! Where are you?”
In the kitchen he found a note in Georgiana’s perfect handwriting. “Took Davey for ice cream! Back soon!”
That was nice, right? But he felt a little uneasy. Georgiana wasn’t an exclamation point type of person.
He walked through the house, scanning everything. A juice box lay on its side on the coffee table dribbling juice, and there were toys scattered across the family room floor. The front closet, where he kept a box of Wendy’s things he’d planned to go through, was open. And the lid on the box was askew.
That wasn’t like Ferguson and Georgiana. They were almost obsessively neat.
None of it necessarily meant anything. His in-laws knew about the box, and it would be just like them to start going through it without him. Putting the kindest interpretation on it, maybe they had wanted to show Davey something from his mother’s past.
As for the mess, he knew exactly how that could happen. Probably, Davey had gotten cranky and refused to put away his toys, and they had whisked him out rather than letting him have a tantrum and a scene. Paul had been there. He understood.
There was nothing to worry about. At the workshop today, the presenter had reiterated that feeling scared or nervous, feeling that sense of impending doom, didn’t necessarily mean anything about the real world. It was a function of the PTSD brain.
He drew in a couple of deep breaths, said a quick prayer, then relaxed his shoulders. He should take advantage of having a little time to relax.
He glanced over toward Amber’s house, something he did fairly often. He had gotten the message from her about Davey going off in his jeep and had been briefly worried, but she’d called back and left a second message that everything was fine. He’d gotten both of them at the same time, one after another, when he’d finished his morning workshop session.
What had she seen? This was the perfect chance to talk to her, before Davey got home.
He was halfway to her place before he told himself the truth: he just really wanted to see her.
And he wasn’t going to second-guess himself. He jogged up her steps and knocked on the door.
When she opened it, his hope of a friendly greeting died a quick death. Her jaw was clenched square and she wasn’t smiling. Her hair was pulled back under a scarf and she wasn’t wearing makeu
p. Her eyes were actually a little red.
His heart lurched. “Is everything okay? Hannah?”
“She’s fine. Out with friends. And it depends on what you mean by everything.” She didn’t invite him in. Instead, she crossed her arms over her chest. Shutting him out.
“I, um, wanted to talk to you about those messages, find out more about what you saw.”
She let out an obvious sigh. “I told you everything I know,” she said.
“Please? Can we talk a few minutes?”
Another sigh. “Come in,” she said, and unlatched the door for him. “Where’s Davey?”
“Ferguson and Georgiana took him to Goody’s,” he said.
She led the way into the front room and sat down on the edge of a chair. Not on the couch where they could be friendly.
Oh, well. A short visit was better than none. “Can you tell me what you saw, what worried you?”
“I’m sure everything’s fine,” she said. “I saw Davey driving the toy jeep down the beach and got worried because there was no adult with him, so after I called you I went over and told Ferguson and Georgiana. Ferguson came out and ran down and caught up with Davey. No harm done.”
Paul frowned. “They didn’t know Davey had driven off?”
“No, and they didn’t want to believe me, not until they checked for themselves and saw that he was gone. But that’s no big surprise. They don’t like me.”
He hated that he couldn’t contradict her bald statement. “They have issues.”
“No doubt.”
And then there was a little awkward silence between them. She raised an eyebrow as if daring him to say something. Or maybe she just wanted him to leave.
“Listen,” he said, “speaking of what you saw...can we talk a little bit about what you saw last night?”
She lifted her eyebrows and her chin at the same time. “Really?”
He cleared his throat. “I asked Kayla out and I shouldn’t have.”
Amber waved a hand as if to shoo away his words. “No need to explain anything to me. I don’t have a claim on you.”
“I know. In fact, you told me I should try to be with someone else, and I thought you were probably right, but you weren’t. I shouldn’t have listened.”
“Considering that she spent the night, seems like things must have gone pretty well.” There were patches of red on her cheeks and her voice was a little high, almost shrill, which wasn’t like her.
So that was it. She’d seen Kayla’s car. “She did spend the night, but not for the reason you’re thinking.” He sucked in a breath and then told her about the PTSD attack, and how Kayla had stayed on the couch to make sure Davey was okay.
She gave him an icy smile. “That’s a creative story to explain having another woman at your house. I’ve never heard that one before. Well done.”
He plowed ahead, ignoring her tone. “My counselor had recommended that I attend a weekend retreat, but I didn’t listen. After the fireworks threw me into a panic attack, I called him to see if I could get in on the last day, and he agreed. Then I called Ferguson and Georgiana to see if they could take care of Davey. That’s why they were here today.”
“Uh-huh.” Her expression had softened a little, but it still wasn’t exactly warm.
“The workshop was good. Very helpful, and I’m feeling better.” He leaned forward a little bit. “Were you upset?”
The lights in her living room cast long, soft shadows. She hadn’t drawn the curtain, and the rising moon created a little path of light, visible through the bay window. From the kitchen, music played. Not her usual lively hip-hop, but what sounded like something you’d hear in the background at a spa.
She studied his face as if to discern whether he was sincere. Finally, she spoke. “Yeah, actually, I was a little upset.” Then she looked away.
“Why were you upset?” Now he slid forward to where he was sitting on the ottoman in front of her chair. They were knee to knee.
She didn’t back away as he’d feared she would; instead, she met his gaze steadily. “You know why.”
He reached out and cupped the side of her face with his hand, letting his thumb run along her cheek, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I don’t want someone else. I want you.”
“But we’re doomed,” she said. “That hasn’t changed.”
Now that he was touching her, he couldn’t seem to take his hand away. “Maybe it doesn’t make sense, but can we at least explore it a little?”
She bit her lip and studied his face.
He leaned closer. “Please?”
After another moment of looking into his eyes, she gave the tiniest of nods.
It felt like permission, and he moved forward and brushed his lips against hers. They were so full, so soft, he wanted to get lost in kissing her, touching her. His hands of their own accord threaded into her hair to pull her closer. And he did, for just a moment, kissing her harder.
But they had a lot to talk about and figure out. He’d hurt her, and he couldn’t take advantage of her vulnerability to get physical. Besides, he had responsibilities. Reluctantly, he let her go, keeping one hand on her, sliding it down her arm to clasp her hand in his.
“Davey will be getting home any minute,” he said. “I should go back.”
She nodded quickly, glanced at her phone sitting on the table beside her. “Go. In fact, Goody’s closed a while back.”
“Then they’re probably home now, wondering where I am.” But the uneasiness he’d felt before returned, a prickling on his neck. He squeezed her hand once and let it go, stood and moved to her window to look out.
His in-laws’ car wasn’t in front of his place. “I wonder if they took him somewhere else after?” He pulled out his phone and called them, but the call didn’t go through. Not a good time for the shore’s spotty reception to be a problem.
“Maybe Goody would know. She knows most things that go on in town. I have her number.”
He held out his phone and punched in the numbers she showed him. Quickly, he explained the situation and asked Goody if she knew where Ferguson and Georgiana might have taken Davey after the ice cream visit.
“How would I know?” she asked, sounding annoyed. “Business was terrible tonight. They never came in.”
“Oh. Thanks.” He ended the call and relayed what she had said to Amber. “I think something’s wrong.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
AS THEY DROVE through the night, heading up the coast toward Davey’s grandparents’ home, Amber studied Paul’s hands on the steering wheel. He was focused, but not gripping it tightly. Concerned, but not freaking out. She could see the cop in him.
She could see the passionate man in him, too. Could we explore it a little? he’d asked.
We could have fun together. This could be the adventure I’m looking for.
But no. Her past was too much of a checkerboard, her future too iffy. Despite the fact that Paul had disavowed his interest in Kayla, the fact remained that another woman would be better for Paul than Amber was.
From the back seat, Sarge whined a little, and Amber half turned and reached back a hand to rub the big bloodhound’s head. “He knows we’re heading to Davey, doesn’t he?”
For the first time during the drive, a smile flashed across Paul’s face. “I think he does. He’s pretty protective, and he and Davey have a real bond.” He glanced down at his phone.
“They’re still not answering?”
Paul shook his head. “No, and I’m not calling them anymore. From what John said, I’m 90 percent sure they have Davey, and I don’t want to warn them and make them run.” John, Amber had learned, was a neighbor of Davey’s grandparents, and he’d been good friends with Paul, Wendy and Davey. Paul had called and found out that Davey was at the house with Ferguson and Georgiana or at least, John had seen hi
m there earlier that day.
Why Ferguson and Georgiana would take Davey from Paul’s place and run was anyone’s guess. “Would they hurt him?”
Paul shook his head. “If I thought they would, I would have called the police right away. But they love him and he loves them. It’s just that they don’t know how to work with me, and they started acting really weird these last couple of weeks.”
Amber felt her hands start to sweat. She was pretty sure she knew why Ferguson and Georgiana were acting weird. They had found out the truth about Wendy, about the fact that she had had an affair. They’d found out that Paul wasn’t Davey’s father.
“Just a few minutes now,” Paul said. He pressed his lips together, his eyes narrowing a little, his jaw square. He seemed to be gathering his focus and energy for the confrontation ahead.
Amber didn’t bother him. She just took deep breaths and tried to be a calming presence.
They drove into a community of large, modern homes, the sort of place only the very wealthy could afford, and that made Amber curious. Paul was so down-to-earth, but clearly, Wendy had been from a much higher income bracket than he, or than most people.
Paul pulled into the driveway just as Ferguson and Georgiana were getting out of the car. Ferguson opened the back door and Davey jumped out. When he saw Paul, he ran to him. “Daddy!”
Paul held open his arms and Davey rushed into them. Father and son embraced, and Paul’s eyes closed as he slowly rocked his son from side to side. Only then was it obvious to Amber how worried Paul had been.
Georgiana watched them, and suddenly, her face twisted and she began to cry.
Paul frowned at her, as if he couldn’t decide between yelling at her and comforting her. Amber got Paul’s attention and gestured toward Ferguson, who was taking a couple of discount-store bags from the trunk of the car. She hoped he’d understand that she was trying to help, sending him toward the more rational member of the couple to provide real answers.
Amber, meanwhile, went over to the sobbing Georgiana and put a tentative hand on the older woman’s arm. “Is there anything I can do?”
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