by Sherry Lewis
“You’re going to take me off the team because Erin got scared of some guy? Just don’t bring her to the games anymore.”
“You know I can’t let you go by yourself.”
“I wouldn’t be by myself. I could go with Brody and Kurt.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“You know why. If your dad finds us here, he won’t hesitate to try and take you, especially if he finds you alone. Nobody else understands the situation, and nobody else can protect you. We have to stick together, Michael. We have to watch out for each other.”
“But you let me sleep over at Kurt’s and you weren’t there.”
“That was a little different. You were at Kurt’s house—safe, not out in public.”
Michael backed away another three steps and sent her a look full of venom. “I wish we never came here. I wish we were back home with my mom.”
“I know,” Abby said wearily.
“I wish I was with my dad!” Michael bolted from the room and ran upstairs.
He didn’t mean it, Abby told herself. In his frustration he’d said the one thing he could think of that would upset her. She was right, wasn’t she? Even though Michael loved to play, she couldn’t jeopardize Erin’s progress by forcing her to go to the games.
On the other hand, what would taking Michael off the team do to him? Maybe Kurt was right. Michael had been doing so well, and now she’d probably sent him into a tailspin.
How was she supposed to know what to do? Maybe she had been wrong. Maybe she’d over-reacted to the incident at the ballpark and Erin’s response to it. But the memory of Rachel’s injuries and Vic’s threats terrified her; knowing she’d just begun to tap the well of Erin’s fears worried her, and having Michael’s needs so different from Erin’s confused her. She didn’t know what was best for them. She wasn’t their mother.
How did Rachel do it? How did any mother do it? Abby had to be a different parent for each child, and she struggled constantly to avoid putting the needs of one over the other. She knew she didn’t have the skills Rachel did. You couldn’t just take over a pair of kids and expect to know exactly how to react to every crisis.
Suddenly exhausted, she followed Michael up the stairs. He was sitting on his bed, his back to her, his shoulders slumped in dejection.
“Michael?”
“What?”
“Can we talk about this?”
“What for? You’ve already made up your mind.”
Abby sat down beside him and touched his arm. “Not completely.”
“You mean you’re not going to take me off the team?”
“I mean if it’s that important to you, maybe we ought to talk about it some more.”
Michael’s eyes flickered toward her uncertainly.
“But since Erin’s involved, maybe we ought to include her. What do you think?”
Nodding, Michael met her gaze more steadily.
“Do you want to go get her?”
“Okay.” He jumped off the bed and took two steps away before turning back. “I don’t want her to be scared at the games.”
“I know, sweetheart.”
“But she’s afraid of everybody.”
“That’s why I’m concerned. But maybe we can help her.”
“I didn’t mean it—what I said downstairs.”
“Oh, Michael, I know.” Abby pulled him to her. “I know you didn’t.”
He leaned against her briefly, warm and smelling of fresh air and sunshine. Abby clasped him close for a heartbeat, then released him and sent him scampering from the room in search of his sister.
When he returned a few minutes later, Erin trailed him hesitantly. Abby motioned them to sit beside her.
“We’ve got a problem,” she began, and was startled to see the frightened look creep into Erin’s eyes. “Michael wants to keep playing Little League ball. He’s pretty determined about this and it’s important to him. But on the other hand, Erin doesn’t like the games and she doesn’t like the crowds.”
“I don’t mind,” Erin said quickly.
“You were scared at the last game, and I don’t like to see that happen to you.”
“But I don’t mind. Michael can still play.”
Though Erin’s words carried conviction, Abby saw no signs of it in her face. “Why do I think you’re just saying that so Michael won’t be upset?”
Erin looked away. “I’m not.”
Abby tipped the girl’s face toward hers and looked deep into her eyes. “It’s all right to admit you were frightened the other day.”
Erin jerked away. “I wasn’t frightened.”
“Sweetheart, you give in on an awful lot of things just to keep people from getting upset with you. I understand why you’ve done it in the past, but it’s not like that anymore. It’s okay to disagree with me on things. It’s okay to disagree with Michael. We’re not going to hurt you. If you don’t want to go to the games, say so. We’ll work out a compromise that can make us all happy, but you have the right to say how you feel.”
“I don’t mind the games, I guess, as long as people leave me alone. I don’t want to talk to a lot of people.”
“Fair enough. We’ll try it again and if it gets too bad you let me know, okay?”
Erin nodded.
“Promise?”
“Promise,” Erin said softly.
“Well, kiddo—” Abby turned to Michael “—it looks like you get to stay on the team for a while. But you owe Erin for this one—big time.”
Michael grinned and jumped up. “Thanks, sis.” He bounded out the door and down the stairs.
Erin followed more slowly, turning at the door and smiling shyly. Abby forced an answering smile. Erin should have been bright and eager, surrounded by friends and developing an interest in boys. Instead, she looked like a whipped puppy most of the time.
Well, they’d made their decision and Michael would stay on the team. But how would she ever explain her change of heart to Kurt? Since she’d blamed her initial decision on her husband, the sensible way out was to give him the change of heart.
She crossed to Michael’s window and looked out onto the highway. Less than a mile through the trees, Kurt’s house stood above the Gorge. If not for the dense forest, she might have been able to catch a glimpse of it, maybe even catch sight of him on the shore from time to time.
But that would only make things worse. She thought of him too much already. Her days were too empty. They’d settled in, the house was running smoothly, and for the first time in her life, Abby had time on her hands.
She’d been so worried about taking care of the kids, she hadn’t really considered how she’d spend her days. Laundry and dusting and meals could only occupy her for so long. She had to find something else to do—quickly. Before she drove herself crazy with these unrelenting thoughts of Kurt.
ABBY STARED at the office door, hesitant to enter now that she’d arrived. She could have called. She could have gone to Jack to get Michael back on the team. But she’d come to Kurt’s office, instead.
She could still leave. But if he’d seen her approaching through one of the windows, what would he think when she didn’t come in?
Sucking in a deep breath, she pushed open the door and stepped into a small reception area. A dark-haired woman Abby recognized as the one whose husband had frightened Erin looked up and smiled. “Can I help you?”
“Is Mr. Morgan available?”
“I’m sorry. He’s in court this afternoon.” She paused. “You’re Abby Harris, aren’t you?”
Abby nodded, wary of the woman’s friendliness.
“I’m Naomi Franklin. Kurt’s cousin, as well as his secretary. And I’m glad to finally meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you.” She held up a hand and gave a little laugh. “All good, of course.”
Abby smiled. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“We don’t get a lot of summer people in Pine Cove. Most of our tourist dollars come from fishing expeditions on
the river, but there aren’t many places for rent in town. Not like some of the towns on up the coast.”
“That’s probably what makes it so nice here.” Abby tried to sound relaxed, but this kind of casual curiosity was exactly what she worried about.
Nodding, Naomi leaned back in her chair. “I was surprised when I heard Aunt Zelda had decided to rent Grandma and Grandpa’s old place. How on earth did you get her to agree to do it?”
“Through a friend.”
Naomi looked confused. “Oh. I thought your husband made the arrangements.”
“No, my husband spent a few summers in the area as a boy. A friend of the family found the house for us.” She turned to go, but Naomi stopped her.
“Kurt should be back in a few minutes. Do you want to wait?”
“Maybe you could just give him a message for me.”
“I’d be glad to, but you’re welcome to wait if you’d like.”
What would be most natural—to wait or leave? She didn’t want to field any more questions, but she didn’t want to do anything that would further spark Naomi’s curiosity.
Before she could answer, the telephone at Naomi’s elbow rang, buying her some time.
“Good afternoon, law office.” Naomi sent her an apologetic smile over the receiver. “No, I’m sorry, he’s not in. May I take a message?” She paused to listen, then lifted her eyebrows as if the caller had said something out of the ordinary. “What was your name again? Graham? And you’re a private investigator in Seattle? No, I don’t know what he wanted. He never mentioned it to me.” She sent Abby a conspiratorial glance, then bent over the yellow message pad.
Private investigator? Abby’s heart thudded in her ears. Why did Kurt want a private investigator? For a case? Naomi obviously didn’t know the person, so it wasn’t someone Kurt interacted with on a regular basis.
Abby tried to keep her hands steady as she clasped them together on her lap. He couldn’t be investigating her. Why should he? She drew a deep breath and closed her eyes, letting the air escape slowly. She must be paranoid—a side effect of hiding out.
“I’ll give him your message.” Naomi replaced the receiver and tore the message from the pad, stabbing it onto a spindle in the middle of her desk. “If you want to wait, you can sit in Kurt’s office. It’s more comfortable, and I’m sure he won’t mind. Can I get you something to drink? Coffee? A soda?”
If Kurt was due back soon, it might be better to wait. And his office would protect her from Naomi’s questions. “Do you have a diet soda?”
Naomi nodded and pushed herself away from the desk. “Just go through that door. I’ll be right back.”
Abby walked slowly into Kurt’s office. It was a spacious room with two huge bay windows overlooking the street and a heavy wooden desk centered between them. The blinds had been raised to let in daylight, and though the sun hadn’t actually come out from behind the clouds, light filled the room. She had no trouble picturing Kurt here.
One wall held a large framed seascape done in oils; the other had smaller frames and wooden plaques scattered across its surface. Abby moved to that wall and studied the diplomas and the plaques engraved with his name from various organizations to which he’d donated his time and talents: legal services for the poor, a battered-women’s shelter and a center for underprivileged children. She liked this image of Kurt and it matched the way he talked about his dream of using his profession to help people.
At the sound of heels on the wooden floor in the reception area, Abby turned back just as Naomi entered, a glass in one hand and a can of diet soda in the other.
“Just make yourself comfortable here. Kurt should be back any minute.”
Abby accepted the drink and moved toward one of the chairs opposite Kurt’s desk. “You’re sure he won’t mind my waiting in here?”
“Not at all.” Naomi ducked back into the outer office and returned waving the message slip before she dropped it onto Kurt’s desk. “I can’t wait to find out what this is all about.” She turned and headed toward the door. “I’ve got to pull some files. I’ll be just upstairs if you need anything.”
Abby sipped her drink and let her eyes wander to the slip of paper. She felt another chill at the thought of Kurt’s contacting a private investigator. And once again she pushed it away. It meant nothing. Nothing.
She waited several minutes, battling the uncomfortable feeling, but in the end, discomfort won. Grabbing her purse, she slipped out of Kurt’s office. Naomi’s office was empty, so Abby paused and jotted a message on a piece of paper. “Kurt— Bob changed his mind. Michael can stay on the team.” Signing her name, she returned to his office just long enough to leave the note on his desk.
He might not have hired somebody to check up on her this time, but she couldn’t afford to be careless around him in the future. And since she didn’t trust herself when she was around him, she needed to stay away.
Remembering the potluck dinner tomorrow night, she cursed herself for giving in to Theresa’s persuasion. Kurt would be there, and she couldn’t ignore him without causing speculation.
Sighing, she stepped outside and headed for her car. She never should have agreed to go.
CHAPTER SEVEN
KURT GLANCED at his watch and noted the time with dismay. Nearly four-thirty already. He’d promised Theresa he’d bring chili to the potluck tonight and he’d planned to leave work early, but time had gotten away from him.
Reluctantly he cleared his desk, stacked the files on his credenza and retrieved his jacket. As he patted the pockets for his keys, the rustling of paper brought him up short. He’d forgotten to mail Michael’s letter—again.
He pulled the envelope from his pocket and studied the child’s writing. Rachel Harrison. Again he had the feeling he’d heard that name before, but he didn’t know where or when, or even in what context. Maybe he should call Tony Graham back and give him that name, too.
Flipping off the lights, he left his office and looked around for Naomi. But she’d either taken the mail for the five-o’clock collection, or she was in the filing room. He thought about dropping Michael’s letter on her desk, then decided against it. He’d already held on to it for two extra days. He owed it to Michael to put it in the mail himself.
Getting into his car, he tossed his jacket across the front seat and placed the letter on the dash, intending to mail it after he stopped at the FoodWay.
Making a mental list of the items he needed, he drove quickly to make up time. It wouldn’t take long to throw the chili together, but with less than two hours until dinner he’d be lucky to make it.
After a brief stop at the FoodWay, he pulled into the driveway a few minutes after five. Juggling his keys, two grocery sacks and his jacket, he was just opening the front door when the telephone started to ring.
He shouted for Brody, hoping for some help with either the groceries or the phone, but got neither. Staggering into the kitchen, he dropped the groceries on the counter and reached for the phone.
“I’m so glad you’re there!” Theresa cried. “We’ve got a problem. Amber twisted her knee this afternoon playing tennis.”
“Is she all right?”
“She’s fine. We’re at the clinic now, but it looks like we’ll be late and Jack’s supposed to be in charge of the barbecue. Can you go over to Doug’s a little early and take charge until we get there?”
Kurt glanced at the groceries scattered across the counter. “How early?”
“Glen Bybee’s supposed to be there at six-fifteen with the drinks. Can you be there by then?”
He’d never make it. But after everything Theresa and Jack had done for him the past couple of years, he had to try. “Sure, no problem.”
“And could you do me another favor? Would you pick up Abby and her kids for me?”
Anything but that. After hiring a private investigator to check her out, how could he spend the evening with her? “I don’t think—”
“She has no idea where the Pierce
s live, and I told her we’d pick her up so she won’t feel funny about coming. I don’t want her to think we’ve forgotten her, and you’re the only other person in town she’ll feel comfortable with. Would you mind? Please?”
Oh, yes, he’d mind. He’d have to start the evening bewitched by Abby’s smile, her laugh, her face. He’d have to try to make conversation, hoping he didn’t let his feelings show. And all the time he’d be on the lookout for more of her lies. Great.
He heard himself say, “All right. I’ll do it.” But he knew when he said it he was making a mistake.
“Wonderful. Thanks loads. We’ll see you later.” Low-pitched mumbling sounded at the other end. “Oh, and can you stop by and pick up my casserole for me? It’s warming in the oven.”
“Sure.”
“Tell the kids everything’s all right.” More mumbling near the phone. “And take the shiny garbage can for Glen to put the drinks in. It’s in the garage with the barbecue things.” Her voice was muffled for a minute, as if she’d placed her hand over the receiver. “Listen, we’ve got to go. We’ll be there as soon as we can.” The line went dead.
Kurt replaced the receiver in a daze. Focusing on the one thing he could do something about, he browned chilies, garlic and onions, added leftover pork roast and thickened the gravy. Leaving it simmering on the stove, he showered and shaved, nicking himself twice in the process.
With Brody’s help, he loaded the food into boxes in the back of the Cherokee to prevent spills and pulled onto the highway a few minutes ahead of schedule.
The sun reflected on Michael’s letter on the dashboard. He’d have to drop it in the mailbox on the way into town after he picked up Abby and the kids. Feeling a little guilty at not keeping his promise, he retrieved the envelope and stuffed it into his shirt pocket. With luck, Michael wouldn’t realize it was his letter when Kurt mailed it.
THOUGH SHE STILL DOUBTED the wisdom of going to this party, Abby couldn’t deny she was looking forward to spending time in a social setting with other adults. As long as she stayed away from Kurt, she’d be all right. If she didn’t let herself talk with him alone and if she didn’t look into his eyes, she could maintain her equilibrium. Otherwise, she’d be lost.
