Monster In The Closet (The Baltimore Series Book 5)

by Karen Rose

‘So did I. I hadn’t gone riding in over a month, and I missed it.’

  She chanced a glance up at his face, her heart stuttering a little in her chest. He was a good guy. Handsome. And she certainly hadn’t forgotten what was going on under the T-shirt he wore. But now she studied his face, happy to see him looking a lot more relaxed than he had before. ‘Why haven’t you?’

  ‘Just busy at work. I was trying to get a few projects closed out before taking two weeks off. I wanted to spend time with Dillon and the others on the camping trip and I promised Maggie I’d help her with the horses while Dillon and Holly are on their honeymoon.’

  Yep. A truly good guy. And, she thought, as lonely as she was, which was mystifying. She had to wonder at the women he knew, that one hadn’t already snapped him up.

  ‘Where do you work?’ she asked as they crossed the yard, still hand-in-hand. ‘I thought you’d just finished college.’

  ‘I did. I’ve been interning for Joseph’s father’s company for a few years. Mr Carter was good enough to offer me a full-time job whenever I finished school, but I knew I didn’t want to go for my masters. At least for now.’

  ‘So you accepted his offer?’

  ‘Yes. It’s really amazing work. I’m lucky I got in on the ground floor the way I did.’

  She looked up at him and smiled. He looked like a kid at Christmas. ‘What is it?’

  ‘Prosthetics,’ he said with satisfaction. ‘Revolutionary stuff that’ll change the quality of life for a lot of people.’

  Yep. A really good guy.

  He squeezed her hand as they approached the house. ‘That’s Clay’s truck. They’re early. You ready?’

  She gave a hard nod. ‘As I’ll ever be. You did say there would be waffles?’

  ‘And bacon.’ He smacked his lips together, making her laugh again just as they climbed the back stairs and entered the kitchen.

  She had not a single doubt that he’d specifically timed it so that she’d enter laughing.

  Clay and Stevie were already sitting at the table with Maggie, drinking coffee and talking. A glance into the living room revealed Cordelia on the sofa watching cartoons. Clay immediately stood, a huge smile taking over his face even as his eyes flickered with what looked like relief.

  He thought I’d bolt, Taylor thought sadly, but she kept her own smile on her face. ‘Good morning,’ she said, tempted to grab at Ford’s hand when he released hers and took the stairs two at a time, presumably to wash up before he cooked breakfast.

  ‘Good morning.’ Clay took a tentative step forward, uncertainty chasing the relief away.

  That uncertainty broke Taylor’s heart a little more. Surprising herself, she closed the gap between them, giving him a hard hug. ‘I went riding with Ford. I didn’t run away from you. I wouldn’t do that.’ Her smile became rueful. ‘Now that I’ve met you, anyway.’

  His big chest rose and fell as he whooshed out a breath. ‘I knew you wouldn’t.’

  She had to grin at his obvious lie. ‘No, you didn’t.’ From the corner of her eye she saw Stevie roll her eyes and knew she was right.

  Clay grinned back. ‘Okay, I didn’t. But I hoped. Hard.’

  Maggie pointed to the empty chair next to Clay’s. ‘Have a seat, Taylor.’

  ‘Give me a few minutes to wash up so that I don’t smell like a horse. I’ll be right back.’

  Taylor rushed through her cleanup, coming out of the bathroom at her end of the hall just as Ford came out of his bedroom, freshly showered. And shirtless. Again. He was toweling his hair with one hand while the other held a clean T-shirt. She stopped and stared. Again.

  With a grin, he spread his arms wide and waggled his brows at her, making her chuckle. He’d planned this, the jerk. ‘Now you’re just being mean,’ she whispered loudly.

  He met her in the middle of the hall and quickly kissed her mouth. ‘Nope. Just trying to take your mind off your troubles for a minute or two, since your head and your heart still aren’t on speaking terms.’

  She looked up at him wistfully, wishing she could touch all that pretty golden skin the way she wanted to. ‘You want to be their mediator?’

  In answer he put his arms around her and cradled her like a child, tightening his hold when she shuddered against him. ‘It’ll all be fine,’ he whispered in her ear. ‘You’ll see.’

  ‘Ford!’ Maggie called loudly. ‘We’re about to expire from hunger down here. Leave the girl alone and get yourself downstairs and start cooking.’

  Taylor jerked out of his arms, her face on fire, but Ford just laughed. ‘I’m coming, Maggie,’ he called down affably. ‘No need to dig out your whip.’ He pulled the T-shirt over his head, tugged it into place, then skipped down the stairs, throwing a wink over his shoulder.

  Fifteen

  Hunt Valley, Maryland,

  Sunday 23 August, 8.10 A.M.

  Taylor was still blushing as she took the chair Maggie had indicated, grateful that someone had put a full cup of coffee at her place. She took a big gulp, wincing when it scalded her mouth. Still, it was a welcome distraction from the unwanted attention from the three adults at the table, who stared at her, then Ford, then back at her.

  But no one said a word and Ford got busy cooking.

  Stevie rolled her eyes again, but this time in an uncomfortable, self-deprecating way. ‘Before anyone says anything, I need to apologize. I was rude to you yesterday, Taylor, and I’m very sorry. My daughter was right. You were very brave to come here and, based on what you were told, very smart to take the precautions you took. Regardless of where you choose to settle permanently – here or California or anywhere else – you are always welcome in our home.’

  Taylor felt like a weight had rolled off her shoulders. ‘You had every right to protect your husband. But thank you. Apology accepted.’

  Clay smiled at his wife, something warm and lovely passing between them. Obviously they’d kissed and made up from the night before, which was another weight off Taylor’s shoulders. She hadn’t wanted to come between them.

  ‘I told them about your adoption,’ Maggie said. ‘So you don’t have to go through it again.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Taylor said fervently.

  ‘I have to say I’m relieved,’ Clay said. ‘I’ve felt so incompetent all these years, not being able to find my own child when I make a living helping other parents find theirs.’

  ‘My dad in California is a smart guy.’ Taylor hesitated. ‘I really think you’d like him.’

  Clay’s smile was gentle. ‘I think I would too. I’m not happy that we were apart for so long, but I can understand his reasons. But enough about what’s past. I want to know everything that’s going on in your life now. College and hobbies and all of that.’

  The rest of breakfast was relaxed. Ford set big platters of food on the table, then took the empty chair on the other side of Taylor. The conversation flowed naturally as Taylor and Clay simply got to know each other. Stevie and Maggie added details when Clay’s recitation of the facts was too sparse, like the way he’d saved his fellow soldiers in Somalia, ending with his being awarded the Purple Heart and the Silver Star. And the way he’d courted Stevie for years before she’d finally said yes.

  The stories painted a picture of a truly good man, and too many times Taylor mentally cursed her mother for denying her this relationship.

  As she ate, she also found herself worrying about who she’d choose. It seemed that Ford could read her mind, because every time her thoughts wandered, he’d squeeze her hand, bringing her back to the present. The past was done. The lost years couldn’t be recovered or relived. The future . . . Taylor still didn’t know what she’d do, but she found herself enjoying the present almost enough to stop worrying about how it would all end. Almost.

  Finally, when the waffles were eaten and the bacon was h
istory, Clay pulled an envelope from his wallet. ‘You haven’t really asked about my family,’ he said.

  She’d told him all about her family. Her sisters. Her dad. But she hadn’t asked Clay anything about his. My grandparents. ‘I’m sorry. That was rude of me.’

  Clay tapped his finger over her lips. ‘Hush. I don’t want you to say you’re sorry anymore.’ He handed her the envelope. ‘Pictures of my family. Your family.’

  Taylor took the photos out with fingers that trembled, then sucked in a startled breath. The one on top was old and worn around the edges, clearly taken decades ago. The woman had long black hair and Clay’s eyes.

  My eyes. And my face. The resemblance . . . My God. It was like looking in a mirror. This was her grandmother. Goddammit, Mom. How could you?

  The woman – my grandmother – smiled at the camera, so worry-free and happy that tears filled Taylor’s eyes, blurring the photo in hands that no longer merely trembled, but shook so hard that she could barely see even after blinking the tears away. Impatiently she wiped her cheeks with a napkin before raising her gaze to Clay’s.

  ‘I . . . I look like her,’ she whispered.

  Clay smiled at her. ‘Yeah, you do. I saw it right away. She was eighteen in that picture.’

  Maggie leaned over Ford’s shoulder to look, then whistled. ‘Taylor’s the spittin’ image of your mama, Clay,’ she said. ‘No wonder you knew her as soon as you walked into the room.’

  Clay’s smile turned wry. ‘For a moment I thought I’d seen a ghost.’ He gave the edge of the photo a brief caress, his eyes growing shiny, his smile becoming so damn sad. ‘She would have loved to know you,’ he whispered, meeting Taylor’s gaze once more. ‘She made me promise to never stop looking until I found you. It was one of the last things she said.’

  Taylor stared at him, stunned. She’s dead. My grandmother’s dead and I never got to meet her. She’s dead and he grieved for her. He still does. Just like he grieved for me. A sob barreled up and she shoved it back down, but it got stuck halfway, clogging her throat.

  ‘What was her name?’ she asked hoarsely.

  Beside her, Ford stroked her back, giving her silent comfort. But her eyes stayed locked on Clay’s. He swallowed hard, then swallowed again, audibly.

  ‘Nancy,’ he finally whispered.

  Nancy. My grandmother was Nancy and she would have loved me. ‘Dammit,’ she whispered, the photo growing blurry again. Ford slipped a tissue into her hand, but it was too late. The sob escaped, and then she was in Clay’s arms, crying so hard she couldn’t breathe.

  The photos were gently pried from her hand as her body shook with grief. Ford, she thought dully. But it was Clay who held her, rocking her like a baby. Somehow she was sitting on his knee, her arms around his waist, her face buried against his neck.

  Eventually her weeping ceased and she could hear his gentle shushing. He hadn’t stopped rocking her and she wondered if he would have rocked her to sleep at night when she was little and scared. Of course she wouldn’t have been scared of the same things. She wouldn’t have been scared of him. She would have had a normal childhood. A normal life.

  A grandmother who looked just like her. ‘How long ago?’ she asked, her voice like gravel.

  ‘How long ago did she die?’ Clay asked, and she nodded. ‘Four and a half years. But at the end of her life, she was thinking of you. And me.’

  ‘I wish I could have known her.’

  ‘Me too, baby,’ he murmured, laying his cheek on the top of her head. ‘Me too.’

  Taylor heard a chair creak and remembered where she was. At a table surrounded by people who’d seen her fall apart twice in as many days. Embarrassed, she sat up, shielding her eyes with her hand because the light coming from the small chandelier over the table was way too bright. Her face hurt. Her head hurt even worse.

  ‘I hate to cry,’ Cordelia said matter-of-factly from the other side of the table. ‘It sucks ass.’

  ‘Cordelia!’ Stevie exclaimed, but it sounded like she was trying not to laugh.

  ‘Well, it does,’ the girl said.

  ‘I didn’t say that in front of her, Stevie,’ Maggie said defensively.

  ‘Of course you didn’t,’ Cordelia said, sounding way older than nine. ‘It was Mom.’

  ‘I know,’ Maggie said in a stage whisper, and Cordelia giggled.

  ‘You okay now, Taylor?’ Cordelia asked.

  Way older than nine, poor kid. ‘I will be.’ Taylor slid back into her own chair, and instantly Ford’s scent filled her head. He was still there. Her lips curved in spite of her headache. Of course he was. The guy was solid like a rock.

  Ford opened the fist she hadn’t realized she’d clenched and dropped two white tablets onto her palm. ‘Just normal over-the-counter stuff,’ he said softly.

  ‘Thanks.’ She popped the pills and chased them down with coffee that had grown cold. She grimaced, both at the cold coffee and at the thought that Ford was seeing her face when it looked like ground beef. But a glance up revealed him holding a bag of frozen peas. ‘What the heck, Ford?’

  ‘For your eyes,’ he explained, and she laughed up at him.

  ‘You’re kidding me.’

  Ford grinned. ‘Nope. It’ll help. Don’t ask me how I know.’

  ‘Fair enough,’ she said, and slapped the bag over the top half of her face. ‘Oh. That feels good. Thank you.’ She kept it there just long enough to dull the throb, then tossed the bag to the table and turned back to Clay, who was watching Ford with something between amusement and dire warning. ‘Tell me about your mother,’ she said softly. ‘Please.’

  Clay picked up the photos, his expression growing instantly softer. ‘My mom was the very best. She was a single mom for the first few years of my life, that is, until she met my stepfather, Tanner St James. This is them on their wedding day.’

  The bride and groom were smiling at each other, while each held the hand of a small black-haired boy. ‘This is you?’

  ‘Yeah,’ he said, and it was obvious that the memory was a sweet one. ‘My mom was always worried that she’d never meet anyone who wanted someone else’s kid, but Tanner did. He’s always been the dad he didn’t have to be, just like your stepfather was for you.’

  ‘Is Tanner still . . . here? Still alive, I mean?’

  ‘Yeah,’ he said again, his mouth curving in a smile that made her smile back. ‘And he wants to meet you so badly. I could only make him promise to wait until dinnertime before he drove over. He’s got a place in Wight’s Landing, on the Chesapeake Bay. He’s hoping you’ll come out to see it before you go back to California.’

  ‘It’s peaceful there,’ Stevie added. ‘Sometimes I go out there all by myself, just to think.’

  ‘Grampa’s got dogs,’ Cordelia chimed in. ‘Lacey and Columbo. I got one of Lacey’s babies, but Mannix isn’t little anymore. You like dogs, right? Even big, hairy, slobbery ones?’

  ‘Love them,’ Taylor assured her. ‘The bigger, hairier and slobberier, the better.’

  ‘You’ll be fine, then,’ Stevie said wryly. ‘Because Mannix is all of the above.’

  ‘And you spoil him with treats when you think nobody’s looking,’ Cordelia said archly.

  ‘Busted,’ Maggie said in a sing-song voice, and she and Cordelia bumped fists.

  ‘Boom,’ Cordelia said, and Taylor laughed again.

  ‘I can’t wait to meet him,’ she said, then made a face. ‘Tanner, I mean, although I’m sure I’ll like the dogs too.’ Cordelia smiled, making Taylor smile back at her. ‘But I have an appointment in the city this afternoon. Jazzie Jarvis and I are meeting for ice cream.’

  Clay nodded. ‘I know. I’m going with you.’

  ‘Oh, right.’ Taylor’s conversation with Maggie in the barn office seemed like years before. ‘That’s how all
this started yesterday. You’re my security.’

  ‘Damn straight,’ he muttered. ‘I’ll have Dad come to our house at six.’

  ‘Although he’ll get there earlier,’ Stevie said fondly. ‘He won’t be able to wait.’

  ‘He can watch a movie with me before Taylor gets there,’ Cordelia said. ‘Because he’s gonna want to spend all his time with her after.’ The words were spoken without rancor or ill will, but they still got Taylor’s attention.

  ‘You know I’m not here to steal him away,’ Taylor said softly. ‘Right?’

  Cordelia’s nod was sage. ‘I know. It’s not a contest, Taylor. He can love us both the same. So can Clay.’ She lifted her brows. ‘But I think Ford’s gonna love us very different.’

  Ford barked a startled laugh. ‘You little shit.’

  Cordelia giggled delightedly and made kissy noises. ‘Yep.’

  Taylor’s cheeks heated in a blush that totally gave her away. Avoiding Clay’s eyes, she angled Cordelia a sharp look. ‘You sure you’re only nine, kid?’

  Stevie ruffled her daughter’s hair affectionately. ‘Going on forty. And it’s differently.’

  Cordelia frowned. ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Very sure. In that sentence, “love” is a verb. It’s something that you do.’ Stevie smiled at Clay, then at her daughter. Grabbing her cane, she pushed herself to her feet. ‘C’mon, short stuff. We have horses waiting to be ridden.’

  Taylor marveled at the change in Stevie, then glanced at the time. ‘Oh crap. I’ve got kids arriving soon for therapy sessions. I’ve got to get the horses tacked up.’

  Ford pressed her shoulder down when she would have risen. ‘Stay here and look at the rest of your pictures. I’ll get the horses ready.’

  She took his hand from her shoulder and gave it a grateful squeeze. ‘Thank you, Ford.’

  Maggie followed him out, leaving Taylor alone at the table with Clay. My father. My father who missed so much of my life. She drew a breath. My father, she thought again. And the words weren’t so scary any more.

  He cleared his throat, breaking the silence. ‘So . . . you and Ford?’