To Laney, With Love

by Joyce Sullivan

  “So what? I’m glad he’s dead. We don’t need him anyway. I’d rather you married Ben.”

  Laney’s chin dropped as she stared at the white-paneled door. Out of the mouths of babes. Where had that come from?

  “You like Ben, don’t you, Mom? You went away together.”

  “Josh, I’m not going to discuss this unless you open the door.”

  To her relief, Laney heard the sound of shuffling, then the door slowly opened and she saw a redrimmed blue eye peering out at her distrustfully. She opened her arms and swallowed hard as Josh burrowed his warm, solid body into hers. She dropped a kiss on his blond head and smoothed his hair, hoping he’d forgotten his question. But he tilted his head back and looked up at her, innocence and hope blatant in his tear-streaked, freckled face.

  “Do you love Ben, Mom?” he asked point-blank.

  Did she love Ben? What a question! She felt many things for Ben, but was love one of them? Laney tried to puzzle out the intricacies of her feelings as she thought out an answer that would satisfy Josh.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you the real reason I was going away. I didn’t want to get your hopes up about your dad being alive. Ben came with me because he’s a very good friend and he was worried about me.” She took a deep breath. “I know how much you like Ben and I understand why you’d want him to be your dad. Ben cares about both of us because we’re neighbors and you boys are friends, but he doesn’t love me in the special way couples need to love each other to get married. You hang around Scott’s house enough to know that Ben has other lady friends whom he dates in hopes he’ll fall in love and marry one of them.” She stroked Josh’s silky hair. “Do you understand?”

  “You could be one of Ben’s lady friends if you wanted,” Josh insisted. “I could ask Ben to ask you out on a date. I know he thinks you’re pretty.”

  Laney smiled as a rush of panic raced from her throat to her stomach over Josh’s offer to play matchmaker. Just what Ben needed: more pressure to be nice to her.

  “Oh, no you don’t, honey. Love doesn’t work that way. Remember when Scott told you that Amber Buckles liked you and wanted to be your girlfriend? You told me she was kind of pretty and okay for a girl, but you didn’t like her enough to want to be her boyfriend. Then you wouldn’t talk to her because you knew she liked you and that made you uncomfortable.”

  Josh groaned, his nose wrinkling. “Aw, Mom, that’s kid stuff. This is different.”

  She chucked him under the chin. “No, it’s not. When it comes to love, you let people decide who they want for themselves and don’t interfere. Otherwise, you’re going to get hurt. Now, get into your pajamas and brush your teeth and we can read one or two of those short mysteries from the book I brought you.”

  “That’s okay, Mom. I don’t feel like reading. Scott and I stayed up late a lot talking while you were gone. I’ll just go to bed.”

  Laney felt his forehead. He didn’t have a fever. Maybe this was just his way of saying he needed some private time to absorb what had happened.

  “Okay, honey. I’ll just wait till you’re ready and tuck you in.”

  She put Spidey on the foot of the bed while Josh was in the bathroom brushing his teeth. When he came back in the room, he picked up the toy and dropped it in the trash can beneath his desk. Laney didn’t say anything.

  Neither did Josh.

  She gave him a good long snuggle before she left the room.

  HIS MOM just didn’t understand. Josh felt the anger burning in his chest ease as he leaned over the side of his bed and reached underneath it for the plastic bag he’d hidden there when he’d unpacked his luggage earlier. There was just enough moonlight in his room to see. The plastic crinkled noisily and he slowed his movements so his mom wouldn’t hear. Carefully, he removed the four wooden hearts: two big ones and two small ones. He fit the two big hearts together on his bed, then nested the two smaller hearts in the space where the two big hearts joined. Trying not to make any noise, he felt inside the bag for the photographs and the poem. There was a photo of each of them, him, Scott, Mom and Ben, all cut out around the edges so it was just a smiling person. Nothing to tell where or when the photo was taken.

  Josh arranged the photos on the hearts, trying to figure out what Ben had meant to do with them before he’d thrown them in the trash can in his workshop where he and Scott had found it when they were scrounging for wood to build a city for Spidey and Superman to protect. It made sense that the big hearts were for Ben and his mom. The smaller hearts for him and Scott.

  But what about the poem? It wouldn’t fit on one heart. The piece of paper was too big. Josh read it and rolled his eyes. Gushy love-note stuff. He knew all about love notes. They made his mom cry and get all happy. When she was happy like that, she hugged people every five minutes and baked chocolate-chip cookies.

  And Josh wanted her to be happy like that with Ben so they could live at Scott’s house. Ben was cool. And he wouldn’t leave them like his dad had.

  Josh reached for a pair of scissors on the desk beside his bed. Maybe if he cut off the extra paper around the words, he could make the poem fit, too.

  Somehow, he’d make it all fit. Once his mom saw this, she’d understand. Then they’d all be happy.

  Chapter Twelve

  Just when Laney thought she might be able to go to bed without giving Ben another thought, he landed on her doorstep. The unexpected knock on the door startled her, and sent her heart racing. She grasped the phone, ready to dial 911 as she stretched the cord down the hallway to peer through the fancy beveledglass front door, which gave her a clear view of the man standing in a pool of light at the sunporch’s French-door entrance.

  Ben.

  Her heart raced for another reason as she unlocked the front door, then let Ben into the sunporch, marveling at how he filled the tiny glass-walled room with his presence and his spicy scent. “I wasn’t expecting you,” she said uncertainly, drinking in the snug fit of his jeans, the brown suede jacket contouring his masculine, rugged bulk, the inky darkness of his hair and the ruddy patches of cold on his cheeks. If he kissed her, his nose and his cheeks would be cold, she thought distractedly.

  A chill—or was it anticipation?—crept through the soles of her slippers and made her shiver.

  “I tried calling first, but your line’s been busy the last hour and a half.”

  “I was making a few calls...to my brother in Whitehorse and my mom’s sister in Florida, and to a few friends I thought should know about Reese before the news is made public.”

  “How’d Josh handle the news?”

  “He’s hurt—and angry.” She bit down on her lower lip, not wanting to mention the tail end of her discussion with Josh. Her grip turned slippery on the phone and she set it on the hall tree just inside the front door.

  Ben followed her into the foyer. “Do you want me to talk to him...man to man?”

  Laney’s cheeks felt scalded. She wished some omnipotent force would bore a hole in her carpet and whisk her away from choosing between what was best for Josh and what could be downright embarrassing for her.

  What if Josh bared his soul to Ben? Heaven help her if Ben pitied her enough to ask her out on a date, which, of course, she’d refuse. But she could see the situation becoming more and more hopelessly awkward. Oh, why had she slept with him? One covert look at him from beneath her lowered lashes gave her an honest answer to that question.

  She’d just have to trust Ben to deal as he saw fit with whatever Josh said. “I’d be grateful if you talked to him. Josh looks up to you. But could you try to be subtle and impromptu about it? I don’t want him to think I asked you to talk to him.”

  Ben grinned and a lock of inky hair shifted onto his forehead. “No sweat. The boys have a practice Tuesday night. I’ll look for an opportunity then.”

  Laney found herself thinking how natural it was for them to be discussing Josh’s well-being together. She had to commend her son on his choice of surrogate father. “Is th
at why you came by, to see how Josh was doing?”

  “Yes and no.” Ben held, up a yellow plastic bag, his expression sheepish.

  “Did I accidentally pack something in your suitcase?”

  “No. After you left with Josh, I ran out to buy a couple of cellular phones. I’ll sleep better knowing we can reach each other any time of the day—or night.” His eyes held hers for a moment, black pinpoints in blue fire. Laney pressed her damp palms together, battling his caring, and the insatiable ball of desire cradled in her core that flamed to life in his presence.

  He held a phone out to her and showed her how to use it, his fingers sure, his voice patient as he explained. He even made her memorize the number of his cellular phone and made her promise to keep it within arm’s reach wherever she went...inside and outside the house. Even in the bathroom or when she took out the trash. She wasn’t to hesitate to call him if she heard a strange noise in the middle of the night.

  Laney stared at him and promised. Not once in her whole life had anyone ever gone to such lengths to make her feel safe. Certainly not Reese. She was used to being incommunicado from him for days, sometimes weeks, at a time.

  Ben’s gift was downright practical, but in some inexplicable way Laney found it more touching than the jewels and silks and artwork Reese had given her over the years. Nothing she’d done to help Ben with Scott after Rebecca’s death could equal Ben’s show of concern for her and Josh.

  Laney would almost have said it was romantic, except that Ben had never given her any indication he was romantically interested in her. Their lovemaking the other night had been elemental and primal. A pure and simple giving and sharing of need. He was a man. She was a woman. They were both under stress and needed a physical release.

  It had been nothing like the lovemaking she’d shared with Reese, where the romantic atmosphere that most women dreamed about was perennially present: music, candles, flowers, mystery and lace. Reese had been a master of orchestrated seduction. He enjoyed the challenge of making sex a culmination of sensual stimuli.

  There had been none of that with Ben. Only the two of them stripped bare, the touch of tongues and fingers, and murmured words of what felt exquisitely, wonderfully right. She wondered if the words Ben had said to her were real and unique unto her or if he’d uttered them to the other women he’d dated.

  Laney trembled. Did she really want to know?

  Ben unzipped his jacket, the metal rasp of the zipper shattering her thoughts. He tucked his cellular phone in the inside breast pocket and slid the zipper up, sealing the phone in the pocket of warmth surrounding his chest.

  “Sleep well,” he said huskily and slipped out the door to the sunporch.

  Laney pressed her cellular phone to the hollow between her breasts. The porch door closed behind him with a bang as he disappeared into the cold winter’s night.

  Yet she felt him, close and warm next to her doubt-filled heart. Odd, what a strange bond a telephone could be.

  LANEY PLANNED to spend a quiet Sunday with Josh. Taking care to tuck the cellular phone into her purse, she and Josh went to church. Then they stopped at their favorite pancake restaurant for brunch and shopped for groceries on the way home. Josh was short on smiles and conversation. He didn’t mention Reese once. Or Ben.

  Josh headed straight for his video games the moment he shed his winter coat, gloves, hat and boots. Laney called him back to help her carry the grocery bags to the kitchen table. Josh grumbled, but obeyed. At least that was typical behavior for him. Laney turned on the kettle for tea and hot chocolate, then puttered around putting the groceries away. The blinking red light on the answering machine signaled she’d received a few calls since she’d cleared the tape last night, but she ignored it. She’d deal with the messages later.

  She had a mountain of laundry to tackle and, if she was lucky, she’d be able to induce Josh to play a game or two of chess with her. Or maybe he’d feel like skating on the Rideau Canal. Josh said no to both.

  Laney let him be and went upstairs to her office, knowing he’d seek her out when he was ready.

  The phone rang as she waded through the pile of mail on her desk, sorting out bills. What next? Laney wondered, as McBain boomed a gruff greeting in her ear. She closed the door to her office as they discussed his public statement identifying Reese as the murder victim in the Walker chalet in Whistler. There was no word yet on Dallyn Vohringer, but he had the RCMP in Toronto quietly investigating Yale Sheridan. “I’ve saved the best news for last, Mrs. Dobson. We’ve received confirmation that a Graham Walker and Kristel Butterfield took an Alaskan cruise together the summer before your husband disappeared. Kristel’s hired a lawyer and she isn’t talking.”

  Laney’s breath escaped in a whoosh. Not that McBain’s announcement came as any great surprise. But it didn’t seem to matter all that much when or how Reese met Kristel or why he fell in love with her. She was more concerned with the here and now: Josh’s emotional state, riding out the scandal Reese’s actions had created—and her friendship with Ben.

  Ben.

  She’d felt him within easy reach all day long in the compact form of the black, high-tech cellular phone. Only sheer determination not to be more dependent on him than she already was had kept her from calling him thus far. Anticipation fluttered in her stomach. Now she had a legitimate reason to call him. To tell him the news...

  There was a pause on the phone line. It took her a moment to realize McBain had probably asked her a question and was awaiting her response. Laney was mortified that she hadn’t been paying attention. “Would you repeat that, please?”

  “I said we found an electronic notebook in the chalet. And I’m catching a flight to Ottawa this afternoon in hopes you can identify it as belonging to your husband. It may be able to give us some answers if we can come up with the right password to access the information it contains. My flight doesn’t get in until late tonight. Will you be able to see me tomorrow?”

  “Yes, of course,” she replied. “I work at home, but I’ve got some errands to run in the morning. Drop by any time after one—I’ll be here.”

  Laney hung up quickly and reached for the cellular phone. Her fingers flew as she dialed Ben’s number from memory. He answered it on the first ring.

  Her knees turned to water when his husky voice caressed her ear, his concern blatantly evident. Laney gripped the edge of her desk and tried to disassociate Ben’s voice from her memories of their lovemaking. It didn’t work.

  Perspiration beaded on her brow as images flooded her mind. Ben touching her. Thrusting into her. Need swelled and tightened in her throat. Laney stared at the little black phone. This was an unexpected downside to having Ben at her fingertips.

  BEN RETURNED from a project meeting Monday morning to find Corporal McBain conspicuously waiting outside his office door. Unease trickled through Ben. “I’m surprised you made it past the security guard in the lobby,” he said mildly, pulling his keys from his pocket to unlock his office door.

  “A badge has its privileges,” McBain said succinctly. “And so does working on a high-profile case. It’s not every day I get to spend the taxpayers’ money to fly across the country on a murder case. You should be honored by my visit.”

  “Well, the same taxpayers pay me not to waste my time on social calls.” Ben set his briefcase on the corner of his desk and closed the door to his office to give them some privacy. “Laney didn’t mention you planned to make a side trip to my office....”

  “That’s because I didn’t disclose my intention to her. There was something I wished to discuss with you privately.”

  Ben’s shoulders tensed. “I’m all ears,” he replied, hanging up his jacket as McBain opened the briefcase he carried and removed a plastic bag containing an electronic notebook. “I take it that belonged to Reese.”

  “We believe so, though we couldn’t pick up any prints off it. We did find some business-expense files, which suggest it was Reese’s, and a comprehensive list of gol
f courses and ski resorts all over the world. There was one secret file of interest that I wanted to show you. You see, I go into the memo mode and type in the secret password L-A-N-E-Y and this file appears.” He passed the notebook to Ben.

  Ben felt the hairs rise on the back of his neck. The message that had been written on the card Laney received on her wedding anniversary appeared on the display screen. Ben studied the electronic notebook and pressed a cursor key to scroll through the data display. “Is there anything else in the file?”

  The valentine message flashed onto the screen followed by a memo to meet Laney at 5:30 p.m. Horstman Lane.

  There were no more memos.

  “Did you note the time of the meeting?” McBain asked. “In her statement, Mrs. Dobson said the woman told her to meet Reese at seven. The notebook clearly indicates the meeting was for five-thirty.”

  Ben handed the notebook back to McBain in disgust. “So you’re relying on this over Laney’s word? Laney isn’t much of a secret password. Sounds like a setup to me. Reese was too smart to do something so obvious. Why would he need a memo to remind himself what time to meet his wife after a fourteen-month separation? I think he’d be able to remember that. Anyone could add a secret file if they knew what they were doing.”

  “Yes, I noticed you were quite proficient.”

  Ben ignored McBain’s jab, which ranked right up there with the idiotic suggestion he and Laney had driven into a rock wall to throw suspicion off themselves. “I use one of these in my work, as do ninety percent of the people on this floor. I happen to know Nelson Butterfield uses one, too. The notebooks come with a thorough instruction manual. It’s not rocket science. Did you find any other secret files?”

  “No. Only the one. We haven’t come up with any passwords as yet. But how do you know Butterfield uses an electronic notebook?”

  “I saw him refer to it when he met Laney and me at the car dealership.”

  McBain frowned.