It was late Saturday afternoon before Benny’s rented limousine pulled up beside the cabin. Barbara had been watching for them for hours, her impatience growing along with her anxieties. When she saw Janee jump out of the back seat, she dashed outside to meet the little girl on the porch and scooped her up in her arms.
“Aunt Barbara!” Janee squealed, wrapping her arms around Barbara’s neck. “Zowie and I missed you so much!”
“Oh, honey, I missed you so much! And Zowie, too.”
Doug came outside and greeted Janee with a hug, then turned his gaze to his sister and her husband. “Hello, Pam,” he said coolly. “Hello, Benny.”
They all greeted one another with an icy reserve, then filed inside, Janee rushing ahead to reclaim her little pinecone family. Barbara offered refreshments—coffee and sandwiches—but Benny said no, they had to go. They had a return flight that evening. His voice held a note of embarrassment, unease. He kept tapping his fingers and looking around, as if seeking a way of escape.
After the shenanigans you’ve pulled, you deserve to squirm, Barbara thought ruefully, but she kept a polite smile in place, refusing to stoop to Benny’s level. “You’re sure you don’t want some coffee?”
“Okay, maybe a cup,” said Benny. He sat down on the sofa, stiffly, not allowing himself to settle back against the cushions.
Pam sat down beside him. “I’ll have a cup, too. Black.”
“I’ll get the coffee,” said Barbara. “Then the four of us need to talk this thing out. There has to be some way we can come to an understanding.”
“No deal,” said Benny. “Our attorney advised us not to discuss the case with you.”
“For crying out loud, Benny,” said Doug. “We’re family.” He sat down in the rocker across from Pam. “Surely you’re not going along with this nonsense, sis.”
Pam averted her gaze, her immaculately made-up face as inscrutable as a china doll’s.
Barbara looked over at Janee, who was sitting by the fireplace playing with her pinecone family. “We’ll have to talk later. Little pitchers have big ears.”
After Barbara served the coffee, she took Janee by the hand and said, “It’s time for bed, honey. Why don’t you go wash up and get your pajamas on, and I’ll come tuck you in.”
Reluctantly Janee said her good-nights and trudged off to the bedroom with Zowie in tow.
When she had gone, Pam said in her honey-sweet voice, “Barbara, I hope you don’t take it personally, our wanting to adopt Janee.”
Barbara sat down in the overstuffed chair beside the sofa. “How am I supposed to take it, Pam? You know how much we want to keep Janee.”
Pam bristled. “I know no such thing! In fact, you’re the one who telephoned me several weeks ago and told me you couldn’t stand living with that child. You didn’t want her in your house for another day. You were beside yourself. You begged Benny and me to come take Janee off your hands. Well, that’s what we’re doing. You’re getting exactly what you asked for.”
Barbara’s pulse raced. “I never meant—I was confused, Pam. I thought Janee hated me. I thought she’d be better off with you.”
“And we think so, too, Barbara.” Pam sipped her coffee, her pinky cocked delicately in the air. “We know you could never love another child after Caitlin. That’s perfectly understandable. Janee was a painful reminder of the child you lost. No one would expect you to live with a youngster who brought you such grief.” Pam’s tone took on a smugly self-righteous air. “That’s why we’ve decided to adopt Janee. We want her, even if you don’t.”
Barbara’s indignation flared. “How dare you, Pam! I never said I—” She heard a rustling sound in the hallway and craned her neck around. “Janee, is that you?”
Janee’s cherubic face peered around the corner. Her eyes were round and shiny as dinner plates, and her mouth formed a quivery pucker.
“I told you it’s time for bed, honey,” Barbara reminded her gently. “Now run along, sweetie. You need your sleep.”
Without a word Janee disappeared down the hall.
After a lull the conversation returned to the impending court case. Benny cleared his throat and loosened his yellow, polka-dot tie. “Barbara, we could avoid this whole nasty battle if you and Doug would just relinquish custody of Janee and let us adopt her.”
“We’ll do no such thing,” said Doug. “How you have the nerve to—”
“Please, Doug, be a good sport,” urged Pam, her voice fawning, her crimson lips in a pout. “With Nancy gone, you’re the only family I have. You’re my big brother. We’ve got to stick together, right? And you always said Benny and I should have kids. So now we will.”
Doug straightened his shoulders and thrust out his jaw, his eyes narrowing. “You’re ignoring one important fact, Pam. Nancy wanted Barbara and me to raise Janee.”
“But if you weren’t able to take her, she wanted us to have her.”
“We are able and willing,” said Doug. “More than willing.”
“But that wasn’t Barbara’s story a few weeks ago,” said Pam, her words knife-sharp but her voice still smooth as cream. “I don’t think it makes for a very stable home when your wife keeps going back and forth, changing her mind so drastically. Who’s to say she won’t change her mind again next week and decide she doesn’t want Janee, after all. A child needs adults she can depend on, Doug.”
“She can depend on us, Pam, and you know it.”
Pam leisurely sipped her coffee. “Well, I guess a judge will have to decide that, won’t he?”
“You know you can’t win, Pam.” Barbara’s voice broke on a sudden wave of emotion. “In the hospital Nancy’s dying request was that we take Janee. No judge would go against her last wishes.”
“Maybe not, but a lot has changed since Nancy died,” Pam remarked.
“What are you talking about, Pam?” challenged Doug.
Pam gazed steadily at him, her glossy lips unsmiling. “Well, for one thing, brother dear, you no longer have a home for Janee, thanks to that nasty earthquake. Except for this provincial little cabin. But it’s hardly the place to raise a child.”
“Our home is being rebuilt. You know that.”
“But who knows how long it will take? Meanwhile, you and Barbara are living apart. Separated. And she’s spending an awful lot of time with that old boyfriend of hers. What’s his name? Trent something? Not a good arrangement for a young child.”
Barbara stiffened. “Are you suggesting there’s something improper going on between Trent and me?”
“Now, Barb, I didn’t say—”
“He’s just a friend. He lost his wife and needs someone to talk to now and then. Doug knows that and he has no problem with Trent. Tell her, Doug.”
Barbara noticed that her husband hesitated for just a second before answering. “Barbara’s right. I trust her. For you to insinuate that anything is going on between her and Trent is a new low, even for you, Pam.”
Pam waved her hand breezily. “All right, I’m sorry. Maybe I’m wrong. Even so, Janee needs a stable home with two parents.”
“And that’s exactly what she’s going to get,” said Doug, his tone barely civil.
Pam flashed a cunning little smile. “Well, at least we agree on that.”
Benny set down his coffee cup and stood up. “Listen, babykins, we’d better get going or we’ll miss our return flight.”
Pam stood and smoothed out her gray gabardine skirt. “You’re right, Benny. It’s getting dark, and I think we’ve said all we need to say.” She gazed over at Doug and made an exaggeratedly sad face. “Well, brother dear, I guess the next time we see you will be in court. I’m sorry it has to be this way.”
“Me, too,” said Doug, his lips tight against his teeth.
Pam blew him a kiss, which he ignored.
“Be sure and bring the kid with you when you come to San Francisco,” said Benny. “We don’t want to make another trip up these wretched mountains to get her.”
Pa
m paused at the doorway. “Wait a minute, Benny. I just want to go and give the little tyke a good-night kiss.” Pam tossed Barbara a calculating glance. “After all, we want Janee to know how much we love her. You don’t mind, do you, Barb?”
Barbara crossed her arms tightly on her chest. She forced herself to say, “Sure. Go say good-night to Janee. I promised her I’d be in, too.”
Pam’s stacked heels made a clacking sound on the wood floor as she strutted down the hall. Barbara debated whether to follow Pam to Janee’s room, then thought better of the idea. Pam would only accuse her of spying or intruding.
Less than a minute later, Pam burst into the living room, her face white. “Benny, she’s gone. Janee’s gone!”
“Gone? What are you talking about?” barked Benny.
“She’s not there. Her bed is empty.”
“You must have gone to our room by mistake,” said Barbara.
“I know a child’s room from a master bedroom,” said Pam thickly. “I’m telling you, Janee’s not in her bed.”
“Then she’s probably in the bathroom,” said Doug. “Or maybe she went and crawled into our bed.”
“No, I checked everywhere. She’s not here. Maybe someone’s kidnapped her. Do something. Call the police.”
Icy alarm prickled Barbara’s skin. Pam’s concern sounded genuine. “I’ll go look.” Barbara was already striding down the hall. Her heart hammered as she opened Janee’s door and scoured the room with her gaze. There was no sign of Janee. She looked in the bathroom, then crossed the hall to the master bedroom. No Janee.
Doug was close on her heels. “I’ll check the closets.”
Within minutes they had checked every nook and cranny of the cabin. Barbara’s heart thundered in her chest. “Where could she be, Doug? She was just here.”
He slipped his arm around her and led her over to the rocker by the fireplace. “She’s got to be close by, Barb. We would have heard if someone had entered the house. The windows are locked. She must have wandered off somehow.”
“But where? And why?”
“I smell a rat,” said Benny, his eyes narrowing. “Maybe you two had this planned all along. Hide Janee somewhere so we can’t get custody.”
“Oh, Benny, shut up,” said Pam. “My brother wouldn’t do some lowlife thing like that. Look at them. They’re scared silly.”
Benny held up his hands placatingly. “Okay, it was just an idea.”
“Benny, if this weren’t a crisis situation,” said Doug hotly, “I’d show you what I think of your ideas.” He strode off down the hall and was back moments later. “I checked the back door again. It’s slightly ajar. Janee must have gone outside.”
“Or someone came in,” said Barbara with a shudder.
“I’m going to check around the yard. She might just be outside looking for pinecones or something.”
“Well, I’m calling the police,” said Pam, picking up the phone.
“Do that,” said Barbara. “Doug and I will be outside.” Then she paused as a horrifying thought struck. “What if she ran away?”
Doug frowned. “Why would she do that?”
Barbara clasped her hand over her mouth, comprehension striking like a lightning bolt. “Oh, Doug, maybe she overheard our conversation.”
“What conversation?”
“Remember, she peeked around the corner, and we told her to get back to bed? What if she heard Pam saying we didn’t want her and would never love her? I can’t bear to think of it.”
“But she wouldn’t run away.”
“Wouldn’t she?”
Pam hung up the phone. “The police are on their way.”
“I’m not waiting for the police,” said Doug, grabbing his jacket and a flashlight.
Barbara slipped on her windbreaker and followed him outside. It was dark now, the air brisk, the October wind biting. “She doesn’t even have her coat, Doug. Just her flannel shirt and dungarees.”
“She can’t have gone far, Barb. We’ll find her.”
Barbara’s hopes swelled as she thought of a possibility. “Maybe she ran over to Trent’s cabin. She’s crazy about him. Maybe she went to say hello.”
“Let’s check.”
To Barbara’s disappointment, Janee hadn’t ventured over to the next cabin, but Trent quickly offered to join the search. “First, I’ll make a few calls,” he said, seizing his cell phone. “There are lots of folks on the mountain who would want to help look for her.”
“We’ll search the woods behind our cabin,” said Doug. “Trent, you cover your property.”
“Will do.”
They had just begun exploring the backyard when Barbara heard a siren. “The police are here, Doug.”
“We’d better go back to the house and talk to them. No telling what Pam and Benny will say.”
They spent several precious minutes—time they could have spent searching for Janee—answering the officers’ endless questions. Had Janee wandered off before? Was she upset about something? Had they noticed any strangers prowling around? On and on. Finally, in exasperation, Barbara said, “Sergeant, we’ve told you everything we know. Can’t you just go look for her?”
“Ma’am, we already have officers out combing the area. If she’s out there, we’ll find her.”
“We’re going to look, too,” said Doug, “so if there are no more questions—”
“Let the professionals handle this, Dr. Logan,” said the officer. “We’d rather have you folks stay close to home—in case the child returns.”
“We’ll stay close by,” said Doug, “but we’re still going to take a look around.”
Doug got another flashlight for Barbara, and they went outside. Hand in hand they walked around the yard, first the front, then the side and the back, calling Janee’s name, then listening for a little girl’s voice amid the sounds of the night.
“Doug, where could she have gone?”
“Almost anywhere.”
“She could catch her death of cold. Or a coyote could attack her. She could fall…”
“Don’t anticipate the worst, Barb. We’ve got to believe she’s okay.”
After searching the yard, they ventured into the woods, following a narrow path through brambles and twigs. “We promised the police we wouldn’t go far away,” Barbara reminded Doug, as he held back a branch for her.
“I know, but I can’t sit and twiddle my thumbs. We have to keep looking.”
They followed one path through the spiky pines, then another, calling Janee’s name over and over. After a while, Barbara stopped and sat down on a boulder jutting out from a small thicket. Doug sat down beside her and held her close. “You’re cold.”
“A little. And weary. I need a minute to catch my breath.” She gazed up at the patches of sky glimmering through the dense pine fronds. The moon was full, its light smudged by wisps of clouds. A breeze stirred, rustling dry leaves and whispering through the fanning branches. “Do you see the face in the moon, Doug?” she murmured. “When I was a little girl, I thought it was the face of God smiling down on me. I loved a full moon because it made God seem so close.”
Doug coughed uneasily. “I’m afraid I haven’t thought much about God for a long time. Except when we’re in church.”
Barbara gazed up at her husband. There in the moonlight he had never looked more stalwart and handsome. “I was angry at God after Caitlin died,” she confessed. “I closed my heart to Him.”
Doug nodded. “I know.”
“I closed my heart to you, too, Doug,” she said in a small, penitent voice.
“I know, Barbie.”
“I didn’t mean to, Doug. I just felt numb. It was as if everything inside me closed up and shut down. My emotions wouldn’t work anymore. I couldn’t feel anything.”
Doug’s voice was solemn. “I know. You couldn’t help it.”
“Is that why you threw yourself into your work? Because I wasn’t there for you?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know, Ba
rb. I guess I figured you didn’t love me the same way anymore. I knew you blamed me for Caitlin’s death. But you had a right. I blamed myself.”
She stared up at him. “Blamed you? What are you talking about? Why would I blame you?”
His voice grew heavy with emotion. “I’m a doctor. I’m supposed to be able to help people, make them well. But I couldn’t save my own daughter.”
“It wasn’t your fault, Doug.”
“Wasn’t it? I let her ride her bike without her helmet. And when the doctors said she was well enough to go home, I didn’t argue. I went along. But in the pit of my stomach I knew she shouldn’t go home yet. I took her anyway because they said she was ready. Maybe I didn’t want to look like an overprotective dad to my colleagues—I don’t know.”
“You couldn’t have known about the blood clot. No one could have known. It would have happened even if she’d been in the hospital.”
“I know the facts, Barb. I know them in my head, and everything you say is true. But I can’t feel them in my heart. All I feel is the guilt. I hear the recriminations in my head over and over, every day.”
“Oh, Doug, is that why you gave up your surgical practice? Is that why you became a hospital administrator, instead?”
“I suppose that was a large part of it.”
Barbara clasped Doug’s hand and pressed his sturdy fingers against her lips. “I had no idea you felt that way. You never should have given up your medical career. You’re wrong to blame yourself.”
“Why? It’s how you feel, too. I know it is. I’ve read it in your eyes every day for four years.”
She leaned her head against his warm cheek. “I don’t blame you, Doug. At least, I don’t think I do. Lately my feelings are so jumbled, I don’t know what I feel.”
Doug was silent for a long time. Finally he said in a voice that was barely audible, “Barbie, I killed your love as surely as I killed Caitlin. If I’d been a better doctor, a better husband, a better father—”
She silenced him with a finger to his lips. “Don’t say that, Doug. It’s not true. If I made you feel that way, I’m sorry. You must know I never stopped loving you.”
“But you never wanted to make love after Caitlin died.”
A Family To Cherish Page 14
