All of a sudden she felt as if the weight she was carrying was way too heavy. All of a sudden, she felt more alone than she ever had in her life. She was sitting on the bed. She shifted toward the wall so Max couldn't see her face, but for once he didn't avoid what he didn't want to see. For once he seemed to realize exactly how she felt.
He sat down beside her on the bed. "Clare will do a good job," he reassured her.
Tears pooled in her eyes and she fought to keep them back. She bowed her head and let her hair flow forward so he wouldn't see.
When Max placed his hand on her shoulder, she thought she'd come apart. The tears just kept coming and she couldn't hide them any more. How many nights had she cried when he'd left to search? How many nights had she cried while he made call after call to police department after police department. How many nights had she cried and lain alone while he'd gone for long drives, taken long walks, been any place but with her.
The ironic thing was, that touch of his hand on her shoulder brought back all other kinds of memories too, from the first touch of his hand on hers at the barn, to their first kiss, to the first time they'd made love. And there'd been no question that it was love. But that was before. This was after. She couldn't let herself feel any of that, not and stay sane for the rest of this. She slid away and his hand fell, but then she cried even harder, and she couldn't keep the sound of her sobs from becoming great hiccups. Max moved even closer and now his arm came around her shoulders.
"Mandy."
When was the last time he'd called her that? When was the last time she'd heard that tenderness? Over twenty-seven years ago?
"I'm sorry. I'm worried about Clare. I'm worried about Shara. I just can't get a grip right now."
There was only a slight hesitation until he brought her into his chest and held her close. He stroked her hair, said nothing, was just Max. She remembered his male scent she'd always loved, mixed with spicy aftershave. She could feel the heat that always seemed to emanate from Max, even in the cold. When the girls were young and they'd go outside to play in the snow, she and Max would sometimes join them. After coming back in, she'd feel like an icicle, but he'd always been warm underneath his flannel and jeans. Her cold feet on his shins always made him laugh. Now his heat seemed to becoming her heat.
The room which had been comfortably air conditioned seemed to be getting warmer, and Amanda realized comfort came in many packages. His comfort was a gift that was fast becoming something else...something she didn't want to feel but that she couldn't turn away from, either. Max's heat as well as his caring was like a powerful web. The temptation to actually be this close to him outweighed her good resolve that she should pull away. She wasn't going to look up at him. She simply wasn't. She was afraid to discover whatever she might find in his eyes.
In the past, there had been so much there—resentment, coldness, a determination that cut him loose. But Max wasn't going to let her hide from him this time. Yes, she had faded into the past and lived for the antique shop, falling on the good times, trying to forget the heartache. But now he was bringing her into the present with him by lifting her chin, shifting toward her, making sure their eyes met. When he dipped his lips toward hers, she froze. She didn't know what to do. They were divorced. They lived separate lives. At one time, they'd probably even hated each other.
At one time, they'd loved each other.
Max's gaze was questioning and maybe even doubtful. In spite of that, he kissed her.
The kiss was familiar yet new. It took her back and it took her forward. It laid out everything he wanted, but questioned everything they'd been. What was she supposed to—
As he angled their heads so he could take the kiss deeper, as he laid her back on the bed and joined her there, she looked up at him and shook her head. "What are we doing?"
"Damn if I know. But I'd just like something to feel good and right for a change. This does."
Were they good together? Were they right for each other? Could they make a new start after everything that had happened?
"What do you want, Max?" she asked softly.
"I want you. We need each other right now, Amanda. Let's take what we need and forget the rest."
That wasn't Max's philosophy. He was never impulsive, never reckless. Plan A always led to Plan B, except when he was drinking. But he hadn't been drinking today, or tonight, and he looked as serious as she'd ever seen him.
"What if we regret this?"
"I'd prefer this regret to a ton of others, wouldn't you?"
She did want his arms around her. She did want his body joined with hers. She wanted to feel that rush of passion again. She wanted to feel again. His hand went to the buttons on her blouse. Her hand went to the belt of his jeans. Would they regret tonight?
Maybe so, but she'd have even more regrets if she didn't take this opportunity to know Max again...to feel Max again...to love Max again.
****
Chapter Nine
Clare stood at the hotel room door, not sure what she was supposed to be feeling...or thinking. The sister she hadn't seen for twenty-seven years could be behind that door...or not. Detective Grove had asked her if she wanted him to go with her. She'd said, "No." In a way she was even glad her parents weren't here. They would have muddied up the waters even more.
The thing was—in a way, her mom and dad were leaving this up to her. And what if she screwed it up? What if Amy was her sister and she didn't like Clare? Enough, she scolded herself. Just do it.
Clare heard the slide of the deadbolt chain. A precaution anyone would take? Or was it super important to someone like Amy?
The girl—woman rather—who opened that motel room door could have been anyone Clare passed on the street.
Amy Fields had brown with blond highlights. Lynnie's had been golden brown. She had big brown eyes and Lynnie's had been brown, too. But past that...
What had Clare hoped for—instant recognition?
She forced herself to smile. She forced herself to extend her hand and say, "I'm Clare Thaddeus."
Amy was dressed up in Clare's estimation in a pretty lilac two-piece pantsuit. Still so worried about Shara, not knowing what was going to happen next, Clare hadn't thought much about her appearance as she'd grabbed a pair of good jeans and a blue-and-red plaid blouse. She'd tucked it in and worn a belt, but dressing up hadn't gone farther than that. She didn't think she'd slept at all last night. Joe had stayed late, just sitting beside her on the sofa, reaching over to hold her hand now and then. It had been nice. So nice her feelings when he was around worried her, too. She had no business leaning into him...no business depending on him...no business thinking the thoughts she had whenever he was close. Not with her life in the wringer.
Amy seemed to force a shaky smile, too, as if she didn't know what to say or do. That was something they had in common. Amy motioned to the table in front of the window with chairs on either side of it. "I brewed a pot of coffee. Want some?"
Like she needed more caffeine. But with a cup of coffee in her hands, she would have something to do...something to taste...something to focus on. How honest could she be with this woman she didn't know...with this woman who might be her sister? If only the psychic who was helping her parents now could have helped them before. If only any psychic had been able to help them. Clare didn't know what she thought about that. She just knew she had to find Shara and bring her home. She just knew she couldn't lose another person she loved.
Clare slipped a tape recorder out of her purse. "My parents asked me to record our conversation, if you don't mind. Is that okay with you?"
Doubts seemed to flit over Amy's face. But then she nodded. "It's okay. I understand. Detective Grove told me why they can't be here. I'm sorry your daughter ran away."
Clare swallowed hard, knowing she had to get on with this. She switched on the recorder.
"So you drove here yourself?" she asked, still unclear about some details.
"I did. My parents..." Amy hesitated
, then went on. "My adoptive parents wanted to come, too. But I needed to come here fresh without my present life weighing me down. Do you know what I mean?"
Clare sort of got that. "You were afraid you might not remember as well if you had your parents' feelings to content with?"
"Exactly."
"So did driving here...being here...wake up any memories?"
Amy looked disappointed when she said, "No. None. Not a hint of anything. Before I left, I talked to my counselor. I've had one ever since my parents adopted me. She said not to expect anything....just to come into the situation and experience it."
"You said you've been seeing a counselor since you've been adopted. Can I ask why? Was it because of the adoption or more? I'm sorry if I have to ask tough questions, but that's what I'm here to do."
Amy shrugged as if this wasn't the most difficult thing she'd had to do...as if this was a conversation with simply...anyone. "I know that. And I thought this whole thing would affect me more. But it isn't. In some ways, I feel like an observer...just hearing about somebody else. If I'm Lynnie, I have no inkling of her. I have no memory of what happened before I was adopted. I didn't even know I was kidnapped. And I don't have any memories of abuse...if it happened to me. The doctors think it did. There were signs."
Clare poured powdered cream into her coffee, added a packet of sugar and took a breath. Unbidden memories of her and her sister replayed as if they'd happened yesterday—she and Lynnie playing on swings in the park, she and Lynnie playing tag in the yard, she and Lynnie sitting on the beach. The summer they'd moved into the big house in Pine Hill, her dad had driven them to the beach for an overnight getaway. Lynnie had been afraid of the waves at first. But she'd finally giggled when the water crept up and tickled her toes. She and Lynnie had built sand castles. And she'd whispered to Lynnie that she wanted to stay at the beach forever.
Forever.
She studied Amy and said, "I'm so sorry for whatever happened to you. I was the big sister. I was supposed to watch out for you. I was supposed to keep you safe."
Amy shook her head and her voice was a bit distant as she advised, "Don't do that to yourself. I've had enough counseling to know there's no point to it. Your guilt doesn't affect me. Your guilt won't help me and it certainly won't help you. Whatever happened, happened, and it's done. Done, Clare."
Amy's conclusion made Clare a bit angry. Losing Lynnie would never be done. Not for her parents and not for her. Couldn't Amy see that?
But Amy's traumatic amnesia...or whatever it was...had blanked out the bad.
Amy must have suspected some of what Clare was feeling because she added, "When I was little, after my parents adopted me, I did have some nightmares. There was a monster with a beard. But it was just a shadowy figure. The more my adopted parents loved me, the more those vague visions faded. They altogether disappeared. I've had a happy life with wonderful parents. And I know your life has been affected terribly by what happened, but I can't take that on as my burden."
Sitting back in her chair, Clare just stared at Amy. She couldn't take it on as her burden? How righteous that sounded! How arrogant. How true. They sounded like words coming from a counselor. And maybe all that counseling had become Amy's own. This meeting wasn't anything like Clare expected. Had she thought when she saw her sister again, she'd automatically know her? Talking to this woman was like talking to a stranger.
An understanding of what was happening dawned on Clare like a heavy weight. At this moment, she realized something her parents were going to have to realize, too. Whether this Amy was or wasn't her sister, they'd lost Lynnie...forever.
****
The Zuni Natural Gem Shop was fascinating. Like any woman, Amanda appreciated pretty things, especially natural stones and gems. From turquoise to agate to jasper, to garnet and amethyst, this shop had it all. She and Gillian and Max stepped inside not knowing what to expect. But what they found were glass cases filled with anything a jewelry maker—from the amateur to the professional—might desire. They were early, arriving just before the shop first opened at eleven a.m. They had been to two other shops without any success, but the name of this one encouraged Amanda to be hopeful.
There was a blonde behind the counter. Amanda surmised she was around college age. Her hair was long and straight, her earrings double-beaded hoops that dangled. She wore a ring on every finger and her nose was pierced. Amanda smiled at her after they entered and the buzzer sounded. She imagined the security on this place was state of the art.
Amanda and Gillian started ooh-ing and aah-ing over the beads in the cases while Max wandered about. As in the other two stores, they had decided to play this casually. Amanda knew Max was restraining himself. He had a tendency to come on too strong and was holding back now so whoever they approached wouldn't clam up.
After Gillian asked to see a strand of picture jasper, the clerk, who had a name tag that said Ruby, unlocked the case and took out the string with its varied shades of brown and rust, gold and black.
"These stones would make a beautiful necklace," Gillian said.
"Yes, they would. A necklace of those would go with most anything casual." She smiled at the clerk. "Do you make jewelry?"
"No, I just wear it," she responded with a small laugh.
"I'm thinking about buying some special beads for my granddaughter. She might have been in recently." Amanda took out her phone and, like a proud grandmother, showed the clerk the picture. "That's Shara. Isn't she gorgeous? She loves turquoise and loves to make jewelry. So I thought I'd find her something nice for her birthday."
Amanda watched for recognition in the clerk's eyes...and she saw it!
"She was in here yesterday," Ruby offered. "I worked the afternoon-to-evening shift. She didn't buy anything, but her friend did. She's in here a lot because she sells her stuff."
"You know, Shara's told me about her." Knowing a little about jewelry-making from clients who came into Yesteryear, she adlibbed, "I think she sells at the flea market and craft fairs."
Ruby pointed to a wall where about fifty business cards were pinned. "Courtney's card is up there with her cell number. She takes orders, too."
As if the information didn't matter at all, Amanda strolled over to the board. Her gaze scanned the cards until they fell on the one—the only one—with the first name of Courtney. "I'll add her number to my contact list in my phone and then I'll have it." Amanda did it quickly. Then she suddenly felt a presence by her side.
Max leaned close to her. "You're doing a great job."
"So are you," she murmured back. "Low key isn't usually your bag."
"You were right about how to play this. Let's see what else we can find out." Max dropped his arm around Amanda's shoulders and walked her back to the case. "So take your pick. Buy something for yourself and Shara...and Clare, too. Clare's our daughter," he said with a benign smile for Ruby.
"They're lucky to have parents and grandparents like you. Mine wouldn't think of buying me something like this."
Gillian made small talk with Ruby about her bracelets and rings while Amanda studied the case. She chose a strand of green turquoise in oblong shapes, along with a string of corral. In another case she found a strand of amethyst while Gillian selected rose quartz.
Max looked on as if he was interested...as if he cared, saying off-handedly, "Shara just met Courtney not so long ago. She said something about going over to her place today. Do you know if she lives around here?"
Ruby suddenly looked at Max differently. "Why would you want to know that?"
He shrugged. "You know how it is with kids running in crowds. We try to keep a close eye on Shara. We want to make sure her friends are good for her."
The wariness left Ruby's eyes. "Now you do sound like my parents. I don't know Courtney well. She just comes in here a lot. She's real nice. Buys a lot of silver, too." Ruby pointed to the sterling beads in cases along the back of the store.
"I really should get some of those, too, honey," A
manda said.
Max groaned. "I shouldn't have brought it up!"
Ruby laughed, then she looked up at Max. "Courtney lives with a couple of girls. They're all older than your granddaughter."
He nodded seriously. "Yeah, I'm a little concerned about that."
Amanda admired the way her ex-husband was playing this. He was showing more finesse now than he ever had. She was so proud of him she could burst.
Their gazes met and she remembered explicitly how they'd made love...how they'd fallen back in time...how their attraction had seemed new again.
Fifteen minutes later, they'd taken their purchases and investment in information and returned to the SUV. Once inside the vehicle, Gillian said to Amanda, "Give me the number. I'll text it to Jake and he can see what he can find out. Why don't we have some lunch. I know you two probably don't want to eat, but we don't know what's going to happen next, and it's best to be fortified for whatever comes. Did you think about what you're going to do if you find Shara and she doesn't want to go home with you?"
"We'll convince her that she has to." His voice was determined and Amanda had the feeling that he'd pick up Shara and kidnap her if he needed to. Max wouldn't let anything bad happen to his granddaughter if he could help it.
A half hour later, Amanda sat staring at her food at a deli near Old Town. They'd come to this part of Albuquerque thinking they could walk around while Jake investigated...while Amanda waited for Clare's phone call after her meeting with...Amy. Waiting. It seemed as if Amanda had spent her whole life waiting.
She was trying to chew a slice of pickle when her cell phone beeped. Max's gaze was filled with the same anxiety she was feeling as she fished the phone out of her purse and switched it on. She couldn't put it on SPEAKER in here, so she just answered the call. "How did it go?"
"You have to talk to her, Mom. I can't do this by myself."
Clare sounded so upset as if there were a multitude of reasons why. "Tell me what happened. Is she there with you now?"
"Oh, no. I left because... I left because— Mom, you and Dad have to talk to her. She said she was staying the night yet and that was it. Let me give you her room number."
Her Sister (Search For Love series) Page 10
