Some Kind of Wonderful

by Maureen Child

  Without them... she couldn't even imagine the emptiness in her heart, the silence in her life.

  Maybe she was just pumping her balloon up so high that when it popped she would make a lovely spatter on the ground far beneath her. But dammit, she'd had little enough in her life to lift a balloon toward. Shouldn't she appreciate it while she had it? Shouldn't she get all the joy out of life she could?

  Liz jumped in her sleep, her tiny body jerking in the carrier and Carol dragged her thoughts away from her own swirl of emotions and soothed the baby with a whispered hush. What did babies dream? she wondered. Did they still remember heaven? Did they dream of games yet to play? Knees yet to skin? Hearts yet to break? "Don't worry, sweetie," she murmured, "I won't let anything hurt you." She leaned over and dropped a soft kiss on the baby's forehead, then reached down to pet and soothe an anxious Quinn.

  Still smiling, Carol looked into the dog's big brown eyes. "You're in love with her, too, aren't you?"

  The big dog whined, but didn't move from his position directly beneath the baby seat. Clearly, he took his responsibilities as self-appointed nanny seriously.

  "Now if only you and Jack could call a truce," she muttered with a shake of her head.

  "Miss—" An impatient voice sounded out from the corner where angels of all sizes and shapes were perched, hung, and stacked to best advantage. "How much is the little glass angel with the crooked halo?"

  Before she could answer, an older woman at the opposite side of the store spoke up. "If you wouldn't mind, I'd like to take a closer look at this music box. The one with the dancing snowman."

  Carol looked from one end of the store to the other, then, sighing, scooped Liz out of her carrier and cradled her close. People had been in and out all day. Friends, customers, and just a few slipping into the air-conditioned building long enough to build up a resistance to the heat. Business was good, so she shouldn't complain. But she sure could have used Lacey's help today. Going first to the angel woman, she flashed a smile, and mentally rang up sales.

  Journal entry:

  I saw her again today. The baby. Liz. I wouldn 7 have named her Liz, but it seems to suit her.

  Carol is so excited because she gets to keep Liz for good, now. She says because the mother wasn 't found, Liz has become a ward of the court. Sounds official. But just because I didn't tell anybody about the baby, that doesn y t mean I'm not still her mother.

  You can't change that.

  No one can.

  I'll always be her real mother.

  I want to be her mother.

  And Liz should know that.

  "Can you believe it's almost time to pack?" Peggy pushed her sunglasses higher up her nose and shot a quick look at Lacey. "I mean, we'll have to be there in August and that's just next month."

  "Weird, huh?" Lacey asked and reached for her Diet Coke. It was warm and flat, the ice having melted an hour ago. But neither one of them wanted to give up their prime slice of beach for a long walk to the deli for a refill. "I can't imagine not living in Christmas."

  "/ can," Peggy said with dramatic relish. She leaned over the edge of her sand chair and gripped Lacey's forearm. "Think about it, Lace. You and me. In a dorm at Long Beach State." She lifted her dark glasses and wiggled her eyebrows. "Hours away from any watchful eyes. It's gonna be so great."

  "Yeah," Lacey said, fighting back the twist of nervousness nibbling at the bottom of her stomach. She fiddled

  with her straw, moving it up and down through the plastic lid on her drink until it screeched like a demon.

  Peggy looked at everything like an adventure about to happen. Lacey envied that ability and figured it was probably more fun than having your stomach swarm with butterflies every time you tried something new.

  "It will," she said, determined to believe it.

  This was everything Lacey had worked and studied for. A chance to go to college somewhere new. Where no one knew her. Where no one would care where she was from—only who she was. She could reinvent herself, be whoever she wanted to be.

  The only trouble with that plan was, she wasn't entirely sure just who that someone was.

  The sun scorched the sand and the tourists intent on getting a tan they could brag about when they went home. Most of the locals skipped the beach on weekends rather than fight for chair and blanket space. But time was short, as Peggy said, and every chance they got, the girls headed for the beach like bees to flowers.

  It was all so familiar and sort of comforting, Lacey thought, letting her gaze sweep the shore and the ocean just beyond. Kids raced in and out of the water, chasing and then running from the incoming tide with squeals of pleasure that echoed in the still air. From not too far off, a radio blasted some head-banger rock, and the lifeguard in his tower scoped out the waves, looking for someone to rescue.

  Summer in Christmas.

  Nothing ever changed here. But it all felt different anyway. Maybe because she was starting to say goodbye to it, if that made any sense.

  "I bet we'll be roommates," Peggy was saying, drawing Lacey's attention back to the conversation. "And if

  we're not, we could maybe switch with the people we are rooming with so we can be together."

  "That'd be good." Peggy Reilly wasn't afraid of anything. Since fourth grade, the tiny redhead had been leading the parade, with Lacey more than happy to follow along after. They made a good team. Peggy was crazy enough to ensure they had fun and Lacey was nervous enough to make sure they were safe.

  But on her first foray out into the big, wide world, Lacey would just as soon have the brave and stalwart Peggy as a roommate. Adventure was one thing, but comfort was nothing to be sneezed at.

  "I'm telling you, Lace," Peggy said, tipping her head back briefly to feel the sun on her face. "I'm ready for school. It'll be a vacation. Ever since my sister Eileen had her baby, the Reillys have been working me to death."

  "Oh, shut up, you're just as nuts about the baby as the rest of them."

  "Sure," Peggy said with a grin and a wink. "But honest to God, they're all rushing over to help Eileen and they're dumping the other kids on me. 'Don't want the new baby to catch a cold,'" she mimicked with a sigh. "So I'm the designated baby-sitter, and let me tell you, that Mike?" She shook her head. "He's a little pain in the ass."

  "I like him."

  "Me, too," Peggy said and shrugged a bit. "But he's not nearly sneaky enough to get away with all the stuff he tries to pull."

  Lacey felt another twinge of envy for Peggy's big, loud family. She might complain, but there was nothing she liked better than to be in the middle of a shouting match

  with her sisters, her brothers, and all of the assorted nieces and nephews.

  "And speaking of babies," Peggy said with a sigh, "Jack says they're no closer to finding the mother of little Liz."

  "Where's he been looking?"

  "Everywhere," Peggy said. "He told Sean that he'd called in favors up and down the coast, checking on hospitals and clinics, looking for a woman who'd recently given birth. Nothing."

  "I asked a friend of mine over at Chandler High," Lacey said, remembering the conversation she'd had just last week. "Anna says that nobody at her school's been getting fatter and then suddenly losing weight. So I don't know where else to look."

  "I know." Peggy pushed her hair back from her face and squinted into the sunlight. A small, evil smile curved her lips as she admitted, "I was kind of hoping Jennifer Stephens would turn out to be the mom... you know, Miss Rich Bitch goes to Europe for a semester?"

  Lacey nodded, enjoying the image. "That would have been good."

  "But she's so bony, no way did she have a baby recently."

  Lacey tugged her sweatshirt down over the tops of her shorts. Not that she was self-conscious or anything; after all, she'd lost a lot of weight in the last few months. But still... thinking about Jennifer's size six body was enough to make anybody a little less than confident.

  "Anyway," Peggy said, shaking her hair back fro
m her face, "leaving my fascinating family and abandoned babies out of the conversation ... Sophomore year, I'm thinking we should get an off-campus apartment." She

  slurped at her own Coke until the straw noisily sucked air. "Can you just see us? Down in Long Beach, just us? So great." She laughed to herself. "Just think. No big brothers sticking their noses in. No more cleaning hotel rooms or scrubbing the restaurant kitchen. No more working at Carol's for you. We can get jobs down on the pier or something. Be at the beach every day, far from anybody who knows us. Just you, me, and a campus full of new and interesting guys."

  Peggy made it sound as wonderful as they'd always planned it would be. The two of them had been waiting for this chance for what felt like forever.

  And now it was almost here.

  Away from home. From family. From everything familiar. It's what she'd always wanted, Lacey thought as Peggy kept talking, expanding on her plans until they took on the size and scope of an invasion. Lacey hardly heard her anymore.

  Nerves rattled around inside her and woke up the butterfly brigade napping in her stomach. Instantly, they swarmed, fluttering wings and flying in formation until she had to swallow hard or lose her Coke, right there on the beach.

  Everything would be all right, she told herself firmly and slapped one hand to her stomach, trying to ease those butterflies into going back to sleep.

  Ed Thompson stretched back in his recliner and settled his butt into the cavern he'd dug out in the soft, worn leather. Nothing like a man's own chair for comfort.

  He looked up at Jack Reilly and told himself that the young fella needed to learn a little something about relaxing. Looked as tightly strung as Ed's wife Wanda.

  And nobody was as tense as Wanda. Except that she had been unwinding some these past couple of weeks.

  "How's everything down in town?" Ed prompted, getting down to the business of the visit.

  "Fine. Normal." Jack moved around the den, scanning framed photos and certificates hanging on the wall and then idly thumbing through fishing magazines stacked on the coffee table.

  "No problems?" Ed narrowed his gaze on the younger man.

  Jack snorted. "Cheryl Stephens filed a complaint. Says people are spreading rumors that her girl Jen is the mother of that baby."

  Ed shook his head and huffed out a disgusted breath. "Abandoned babies in Christmas. Never thought I'd see it." He sucked in a gulp of air and blew it out again in a rush. Then he picked up the TV remote to have something to do with his hands. "But Cheryl's spitting into the wind. Can't stop a rumor with a complaint. Just adds fuel to it. Folks figure she's got something to hide, they'll just dig deeper. Nothing people like better than to talk about somebody who isn't them."

  "What I said," Jack admitted and sat down on the arm of the red and blue plaid couch. "It's not Jen, anyway. The girl was in school in Paris. I checked. Talk will die down eventually."

  "When something juicier comes along."

  'True." Jack held his baseball cap between his hands and turned it incessantly, front to back, front to back. "Elves' Hardware had a break-in," he said conversationally.

  "A burglary?" Ed came halfway out of his chair before Jack grinned at him.

  'Tommy Henderson forgot his car keys when he closed up and then broke the window in the back door to

  get 'em. Old man Saugus nearly had a heart attack when that burglar alarm went off." Then he winced as if just remembering that Ed's heart attack was what had brought Jack back to town in the first place.

  Ed waved a brawny hand at him. "My heart's fine. Just a little angina they called it. No need to walk soft around me."

  "Then you'll be coming back soon?"

  Now, was that disappointment or eagerness in the boy's eyes? Ed wondered. The flash of emotion had come and gone so quickly, he hadn't been able to identify it in time to recognize it. "Wanted to talk to you about that."

  Something new flashed in Jack's eyes and this emotion Ed spotted instantly. Suspicion.

  "What?"

  "Wanda and me have been talking about getting one of those RVs and hitting the road."

  "Huh?"

  "I'm gonna retire, Jack." Hell, it didn't even hurt to say the word out loud anymore. It had stuck in his throat up until a week ago. As if admitting he was retirement age was saying he was too damn old. But a few afternoons in bed with Wanda had proven to both of them that there was fire in the old goat yet.

  And dammit, he didn't want to waste what time he had left sitting behind a desk, riding herd on tourists and parking citations. "It's time," he said shortly, figuring Jack didn't need to hear his reasons. "And I want you to take the job permanent."

  Jack shot to his feet as if someone had lit a rocket under his ass.

  Ed talked fast. "I already spoke to the city council, they're all for it. Ken's a good deputy, but he hasn't got the

  patience or the experience to deal with the townies or the tourists. And Hoover... hell, he'd as soon fish as sleep."

  "No."

  "Don't say no yet, dammit." Ed pushed himself more upright and glared at the younger man. Hard to have a good argument when you were practically stretched out lying down. "I've known you since you were a boy. All you ever wanted to be was a police officer. You were a damn good one too, Jack."

  " 'Were' being the operative word."

  "Bullshit." Ed slammed one closed fist down on the arm of the recliner. He knew the story. Was one of the few people in town who did. Probably just him and the Reillys. But when he'd offered this temporary job to Jack, he'd done it with all the information he could gather. He'd called LAPD and gotten the inside scoop from Jack's lieutenant. And the rage he'd felt on Jack's behalf hadn't settled yet. The boy had taken a hard hit that long-ago night, that was for sure. But you couldn't build your life around the events of one single night.

  "That was a mess down there, no mistake," Ed said shortly. "But you did what you had to do and you've got nothing to be ashamed of."

  "I'm not staying," Jack insisted. "I can't."

  "Can't or won't. Only you know the truth." Ed shoved his recliner back a notch, settling back into the comfortable sling of leather and sprung coils. "You think about it. You've got a little time yet."

  "How long?" The question came through gritted teeth.

  "I'm not officially retired for another two weeks, so I'm holding you to our deal," Ed warned, shaking his remote control at Jack. He scowled at the damn thing, then dropped it into his lap. "You agreed to take over for me and that's what you'll do."

  "Two weeks."

  "That's right," Ed said tightly, knowing Jack would never go back on his word. "And you do some thinking, Jack. This town needs you."

  "Just get better, okay?" Jack muttered, not even replying to that last statement.

  "I will. And so should you" Ed said.

  But Jack was already headed for the hallway that would lead him to the front door.

  "This town needs you, Jack," Ed called after him, "and you need this town, you damn hardheaded—"

  He was gone.

  Ed flopped back in the recliner and told himself he should have tried for more finesse. But there were times for smooth-talking and there were times to just say the truth flat-out. And dammit, it was past time somebody told Jack Reilly to stop paying for someone else's crime.

  "Is Jack gone?" Wanda said as she stepped into the room wearing her new blue satin floor-length robe.

  "Yeah, the obstinate, stubborn, foolish—" Ed's eyes widened as Wanda pulled open the edges of that slinky robe to display smooth skin and—Ed's breath caught hard in his chest—black stockings and a matching black bra and panties.

  She walked toward him, a slow, secretive smile on her face, and Ed felt his heart jump in his chest.

  "Who said retirement was boring?" he muttered as his wife of forty years cuddled in on his lap, took the remote control and turned off the TV.

  Jack stepped outside, closing the Thompsons' front door behind him. He sucked in a long, deep breath an
d felt the hot, still punch of summer hit him hard. Up here on the

  hillside, there was no ocean breeze to take the sting out of the heat. Even if there had been, though, it wouldn't have helped. He felt as if he couldn't breathe. Couldn't draw enough air into his lungs to get his body to move, his mind to think.

  Permanent.

  Hell.

  He scooped his hair back from his forehead, then settled his cap on his head, pulling the brim down low, to shield his eyes from the glare of the sun. He stared down the hill toward Christmas and told himself he'd walked into this with his eyes open. Doing a friend a favor. Well, no good deed goes unpunished.

  It felt as though steel jaws were snapping closed around his ankles. He was trapped. By family. By friends. By good old Ed. By Carol.

  He'd come home temporarily and all of a sudden it was as if he was in a labyrinth and couldn't find the way out. Didn't even know if there was a way out. Or if he should try to find it.

  Down there, in the town, life moved on pretty much as it did every day. Nothing really changed in Christmas. The only thing that really changed were the people living in it. God knew, he'd changed. This had been his home. And now, Christmas was like an old suit. He wasn't sure it still fit, and even if it did, he didn't know if it would look good on him anymore.

  "Permanent," he muttered, and if there was a flicker of excitement... eagerness in him for the word, he ignored it. He hadn't come back here to stay. He couldn't stay. Could he? No. He hunched his shoulders as if ducking a responsibility he no longer wanted. He stalked toward the 4Runner with the gold star and the word "sheriff" on the doors. Opening the driver's side, he climbed in,

  turned the key, and hit the AC. Cold air slapped at him and he turned his face directly into the vent. Hell, he needed all the help he could get, to cool off before facing the town again.

  Carol stopped at the grocery store after closing the shop for the day. With sunset, most of the heat had slipped away, and the sky was a burst of rose and peach that dipped down into the ocean at the horizon.

  Two kids on skateboards whizzed past her, the steel wheels on their boards roaring like lions loose on the street. She left Quinn outside the market, and carrying Liz, stepped inside. She only had a few things to pick up, so she walked straight toward the aisle with the baby food, grabbed a can of formula, then walked to the last aisle for a package of spaghetti.