Keeping Katie (A Mother's Heart Book 1)

by Patricia Keelyn

  Copyright 2015 © Patricia Van Wie

  ISBN: 978-1-940547-93-0

  Cover Design by Rogenna

  Sweettoheat.blogspot.com

  Images Licensed by peopleimages.com and bigstock.com in accordance with their standard agreements.

  All rights reserved. No part of this may be reproduced in any manner whatsoever without permission except in the case of brief quotation embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the authors’ imaginations or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to appropriate site and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of these authors.

  Table of Contents

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  EPILOGUE

  ONCE A WIFE

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  PROLOGUE

  Maura waited.

  Sitting in the dark, a single backpack at her feet, she watched the clock as its hands inched forward. Still, when the soft chimes declared the hour, she flinched.

  Midnight. Time to go … or stay.

  Pushing the last thought aside, she rose from the couch and moved toward the back of the house, to Katie. As she slipped into the child’s bedroom, emotion collided with purpose. The room was cozy and warm, softly lighted by a Mickey Mouse night-light. She took a moment to absorb the familiarity of the room, recognizing in the shadows the things Katie loved: her picture books, her dolls, the Fisher-Price kitchen set, and the dancing ponies painted on the wall.

  Moving toward the bed, Maura stooped to pick up a stuffed kitten and return it to its proper place on a nearby shelf. She stood there for a time, arranging, straightening, cherishing these last few minutes in this room. She hated what she had to do, and wondered how Katie would react. How would she feel in the morning when no army of soft toys greeted her awakening? Sighing, Maura turned away and went to her daughter’s bed.

  Katie, beautiful Katie.

  Maura sat down beside her daughter and thought how wonderful it must be to sleep so soundly. But then, three-year-olds were usually oblivious to the dangers the world held. She reached out and brushed a stray curl away from Katie’s cheek, feeling the soft baby skin with the backs of her fingers. Even Dave’s death last year went almost unnoticed by the child. So innocent, so precious.

  Absently, she reached up and touched her own unfamiliar crop of short hair. Would Katie notice?

  Enough, Maura, she silently chastised herself. Get on with it.

  Reaching for the clothes she’d left lying on the end of the bed, she began to dress the sleeping child. Katie barely stirred, murmuring and occasionally turning away from her mother’s ministrations. It was only as she lifted the child onto her lap, slipping a warm winter jacket around her shoulders, that Katie woke up enough to recognize her mother.

  “It’s okay, sweetie,” Maura whispered. “Mommy and Katie are going on a trip.” She kissed the top of the child’s head while slipping first one tiny arm, then the other, into the jacket. “Like last summer. Remember?”

  Katie nodded sleepily and snuggled closer against her mother.

  “Here, let me zip you up.” Maura shifted the child so she could get at the front of the jacket.

  “Not cold,” Katie mumbled, twisting herself against Maura’s chest.

  “I know, sweetie,” she said. “But it’s cold outside.”

  “Davey coming, too?”

  Maura smiled and reached behind her to pick up a stuffed dog. Putting the toy into Katie’s hands, she said, “Of course Davey can come.”

  The drive to the railway station was short, and Katie slept the whole way. From there, Maura planned to leave her car and walk the seven blocks to the Greyhound bus station. Under normal circumstances, it would have been a short, pleasant walk. But not tonight. Even Miami was chilly in January, especially at 1:00 a.m. Carrying a backpack and a sleeping toddler would be no picnic.

  Reaching over to undo the safety belt of Katie’s car seat, Maura hesitated. Katie slept so peacefully, unaware that her world was about to change. Maura pulled away, letting her head fall back against the seat.

  How could she go through with this?

  Everything she knew and loved was here. Nursing, the career she’d paid dearly to pursue and still loved after ten years. Her friends, those who had stood by her these last months. Her home. A small three-bedroom house that she and David had bought the day they found out about Katie. It sat silent and empty now. And David? Buried here, where they’d lived and loved and hoped and cried until the day Katie had come into their lives.

  How could she leave all this?

  The iridescent numbers on the car clock caught her eye. One o’clock. It was now or never. Maura looked back at Katie again.

  How could she not?

  This time she didn’t hesitate. Maura Anderson was dead. From now on, she’d be Maureen Adams. Unlatching Katie’s safety belt, she thought, It doesn’t matter. The only thing that matters is Katie. And no one is going to take her away from me.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Alan Parks stepped off the curb and planted his five-foot-eleven-inch frame squarely in front of two hundred and twenty pounds of oversize teenager. “Where do you think you’re going, Joe?”

  Startled, Joey Simmons barely avoided a head-on collision. “Damn, Sheriff, where’d you come from?”

  “The important question here is, where do you think you’re going?”

  For a moment, Joey met Alan’s gaze, then glanced at the truck he’d been heading for. Alan watched the play of emotion that crossed the boy’s face—first surprise, then anger and the urge to challenge, before he turned away guiltily. In truth, Alan felt sorry for the boy, but this was the third time this month he’d been warned. Things were getting out of hand.

  “I was just gonna get something out of the truck, Sheriff,” Joey said. “I wasn’t gonna drive it.”

  “Don’t lie to me, boy.”

  Joey dropped his gaze again, sliding his hands into the pockets of his overalls.

  “This is your last warning.”

  “But, Sheriff—”

  “No buts.” Alan moved in closer. “Next time I catch you driving that truck, I’m going to land your butt in the state juvenile home. Then I’m going to throw your daddy in jail for contributing to the delinquency of a minor.”

  Joey took a step back, but Alan followed him. “So, you tell that old cuss he either runs his own errands into town or finds someone of age to drive his truck.”

  “Sheriff, you know Daddy ain’t fit to drive.”

  “I know your daddy spends most of his time inside a bottle. Now, he needs to sober up or get someone else to do his driving.”

  “But there ain’t no one else, Sheriff. And I’m gonna be sixteen in a few months.”
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  Alan was sympathetic to this man-child caught between his daddy and the law. But the law was the law. “You aren’t sixteen yet, and you can’t drive that truck without a license. Now, go on.” Alan motioned toward one of his deputies, who’d been watching from across the street. “Ray there will drive you home. Tell your daddy to get Widow Cellar to bring him in if he wants his truck back.

  “And by the way …” Alan turned and reached into the cab of the pickup truck behind him. Pulling the rifle off the rack, he opened the gun and emptied the cartridges into his hand. “Remind your daddy that hunting season’s six months away yet.”

  “Come on, Joey.” Ray laid a hand on the boy’s arm and motioned toward the police cruiser. Joey glared at the deputy and shook the man’s hand from his arm, then turned back toward Alan. Once again, Alan braced himself, watching the boy’s raw emotions rip across his features. And once again, he breathed a sigh of relief as Joey’s anger died and was replaced with frustration. Then he turned and followed Ray to the waiting car.

  “Wonder how much longer before that boy realizes he outweighs you by a good thirty pounds.” The comment came from Ned, another of Alan’s deputies.

  Alan grinned to hear his own thoughts spoken aloud. “Well, let’s hope not for a while.”

  “I wouldn’t count on it.” Ned crossed his arms and rested a hip against the truck’s fender. “You ask me, he’s got a mean streak like his old man, just waiting to explode.”

  Alan threw a surprised glance toward his deputy. Ned wasn’t one to make snap judgments. “Has Joe been throwing his weight around with the other boys?”

  “Caught him the other day. Had Judge Perrill’s kid pinned up against a wall.”

  Alan snorted. “Young Bradley probably deserved it.”

  “Yup, he probably did, but I hate to see it. Joey’s too big, and he ain’t had an easy life.”

  “Yeah.” There was no doubt about it, life had been tough on the Simmons boys. Ever since their mama up and ran off some five years ago, old man Simmons had been living in a bottle. Lord only knew how much of his anger ended up on those boys’ backsides.

  “Yeah,” he repeated more to himself than to Ned. “I guess it’s time I take a drive out there to see just what’s going on.” With a sigh, he walked away from the truck. “For now, though, I’m going over to Lynn’s to catch something to eat.”

  Ned nodded. “Gonna check out our newest resident?”

  “Yeah. Hopefully she’ll be easier to deal with than young Joe.”

  “Probably didn’t have bus fare to Seattle.”

  “You’re probably right. But I’m just going to make sure.”

  Six days in Wyattville, and life had already settled into a routine. Every morning, Maureen rose at five, kissed her sleeping daughter goodbye, and headed downtown to Lynn’s Cafe, where she worked the breakfast and lunch shift.

  The mornings passed quickly. A slow but steady stream of customers kept both Maureen and Lynn busy. By nine, the rush ended, and Maureen would take a few minutes to call Katie. Usually she would be finishing breakfast while Rita fussed over her. Then, after Maureen’s call, Rita would deliver Katie to the babysitter across the street, where she would stay until her mother got off work at two.

  For the hundredth time since arriving in Wyattville, Maureen thanked God for Rita Ember. The woman was a saint. Just renting them a room would have been enough to earn Maureen’s eternal gratitude, but Rita’s generosity didn’t stop there. She even found a neighbor eager to watch Katie while Maureen worked. Then she helped them settle into their room, finding this and that to make the small space more comfortable.

  Maureen closed her eyes and let herself hope—for just a moment—that maybe she’d found a place where she and Katie could stay. It was so quiet here, so remote. Who would ever think to look for her in this place, a little speck of a town on the eastern slopes of the Washington Cascade mountains?

  “Hey, Lynn, what have you got for a hungry man this morning?”

  The rough male voice, followed by the slam of the front door, shattered Maureen’s thoughts. She looked toward the commotion and her stomach took a sudden turn.

  Lynn grinned and slipped an arm around a trim male waist in a law enforcement uniform. “Well now,” she said, “that depends on just what that man was hungry for.”

  The man’s smile broadened, and he gave Lynn a quick squeeze. “How about a couple eggs, over easy, and a plateful of that ham you keep back there. And plenty of coffee.”

  Lynn reached up and pinched his cheek. “You got it, handsome.” Laughing, she released him and headed for the kitchen.

  Only then could Maureen move. With trembling hands, she turned back to her work, telling herself there was nothing to worry about. So the man was a police officer. Towns everywhere had them. She had to stop panicking every time she saw one.

  Alan lowered himself onto the stool closest to the door and dropped his hat on the counter. He idly passed a hand through his hair while glancing around. With a nod or a wave, he acknowledged the other people in the café. Friends or neighbors all, he knew every face but one. Lynn returned, and he gratefully accepted the coffee she set in front of him.

  “Thanks, gorgeous,” he said with a wink. As always, she returned his smile with one of her own before moving on to other things.

  Relishing his first sip, he let his gaze wander to the booths lining the back wall of the restaurant. The woman he’d come to see—the one unfamiliar face in the place—cleared dirty dishes from an empty booth.

  He watched as she loaded the plastic tray and then leaned over to wipe off the table.

  Not much to look at was his first thought. Too skinny. Her jeans looked at least a size too big, and an oversize T-shirt hid whatever other feminine attributes she might possess. She looked as though she could use a good meal or two.

  Lynn interrupted his thoughts with a plate of ham and eggs, cooked just the way he liked them. He smiled in appreciation, not only at the breakfast but at Lynn’s lush curves. Now that was the way a woman should be built, he thought. Soft and round.

  He’d explored Lynn’s curves a time or two—years ago. For a while, when they were in high school, the two of them had been an item. Lots of people had assumed they’d eventually marry. Then he’d gone off to Seattle, and when he’d come back, well, things just weren’t the same. Still, between him and Lynn, there would always be something special.

  As soon as she left, Alan’s gaze roamed back to the other woman. She was a drifter, all right. She wore her dark hair short, and her skin was pale as snow. He wondered why she’d decided to stop in Wyattville. Probably, as Ned suggested, she’d run out of money. It was just like Rita Ember to take in a stray, especially one with a child.

  Yet, as he watched her, something didn’t fit. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but something was wrong. The answer was there, just out of reach, nudging at his mind. What was it? With an inward shrug, he pushed the thought aside. He knew better than to try to force it. The answer would come to him—eventually.

  Maureen felt his gaze on her. For the past half-hour, as he’d finished off the huge breakfast Jill brought him, he’d watched her. He’d spoken to everyone else in the place, flirting with the women, talking crops or hunting with the men. But he watched her.

  She avoided him, taking care of other customers, wishing she could fade into the surroundings.

  Maybe she’d made a mistake stopping in a small town. It would be easier to disappear in a place where no one knew or cared who their neighbors were. She should have gone on to Seattle, the way she’d planned. If only it hadn’t been so pretty the day she and Katie got off the bus here, with all the apple trees in bloom. They’d been traveling for more than three months, never staying anywhere for more than a couple of weeks. Maureen was tired and Katie cranky. They ate lunch at Lynn’s, and Maureen saw the Help Wanted sign. It seemed like fate. Now she wasn’t so sure.

  The morning crowd began to thin out, but not him. M
aureen wanted to call Rita and talk to Katie. She needed to hear her daughter’s voice. She needed to hear it desperately. Not yet, she told herself. Another fifteen minutes.

  Why didn’t he leave?

  Then he lifted his empty coffee cup in her direction, and there was no escape. Fighting the urge to turn and look for Lynn, Maureen picked up a full pot of coffee and headed toward him.

  “New in town,” he said, watching the steaming black coffee she poured into his cup.

  “Yes,” she answered, willing an unfelt calmness to her voice.

  He picked up the sugar dispenser and sweetened his coffee. “Planning to stay awhile?”

  Maureen shrugged, remembering the carefully practiced script she’d worked out for questions such as this. “That depends.”

  He looked at her closely then, straight and hard, his fathomless dark eyes seeking answers. She knew then she’d made a mistake. No, two mistakes. The first was thinking she and Katie would be safe in Wyattville. The second was in her evaluation of this man. This was no small-town, bumbling idiot of a sheriff—although why she’d ever thought this would be true escaped her. Nor was he the vacuous pretty boy she’d suspected when he’d waltzed into the diner, winking and flirting with Lynn. Intelligence lurked in his eyes. And danger. A danger that went far beyond what his badge threatened.

  A needle of fear pricked her spine, chilling her. She wanted to run, but she knew that would be a mistake. She held firm, instinct telling her that the worst thing to do when confronted with a predator was to flee.

  Then he smiled and lifted his cup to his lips. “Where are you from, sweet thing?”

  Maureen couldn’t answer. Not at first. As quickly as she’d been struck by the cunning in his eyes, it had vanished. With a smile, a wink, and a chauvinistic endearment, he’d hidden it. But the threat lingered. She wouldn’t allow herself to think she’d imagined it. She suspected he didn’t like people to see too much.

  “Chicago,” she answered finally, easily, knowing she, too, wasn’t what she seemed. And she had far better reasons than this man to keep her identity hidden. But she couldn’t keep the irritation out of her voice as she added, “And my name’s Maureen.” She paused, smiling to soften her words. “Maureen Adams. And you, Officer?”