by Sylvie Kurtz
“She deserves more than that.”
“I’ll have the Bureau put Briana up in a safe house until the Phantom’s caught.”
He’d misunderstood. She shook her head. “Alone with strangers? I don’t think so.”
No, Lucas was wrong. A few sheltered places still existed in the world. People she could trust. It was time to fix past mistakes and make amends all around. She would take Briana to her childhood home, where her family could enfold her daughter in loving arms. “I know a place where she’ll be safe.”
Chapter 9
He glanced down at the list in his hands. Which one? His finger stopped at the Ms. Make-a-Wish Foundation. Yes, that sounded perfect. He was in the mood to make a wish.
He set the paper aside, picked up the Nadyenka Sapphire and rubbed the inch-wide stone with his thumb. Such beauty. Such power. Yes, a wish for a wish.
Quickly he typed a check, and signed it with his father’s signature. The computer printed an envelope, and he stamped it with a self-adhesive stamp. Then he placed his offering with the other envelope on the tray of outgoing mail. There, done. He removed the latex gloves and threw them in the wastebasket.
He grabbed the plastic bag containing the length of velvet he’d bought and headed toward the kitchen. As he entered the tiny room, Bijou lifted her head from her plush bed and attempted a wag with the stump of her tail.
“No fear, old girl, this will soon have you on your feet again.”
He raised the flaps on the butler table, laid out the velvet on its top, cut it expertly, folded the edges just so, then basted the whole with straight pins. Rummaging through the bag, he discovered he’d forgotten to buy needles.
“Cindy!”
The back door squealed open and Cindy came in, letting in the night’s cool breeze. “You don’t have to shout. I’m right here.”
“You really shouldn’t go outside,” he said, snipping a length of thread with his teeth.
“It’s dark. Who’s going to see me?”
“Do you have a needle anywhere?”
“This is your house, Will. If there’s a needle to be had, you should know where it is.”
“There’s no need to snipe.”
The house was his, but it had been years since he’d taken up needle and thread. He looked at the faded cupboards, the tarnished counters, the wheezy refrigerator, perusing their ordered contents with his mind’s eye. The house wasn’t much. Every room needed paint or wallpaper. The carpets were worn and the floors torn in places. From the outside, a passerby could easily mistake the structure as abandoned. But he hadn’t bought it for its looks; he’d bought it for its secrets. He smiled. Yes, of course, the loft. But it would have to wait. Cindy didn’t know about the other treasures. With deep reluctance, he placed the length of velvet on the table and flattened it with his palm.
Cindy drained an ice cube from her glass onto her hand and sucked it into her mouth. Drawing doodles in the condensation on her glass, she crunched methodically on the sliver of ice. “Is this really necessary, Will? Do we have to hide?”
“Yes.” He peeked into the refrigerator and took a chicken breast from the meat keeper. Diced with a few cooked carrots, it would make a tempting hash for Bijou. Vitamin A for her eyes. Protein for her muscles. He’d serve her a saucer of warm milk—calcium for her bones. “Surely you realize the FBI will take no time at all to get little Briana to talk. She saw you, Cindy. That makes you an accessory.” He shrugged. “If you hadn’t come home early, then all this could have been avoided. They would have no way to connect you with me.”
She slanted him a belligerent look. “How was I supposed to know?”
“Common sense, my dear.”
He’d been impressed with her intelligence, with the wide range of books she’d read, but he supposed book smart didn’t always translate to astuteness. No, the closest he’d encountered in that department was his Special Agent Vassilovich. Yet even he, given the proper distractions, could be fooled into ineptitude. A temporary lapse, he reminded himself.
As soon as Bijou was fit to travel, they would have to take a little vacation. He needed to change skins. As for Cindy, he’d have to lose her somewhere along the way.
* * *
Juliana hesitated at the Tiltons’ door. “Can I come in?”
Ella swung the door open, but didn’t say anything. The odor of baking banana bread permeated the air of the red-and-white kitchen.
“I’m sorry, Ella.” Eyes downcast, Juliana fiddled with her fingers. “Lucas didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“For twelve years I had to deal with people saying one thing and meaning another. Reading people’s real intentions is a habit you don’t lose. I know he was using my poor Albert to make a point.”
She sought Ella’s hand, wanting to comfort, not knowing how to console. “Ella…”
“Me, I don’t care about, but Albert, he’s already suffered enough for just being a decent man.”
“I know.” She squeezed Ella’s fingers. “You’re not really going to leave us, are you?”
Ella shrugged, removed her white-ruffled apron, and shuffled into the living room where the eleven o’clock news was just starting. She plunked into her padded rocking chair and searched the cluttered end table for her glasses.
“Briana cares for you. She would miss you terribly.”
Ella wiped at her eyes, adjusted the glasses. “We love the little princess, too.” She rummaged through the wooden barrel at her side and brought out a ball of blue wool, a crochet hook, and a half-finished granny square. “I think we need a little vacation. My sister’s been bugging Albert to come till her garden for her. She’s widowed and her arthritis has been acting up bad this year.”
A ripple of fear made Juliana shiver. If they left, would they come back? Let go, a tiny voice in her heart told her. “Maybe that would be best.” The words squeaked in her throat as she forced them out. “I’m going to be taking Briana to my brother’s for a few days.”
“It’s about time. For a smart woman, you can be stupid sometimes.”
Juliana’s brows rose. Never before had Ella uttered a harsh word to her. Ella was right, of course. It wasn’t Jonah’s fault her genes carried the hyperstormic atrophy gene. Why had she held a grudge against her brother for so long? Just because he’d told her she was being a fool at a vulnerable and emotional time?
“Where’s Albert?” Juliana asked, noting his absence for the first time.
“Out for his daily constitutional. He likes the stars. They were his hope when he was behind bars.”
How hard it must have been for Ella, all these years waiting for the man she loved to be set free. How hard it must have been for Albert, separated from the woman he loved enough to risk his own freedom. “The stars and you.”
Fingers working the wool with blinding rapidity, Ella smiled tenderly. “And me.”
Juliana leaned the side of her body against the door frame. “You love him very much.”
“More than anything in the world.”
Her fingers curled around the door’s molding. “Aren’t you afraid?”
“Of what?”
“Of losing him?” The question came out in a breathless whoosh.
Ella rested her crochet work in her lap and looked up. Her eyes shone with fervent belief. “I lost him for twelve years. I’m going to enjoy every second I can with him. And if the Lord sees fit to take my Albert first, then I’ll still have him in my heart until it’s my turn to go.”
Juliana nodded and looked away. She’d often marveled at the depth of Ella’s faith. Now, especially after learning just how much Ella had lost, it amazed her even more. Just as Juliana devoted her Sundays to Briana and their shared adventures, Ella devoted her Sundays to the church. “I don’t want you and Albert to go, Ella. I care for both of you very much.”
“I know you do, dear. I was angry. I’ll get over it. We’ll take a few days of vacation, then we’ll come back.”
The oven’s buz
zer sounded. “The scuffins are ready. Let me put some in a basket for you. Briana will want some for breakfast.”
Juliana followed Ella into the kitchen, relieved to have avoided disaster. “Losing you and Albert would have been more than losing loyal caretakers. It would have been losing dear friends. I don’t know that I could have filled the void, Ella. Since my mother died, I, well, I haven’t trusted many people.”
Ella overturned the hot banana scuffins—a cross between muffins and scones that were quite addictive—onto a cooling rack. “You trusted that young man long enough to let him give you a baby.”
“That was a mistake.” One she would not repeat no matter how her body sighed with pleasure at his touch. If she were to fall in love again, she would pick someone she could trust to be there in the morning—every morning.
“Since when is love a mistake?”
“Passion and love are two different things.” Passion blazed hot and fierce, then spent itself quickly. Love was for the long haul—steady and sure through thick and thin. “We were wrong for each other.”
Ella harrumphed.
“He needs to move,” Juliana tried to explain. “I need to stay put.”
Ella handed her a basket filled with scuffins covered with a red-and-white checkered cloth. “Do you know what a precious gift love is?”
Juliana tucked the corners of the cloth under the basket and hugged her friend with one arm. “That’s why you and Albert can’t leave us.”
“Your Lucas, he’s a good man, too,” Ella said, embracing Juliana in return. “But he’s wrong about one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“When you love someone, you always have somewhere safe to go.”
* * *
The next morning, Juliana opened the car door with real trepidation flowing through her veins. Her childhood home in Ste-Croix hadn’t changed much since she’d last been there six years ago. Pine and farmland scents drifted from the countryside on the breeze. Vines crept over the stone facade, giving the gray granite a gothic feel.
Standing before the carved wooden door, clutching Briana’s hand, feeling Lucas’s solid presence behind her, she found it hard to lift the brass knocker and let it fall. So many memories lived in this place. So much love… and so much pain.
The door opened silently on well-oiled hinges, and instead of her brother, a cheerful woman stood before her. Involuntarily, Juliana took a step back.
When the woman saw her, her eyes shone with pleased welcome and her smile widened. “Juliana, what an unexpected surprise! Jonah will be so happy.” A hand went to her chest. “I’m sorry, Jonah has spoken of you so often, and with the photo albums, I know who you are, but you have no idea who I am.” She extended a hand. “I’m Caitlynn O’Connell, your brother’s fiancée. Surely you’ve gotten our wedding invitation by now.”
The fancy envelope Briana had so admired, Juliana remembered. A wedding invitation from Jonah? When had he strayed long enough from his research to fall in love? Still flustered, she could think of nothing intelligent to say. “It came in the mail a few days ago.”
“It’ll be so nice to have a family reunion.” Caitlynn bent down and smiled at Briana. “And who’s this?”
Pride swelled Juliana’s chest. “This is Briana, my daughter.”
“She’s beautiful.” Caitlynn’s gaze took in Lucas. “And your husband?”
“No, just a friend. Lucas Vassilovich.”
Caitlynn’s eyes widened, but she hid her surprise quickly, and ushered them into the house, welcoming them all again. “Jonah’s in the library. I was allowing him just one phone call before I dragged him antiquing.”
“Antiquing? Jonah?” Juliana couldn’t help the disbelieving laughter. Jonah being pulled away from his precious computer sounded highly improbable. Granted it was Saturday, but that had never mattered to him before. It sounded as if Jonah had found himself a match in Caitlynn. Good for you!
“He needs a breather, and this auction has a couple of paperweights I know he won’t be able to resist,” Caitlynn said. She opened the library doors and marched right in. “Jonah, we have visitors!”
Jonah looked up from scribbling notes. His face looked ten years younger than it had when she’d last seen him. His cheeks held healthy color. His brow was no longer so deeply furrowed with pensive lines. He looked just has driven as ever, but also relaxed… and happy.
The whole house seemed to vibrate with renewed life, as if a weight had somehow been lifted from it. Because of Caitlynn?
“Juliana?”
She smiled uncertainly. “Hi, Jonah.”
Jonah strode to her and hugged her fiercely. “It’s been a while.”
“Too long. It’s my fault.”
“We’re both too stubborn.” He spotted Lucas. Both men sized each other up, reserving final judgment for later, it seemed. Then he spotted Briana and squeezed Juliana harder. “I’m sorry.”
She shook her head, pressing her lips together to keep from crying again as she relived the pain of her argument with Jonah about her decision to bear her child alone. She’d left in a rush of emotions and vowed never to come back. Stupid. Childish. So much time lost. “I’m the one who’s sorry.”
“I should have supported you better.”
“I should have let you.” She pushed away from his embrace and caught the storm of emotion in his gray eyes. She’d missed him, she realized. Missed their conversations, their arguments. Even in the midst of his fevered quest for a cure, he’d always made time for her.
“This is Briana, my daughter.” She crouched beside Briana and held her gently. “Briana, I’d like you to meet your Uncle Jonah. He’s my brother.”
“Hi,” Briana said shyly. “I smelled cows. Do you got cows?”
Jonah laughed. Hearing that sound from him again felt good. Behind her came muffled sounds of laughter from both Lucas and Caitlynn. “Briana!”
“That’s all right, Juli.” Jonah smiled down at his niece. “No cows, but horses. Two and a half of them.”
“Half? How can you have half a horse?”
“It’s a brand new baby horse.”
Jonah had played right into one of Briana’s fantasies. “Oooh! Can I see him?”
“We can arrange that.”
In the name of love, Juliana had condensed Briana’s world to something tight and contained. She’d wanted to protect her from loss, from pain. Instead, she’d isolated her, kept her from knowing the love of her own family.
“Hey, I’ll bet you’d like some cookies,” Caitlynn said, reaching for Briana’s hand. “I was wondering why I was so determined to whip up a batch this morning. I must have known you were coming.”
Briana looked expectantly at Juliana, torn between the promise of a treat and her newly hammered in fear of not talking to strangers. What a mess I’ve made of everything! “Go ahead,” Juliana said. “Save some for me, okay?”
“Okay.”
“Can I come, too?” Lucas asked, stepping forward, offering her privacy. “I’m in the mood for cookies.”
Briana smiled brightly and held out her hand for his. “Sure.”
When Caitlynn, Lucas, and Briana had left, chatting up a storm, Juliana turned back to the inside of the library and spotted the framed photographs on the mantel—an abbreviated history of her family’s life. She picked up a photograph of the five of them: her father, mother, Jonah, her brother Cameron—another lost member of their broken family—and her, on a picnic by the lake. Three months later, their father’s death would shatter their world. Nine months later, her mother would be dead, too. Her fingers tightened around the frame. She replaced it on the stone mantel.
“I need your help, Jonah.”
“Anything,” he said without hesitation. Just as she’d known he would. How foolish she’d been all these years.
* * *
Lucas held the kitchen door open. Juliana entered her Aubery home with the choppy movements of an automaton. Leaving Briana behind had been h
ard for her. She’d put on a happy face for Briana and held it in place throughout lunch, an afternoon exploration of the stables, dinner, and an extended bedtime good-bye.
She’d given up her pretense on the long ride home. They’d said nothing—she lost in her grief; he floundering in an unfamiliar sea of emotions, pulled in opposing directions by reason and heart. He’d gleaned a new understanding of Juliana, and didn’t quite know what to make of it.
Patience was easy when there was a plan to follow, an objective to obtain. But this, he had no experience with. Anger and longing. Regret and hope. Duty and desire. He didn’t know where all the players would end up, where he fit in the picture, what was best for any of them.
The taste of loss sat heavy and metallic in his mouth, and somehow seemed inevitable. Impatience jittered through him, demanding release. He wanted to run, he wanted to kick, he wanted to butt heads. But his schedule had not allowed him the pleasure of joining a soccer league in a long time.
Most surprising of all, he wanted to make love to Juliana with a fierceness he hadn’t thought he could feel, given her betrayal. He was definitely losing his edge.
She took off her jacket, draped it on the back of a chair, and stood looking about her as if searching for something.
She’d tried to hide her tears from him during the ride back, but he’d seen her sad reflection against the night-blackened window, the unmistakable sheen of tears wink at him every time passing headlights illuminated the car’s interior. He’d seen her wince at the Tiltons’ darkened half of the duplex when they’d arrived, and felt her sense of cold isolation echo inside him.
He should leave, leave her alone with her grief, but he couldn’t. The need to connect was urgent, critical. It was as if a pane of fractured glass hung between them waiting for a push to send the pieces in a thousand different directions, or a frame to hold all the jagged pieces together. As if his future, theirs, depended on whatever would he would say or do next.
Seemingly lost, Juliana moved about the kitchen, shoulders slumped, body slack. She zeroed in on the coffee maker, and hands shaking, made a mess of trying to get a pot started. She was trying valiantly to hold herself together, but falling apart before his eyes.
