by Sharon Sala
“Justine, tonight you can be first.”
It was a blessing for the child that the sedation he’d given her had already taken effect. She never knew when he took off her clothes, or carried her into the bathroom and lowered her in the tub. She did not have to suffer the indignity of a stranger’s hands upon her body or wonder about the look in his eyes.
Reese Arnaud stared down at the face on the sketch pad, wondering how accurate a child’s description was going to be in aiding their investigation. In a way, the image was almost comical. The man Hope described had a wide mouth and thick lips, with short, blond bangs cut straight across his forehead. His big, round eyes were set in an even rounder face. And his teeth. Hope had been adamant about his teeth. The spaces between the teeth were definitely unique. No wonder she’d thought he was a clown.
It dawned on Reese as he fixed the image in his mind that, if the man was the one they were looking for, he might very well be using the oddity of his features to his advantage. Most children loved clowns. What better way to approach a child than with humor?
“So, Hope, what do you think?”
“It’s the man, Uncle Reese. It’s the man who touched my hair and told me I was pretty.”
The connotation behind the words make Reese sick, but he hid his feelings as he leaned forward and gave her a big hug.
“Thank you so much, honey. You’ve been a big help.”
“You’re welcome,” she said, and then looked up at Mary. “Mommy, may I go outside and play on my swing until supper?”
“Yes.”
With the innocence of youth, and unaware of the dangers she had skirted, Hope was out the back door, leaving the adults speechless.
“Just like that,” Daniel said.
Mary leaned her head against Daniel’s shoulder. “She’s little, and thank God, was unaffected by the incident.”
Daniel looked at Reese. “What are the odds that the man Hope saw is the man you’re looking for?”
Reese shrugged. “Probably far less than we’d like, but we can’t afford to ignore anything.”
“If there’s something else we can do, don’t hesitate to ask.”
“Will do,” Reese said. “Kelly, pack it up. I want to get back to the department and get this out to the officers.”
“Are you going to go public with the picture?” Mary asked.
“We can’t…at least not yet. If he’s who we’re looking for, we don’t want to give him a chance to run.”
“Yes, of course. I wasn’t thinking. I just want this man found.”
“Thanks to your daughter, it might happen.”
Mary walked the two officers to the door and then stopped Reese just before he exited.
“Will you let us know what happens?”
“You know we will.”
Mary stood and watched until they drove away. As she started back in the house, a car backfired at the corner of the block. She jumped and spun, her eyes wide and startled. Only after she realized what she’d heard, did she start to relax. She stepped inside, scanning the area with a nervous glance as if she half-expected to find danger lurking nearby, then she shut the door and went back into the kitchen.
Daniel was standing at the window, watching Hope play. She put her arms around his waist and laid her head in the middle of his back. As they stood together in silence, she felt a shudder run through him.
“Daniel?”
“What?”
“What are you thinking?”
“How do we keep her safe?” Then he turned around and took Mary in his arms. “I’m not referring to just this incident. How do we ever let her out of our sight again?”
Mary knew how he felt, but she’d learned the hard way that living in fear was not really living at all.
“We love her with all our hearts, teach her everything we know to help her make the right choices, and after that, Daniel, it’s all up to God.”
“God? Where was he when those two little girls were taken? Why are men like that allowed to live? Tell me that.”
Mary had lived with negative thinking for six years and it had nearly killed her.
“God doesn’t do that stuff, Daniel, but he’s there to help us through it when it happens.”
Daniel sighed. “I know. I didn’t mean what I said, it’s just that this is scary as hell.”
“I know, but for Hope’s sake, we’ve got to keep everything as ordinary as possible.”
“Yes, I know you’re right, but it’s not going to be easy.”
Mary slid her arms around his neck and then kissed the small indentation on his chin.
“Who said being a parent was going to be easy?”
Daniel took one look at the expression on Mary’s face and groaned beneath his breath.
“Are you thinking what I think you’re thinking?”
“Probably, but it’s going to have to wait.”
“This doesn’t have to wait,” Daniel said, and slanted his mouth across Mary’s lips.
It was just after midnight when Mary woke and found herself alone. She lay there for a moment, listening to the sounds within the house. Somewhere a faucet was dripping. She could hear the occasional plink as the water hit something metal. Outside, a wind had come up, causing one of the limbs of the live oak to rub against the window nearest the bed. The intermittent scratch of wood against glass set her nerves on edge. Still wondering where Daniel had gone, she got out of bed and went across the hall to check on Hope.
The room was dark, lit only by the Little Mermaid nightlight plugged in near her bed. God…six years of her daughter’s life that she could barely remember. She was past wondering how this had happened. That she had them back in her life was all that she would let matter.
A gust of wind rattled the windows across the hall. She looked up just as a streak of lightning slashed through the darkness. One second it was there, brilliant and dangerous in all its fury, and then it was gone. She shivered as she reached for the curtains, pulling them shut and hoping that the approaching storm wouldn’t disturb Hope’s sleep. Another gust of wind slammed against the house, followed by a second clap of thunder. Hope seemed undisturbed by the noise. Satisfied that her daughter was well, she pulled the covers back over her shoulders and then went in search of Daniel.
The lower level of the house was in shadows, but she thought she felt a draft on her bare feet as she moved through the rooms. Surely a door had been opened, but where? More to the point, she should be asking herself why?
“Daniel?”
She held her breath, waiting for an answer that didn’t come. She continued through the house, her anxiety growing as she looked in every room. She hurried into the dining room and tested the French doors on the off chance that he’d gone out the back, but they were still locked.
Anxiety changed to panic as she paused in the living room, trying to focus. What was she missing? He couldn’t just disappear.
While she was debating about where to look next, she felt cold air on her feet again and realized the front door was ajar.
Thunder rumbled. As she moved toward the window, another slash of lightning seared the air, momentarily lighting the dark. In that brief moment, she saw someone standing beneath the portico. Another flash of lightning came and went, and in that moment she recognized the set of Daniel’s shoulders. Almost weak with relief, she dashed outside and into his arms.
He’d been out here for what seemed like hours, still troubled that his daughter’s safety had been breeched and that she was now involved in a police investigation. Mary had cried herself to sleep in his arms and it had been all he could do not to cry with her. His heart ached, he felt sick to his stomach and he was afraid to close his eyes. He was not a violent man, but he didn’t want to think about what he’d do if he came face-to-face with the man who’d messed with his child.
The approaching storm mirrored his angry emotions. Turning his face to the wind, he lifted his chin. The force of it almost took his breath away. The f
irst droplets of rain were just starting to fall when he heard the door open behind him. He turned just as Mary burst from the house.
The storm was upon them now, and even though he had been somewhat sheltered by the portico, the blowing wind and rain immediately plastered their clothes to their bodies as she threw herself into his arms.
“Mary, darling…what’s wrong?”
“I thought you were gone.”
He turned her in his arms, using his body to shelter her from the storm, and ran with her toward the house. Once inside, he shut and locked the door behind them. Almost immediately, she started to shake.
“Sweetheart…talk to me…tell me what’s wrong.”
“I woke up and couldn’t find you. I thought it was over. Just like before.”
Daniel frowned. She wasn’t making any sense.
“Over? You thought what was over? And what do you mean…like before?”
“Nothing. Never mind. Just love me, Daniel. Don’t let me go.”
“Come here to me, baby…never doubt me, Mary Faith. Never.”
Daniel picked her up and carried her up the stairs. By the time he got to their bedroom, she was shivering from the cold, her nightgown wet and clinging to her body. He set her on her feet and then shut the door behind them. When the tumblers turned in the lock, he took the hem of Mary’s gown and lifted it over her head.
She sighed, shuddering slightly from the chill, as well as from want. Her breasts felt heavy, throbbing with a longing echoed low in her belly.
“Daniel…”
“I know, baby…I know.”
Rain splattered against the window as Daniel laid her on the bed. When he crawled in beside her, she lifted her arms and pulled him down to her side.
“I love you, Daniel. You will never know how much.”
“I love you, too, baby.”
“Show me.”
Daniel brushed a kiss across her lips and then did as she asked.
Mary watched Daniel’s head dipping toward her, saw his lips parting slightly, smelled the rain on their bodies, then closed her eyes and waited to be swept away by passion.
It didn’t take long.
Without foreplay. Without warning. Daniel was on top of her and then in her. Mary parted her legs and arched to meet him, and when he started to move, she met him stroke for stroke.
Outside, the storm was passing, but inside, it had just begun. Daniel had long since lost focus on anything but the feel of being inside his Mary Faith. Her sweet heat wrapped around him, pulling at every nerve ending on his body, making him crazy with the need to let go. Harder and harder, faster and faster; the mating had gone beyond passion to madness.
Mary clung to his shoulders with a feral intensity, focusing on the building heat between her legs. Her heartbeat pounded against her eardrums, deafening her to everything but the uneven sounds of her own breaths.
In their need to reaffirm their faith in each other, they had taken their fear and desperation and turned it into passion. Using the mind-blowing pleasure of sexual release for an antidote, they had created an emotional fire, and they were burning right down to the bone.
One second Mary was with Daniel stroke for stroke and the next she began to shatter. The rush from the climax all but pulled her off the bed. With an inarticulate cry, she wrapped her legs around Daniel’s waist and held him deep inside her. In that instant, his own control finally snapped. A guttural groan ripped up his throat as he spilled himself into her. Still shaking from the adrenaline rush, he collapsed.
“Oh, Daniel…”
“Oh, yeah,” he said softly, then pulled her head on his chest and just held her, using her for the anchor that would keep him from complete disintegration.
“Mary…my Mary.”
Shuddering slightly as the last convulsions of her climax rippled through her body, Mary lay without moving, savoring Daniel’s warmth and strength, as well as the pleasure that only he could give her.
“Go to sleep, darling,” Mary whispered.
Daniel was uneasy about letting down his guard, but his trust in Mary Faith was complete, and so he tunneled his hands through her hair and closed his eyes. A short time later he had fallen asleep, his breathing in perfect rhythm to hers.
Howard Lee clocked in at Savannah Memorial Hospital and then proceeded to the basement where the employees’ lounge was located. He put his lunch in the refrigerator, along with a sixteen-ounce bottle of pop, then took off his jacket, shaking off the raindrops before hanging it inside his locker. He took out a pair of coveralls and pulled them over his street clothes, then exited the lounge and headed toward the storage room. A few minutes later he had filled his cleaning cart and was ready to begin his shift on the third floor pediatric ward. He had always planned on furthering his education, but taking care of his mother in her waning years had ended most of that. And he’d never been able to channel his loneliness afterward into anything substantial. Now, since he’d embarked upon the quest to create his own family, his lifestyle precluded any long-term commitment to getting a degree. Besides, Howard Lee was of the belief that manual labor was good for the body. His father had been a drywall contractor and he’d grown up watching men make a living by manual skill, as well as physical strength. He did not consider it beneath him to clean floors and toilets, and besides, the job was perfect—low-key and virtually anonymous. He was counting on the fact that the people who push the brooms were all but invisible, and when it was time to move on, he would not be missed.
He moved from room to room on the floor, doing what he’d been hired to do without communicating with anyone else. Only now and then did a nurse address him, and when they did, it was impersonal.
Yesterday he’d overheard two nurses talking and only after he’d listened for a moment, realized they’d been talking about him. They thought he was slow-witted. Retarded, his mother used to say. But he wasn’t. He knew because people who were slow-witted couldn’t take care of themselves, and he’d been taking care of himself and his mother almost all his life. He started to tell them they were wrong—that he not only took care of himself and his two daughters—but he also drove a car. Then he discarded the notion. He didn’t care what they thought.
He picked up a handful of new trash bags and looped them on his belt, then moved into the next room. Only a few more hours, and he could go home to his girls.
Chapter 9
It had been a long night and it was just after 7:00 a.m. when Howard Lee got home. He was tired and in desperate need of sleep, but first, he had to feed his daughters. He reminded himself it was a sacrifice that every good parent must make—tending to their children’s needs before tending to their own. In lieu of the hot food he normally served, he filled two bowls with cereal, got cups and spoons from the cabinets, plucked a couple of bananas from a bowl on the sideboard and set it all on a tray, then headed for his room. Kicking aside the throw rug, he set the tray on his bed, lifted the cellar door and called down to the girls.
“Good morning, my darlings…Daddy’s home.”
He thought nothing of the fact that they didn’t answer, but when he got to the bottom of the stairs and realized they were still in bed, he frowned.
“Girls…breakfast. I brought your favorite Crunchy Crispies.”
One of them moaned as he set the tray on the table and turned toward the twin beds. He lifted the covers and started to shake them awake.
“Girls…wake up. Breakfast is ready.”
Justine whimpered but didn’t open her eyes. Amy Anne rolled limply beneath his touch. He frowned. Something wasn’t right. They’d never behaved this way before. Then he noticed the bright red flush on their cheeks and laid the back of his hand against Justine’s forehead. It was hot to the touch. His heart skipped a beat as he did the same to Amy Anne. She was even hotter. He panicked.
Oh Lord. Oh no.
This hadn’t been part of the plan. His babies were sick and taking them to a doctor was out of the question. The authorities woul
d find out that the adoptions weren’t final and then they would take them away from him. But what could he do?
Mary woke slowly, coming from a deep, dreamless sleep to total consciousness in tiny increments, remembering the panic of thinking Daniel had disappeared, then finding him standing out in the storm, like a soldier on sentry. She shivered, reliving the abandonment of their lovemaking and remembering that she had barely existed when she’d lost him before. She could hear the shower running in their bathroom and closed her eyes, picturing his big, beautiful body all steamy and wet. Before she could follow up on the thought of joining him, she heard the door to their bedroom open. She rolled over and smiled as Hope peeked inside. Seeing Daniel in the child she’d given birth to made the love she felt for her even more intense.
“Hey, little girl…you’re awake awfully early.”
“Mommy, can we have waffles?”
Mary grinned. “May we have waffles.”
Hope’s little brows knitted in confusion. “That’s what I asked you. I thought you would know.”
Mary laughed, and pulled back the covers. “Want to get in bed with me for a while?”
“Am I getting waffles?”
“You bet,” Mary said.
“With peanut butter and jelly instead of syrup?”
“If you can eat them like that, I can cook them,” Mary promised.
“Goody,” Hope said, and crawled in bed with Mary, dragging her one-eared bunny as she went.
“Why don’t kids ever sleep late on Saturdays?” Mary muttered, more to herself than to Hope, as she scooted her close to her side.
Hope looked at her mother as if she’d suddenly lost her mind for asking such a dumb question.
“Because we’d miss the best cartoons,” she said, and pointed toward the television mounted on the wall. “Can I watch cartoons until Daddy is through taking his bath?”
