Some Kind of Wonderful

by Barbara Freethy

  She drove down a residential street filled with cheap, old apartment buildings squished tightly together.

  "Pull over," he said, staring at a building on the other side of the street.

  Caitlyn parked the car and turned off the engine. "Who lives here?"

  He swallowed, the pulse in his jaw beating overtime. "I used to live here."

  His childhood home. She should have guessed. "Do you think Sarah is here?"

  "No. I've had my investigator check it out every day, every hour practically. She hasn't been back."

  Caitlyn remained silent for a few minutes. "Why are we here?"

  "Since I saw where you grew up, I thought I'd return the favor."

  She thought about that. "Another line in the sand? Do you think I'm a snob as well as privileged?"

  "I think you're a girl from the other side of the tracks."

  "The tracks don't run through this city."

  "You know what I mean."

  "I know you put way too much importance on circumstances. Neither one of us was responsible for where we grew up or how we grew up."

  He turned in his seat to look at her. "Even so, you can't imagine what it was like to grow up here."

  "Why don't you tell me?"

  "I can't."

  "You can't or you won't?" She looked toward the apartment building. "Which window was yours?"

  For a moment she didn't think he would answer, then he said, "Fourth floor, last window on the end. That's where Sarah would sit and stare out at the stars. She was like you. She thought there was some answer to be found in the heavens."

  "Have you been back inside?"

  "No. God no! Why would I want to do that?"

  "Maybe to see if anything has changed. Maybe to see if you've changed."

  "I have changed. This place is just the same."

  "How would you know if you haven't been inside?"

  "I know."

  "But there was a fire. They must have remodeled. Don't you want to see what they did?"

  "No."

  "You can't make yourself go in, can you?"

  "I've tried," he grudgingly admitted. "My last memory of this building is watching the smoke pour through the windows and the flames leap out in long, monstrous fingers, trying to suck us back in."

  Caitlyn felt a chill run down her spine at his words. She could only imagine a young boy and his sister, all alone, watching their only home burn. "Where was your mother at the time of the fire?"

  "I have no idea."

  "How did the fire start?"

  "I don't know."

  He was lying. For some reason, the man who loved the truth was lying. Why?

  "Oh, my God," she said, jumping to the most logical conclusion. "Sarah started the fire, didn't she?"

  "No."

  "Yes. You're lying to protect her. I know it's the truth because you can't look at me and tell me it isn't, can you?"

  He stared out the window, wrestling with the question in agonizing silence.

  "Sarah was fascinated with fire," he said finally. "My mother used to light candles at night, and she'd let Sarah light them sometimes because -- because she couldn't quite hold her hand steady enough to strike the match. It was something they did together. But sometimes Sarah picked up the matches when my mother wasn't home. I think she'd light the candles hoping they would bring my mother back."

  "And one night they started a fire instead."

  "I accused her of ruining what little we had left in our lives. Damn it, Caitlyn." The lines in his face tightened with guilt. "She was a little girl, and I screamed at her like a lunatic. And she just looked at me with her big dark eyes and said she was sorry. I never saw her again after that. I never had a chance to tell her I didn't mean it."

  Caitlyn didn't know what to say. Some things couldn't be taken back or done over.

  "Is it any wonder she dropped her baby in front of my door and ran like hell?" he asked bitterly. "She probably still can't face me."

  Caitlyn wondered if that were true. Had Sarah left Emily with just a note because she couldn't face her brother? Because of some angry words spoken between them more than a decade ago? Caitlyn couldn't quite believe that Sarah would leave her baby with a man she didn't trust completely, which made any anger on her part illogical.

  "I don't think that's it," she said slowly. "I think whatever caused Sarah to leave Emily with you has more to do with who she is now than who you were then."

  "Maybe who she is now is because of who I was then."

  How could she argue with a man who was so good with words? "I think you should do what you normally do -- get the facts first, then decide."

  "How do you know what I normally do?" he asked grumpily.

  "Well, I figure that's what most good reporters do, and I think you did tell me you were a good reporter." She offered him a wheedling smile. "Come on, Matt. You know you won't be able to make sense of this until you find Sarah. Until then you have to be objective."

  "I can't be objective about this. And I'm not sure I will find Sarah. It's been three days. Where the hell is she?"

  Matt suddenly straightened in his seat. She followed his gaze, but didn't see anything that might have set his nerves on edge. "What's wrong?"

  "That woman, the one wearing the straw hat and carrying a water can. Did you see her?"

  "Where?" she asked.

  "She was right there." He pointed down the street. "How could you not see her?"

  "I was looking at you. Who was she? Someone you know?"

  He hesitated. "Probably not. It's just that my mother used to water the plants in our apartment with an old-fashioned watering can. Sometimes, I thought she cared more about those plants than she did about us. Hell, maybe she did." He shrugged. "This place makes me crazy. I keep looking for the people who used to be here. Mr. Maloney's newspaper stand was on the corner over there by the liquor store, but he's gone now." Matt pointed to another abandoned storefront farther down the block. "That was a blues club. I'd lay awake in my bed at night with the windows open and listen to the music. It made it seem like there was something good about the neighborhood. I'm sure it was a drug den. There were fights and sirens blaring after midnight. But I just heard the saxophone."

  Caitlyn could almost hear it, too, so vividly had he painted the scene. "Matt?"

  "What?"

  "Tell me again. Why are we really here?"

  He shifted restlessly in his seat. "Things were getting out of hand at your parents' house."

  She stiffened, having a feeling she'd rather talk about his past than hers. "So you thought this would scare me off."

  "I know you wanted a buffer between you and Brian, but your friends and your family started wondering about us, thinking that you and I are something more. And we're not."

  "I know that." She just wasn't sure she liked hearing it said so certainly, as if there were no possibility that they could be more. Well, that was a ridiculous way to feel, she told herself firmly. She was already confused enough about Brian, how could she throw another man into the mix? Matt's attitude was perfect. They wouldn't have any misunderstandings between them.

  Of course, there was that physical thing that even now was turning the air into electrical currents flowing back and forth between them in the intimacy of the car. Caitlyn was acutely aware of how close Matt was to her, just an automatic gearshift between them, barely a foot. She could touch him if she wanted to. He could touch her -- not that he would want to.

  "I know you were just helping me out today, nothing more." Despite her blithe words, she knew how easy it had been to pretend that Matt and Emily were something more. She'd already gotten too involved and emotionally attached to both of them, but she couldn't let Matt know. She wouldn't make her feelings his responsibility. "It's okay, really. You don't have to worry. I know where the lines are."

  "Something tells me you don't know how to color within the lines."

  "I can if I have to. But sometimes you get a better res
ult if you don't paint by the numbers. It's called being imaginative and creative, and the result can be fabulous."

  "Or it can be a mess. I like you," he said huskily, meeting her eyes. "That's not the point, you know."

  Oh, Lord. If he was going to be nice, acting casual would be a lot more difficult.

  "I thought bringing you here might make you see how far apart we are. But all I can think about right now is how close you're sitting to me and how much closer I'd like you to get."

  Caitlyn sucked in a desperate breath. Then he leaned over, and her heartbeat came to an abrupt and shattering halt as he put a finger under her chin and turned her face toward him. She thought he was going to kiss her, but he surprised her by simply removing her sunglasses.

  "I can't see what you're thinking," he said.

  "I could say the same about you." She pulled off his glasses before realizing how much more unsettling his gaze would be without any barrier between them. Eye to eye, there was an even greater connection, one that seemed impossible to break.

  "What am I going to do about you?" he murmured.

  "I have no idea. You keep telling me we're not going to be more than friends, but we keep getting friendlier."

  "You talk too much."

  "And you're going to make me stop?"

  "Oh, yeah." Not a man to ignore a dare, Matt's mouth came down on hers before she had a chance to reconsider her impulsive challenge.

  Matt kissed with the same brutal honesty with which he spoke, not letting her retreat or hold back when her good-girl upbringing warred with her desperate need to slide her tongue into his mouth and taste him. And when Matt put his hands on her arms, pulling her deeper into his embrace, all she could think about was getting closer to all that heat.

  "God," he swore as he released her, their breaths coming fast and ragged, steaming up the car in the middle of the afternoon. "What you do to me. I could forget everything."

  Caitlyn sat back, suddenly realizing how much she'd forgotten, like the fact that they were parked on a busy street with a baby sleeping in the very backseat she would have liked to hop into with Matt.

  "Well, that was..." She couldn't even think what it was -- Fun? Wild? Stupid? All of the above?

  "Yeah, it sure was. Want to do it again?"

  Her pulse leaped in response, but she forced herself to shake her head. "No."

  "Right. Can you open a window? It's hot in here."

  Caitlyn started the engine so she could lower the power windows, flooding the car with cool air. For a moment they just sat there and breathed in and out until the tension between them began to dissipate.

  "We could just go home," Caitlyn finally suggested, quickly realizing that her use of the word home hadn't exactly made things easier. She jumped back in with another suggestion. "Or we could do what I always do when I don't know what to do next."

  "And what would that be?"

  "Go shopping."

  He groaned. "I hate shopping, especially with a female."

  "Well, you're in luck, because you won't just be shopping with a female but for a female. Seriously, Matt, Emily needs some clothes. We can't keep changing her from one outfit to the other. And I was thinking maybe..."

  "I'm not buying a crib."

  The man was incredible at reading her mind. "Okay, how about a cradle, or one of those traveling cribs, so Emily has a more comfortable place to sleep?"

  "She won't be staying long enough to need any furniture."

  "Matt!"

  "All right, a couple of outfits. We can always give them to Sarah when she comes back, but don't get carried away."

  "Me? Get carried away? I wouldn't dream of it.”

  * * *

  "How long has it been since you've eaten?" Jonathan asked Sarah as she pushed her empty plate away. She'd shoveled the food down as if she were afraid it would disappear before she'd had enough.

  She looked guilty at his question and mumbled, "A while."

  "It's okay, you know. Everyone gets hungry. We all need to eat." He rested his elbows on the white linen tablecloth covering his dining room table. "What else do you need, Sarah? Besides food?"

  A dozen emotions flitted through her eyes in the seconds that followed his question. Finally, she shook her head, hopelessness settling over her face.

  "Who hurt you?" He knew his question was abrupt, but he had a feeling giving Sarah too much time to think would be a mistake.

  "I -- I can't tell you."

  "Just a first name."

  She considered his words thoughtfully, and he realized he'd never met anyone so intensely serious and so desperately sad, for there was pain in her eyes, in every movement of her mouth, every tiny flicker of her eyelids. He had a feeling the sadness had come before the bruises.

  "Gary," she said abruptly.

  "And who is Gary to you? A boyfriend? A husband?" His eyes drifted to her hand, but there was no ring on her finger and no indication that there ever had been one. He couldn't stop the sudden tingle of relief that ran through him. He forced himself to remember that this wasn't personal, this was business, his business. Sarah was simply a lost soul he needed to save.

  Sarah appeared confused by his question. In fact, she looked downright dazed. Not for the first time, he prayed that she wasn't on drugs. In his experience the power of the Lord couldn't always overcome the power of narcotics.

  "He said he loved me."

  "Violence isn't love," Jonathan said gently.

  "Gary didn't hit me before. He just got so mad when I said I couldn't--” She stopped abruptly. "It doesn't matter."

  "What couldn't you do?"

  "Nothing."

  "It had to be something important." He paused, waiting for her to continue, but she remained silent. "Do you ever pray?"

  "No."

  "Really? Not even once in a while, just in case someone might hear you?" He smiled at her reassuringly. "I won't get mad either way, I'm just curious."

  "A long time ago I used to pray, but no one was listening.

  "I'm listening now, if you want to talk."

  She remained silent for so long he was about to give up when she finally spoke, slowly, haltingly. "Gary said I was a bad mother. And he was right. The baby was always crying. She didn't like me much. But I -- I loved her like I never loved anyone." Her eyes pooled with moisture. "You have to believe me."

  "I do. What did Gary ask you to do, Sarah?"

  "I can't say. I've said too much already."

  "But your baby is safe with someone you trust?"

  He knew he had asked her before, but he had to be sure. If the baby was all right, he could take his time before he called anyone. It was a weak rationalization, but he made it all the same, for there was something about Sarah that touched him deeply. And what would a few hours mean in the overall scheme of things? If he could help her, he'd feel like he was doing something meaningful. It occurred to him that his feeling better was not nearly as important as Sarah's mental health, but he couldn't stop to examine his motives.

  Sarah drew in a sniffly breath, her frail shoulders trembling. "She's with someone who can take care of her, probably better than I can. I turned out just like my own mother, totally worthless. I always knew I was like her, but I didn't know how much until I had Emily."

  "Your mother wasn't supportive?"

  Sarah shook her head. "She wasn't even around most of the time. She'd go off and leave me with my brother, even when I was a baby. She'd say she loved me, but she hated me, too."

  "I don't believe that."

  "Oh, it's true. I know it's true, because she..." Her voice drifted away. "Well, I just know."

  Jonathan let that pass. "You can still be a mother to your child, Sarah. You can get help."

  "From who?"

  He wanted to shout "From me!" but forced himself to hold back. He was here to give advice and spiritual guidance, not to step in and solve problems, especially when he had no real idea just how deep Sarah's problems went. She was a confu
sed young woman who'd obviously led a rough, uncertain life, but was there more? Was she too weak to take care of a child? Was she mentally ill? Or just tired and worn out and overwhelmed?

  "There is help out there," he said. "Social services, welfare, transitional homes..."

  Sarah immediately shook her head. "I've seen foster homes. The people in it do it for the money. They don't care about the kids."

  "They're not all like that. You haven't met very many good people in your life, have you?" He didn't wait for an answer, making an impulsive decision. "Well, that I think I can do something about."

  "What do you mean?" she asked warily.

  "I could use some help today. Your help, if you're willing."

  "I don't know how to do much."

  "You can do this."

  She stared at him doubtfully. "Why would you want me to help you?"

  "Because giving can make you feel better at the same time it makes someone else feel better."

  "Are you sure?"

  "I've never been more sure of anything in my life." He paused, reaching across the table to cover her hand with his. "In my line of work, you realize early on that life is about taking one step at a time. Can you do that much for me, Sarah? Can you take one step with me?"

  "Are you going to hold my hand?" she asked softly.

  Her eyes met his, and he knew he should let go, but he couldn't.

  Chapter Ten

  "We don't need a changing table." Matt rolled his eyes as Caitlyn ran her hand across the smooth surface of an oak changing table that would also serve as a dresser. "Or a stroller," he added as her eyes lit on a state-of-the-art stroller across the aisle. He would have to rein her in, he realized as he followed her through the crowded baby store with Emily in his arms.

  "Look, this is one of those joggers," Caitlyn said with delight, stopping in front of a three-wheeler. "You can run with Emily. You said you haven't been able to run since she got here. This would be perfect."

  "She's not going to be with me that long. And I don't think Sarah runs."

  "How would you know? Oh, isn't that the cutest outfit?" Caitlyn ran down the aisle and pulled out a bright red dress that was only a little bigger than Matt's hand. "It has a bonnet to go with it. You have to get this one."