Heart Wish (A Hidden Beauty Novel Book 9)

by Mary Crawford

  Kendall’s eyes tear up for a moment before she says, “Thank you for thinking of me. But this is something I need to figure out on my own.”

  CHAPTER 7

  KENDALL

  I STARE IN SILENCE AS I watch Jameson gather up the remaining cups and baked goods and carry them out of the conference room. I have no idea what just happened. One minute we were talking about my favorite beverage and the next minute I’m contemplating kissing a man I barely know. Well, that’s not exactly true. I probably know more about Jameson than he’s comfortable with. That’s what happens when you have to bare your soul about loss. There’s no way to avoid the inherent close bond which forms. That simple truth is the one reason I shouldn’t take advantage of the situation — even though everything about Jameson has been at the forefront of my mind since the moment I laid eyes on him. I’m sorry, the man is sexy on so many levels, it defies explanation. On one hand, he is easy-going and flirtatious with a quick, tempting grin. Yet, he moves with the smoothness of a wild cat. He reminds me of the videos of panthers and cheetahs I used to watch as a kid — smooth and fluid, yet lethal.

  He is clearly more than qualified to work on computers, but I can’t help but think it may not be the job for which he’s ideally suited. Even though he is a self-professed computer geek, he is clearly an exceptionally well-trained soldier.

  Even as my brain processes all the reasons that my compulsive suggestion was an atrocious idea, I have to come to grips with the realization that I wouldn’t mind the feel of his strong arms around me. We made accidental contact the other day, and I can’t stop thinking about it.

  Finally, I throw up my hands in frustration. I retreat to the ladies’ room in an effort to repair my tattered nerves. For reasons that escape me, I take a few extra moments to fix my hair. It is uncharacteristically wavy this morning because of the braids Mindy put in for me. In an uncharacteristically girly move for me, I even fix my lip gloss. Whether I want to admit it or not, I’ve made my decision. I just hope I’m willing to live with the consequences.

  I smooth the wrinkles out of my skirt as I reenter the conference room. Much to my dismay, Jameson is already sitting at the conference table booting up his laptop. My hope that I could take a few moments to settle myself and come up with some sort of strategy fly out the window as Jameson looks over the top of his computer screen and smiles at me. “Sorry —” he says at the same time as I do.

  He makes a gesture with his hand as he says, “Ladies first.”

  I blush. “I don’t know what to tell you. Usually, I’m more circumspect and careful with my words, but there’s just something about you that makes me blurt things I don’t usually say out loud. It’s like you can extract the thoughts from my brain. It’s bizarre.”

  “You know, I was thinking the same thing about you. I’ve told you things I haven’t confessed to anyone in quite a while — if ever.”

  “What do you think we should do to get over this weird awkwardness?” I ask, taking a seat next to Jameson so that I can read his computer monitor.

  Jameson lets his eyes linger over me in slow perusal before he answers. “It seems to me we have a couple of choices. We can completely ignore the conversation ever took place. For the record, this isn’t my favorite option. How about you?”

  I nervously give an infinitesimal shake of my head. “I don’t think I could. It’s pretty much burned into my long-term memory, short-term memory, and my consciousness. That memory is not going anywhere,” I confess with a self-deprecating grin.

  Jameson smiles approvingly. “You’re pretty unforgettable too. We probably need to table this discussion for now. As much as I’d like to take you up on your offer, this probably isn’t the time or place. Still, I’d like to figure it all out — sooner rather than later. I spend a lot of time thinking about you — probably more than I should.”

  My brows furrow as I try to puzzle through his statement. “So, you’re just going to have a go-or-no-go call on whether we kiss? Are you sure we can just plan that in advance?”

  “I don’t know if it’s as complicated as that. I was just suggesting that we go out on an actual date that’s not a family get-together or one that’ll be interrupted by computer emergencies. It seems like a simple and straightforward plan to me.”

  I try to hide my face in my hands. “I don’t know what it is about me. I complicate everything beyond belief. A date sounds fun. When do you suggest we fit it into our otherwise cramped schedule?” I ask, as I pull out my cell phone and bring up my calendar.

  Jameson tries unsuccessfully to hide his grin at my industriousness. “Look, I hadn’t gotten that far yet. I figured we needed to solve a few things first. I had some ideas about your missing infant case. As long as I’m going to be here, you might as well have the resources of Identity Bank at your disposal.”

  “I don’t want to put Tristan out any more than necessary. He’s already done way more than enough for Locate My Heart. To ask for anything more seems greedy.”

  “Funny thing I’m discovering about my boss; he has a different definition than the rest of us about what’s overly generous. So, for the sake of Asher, I think we should take him up on it.”

  “That’s true. What more do you think Identity Bank can bring to the table?” I ask.

  “Well, Tristan is a software designer, and he has the ability to see a problem from a large-scale perspective. He sees the interrelationships between things, people, and events the rest of us might miss.”

  “I’ve only met him once, but he does seem to view things a little differently,” I confirm.

  “So, we can take advantage of that. We’re going to put as many investigators on the ground as we can. Something about this case struck us all as very odd. This abduction doesn’t seem random. If it’s not the usual family suspects, it’s someone in their circle of extended family or friends. I can almost bet on it. With Tristan’s network of seasoned interrogators and investigators, I’m sure we’ll eventually run into somebody who knows something.”

  I sigh as I respond, “These days the interrogators are likely to run into members of the media more than anyone else. After the piece that ran on Crime TV, Bethany told me the tabloids are dogging her whole family. Edwin can’t even enter the courthouse without having accusations yelled at him.”

  “That’s so awful. They are in enough pain without having to deal with all that garbage.”

  “I know. I wish I could do more for them. I’ve turned this problem over in my head so many times it haunts me in my sleep. They’re just really aren’t too many other ways to go with this scenario. It’s Colette’s call, but if it were my call to make, I would say bring in Tristan and all of his big guns. We need to find Asher before something terrible happens to him. He is medically fragile, and I am worried sick about him.”

  “What if I told you it’s your decision?” Jameson asks me as he takes a long drink of his coffee and a bite of his donut.

  Startled, I send him a questioning glance. “What do you mean? This isn’t my decision. Resource allocation is Colette’s baby.”

  Jameson shrugs. “Have you checked your messages? She sent me a message and told me you were in charge. She told me to deal with you.”

  My mouth gapes open in shock as I ask, “Why?”

  He digs out his phone and shows me the message. “I guess her sister is in the hospital.”

  “Are you sure we’re not reading too much into her message? I’m not officially anything except her executive assistant.”

  “Colette expressly says she wants you to act as the director. I think she sees you as the future of Locate My Heart. She’s willing to give you a chance to run with it and see where you take it. Are you up to the challenge?”

  “It might take a while for my brain to catch up with my racing heart, but yeah ... I’m ready. We’ve got kids big and little to find.”

  “It’s odd you bring that up because that’s the other thing I wanted to talk to you about. After we get thing
s set up with Tristan, can you come down to my parents’ house with me this weekend? I think we owe it to Toby to widen the search. I can’t leave chances on the table. If there are things left to do, we need to do them. I’ll have to bring my parents onboard one way or another. You are so compassionate with families and passionate about finding kids. Maybe your enthusiasm will rub off. I hope you’ll understand what my parents have gone through and won’t judge them too harshly. They’re not the people they were when Toby was young.”

  I reach out and grab Jameson’s hand. “I can’t promise you anything about the outcome of your brother’s case, but I can promise you that I’m not going to judge a single solitary thing about the impact of your parent’s loss on their lives. When it comes to things like this, you deal with it best you can and pray the rest resolves itself. Sometimes, the process goes smoother than others.”

  “I hope you’re right. I hope you understand. Because honestly, some days I just don’t.”

  I squeeze Jameson’s hand as I try to shield my own emotions. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned throughout everything I’ve experienced in my life, it’s that love and loss never makes sense one hundred percent of the time. It just can’t — and that’s okay.”

  As I wait for Jamison to respond, his eyes grow intensely dark as he reaches up and waves his fingers through my hair. He cups my cheek with his other hand as he murmurs, “Speaking of not making sense… I know better than to blur the lines like this, but —” He leans in and gently kisses me with featherlight kisses as he strokes my cheeks with his thumbs. I clutch his shoulders and melt into him. I break away to catch my breath and rest my cheek against his chest. I feel his heart pound. “Wow!” I stammer. “Spontaneous is hard for me. But I kind of like it.”

  Jameson pulls me close for another kiss. When he finishes and brushes my hair back over my shoulder he says, “I’m becoming quite a fan myself.”

  My stomach growls audibly as I smell the food sitting neatly in foil containers in the back seat of Jameson’s rental car. “Are you sure I shouldn’t have baked something?” I ask as I place a hand over my stomach. “It just feels as if I am letting down generations of ingrained manners. This doesn’t seem like a grand enough meal for your homecoming.”

  “Relax. My homecoming isn’t really a big a deal. Besides, my parents love food from the deli. My dad is all about the ribs, and my mom swears this rotisserie chicken is the best recipe she’s had anywhere.”

  “Who’s the macaroni and cheese for?” I tease.

  Jameson rubs his stomach. “Give a guy a break. You’re not the only one who’s hungry here. A little comfort food never hurt anybody. I’m bummed that they were out of ambrosia though,” he adds.

  “You should have said something. We could’ve bought the ingredients, and I could’ve made it at your mom’s house. It’s a simple recipe.”

  “Kendall, I want you to be prepared for what you might see today. I haven’t been back in a couple years, but the last time I was here, my parents weren’t functioning well. They had pretty much given up on their lives. We may or may not even find clean dishes in the house. It may be one of the most difficult environments in which you’ve ever interviewed the parents of a missing child.”

  “Somehow, I doubt that. I’ve been to some pretty awful places. It doesn’t even matter if it is the worst because that’s where your parents are at. We have to meet them there. With any luck, we’ll be able to help them crawl out of the world they’ve had to create for themselves.”

  Jameson swallows hard. “I didn’t think you’d understand. I was wrong about you — again. Someday, I’m going to have to stop underestimating you. Remind me when all this is over to let you know how truly extraordinary I think you are.”

  I blush all the way up to the roots of my hair. “I don’t know if I have been all that extraordinary. I’m just trying to cope with life the best I can and help as many other people along the way as I can. I’m not sure if that even qualifies as extraordinary. Necessary? Yes. Extraordinary? I hope not.”

  “I think we’re going to have to agree to disagree on your self-assessment. If you can reach my parents and help them through their pain, I would love you for several lifetimes.”

  “I make no promises. But I’ll do the best I can. I’d love to see your family whole again.”

  My heart breaks for Jameson as he takes stock of his parent’s current circumstances. I understand how Jameson could see it all as a badge of shame. Yet, that’s not what I see when I look around the cramped, stifling home. I see a tiny woman and a once stoic, strong man trying to cope in a sea of hidden grief. It’s as if their lives are divided into a before and after of perfect and hell.

  I try not to let my stress show as I carry the plastic picnic ware out toward the back patio. “Those are pretty impressive sunflower plants. Mine never seem to do very well.”

  Mrs. Payne examines me for a moment before she says, “I bet you’re one of those who tried to plant your sunflowers beside a cute white fence or trellis, right?”

  “I did! How did you know?”

  “Honey, that’s what I did at first too,” she says with a knowing look. “I tried to constrain the warmth and power of my sunflowers and will them to my wishes. After I set them free, they did much better.”

  I draw in a quick, sharp breath. This may be the opening I need. “That sounds like a philosophy that could apply to lots of things,” I reply carefully.

  “We’re not talking about sunflowers anymore, are we?” Mrs. Payne responds.

  “Perhaps not. Did Jameson tell you how he met me?”

  “I imagine it had something to do with computers, if I know my son.”

  “You know Jameson well. Your son saved the organization I work for from a malware attack. He’s very talented.”

  “I always knew that about him. Where do you work, Honey?” she asks as she starts to unpack the deli food we purchased.

  “Well, my organization Locate My Heart helps search for missing children. We are a resource for families.”

  A myriad of emotions cross Mrs. Payne’s face. “Did Jameson tell you about his brother?”

  “He did,” I confirm. “I’m sorry for all you’ve been through. I’d like to think Locate My Heart has learned some lessons from cases like yours.”

  “Jameson must trust you a lot. He doesn’t allow other people to be the keeper of his pain. If he told you the story, there must be a reason.”

  “There is. I would like to offer the assistance of Locate My Heart to your family.”

  “I would be quite interested, but my husband is not likely to be. We got burned the last time. I’m not sure Wesley is going to trust anyone.”

  “I can understand that. Jameson told me the appalling details. You shouldn’t have been subjected to anything like that. That’s where an agency like Locate My Heart comes in. We can help screen out the public responses and filter them down to the most helpful. At this point, Toby has been missing long enough that it is going to take the involvement of the public to generate tips.”

  “That sounds helpful, but we’ve been fooled before. When Toby first vanished, we had offers coming in from everywhere. Sadly, we were not very good at figuring out which opportunities were legitimate. We got taken to the cleaners, for lack of a better term.”

  “The services of Locate My Heart are completely free to families of missing children. We have corporate sponsors and grants to fund our work. We never charge the families a single dime.”

  “That’s nice to know. But ... what do you think can be done after all these years; it seems as if Toby has been missing forever. I am afraid to even think about it. By now I’ve given up hope. I don’t know whether to hope he’s dead or alive. If he’s alive, I’m afraid that something god-awful is happening to him. If he’s dead, don’t you think I would know that as a mother?” Mrs. Payne bursts into tears as she blurts that question.

  Handing her a napkin, I answer her question as honestly as I can. “I’
ve been doing this long enough to know that no two searches are ever the same. Some people have a strong sense of intuition about what happened to their child; others don’t get that feeling at all. It has nothing to do with how much you love and miss your child. It’s just one of those things.”

  “So, you don’t think I am a terrible person for losing my child?”

  “No, of course not. It is not your fault,” I respond. Gathering my strength, I reach up and touch the memorial tattoo on the back of my neck. “My situation is not the same as yours, but my son, Quinn died.”

  “Oh, you poor thing. You’re far too young to lose a child. What happened?”

  “When my son was fifteen weeks old, he died of SIDS.”

  “One of my girlfriends lost her daughter to crib death. It’s a terrible thing. Nearly three decades later, she is still mourning the loss.”

  “I totally understand that feeling. I don’t know if I will ever stop missing my son. I don’t usually share this part of my story with my clients, but I thought it would be helpful for you to understand where I’m coming from. I know all about second-guessing yourself and wondering if you should’ve known something earlier.” I grab a napkin to wipe my tears away.

  “I’ve tried to describe that feeling to my husband, but he simply doesn’t understand.”

  “I think it’s hard for men. Lyle and I were engaged when it happened, but the stress was too much for our relationship. Quinn’s death still affects me, even today. Every night, I relive that one day over and over as if it’s Groundhog Day, like in that movie. No matter how hard I try, I can’t escape the nightmare of his death. I can only move forward. That’s why I’m so dedicated to my job at Locate My Heart. I was not able to do anything about my situation, but I can help other families have successful reunifications.”