by Mindy Neff
“What kind of tests?”
“He’s made headway, possibly developed an antidote.”
“Is it dangerous?” Molly whispered.
Frank shrugged, the tick at the corner of his mouth giving away his tension. “What’s not dangerous nowadays?”
“What are his odds?” Molly insisted.
“Fifty-fifty.”
She slid right into the chair beside Adam, her fingers gripping his, uncaring that the chair was only designed to fit one person.
“You’ll have to do better than that, Frank. Is that fifty on the optimistic side, or are you a pessimist like Adam?”
“I’m afraid I do share that trait with him. In my gut, though, I want to lean toward optimism. I have to.”
“And if it ends up on the minus side of the scale…will it mean he’ll just go on as he is now?”
Frank looked away, fists clenched against his thigh. “No. It’ll either work or…it could kill him.”
The deadly slash of a switchblade couldn’t have ripped her flesh as excruciatingly as those stark words. Her heart pounded, and her insides twisted in a mass of violent trembling. Not yet, she wanted to scream. I can’t lose him yet.
She turned to Adam, cupped the side of his beautiful face, felt the fever he hadn’t been able to shake, stared into the eyes she loved so much. Don’t do it! Please! Just stay here with me.
“I’ll do it,” he said to Frank, his tortured eyes never leaving Molly’s. “It’s for the best, half pint.”
“Is it?” The scream built inside her, louder, deafening, a buzz that threatened to turn her world black. She battled it back with every ounce of her control. She had to be strong. For Adam. She had to have hope. Frank had said could.
Adam nodded. “There’s no choice. It’ll kill me anyway if we just leave it alone. You’ve seen how I’ve been the past two days. It’s better this way. Better to have closure.”
She wrapped her arms around him, held him so tight there was little space to breathe. Frank slipped out of the room, the sight too raw to watch.
“When do we leave?” she whispered.
His shoulders went rigid under her hands. “You can’t go with me, Molly.”
When she drew back, fire burned in her eyes. She opened her mouth, but he placed a finger there.
“You have classes to teach. You can’t leave those kids.”
“Yes, I can.”
“No. You can’t. What about Lamar and Lizzy? Eddie and Elena? Your dreams are here, with the halfway house.”
“My dreams don’t mean anything without you.”
“Shh.” He kissed her eyelids, cupped her face and tunneled his fingers in her hair. “What happened to the lady who had enough faith for both of us? The one who swore she could face anything?”
“She’s on vacation.”
He smiled, surprised he still could. “Better call her back on duty. There’s a lot of needy teens out there who are counting on somebody to offer them refuge.”
She buried her face in his neck again, her breath hitching. “Not yet, Adam,” she whispered, her cheeks wet with tears. “One more day.”
“Molly—”
She covered his lips with hers, the salt of her tears tasting of both hope and despair, burning their way to his soul.
“I need one more day to find my feet. So I can kiss you without these wimpy tears.”
He shouldn’t agree. Should leave now. Make it easier on both of them. Instead, he swept his thumbs gently beneath her eyes and nodded. “One more day, half pint.”
HIS DUFFEL BAG WAS PACKED and ready just inside the parlor door. He’d tied up as many loose ends as he could.
Frank came down the stairs, his tanned features drawn. “Sure you don’t want me to go with you, son?”
Adam shook his head. “Somebody’s got to watch over Molly. You’ve got the time coming. It means a lot to me…knowing she won’t be alone.”
“I’ll stay.”
Adam looked around the room, feeling as if he was forgetting something, feeling empty. His gaze rested on the portraits hanging on the staircase wall.
“Frank?”
“Yeah, buddy.”
“If it doesn’t work, you make sure they toss this worthless carcass in a furnace somewhere. I don’t want anybody crying over my grave.” Not that there was a whole line of people who’d actually care enough to do such a thing. But Frank might.
And Molly would.
“If that’s what you want, I’ll see to it.”
Adam nodded and dragged his gaze from the lonely portraits. Molly came across the foyer, a small jeweler’s box in her hands.
“I’ll just go see what Elena’s cooking up in the kitchen,” Frank said, excusing himself. His hand rested on Adam’s shoulder for a brief instant, gave a squeeze. Then he pursed his lips and whistled a jaunty tune as he crossed the foyer and disappeared down the hallway leading to the kitchen.
“All packed?” Molly asked.
“Yeah. Did you sign the papers?”
She glared at him. “No.”
“Molly—”
“There’s an error on them.”
“What error? I’ve gone over them myself.”
“My last name’s spelled incorrectly.”
“No, it’s not.”
“It is if you agree to marry me.”
He closed his eyes, holding on to his control. “Molly, please sign the damned papers.”
“I will when you get back. When the correction’s been made.”
God, she was stubborn. And brave. And strong. And he’d give anything to have her as his wife, to hold on to her forever, to never let go.
“I might not come back, Molly. You know that.”
“You have to! Promise me, Adam. No matter what. You’ve got to come back!”
Don’t make me go through the hell I did last time.
Her tortured thoughts singed him, made him weak. He didn’t remember his mother, had never known his father. Few of the foster families he’d lived with had ever given a damn. The only people who’d really cared about him were Frank and Molly. There’d never been anyone in his life who’d hold his hand when he was sick, cared as Molly did.
She humbled him. Made him bleed. “What if I can’t?”
Her back went ramrod straight, her eyes shooting darts of steely determination. He was in for it now.
“You can and you will. I either see you walk through this door or somebody calls me so I can go to you. I don’t give a fig about top-secret facilities and hush-hush stuff—you tell them that!” She gripped his arms, shook him to make her point, the flat jeweler’s box thumping him lightly on the jaw.
He’d forgotten the word can’t wasn’t in her vocabulary.
“You’re not going to die on me, Adam. If you do, I swear I’ll kill you.”
Regardless of the grave situation, Adam found that he could still laugh. “My little spitfire. What’s in the box?”
She took a deep breath, gathered her emotions like a cloak and popped the lid of the velvet box. A gold chain spilled out into her fingers. A gold chain that matched hers.
The other half of her heart charm hung from the end. Adam automatically touched his hip pocket where his wallet rested.
“I don’t usually go through a man’s things.” Her eyes were filled with a caution he hadn’t seen before. “Will you wear it for me?” she asked softly.
He was almost afraid to reach for the offering, afraid it would burn him.
“You haven’t said it, Adam. I feel it every time you touch me, but I need the words. Please say you love me.”
“Molly…everything’s so uncertain.”
“All the more reason. Don’t make me beg—” her eyes widened “—unless…”
He snatched her to him, holding her, pressing her head against his shoulder. “No, baby. You’re not wrong. I do love you. More than life. I don’t want to hurt you again—if I don’t come back…”
“You will come back,” she whisp
ered fiercely. “And I’ll be right here, Adam. Waiting.”
He closed his eyes on a wave of despair, a wave of uncertainty he couldn’t control.
“I know you’re breaking up inside, Adam. Don’t give in. Believe in me. In us.“
She unclasped the chain, hooked it around his neck, rested gentle fingers against the charm. If the power of her love had wings, he was sure he could have flown. She gave him strength when he was so damned weak, using only the feather-light touch of her fingertips. He’d hoped to spare her pain, had wanted to take care of her, keep her safe.
Instead, it was she who gave the care and promised safety.
“You are my light in the dark, Molly Kincade. You say everything so right. I grew up never knowing there was anybody who cared—who could care so deeply. Frank came close, but you…” He couldn’t go on.
He kissed her, letting his body speak when he no longer could. He kissed her without reservation, fiercely, his hands circling her face, their restraint underscored by the tendons that stood taunt on his forearms.
It was a kiss that said everything he could not, that spoke of hope and fear and love. A kiss that had the power to shut the world away, for just a while.
Until the blare of a taxi horn intruded.
Without speaking, they drew apart. Her fingertips traced his features, gently, lovingly, as if she were reading his essence in braille, committing every pore into memory.
He stepped back, lifted his duffel bag. She touched four fingers to her lips, transferred them to his.
As she’d promised, her eyes were dry when she kissed him goodbye.
His weren’t.
“Come back to me, Adam. Come back and sleep in my arms.”
Chapter Fifteen
The days ran into one another, becoming a blur. But Molly kept busy, kept up hope—most of the time. The nights were the worst, the times when her arms felt so empty, when her heart ached with loneliness.
It took every ounce of her willpower not to beg Frank to call the government hospital to get a progress report, even though she suspected he’d already done just that. He wasn’t saying anything, though, and Molly kept the wings of panic at bay, hid her fears behind a smile that felt forced.
As she came downstairs, the happy sounds of teenagers who teased, bickered and laughed flowed out of the den. It was a sound that warmed her soul—the sound of her dreams.
A dream that would be complete if only Adam would come back to her.
Her steps slowed on the staircase, and she paused below the portraits of George, Abe, Dwight, Ronnie and Waldo, her fingers tightening around the five-by-seven photo in her hands.
“Dinner!” Elena bellowed, giving Molly a jolt. She smiled at her own jumpiness. The changes in Elena Martinez were many, and she had an idea Frank Branigan had a lot to do with them. The two had become quite cozy since his arrival.
Lamar, Lizzy and Eddie barreled out of the den, where they’d been annihilating one another in a Super Nintendo game that Molly still couldn’t get the hang of.
“Eddie?”
All three youngsters skidded to a halt, their sneakers squeaking on the tile floor. Elena and Frank came out of the kitchen to see what the delay was, and stopped when they saw Molly standing on the stairs.
“Yeah, teach?”
“I need a favor, and you’re just the guy to provide it.”
Eddie smirked and nudged Lamar in a goodnatured gesture that teased yet didn’t compete. “Hear that? I’m into passin’ out favors.”
“Yeah,” Lamar said. “Like you’re so good at it.”
“You heard her. I’m the man.” He thumbed his chest and bobbed his shoulders and neck to the ever-present rhythm that played in his head. “Whatcha need, Miss Kincade? Fix your grades? Wash your car? Set VanArk’s nose hairs on fire?”
Molly shook her head, trying not to laugh. The kid was a menace—an absolutely lovable menace. She held out the photo.
“I’d like you to sketch this for me. The same size and style of these.” She gestured to the portraits hanging in the stairwell.
Eddie accepted the photo, all teasing and teenage bravado gone. “Who’s the dude?”
Frank leaned over Eddie’s shoulder, then glanced at Molly. His Adam’s apple worked on a slow swallow, his gray eyes soft with emotion and approval.
“His name was Jason North,” Molly said softly.
“North?” Lamar asked. “Does he have something to do with North Haven?”
“Yes. Everything, in fact. If it wasn’t for him, none of this would be possible.”
“Who was he?” Lizzy asked.
“A very special man. You could say he was responsible for bringing Adam and me together.”
“When will Adam be back?” Lizzy whispered. “I miss him.”
“So do I, honey.” They’d agreed to tell the kids that Adam had gone out of town on a family emergency. Actually it was a family emergency, because the results of Malcolm Kitoczynski’s test would determine whether they could be a family.
She refused to consider the downside of the equation.
“What happened to this guy?” Eddie asked, still staring at the photo, his artistic brain formulating just how he’d sketch the likeness.
“He died working for the United States government,” Molly said. “He was a man who survived the foster-care system, who made some good choices.” She looked at Frank, noticed how he’d slipped his arm around Elena, how he still stared at the picture Eddie held so reverently in his hands.
“With the help of a caring police officer, Jason North turned an underprivileged life-style into something good and respectable and prosperous. Prosperous enough to buy this huge house.”
“Did he have to fight on the streets?” Lizzy asked.
“He might have. He grew up in neighborhoods very similar to the ones you kids have.”
“Wow.”
“Yes,” Molly said softly, “wow. And I think his picture belongs right here beside the other ancestors of this house so that we won’t ever forget him.”
Eddie mounted the stairs and took a closer look at the portraits. Then he turned, placing his hand on Molly’s shoulder, his young features taking on a maturity that brought a lump to her throat.
“I’ll do him proud, Miss Kincade.”
“I know you will, Eddie.”
ADAM WENT DIRECTLY to the mansion from the hospital. He overpaid the taxi driver and nearly forgot his duffel bag in his haste to see Molly.
There were changes, even in the three weeks he’d been gone. The house had a lived-in feel to it, a warmth that reached out and engulfed, even though there were no sounds of activity coming from any of the rooms.
With the duffel bag clutched in his hand, he headed up the stairs. He started to call out to Molly, but changed his mind, decided on surprise.
His steps slowed when the portrait caught his eye. Before there had been only five. Now there were six.
He stared at the face, a familiar face from the past, then looked at the brass plate beneath it. Jason North. Founder Of North Haven. 1961-1995.
He remembered when he’d first bought the house, how he’d looked at these pictures on the wall, wondered if anyone would care enough to put his up after he was gone.
Molly had cared.
She’d kept him alive with her love, given him a future.
Something inside him gave way, tilling him with a peace that banished the last of his loneliness.
“Mr. Walsh?”
He turned at Elena’s astonished voice, felt himself smiling like a fool, felt like swooping her in his arms and laughing until the halls rang with his happiness. Elena Martinez had put on some weight in the past three weeks. It looked good on her. She wore an apron over a pretty green dress and had flour on her hands.
Adam realized that the smell wafting from the kitchen was homemade cookies. Ah, what a homecoming. Now all he needed was Molly.
“Hi, Elena. It’s good to see you.”
“And you, t
oo. Our Molly will be thrilled.”
“Is she upstairs?”
Elena shook her head. Just then, Frank came into the room. “Elena, sweetheart, I’m afraid you’ll need to whip up another batch of those—” Frank’s words ended abruptly. “Adam?” His tanned face split into a wide grin.
“In the flesh.”
“Strong as an ox, are you?”
“Not quite. Getting weaker by the minute looking at your mug.”
“I take it the emergency’s passed? Everyone well and happy and promised a disgustingly long life?”
“Doctors have given the A-OK.” Adam met Frank halfway, held out his hand. “Ah, to hell with it.” Instead of a handshake, the two men embraced.
“Did I hear you say ‘sweetheart’?” Adam questioned dryly, taking care that Elena didn’t overhear.
Frank shrugged and gave a wink. “She’s a damned good woman. Definitely sweet.”
“Is there love on the horizon?”
“Never know. Thought I’d stick around for a while longer, see what develops.”
Adam nodded. “I’d like that. I suspect Elena wouldn’t object, either.” He stepped back. “As much as this turn of events thrills me, I’m a little anxious to take care of my own love life.”
Adam glanced at Elena. “Where’s Molly?”
“Oh, I believe she’s over in the old neighborhood.”
Adam’s gaze whipped to Frank. “What the hell’s she doing there? And why are you here?“
Frank shrugged. “She said she didn’t need me.”
“She always says stuff like that. Damn it, Frank, I left you in charge. You were supposed to watch over her!”
Frank just grinned, unperturbed by Adam’s hostility. “Since I’m doing such a poor job of it, it’s lucky you’re home now, isn’t it?”
Adam blew out a frustrated breath. “Are the keys to the Porsche in the kitchen?”
“I doubt it.” Frank looked at Elena, sharing a grin with her. “Didn’t Molly take the Porsche?”
“Yes, I believe she did. She does like to take the T-top section off of it.”
