Belonging

by Samantha James

  Facing Kim wasn't easy, but she tried to act as normally as possible when she woke the girls that morning. She briskly shooed Casey into the bathroom, then sat down on the edge of the bed.

  Kim was sitting up, her thin arms wrapped around her knees. There was a pinched, worried expression on

  her face that pulled on Angie's heartstrings, but she forced a faint smile to her lips.

  "Are you okay this morning?" she asked softly.

  Kim nodded, then spoke very hesitantly. "Are you mad at me, Mommy? Because of what I did last night?"

  Angie's response was swift and immediate. "Of course not, sweetheart." She smoothed tumbled brown locks behind Kim's ears. "Did you think I would be?"

  There was a tiny frown etched between the child's brows as she seemed to consider. "I...I guess not," she said finally, then seemed to relax a little.

  Angie studied her quietly for a few seconds. The secret that she had held inside all this time couldn't be allowed to fester anymore. Kim carried far too many emotional scars already, and painful though it might be for both of them, they had to discuss it openly and honestly.

  "Kim." Her voice was very gentle as she reached for one of Kim's hands and clasped it reassuringly between both of hers. "Sweetheart, we need to talk. Why didn't you ever tell me you saw--" she stumbled over the words "--saw your father hit me?"

  Kim's eyes filled with tears. She didn't say anything for the longest time, and when she did, her mouth was trembling. "He.. .he scared me, Mommy. And then later... later I didn't like to think about it."

  Knowing what Kim must have endured all this time was like rubbing salt in an open wound. A hard knot swelled in Angie's throat, and she hugged her daughter fiercely. "I'm sorry, Kim." Her voice broke painfully. "Sorry you had to see it."

  "It wasn't your fault, Mommy." Kim's voice was muffled into her mother's breast. She clung to her tightly. "Daddy was mad, he was always mad. And I don't know why, but—but he didn't need to hurt you!" she lashed out fiercely.

  Daddy was mad, he was always mad. In spite of her tender age, Kim had known that something was wrong. And Angie hadn't realized her daughter had been so perceptive. How could I have been so blind! she agonized silently.

  It took a moment for Angie to gather control. "You're right, Kim," she told her quietly. "What he did was wrong. But no matter what, I want you to know that you can talk to me about anything." She tilted Kim's chin up gently and searched her face. "Especially if it's something that scares you. Because sometimes it helps just to talk about it with someone else." Her smile was faint, but her daughter seemed reassured. She could tell by the way Kim's expression began to lighten, as though a thin, filmy curtain had just been lifted. "Okay, sweetheart?"

  Kim nodded, and just then Casey emerged from the bathroom. Angie's youngest wasted no time in engaging her mother and sister in a rip-roaring pillow fight. By the time Angie had the girls dressed and sitting at the breakfast table, Kim was laughing and giggling almost as much as her sister.

  Still, the next few days were far from easy. "Why doesn't Matt come over anymore?" Casey asked one morning at breakfast. She had scarcely touched her food.

  Angie winced at the wounded look in her wide blue eyes. Before she had a chance to respond, Casey spoke once more. "First Spooky went away. Then Matt." Her bottom lip began to tremble. "Don't they like us anymore, Mommy?"

  Angie pulled her small body onto her lap. "Of course they do, darling." She bit her lip, wondering how she could explain. "Spooky... well, we just don't know where she is. And Matt has been very busy lately."

  "Looking for Spooky?" Casey stared up at her.

  Nodding slowly, she smothered a feeling of guilt and quickly changed the subject. That Spooky might be dead was something she hated to think about.

  But Casey wasn't the only one who noticed Matt's absence. Kim expressed disappointment over the loss of her batting coach.

  Their mother missed him, too—missed him dreadfully. Going to work, knowing that Matt was in the same building made it even harder. She wasn't sure if she was angry or hurt at how easily he had accepted her decision.

  The only contact she had with him was through Georgia. He let her know they still hadn't discovered the identity of the person who had sent the note, and he asked her to postpone the council's vote on the city hall issue until the following Monday rather than rescheduling it for later that week.

  The whole business with the note had left her uneasy and on edge, but as the week wore on and nothing else happened, she began to breathe a little easier. And as she told Todd Friday afternoon, the issue was beginning to look up. Steve Jackson had mentioned to her only that morning that he would probably vote in favor of the city hall renovations.

  Still, her mood was far from happy, and even Georgia moped around the office all week. Angie thought her own bleak spirits had something to do with it, but she soon discovered that wasn't the case at all.

  Though Angie was glad that Sam and Georgia had found each other, she was the first to admit that the idea of Georgia involved in a mad passionate affair took a little getting used to. Georgia wasn't the type to supply every little detail of what went on between her and Sam, but over the past few weeks Angie had learned that things were progressing at a very nice pace.

  "Going out this weekend?" Angie dropped a pile of letters she'd just signed back into the tray on Georgia's desk.

  "Nope." Georgia slammed a drawer shut.

  As she shoved her chair back and headed toward the filing cabinet, Angie's puzzled gaze followed her assistant. Suddenly she realized that she hadn't seen Sam hovering around the office at all during the past week.

  "Uh-oh," she murmured, thinking aloud. "Something tells me there's trouble in paradise."

  Georgia yanked a stack of folders from the cabinet and marched back to her desk. She eyed the younger woman over the rim of her glasses. "What makes you think that?" she retorted gruffly.

  Angie raised an eyebrow. "I wasn't trying to pry, Georgia. But it just occurred to me that Sam hasn't taken you to lunch even once this week."

  "That's because he's got more on his mind than lunch—a lot more!" At Angie's startled look she heaved an impatient sigh. "For heaven's sake, not that."

  By now Angie was trying hard not to smile. "If not 'that,'" she chided teasingly, "then what?"

  Georgia scowled. "Let's just say he's getting a little too serious."

  Angie watched Georgia as she flitted around the office, straightening furniture that didn't need to be straightened, swiping dust off plants that weren't dusty. "Too serious?" she asked when it became apparent that Georgia wasn't going to offer anything more unless coaxed.

  "He wants to get married!"

  Angie was tempted to laugh at Georgia's aghast expression, but the hint of sadness mixed with the confusion in her eyes stopped her. "And you don't?"

  "No!" Following that fervent denial, Georgia dropped into the nearest chair. "I mean yes, I do, but..." She began to wring her hands. "We had one heck of a humdinger over it," she finally admitted.

  "Do you love him?" Angie asked calmly.

  "Yes."

  "And he loves you?"

  "He says he does."

  "Do you believe him?"

  "Yes." Georgia's chin lifted a notch. "Yes, I do!"

  Angie leaned a hip against the corner of the desk. "Then what's stopping you from marrying him?"

  Georgia hesitated. "I'm forty-four years old," she said slowly. "I've been on my own for longer than I care to remember, I'm independent as hell." She shook her head. "I don't know, Angie. I'm not sure I could get used to making that kind of change in my life. Sam and I might end up driving each other crazy."

  "That's where a little principle called give-and-take comes in," Angie reminded her. "You certainly won't know unless you try." She mulled silently for a moment. "I guess you have to ask yourself if you're better off with him or without him. And if worse comes to worst and you still can't decide, then maybe it's time to listen
to your heart."

  By the time she'd finished, Georgia was looking at her with an odd expression. "And maybe," the other woman added quietly, "it's time you listened to yours."

  The room grew very still. She knew Georgia was referring to the state of affairs between her and Matt. The reasons Georgia had just rattled off for refusing to marry Sam were ones that could easily have applied to herself.

  What a fool she was. What a blind, hypocritical fool.

  Finally she looked across at Georgia with a weak smile. "I'm a fine one to be dishing out advice, aren't I?"

  Georgia got up and squeezed her shoulder. "If it makes you feel any better, he's just as miserable. Margie told me yesterday that walking into his office is like walking into a minefield."

  But knowing that Matt was miserable didn't make her feel any better. It only made her feel guilty. It had never been her intention to hurt him—she'd told him that and she meant it with all her heart. If only she had been able to resist him. If only she had been stronger. If only he had listened to her from the start. If only...

  By Saturday morning there was one thing she was sure of—if she didn't find some way of getting her mind off Matt, she would end up a basket case. Even with the girls to keep her company, the loneliness at home was stifling.

  ***

  The morning was warm, beautifully sunny and cloudless. Much too gorgeous a day to stay cooped up at home entertaining morose thoughts, Angie told herself. She called the Crawfords to see if they would be interested in a picnic. Bill was working overtime at the mill, but Janice and her children decided to come

  along, anyway. She packed a lunch, and they all piled into the Crawfords' station wagon and headed to a park just outside the city.

  It was early in the afternoon when Janice glanced over at Angie. They'd spread a quilt beneath the protective shade of a gnarled old oak tree, and Angie lay on her back, her knees tucked up, her hands resting on her stomach. She looked peaceful and rested, but there was a telltale sadness in her eyes that was only too familiar to Janice. Over the past few weeks she'd followed the current state of affairs between her friend and Matt Richardson with delighted interest, but it was clear that lately something wasn't right.

  "You know," Janice eased into the conversation, "that confession is good for the soul, don't you?"

  Angie frowned good-naturedly, her eyes still closed. She'd known her friend far too long to pretend not to know what she was talking about. "We came for a little R and R, Jan. Let's not spoil it, hmm?"

  Janice shrugged. The light, bantering tone didn't fool her. "Who can you talk to about a man, if not a woman?" She sighed when Angie wrinkled her nose. "And here I thought you'd thrown away your halo and clipped your wings not long after you met Matt Richardson."

  Angie opened one eye and turned her head slightly. If Janice was trying to rile her, it wasn't succeeding, at least not yet. "What," she asked airily, "is that supposed to mean?"

  Cross-legged, Janice swung around to face her. "It means that I thought you'd finally started living again."

  Angie sat up. "Come on," she protested, brushing a stray blade of grass from her shorts. "What is this if not living? It's a beautiful day, I don't have to work and I'm not spending it cooped up—"

  "Aha!" the other woman exclaimed triumphantly, a gleam in her eyes. "But what about tonight?"

  Angie's mouth snapped shut. Janice's smile faded, as well, and she reached out to touch Angie's hand. "I'm not trying to pry," she said gently, "but I know when something's wrong. And I have a very good suspicion it has to do with Matt Richardson."

  Angie nodded reluctantly.

  "You're not seeing each other? Other than professionally?"

  The shake of Angie's head was barely perceptible.

  "Your choice or his?"

  "Mine." Angie's mouth scarcely moved.

  Janice's eyes were full of sympathy. "What's the problem? That is, if it's anything you can talk about," she quickly added. "Or want to talk about."

  Eric had toddled over some time ago and now lay sleeping between the two women. In the awkward void of silence, Angie reached out and began to gently pat his back.

  "There would be no problem if I'd never gotten involved with him in the first place," she reflected, then caught Janice's guilty expression. Hastening to reassure her friend, she summoned a wan smile. "Don't blame yourself. It would have happened with or without you trying to throw the two of us together."

  Angie moved a finger up to caress the baby's chubby cheek. At her touch he blew out a bubbly sigh. Finally she looked up at Janice. "Matt thinks I don't trust him."

  This time it was Janice who stretched out the silence. "Do you?" she asked very quietly.

  In the next tree birds chattered noisily. High above, golden sunlight crept through the twisted jumble of branches and leaves. Angie looked out at the small pond nearby where Kim, Casey and Nancy splashed near the shore, the puppy yapping at their heels.

  "I don't know," she said finally. "As much as I wish I could, it's just not that simple."

  "Because of Evan." Janice paused to consider the situation, then spoke very gently. "I know how painful it was for you before Evan died. Bill and I couldn't help but see what he did to your marriage. Evan was... different. We saw the change he went through when he lost his job, the pressures he put on you. We saw him drifting away from all of us." The look she leveled at Angie was oddly probing. "But I hope you're not thinking of Matt in the same vein as Evan because they're nothing alike—and I think you should know that better than anyone."

  It was a disturbing conversation, but nonetheless, the day's outing was just the therapy Angie needed.

  Tired from all the activity, Casey had promptly fallen asleep the minute they climbed back into the car. When they arrived home Angie chided her good- naturedly, giving her a gentle slap on the bottom. "Come on and help like the rest of us. If you're tired tomorrow, you can take a nap."

  The mention of a nap almost always guaranteed a state of instant wakefulness, and it didn't fail this time. Grabbing a thermos, Casey scrambled from the car and trailed behind Kim and Nancy toward the front porch.

  Yes, getting out of the house had been just the thing she needed, Angie reflected as she and Janice followed the girls at a more leisurely pace. She definitely felt better. Maybe not good, but definitely better.

  It made the scene that greeted her inside the house just that much worse.

  Angie stood in the front hallway in stunned silence. She could only stare in helpless disbelief at the total destruction that met her eyes.

  "My God," Janice gasped. "What on earth..."

  The living room had been completely torn apart. Pictures had been ripped from the walls, cushions had been yanked from the sofa and chairs and thrown aside. Bits and pieces of glass and ceramics lay crushed and shattered on the carpet. It appeared as if a giant arm had swept across the room, ruthlessly crushing everything in its path.

  A sickening wave of nausea swept over her. She became dimly aware that Casey and Kim were crying. Nancy looked just as frightened as she grabbed her mother's hand.

  "It's okay, girls." Angie sent a wobbly smile to Nancy, then bent and hugged Kim and Casey, grateful that someone else demanded her attention. Gritting her teeth, she forced her mind to function once more.

  "Angie." Janice hadn't moved an inch from her spot in the doorway, but her dark eyes scanned the room once more. "Maybe you should call the police."

  Angie nodded. With both girls clinging tightly to her, she moved toward the small table in the corner. The fragile, spindly legs had been smashed to smithereens. She picked up the phone from the rubble. With trembling hands, she punched out a number.

  It wasn't until a masculine voice answered that she realized who she had called. "Matt," she whispered. Weak with relief, she sank to her knees on the floor.

  "Angie. Angie, what's wrong?"

  She tried to tell him--she really did. But the only sound that emerged was a hoarse plea. "Matt,"
she choked out. "Please come... please."

  "I'll be right there."

  They were the sweetest words she'd ever heard.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Everyone jumped at the sound of footsteps pounding up the porch steps. The screen was nearly yanked off its hinges from the force used to open it. The front door burst open. A huge, distorted shadow loomed....

  To Angie, no sight had ever looked quite so good as Matt's big frame filling the doorway. "Matt." Her shoulders sagged with relief. She made her way toward him on legs that felt like melted candle wax. "Oh, Matt, thank God you came."

  His arms immediately closed around her. In the seconds before he was surrounded by four other obviously frightened females, Matt saw the wreckage that littered the living room and entryway.

  "Good Lord." He sounded as shocked as he looked. "What on earth..."

  It was Janice who managed a sickly smile, bouncing the baby gently against her hip. "I already said that, Chief." She went on to tell him they'd been gone all day and returned less than ten minutes ago to find the house like this.

  His fingers tightened briefly on Angie's shoulders. He could see that she was badly shaken. Her face was deathly pale, and he could feel her trembling in his arms. The youngsters, he noted, didn't look quite as fearful as they had when he walked through the door.

  He smiled reassuringly at them, then looked over Angie's head at Janice.

  "Did you phone the police yet?"

  She shook her head. "Angie wanted to wait until after you came. I called Bill, and he's outside checking to make sure there's no one still around."

  Just then another door slammed, and Bill walked in from the kitchen, his face grim. He nodded briefly to Matt. "Everything's okay outside, and nothing's been touched upstairs." He looked at his wife. "Show him the note yet?"

  He stiffened. "Note? What note?"

  Angie finally drew back to gaze up at him. She was still pale, but her eyes were clear. "We found another one," she murmured in a low voice so the children wouldn't hear. "Stuck to the wall with a knife." How she prevented herself from shuddering, she wasn't sure.