“Oh, yes.”
“He throws his weight around, doesn’t he?”
Remaining silent, she responded with a slim smile.
Puzzlement swept across his face. “Did I?”
She knew the answer to that. The Montgomerys, especially Ellis, had expected preferential treatment. Rachel seemed more down-to-earth to Sam, but then she’d been away for a while, away from her father’s influence.
And Max? What had he been like? She didn’t think he’d bend easily to someone else’s way, but most of his life, he’d seemed to have done what his father had expected of him. According to other people, Max Montgomery had been just as ambitious, just as demanding, as his father. Sam refrained from pointing that out to Max. He had enough doubts about himself because of the amnesia.
After a dinner of poached salmon and hazelnut cake for dessert, Sam cajoled Max into a game of chess for a penny a point. She won, more the result of his lack of concentration than her skill.
With time to spare before Alyssa arrived, Sam wandered out to the terrace. She thought Max might want to be alone, but only a few minutes passed and he joined her. As he slid an arm across her stomach and pressed her back against him, she smiled, glad he’d come outside. With evening, more clouds filled the sky, blocking the light of the moon. The scent of incoming rain floated on the breeze. Resting her head back on his shoulder, she watched the shadow of a prairie dog scoot into tall grass. “You should get horses.”
“A dog. Horses.” A trace of amusement edged his voice. “What’s next? An elephant?”
Sam cracked a small grin at his teasing.
“Do you ride?” he asked.
“Yes. I learned when we were living in Texas.”
Lightly he pressed his lips to her hair. “I’ll think about it, then.”
Sam angled a smile back at him. Warm with love for him, she needed no coaxing. She turned in his embrace.
“Through something bad, I’ve found something wonderful.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “You.”
Desperately Sam wanted to believe in them. Was this—hope—what her mother had felt all those times? Sam understood now. Not desire, but hope in a future with someone had led her mother.
Like a butterfly’s caress, his mouth grazed hers. The kiss was sweet, inviting. “Hmm,” she murmured. “Is there time?” She sighed as his fingers played across her hip. No answer was needed. She closed her eyes, drifting beneath the caress of his hand down her thigh, as one kiss blended into another.
Barely, they got dressed in time. Sam was slipping on her dress when the doorbell rang. While Max hurried down the stairs, she wiggled her feet into her sandals, then rushed out of the bedroom. Though all day she’d looked forward to spending time with Alyssa, she wished now that she and Max would be alone tonight.
When Sam reached the top of the staircase, she heard Rachel’s hello to her brother.
Sam hit the bottom step to see Rachel halting in midstride and placing a hand on her stomach. “Oh, boy. Oh, girl.”
Despite the laughter in her eyes, a concerned Max rushed to her. “Are you okay?”
Behind Rachel, standing in the doorway, Jack chuckled. “This baby is a live wire.”
“Feel,” Rachel urged Max.
He hesitated. “No, that’s okay.”
“Come on, Max.” Rachel took his hand and placed it on her stomach. “Feel.”
Immediately a light came into his eyes. “Damn,” he whispered. “I feel it. It’s moving all over the place.”
“That’s nothing,” Rachel assured him. “Sometimes, like late at night,” she said, looking over her shoulder at Jack for confirmation, “I think the baby is rocking in there.”
“It’s the truth,” Jack said with a proud father-to-be grin. Moving into the living room, he lowered a sleeping Alyssa to the sofa.
“She’ll be awake in a few minutes,” Rachel told Max. “After an hour with her, you’re probably going to wish you weren’t so eager for this playtime.” Rachel set down the diaper bag. “There’s one filled bottle in the bag, Sam. Sometimes Alyssa still looks for it.”
Sam smiled with her. She expected no problem. She’d gotten to know Alyssa during one of Rachel’s visits at the hospital.
In the silent way of a married couple, Rachel exchanged a look with Jack.
“Is there something you want to say?” Max questioned.
Rachel tipped her head slightly in a quizzical manner. “Did you hear about Gavin?”
“We were there when Sheriff Rawlings and Sloan were bringing him in,” Sam answered.
“We know now that the father’s note left with Alyssa was from Gavin,” Jack said.
Max regarded Alyssa. “If evidence proves he’s the murderer, chances are you’ll be keeping Alyssa.”
“You know how I feel about Alyssa,” Rachel said, “but I don’t hope for her father to have killed her mother. That’s not something I’d want her to have to grow up knowing.”
“Well, was there any other special man?”
Jack moved near Rachel and touched the small of her back as if offering moral support.
“I don’t recall her mentioning anyone else. I know that for a while Gavin was with Patricia Winthrop,” Rachel informed them.
Max faced Sam, as if looking to her for an explanation. She knew he had no idea who the woman was. “She’s extremely beautiful with her white-blond hair,” she said, thinking he might have noticed her when they were in town. “She’s a member of the country club set.”
“And she was seeing Gavin Nighthawk?”
“They weren’t a match her family would dream of. Eventually she spurned him and who knows who was next in his life.”
Jack shifted his stance. “Rachel, we should leave or—”
“We’ll be late,” she finished for him and smiled before she went to Alyssa to kiss her cheek. Lacing her fingers with Jack’s, she wandered with him toward the door.
Sam glanced at a window and observed Ellis’s car pulling in the driveway. “Your father just arrived.”
“He’s acting strange,” Rachel said to Max. “He’s been…oddly attentive. I think he’s grooming himself to be a grandpa.”
Humor rose in Max. “Now, there’s a thought. He’ll probably take the kid on the campaign trail to show his family man traits.”
The sounds of the puppy’s yipping drew Sam to the kitchen. “Have fun,” she called to Rachel and Jack, and left to get the pup. But when within seconds she returned with it, she heard Rachel’s laugh and gathered she and Jack had gotten stalled at the front door by Ellis.
“Max and Sam are baby-sitting,” Rachel was explaining. With Jack, she inched closer to the doorway. “Wait until you see Max’s puppy,” she said to her father. “He’s so cute.”
“His what?”
With that, Rachel and Jack made their escape.
Ellis glanced to his left toward Sam and the puppy. “What possessed you to get a dog? Who’s going to care for him?” A scowl replaced his frown. “You don’t have time, Max.”
No, he had no time for anything but his work, did he? Max mused. Was that the kind of thinking that had driven him for years? Had he been happy? Successful, yes. But happy?
On the floor now, the pup nudged the ball around the highly polished wood in the den. He slapped a paw at the ball, sent it rolling across the room and scampered after it, skidding on all fours. He came to a stop and plopped on the area rug with its Native American design, as if suddenly bored with playing.
“Are you going to keep it?” Ellis questioned.
Max felt Sam’s glance. “I don’t know,” he answered, but he knew he would. Sam would be heartbroken if he got rid of the dog. As if sensing acceptance, the puppy looked up at him and tapped its tail on the floor.
Critically, Ellis eyed the pup. “You always wanted one, you know. Do you remember that?”
Max shot a look at him. Age nine. He could see himself. Feel a loneliness seeping into him. He’d asked for a dog, longed for one
of his own. He’d thought no one had been listening when he’d asked to have one.
Max felt his heart quicken. He’d just had a memory, a vivid one of the last time he’d talked about a pet. His mother had breezily prattled on about some charity she was chairing, as if he’d never spoken. And his father? Max recalled Ellis drinking his morning coffee, nodding in response to Max’s mother. But for a brief second he had looked in Max’s direction. He had been paying attention to him, he realized now.
“Your mother didn’t abide by pets,” Ellis said. “She thought they were too dirty. As a kid I had two dogs. A Boston terrier and a golden retriever.” He motioned toward the puppy. “What kind is this?”
Sam dug into the diaper bag that Rachel had left. “A collie mix.”
He’d cared, Max knew now. A hell of a thing. But at thirty-four, he’d learned that his father, in his own way, had cared about him and his feelings—always had.
Was that the first of many memories? Max wondered. The warming glow of a setting sun filled the room and enticed him toward the terrace doors. The sky bore a rainbow of colors, streaks of pink and orange shooting across the horizon.
“So what’s its name?” Ellis asked.
“What did you name yours?” Sam replied because Max had suddenly gone silent.
“The terrier was Putts and—”
“Putts?” Over his shoulder, Max chuckled.
Ellis shrugged, looking embarrassed. “And the other one was Casey.”
Though no one asked for her opinion, Sam wasn’t shy to give it. “Cute name.”
Max exchanged a grin with her. “Name him that.”
A vague smile sparkled in Ellis’s eyes. “He was a fine dog. Mine, that is. This one might be, too,” he said, giving the puppy another look.
Max stared out the window again and took a sharp breath as another memory flashed at him. He’d remembered Ellis talking about his parents, driving by the closed-up factory to show it to Max. “My father worked there,” he’d said.
Max remembered more. His grandparents had been strict and not financially well off, but hardworking. Ellis had told him he would never have had anything if he hadn’t worked hard.
Max assumed that because his father hadn’t had much as a child he’d grown ambitious. He’d said that his money had come from selling the family land. He was a self-made man who’d caught the eye of a woman with a pedigree. And today, Max mused, Ellis had money, social position and power. Was that why for years Max, too, hadn’t wanted anything else?
Behind him, Ellis cleared his throat in the manner of someone aware how uncharacteristic he was acting. “Why I came is because of Nighthawk. We need to talk.”
Max faced him. Ellis stayed only twenty minutes, but was adamant that the prosecutor seek the death penalty. Before he stood to leave, he’d calmed a little. His eyes went to a sleeping Alyssa. “Do you know what you’re doing?”
Max looked at Alyssa, and Sam, then back to his father. “We’ll be fine.” Not quite so confident, he waited until they were alone to question Sam’s baby-sitting skills. “We will be, won’t we?”
Sam stifled a laugh. “Losing your nerve?”
He eyed Alyssa again. Who wouldn’t have misgivings about caring for someone so small?
“Relax.” Sam sidestepped him. “You’ll be fine. I have to put this in the refrigerator,” she said about the bottle.
“Don’t be long,” Max called after her.
He heard her laugh. At him or with him? It didn’t matter. When he’d been in the hospital, fighting depression over the amnesia, he’d thought he’d never smile again. She’d made the difference. She’d made him feel whole again.
At the sound of rain pattering against the window, Max peered outside, then moved closer to the baby. He really wanted contact with the little one. In what he viewed as a dumb reaction, he tensed as she suddenly stirred. A tiny foot flexed, then a chubby leg stretched.
Max inched closer. He’d seen a movie called Raiders of the Lost Ark recently with Sam. In one scene, the hero, an archaeologist, carefully measured each step to not set off some booby trap with the wrong move.
Max realized he felt a bit like that character as he approached Alyssa. She was an unknown to him and that bothered him. But if he couldn’t feel any closeness for Christina, finding it with her baby might be the next best thing.
Less anxious, he neared the little one just as her head turned in his direction. Lashes fluttered, then her eyes opened wide to him. “Hi, sweetheart,” he said softly, soothingly because she looked ready to burst into tears.
Sam, come back now. Max glanced at the doorway. How long did it take to place a bottle of milk in the refrigerator? If she was deliberately deserting him, he’d—
He saw Alyssa’s brows furrow. “Want to come here?” Max held out an arm to her. Just don’t cry. Don’t cry.
A second passed. Then another. He felt as if he were being scrutinized by one of the best before she started moving toward him. Max took it as a sign of approval and bent to lift her against him.
“Ba-ba.”
What did that mean? “I don’t know what you want. Wait until the resident expert returns. Okay?”
“Ba-ba.”
Max laughed. Definitely she had a limited vocabulary. “Okay, gotcha. Ba-ba. What’s that mean? Bottle?” His voice trailed off.
A smile, so bright it warmed his insides, spread across her face. She was so beautiful. He stared into blue eyes, sparkling blue eyes that would one day capture a man’s soul. Incredible blue eyes. Blue eyes just like Christina’s.
Oh, God. Christina. His gut clenched. “Christina.” The word came out choked. Unexpected grief swept through him, clutched his heart. It could have been yesterday. Vividly he remembered that moment when he’d learned she was dead.
Dead. A breath hitched in his throat. Eyes squeezed tight, he pulled Alyssa to him, cuddled his sister’s baby, held her tightly. Too tightly, he feared, feeling her squirm. Because he was afraid to hold her, he set her down on the carpet. It took effort to think, to focus on anything, but he saw the toys, a fabric book, a ball that jingled. Max placed them in front of her, then sank to a sofa cushion. Fast and furious, images bombarded him. And one haunted him.
He saw himself in his office, the phone in his hand. “I need you,” his sister was saying. “Max, everything is going wrong. I don’t know who else to call.”
Tears broke her voice. He’d heard them and steeled himself against the softness flowing through him, making him want to help her.
But why? Why hadn’t he helped her? Why hadn’t he met his sister? “I’m busy. Too busy,” he remembered saying. Too busy for what?
Why? Why had he refused her? If only he hadn’t, if only—what? Nothing would be different. Christina would still be gone, but she’d know, wouldn’t she? She’d know that he’d loved her.
Guilt swept over him, squeezed at his throat. He shut his eyes again, felt the sting of tears behind his lids while more images of his past flashed by. He couldn’t help her—or anyone. That’s why he hadn’t met her. He’d learned years ago that he hurt people. Look at what he’d done to Michelle.
Oh, God.
He’d nearly killed a woman.
All he’d forgotten descended on him. Michelle had been the first one he’d hurt. Rachel hadn’t told him everything. It had been during finals week at college. He’d been studying all night. He’d been tired. Exhausted. He should have never gotten behind the steering wheel. The accident had been his fault. A woman had suffered months in the hospital, months of agony in rehabilitation because of him, because of his arrogance.
Her only mistake had been loving him. People who loved him got hurt. That’s what he hadn’t remembered. That’s what he wanted to forget. Pictures raced through his mind. If only he could stop thinking, feeling.
Thirteen
It was the look on his face that stalled Sam in the doorway. He looked pale, as if all the blood had drained from his face. She checked on Alyssa. Ha
ppily she patted the jingling ball. Sam still didn’t move. She couldn’t. He kept staring at the photograph of Christina. What was happening here? In the darkening room, Sam stepped forward slowly, quietly.
A few feet from him, she saw his face in profile, saw the tears on his cheek. He’d remembered. Sam didn’t need confirmation from him. Anguish deepened the lines bracketing his mouth. He sat like a battered man, as if even breathing was too much work.
Oh, Max. Her breath stuck in her throat at seeing so much pain in his face. She remained silent, even as she sat beside him. Outside rain fell, plopping in a syncopated beat against the roof of the house. She listened to it, still said nothing, and waited.
Minutes passed. She had no idea how much time passed before he became aware of her and finally spoke. “I remember it all. Christina’s call, the break in her voice.” He shut his eyes as if what he could see was too painful. “She was on the verge of tears when she asked me to meet her. I refused. It was the last time I talked to her.” His voice softened in the manner of someone struggling to talk. “I knew something was wrong, something was troubling her, but I was busy at the bank, and didn’t take the time to help her. Then no one knew where she was.”
Quiet, he simply stared at the photograph. Before he spoke again, he labored for a breath. “I nearly went crazy when we couldn’t find her. Rachel came. That helped. But our father was ranting about Christina’s irresponsibleness, as if she was taking up too much of his time.”
Sam remembered feeling terrible for the family. Every day in the newspaper an article appeared, re-hashing Christina’s disappearance and who her family was.
“There was no comfort when we learned where she was, what happened to her. She was dead. She’d never be back. Never,” he said so softly that the word was lost on the air.
Sam fought against tears for him. All that had been hidden within him was visible now.
“I offered a huge reward for information leading to the arrest of the person responsible. So what? I couldn’t make up for what I hadn’t done. That phone call had been her cry for help.”
“Max, there were others she could have called.”
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