Daddy On The Run

by Carla Cassidy

  “I’m sorry, I’m interested in a job. Nothing more.”

  “I’ll bet you like Italian,” he said, his smile distinctly flirtatious. “I know a great little Italian place, makes the best manicotti on Long Island.”

  “I don’t eat Italian,” she lied, “and I really think it’s time for you to leave.”

  “Look, all I’m asking for is a nice dinner together, no strings attached.” He sidled away from the door, toward her. “You’re a very attractive woman, Julianne. I must confess, I’m quite taken with you,” he said, flashing his teeth.

  Suddenly there was a crash. A vase, which had sat on a small table on the landing above them, came tumbling down at their feet in a hundred pieces. He yelped and jumped back with a startled oath. “What was that? A poltergeist?” he asked as he placed a hand over his heart.

  “I don’t know,” Julianne exclaimed, her own heart battering against the sides of her ribs. “It…it must have been off balance.” She threaded fingers through her hair, distracted by the unexpected occurrence.

  “That didn’t just teeter and fall, it propelled down like it was thrown,” he said as his gaze once again sought the landing. He laughed uneasily. “You sure you don’t have a disgruntled ghost?”

  “Mommy?” Emily’s voice drifted down from her bedroom.

  “It’s okay, Emily,” Julianne yelled up the stairs. “Mommy just broke a vase.” She turned back to Bill. “I—I need to get a broom and clean up the mess.”

  “I’ll be on my way, then. Let me know if you see anything on those lists that interests you. And perhaps we can discuss a nice Italian dinner another time.” Flashing her another of his overbright.grins, he turned and left.

  Heart still pounding, Julianne quickly closed the door and locked it behind him. Turning around, she frowned at the shards of the broken vase on the floor. How odd. That vase had sat on the landing for as long as they had lived here. What had made it suddenly fall?

  As she swept up the pieces she decided she didn’t care why it had fallen, she was just grateful it had. The crash had effectively broken whatever mood Bill Martin had been attempting to set. She shuddered as she remembered the way his gaze had lingered on her breasts, her legs.

  She’d been stupid. She should never have agreed for him to stop by her house. “Creep,” she muttered as she cleaned up the last of the mess. She would find her own job. There was no way she wanted any other contact with Mr. Slimy Bill Martin.

  She went into the kitchen and turned off the coffee maker, then headed upstairs, eager to call it a night and go to bed. As she rechecked all the doors to make certain they were locked, a whisper of worry resurged.

  Locking the doors at the end of the day had always been Sam’s job. As silly as it seemed, the mere act of having to do that task herself filled her with distress. Where are you, Sam? Are you safe? Warm? Why haven’t you contacted me? So many questions raced through her mind, questions that had no answers.

  Once upon a time she’d believed her destiny was her own to guide, but since Sam’s disappearance, everything seemed to be spinning out of her control. Circumstances she couldn’t command had changed her life forever, and she was determined to take charge of the areas she could. She was living a life of limbo and uncertainty, but she had vowed to keep things as normal as possible for Emily’s sake.

  As she got into the king-size bed where she’d slept with Sam since their wedding night, she silently begged for sleep to come swiftly.

  It was only in sleep that her love for Sam was allowed to shine through without the complication of other emotions. She could momentarily forget the problems that had plagued their marriage before the night of the crime. She could overlook the little annoying habits he’d had that had driven her crazy. In the sweet arms of slumber, her dreams were filled with the memory of the simple emotion of loving Sam.

  Sam Baker leaned against a box of Christmas decorations, a flashlight illuminating the area directly around him. Thankfully the attic was well insulated and the rising heat from the house below kept it a comfortable temperature.

  After months of running he was finally home, although home for the past two days had been the dusty, crowded confines of the attic. He’d snuck into the attic while Julianne and Emily had been out of the house, and for most of the past two days he’d only left the attic when he was certain the house was empty, or when he thought Julianne and Emily were sleeping.

  He should be thinking of how to solve the mess he was in. Wanted by the police for the murder of his father, certain the real killer was after him, and deathly afraid for his family’s well-being, Sam was at the end of his emotional and physical rope. Yes, he should be trying to figure out a way to fix his life and catch a killer, but all he could think of was Julianne and Emily.

  His bands closed into fists as he remembered the ineffective wrath that had nearly suffocated him as he’d listened to Bill Martin flirt with Julianne. He’d wanted to charge down the attic stairs, leap over the landing and slug the guy. Instead he had rocketed the vase, then returned to the attic staircase, praying the smashing vase would be enough to send the creep on his way. Thank God it bad worked and Sam hadn’t needed to do anything more dramatic.

  He didn’t want Julianne to know he was here because he was afraid the knowledge would put her in danger. He needed time alone to think, time to come up with a viable plan.

  Never in his life had he been so bone-weary. Months of looking over his shoulder, trusting nobody, sleeping in alleys and on park benches had taken their toll on him. He’d become an animal, wary and suspicious of everyone, scrambling to stay alive.

  At least here he felt safe, he could sleep without fear. He’d even managed a much-needed shower earlier while Julianne and Emily had been out. Wearing clean clothes and a splash of his favorite cologne, he almost felt human again.

  There was only one more thing he needed before he would sleep. Looking at his wristwatch, he saw that it was nearing midnight. Surely it would be safe now.

  With the stealth of a seasoned burglar, he crept down the attic stairs and opened the door that led to the second-story hallway of the house.

  He stood perfectly still for a long moment, listening to the sounds of a house at rest. The tick-tock of the grandfather clock, the hum of the furnace, all the familiar sounds enfolded him and filled him with a sense of welcome.

  Turning to the left, he went to Emily’s bedroom door. Stepping inside, he was unsurprised to see her still awake, her features visible in the night-light she never slept without.

  “Hi, Daddy,” she whispered as she sat up. “I knew you’d come. I been waiting for you.”

  “It’s late. You should be asleep.” Sam sat down on the edge of her bed, breathing in the scent of her, a wonderful mixture of sunshine and little-girl sweetness no perfume could produce.

  “I was waiting for my good-night kiss from you,” she announced.

  Sam leaned down and kissed her forehead. “Go to sleep now, Emily. It’s very late.”

  “Will you stay with me till I fall asleep?” she asked.

  He nodded, and she immediately closed her eyes. He’d never intended for Emily to know he was here, but he hadn’t been able to resist sneaking down the night before just to see her while she slept. Unfor-tunately, she hadn’t been sleeping.

  When he explained to her that Daddy could only come downstairs in the night, she’d accepted it with a child’s innocence. The same way she accepted the existence of a jolly fat man who left toys at Christmas and a giant bunny who left eggs at Easter.

  Emily was always filled with stories of fairy princesses and pixies, angels and unicorns. Sam hoped her stories of Daddy were met with the same amused disbelief as the rest of her tales.

  Realizing Emily had fallen asleep, he got up from the bed. He started back toward the attic staircase, then hesitated. Just one look. He stared toward the door that led to the master bedroom. Just one look at Julianne before he went back to his self-imposed cell. He needed to look a
t her face for a single moment.

  Before he knew it, he stood in the doorway of his bedroom, his gaze seeking his wife in the tumble of blankets on the bed. A night-light burned in this room, too. A beacon of light in case Emily awakened and stumbled in for a hug.

  Knowing he was taking an enormous risk, yet unable to stop his forward motion, he moved to the side of the bed. As usual, she slept curled up on her side, a hand fisted beneath her chin as if she contemplated the dreams spinning in her head.

  Her pale blond hair spilled across the pillow like spun silk, and he fisted his hands at his sides, resisting the impulse to touch the soft strands.

  Oh, Julianne, his heart sighed its pain. He wanted nothing better than to crawl into the bed next to her, take her in his arms and hold her until morning light broke through the windowpane. Although his heart knew his desire, his head knew the risks. And they were simply too big.

  Besides, things hadn’t been great between them before he’d had to pull his disappearing act. He had a feeling four months of being gone from her life probably hadn’t helped things at all. In fact, the night before the murder of his father, Julianne had told him she was unhappy; perhaps they should consider a separation or think about a divorce. She got her separation, he thought wryly.

  Silently he backed out of the room, a slight burning in his eyes as he went back to the attic stairs.

  Somehow, some way, he had to fix the trouble he was in, had to find the person responsible for his father’s death and his own exile. He had a horrifying feeling that time was running out. Each day that passed, every moment he stayed away, the distance between Julianne and him grew greater.

  What he feared more than anything was that when he eventually sorted through the murder of his father and cleared his own name, the only thing left of his marriage would be ashes.

  Chapter Two

  “Emily, time to get up,” Julianne called from the doorway of her daughter’s room. She smiled as the little girl burrowed deeper beneath the bright pink blankets. “Come on, sleepyhead. Pancakes in ten minutes.”

  “Pancakes?” Emily’s head popped up at the mention of her favorite breakfast food.

  “Yes, and don’t forget you have school this morning so dress nice. No jeans.” Julianne turned to go downstairs to the kitchen, then paused and breathed in deeply.

  Sam. For just a moment she imagined she smelled the spicy scent of his favorite cologne. She closed her eyes, shaken to her core. The scent reminded her of early days in their marriage, when they had spent mornings snuggled beneath blankets, making love frantically one last time before Sam left for work. The memory stole her breath with bittersweetness.

  Shaking her head, she continued on down the stairs. Twice since she’d awakened earlier, she’d thought she smelled Sam.

  It’s amazing what the imagination can do, she thought as she stirred the pancake batter. Smelling Sam’s cologne, feeling his very presence in the house. Lately, these kinds of things had kept her sane.

  However, it was now time to get busy with reality. She had breakfast to make and Emily to get to school. Despite Sam’s absence, she and Emily had to move ahead with life.

  A month ago she’d begun taking Emily to a daycare twice a week. When she’d realized she needed to find a job, she’d decided to ease Emily into a preschool slowly to see how she’d adjust. Thankfully, Emily loved her school and Julianne knew when it came time for Emily to go full-time, it wouldn’t be a big problem.

  The doorbell chimed, interrupting her thoughts. She set the bowl of pancake batter by the stove, then hurried to the door.

  “Good morning, my dear.” Garrison Fielder greeted her with his usual dashing wink and wide smile. “I was on my way to the office and decided I needed one last cup of coffee before throwing myself at the mercy of the businessworld.”

  Julianne smiled. “This makes twice this week. You’d better be careful, Garrison, or this will become a habit.”

  “I can’t think of any habit I’d rather have,” he said as he followed her into the kitchen and poured himself a cup of coffee.

  He sat down at the table as Julianne began cooking the pancakes. “Where’s my favorite gumdrop?” he asked.

  “She should be down here any minute. It’s a school day,” Julianne said. Her words were met with the sound of little feet pattering down the staircase.

  “Uncle Garri,” Emily squealed in delight as she entered the kitchen. She ran over to where he sat and, with the agility of a monkey, climbed up into his lap.

  Garrison beamed at the child. “You look beautiful this morning, little missy,” he said.

  “Thank you, it’s one of my bestest dresses.” She smoothed the ruffled plaid dress primly. “Will you drive me to school?” she asked.

  “Emily, you shouldn’t impose on Garrison,” Julianne chided her daughter.

  “Nonsense, I’d be delighted to drive my gumdrop to school,” Garrison exclaimed.

  “Who’s my favorite uncle?” Emily asked, beginning the game they always played.

  “I’m sure I don’t know,” Garrison replied.

  “It’s Uncle Garri. It’s you,” Emily laughed.

  “And who’s my favorite gumdrop?” Garrison continued the game. Julianne listened to their silliness, enjoying the sound of her daughter’s giggles.

  As Emily ate, she prattled to Garrison, telling him what she’d dreamed the night before, about the trip to Pizza Pizazz, all the things she deemed important in her life.

  Garrison listened with a bemused, patient smile, answering her questions and giving her his full, undivided attention.

  Julianne watched them as she cleaned up the kitchen, grateful for Garrison’s support and affection. Garrison Fielder had been Sam’s father’s business partner and one of the few people who believed in Sam’s innocence. It had been Garrison who had arranged to pay for Julianne’s bills when the police froze Sam’s assets. Over the past couple of months, he had become a favorite beloved “uncle” to Emily.

  He was a big man, with a head full of snowy-white hair and a matching mustache. He looked like a beardless Santa Claus, and Julianne often wondered if that resemblance was what had drawn Emily to him so completely.

  “You all right? Need any money?” Garrison asked a few minutes later as he got ready to back out of the driveway. “You know all you need to do is ask.”

  “No, we’re fine,” Julianne answered. “I’m looking at jobs and hope to have something very soon. Besides, you’ve been far too generous already.”

  His features darkened with a hint of pain. “It’s the least I can do for Joseph. Both he and Sam would have wanted you taken care of. I still can’t believe he’s gone. Every morning I automatically go toward Joseph’s office, then remember he isn’t there any longer. It’s strange with neither Joseph nor Sam there.” He cleared his throat. “I’d better get this gumdrop to school.” He smiled over at Emily who was buckled in the passenger seat.

  “Emily, have a good day and I’ll see you after school,” Julianne said, then blew her daughter a kiss.

  “Bye, Mommy,” Emily replied, then waved gaily as they backed out of the driveway.

  Julianne lingered on the driveway, reluctant to go back into the empty, lonely house. She should use the time while Emily was in school to do some more job-hunting. One thing was certain, she would not return to the Martin agency. She would find a job for herself, without the complication of fighting off unwanted advances.

  Once she was back inside, she decided to spend the day cleaning instead of job-hunting. She simply felt too fragile to face nameless people rejecting her today.

  Soon after Emily’s birth Sam had offered to hire a maid to keep the big house clean, but Julianne had put her foot down and insisted she do it herself. It was one of the few things she did that made her feel like a wife. Pulling her hair into a ponytail, she changed into a worn pair of sweatpants and one of Sam’s old shirts.

  As she buttoned the shirt around her, she closed her eyes, trying t
o remember how it felt to have Sam’s arms around her instead of just the cool fabric of a shirt he hadn’t liked. The sad part was, even before he’d disappeared, the times he’d held her had been few and far between. Like his father, Sam had been obsessed with the family business, leaving little time for anything else in his life.

  She opened her eyes, irritated with her maudlin thoughts. Time to get to work. Julianne’s friends often teased her and told her it was a sin that she found such comfort in cleaning. But it was true, for Julianne the task of making beds, wiping down countertops and running the vacuum was cathartic.

  She worked until noon, when the doorbell interrupted her in the middle of dusting the living room. “Barry,” she greeted Sam’s best friend at the door by giving him a quick hug. “What are you doing here? Why aren’t you at work?”

  Barry Baxton released her and grinned. “They’ve changed my schedule all around. I’m now off on Thursdays and Fridays instead of Saturdays and Sundays.”

  “Well, come on in, I was just about to fix some lunch. If you don’t mind tuna salad, you’re welcome to stay.”

  “Tuna sounds good to me.” Barry followed her into the kitchen, where he sprawled his tall, thin frame into a kitchen chair. “Bad day?” he asked.

  “No worse than most.” She looked at him curiously. “Why do you ask?”

  He smiled. “I smell pine cleanser and furniture polish. That’s always a sign you’re having a bad time.”

  Julianne gave a rueful laugh. “You’ve known me too long, Barry. You know all my secrets.” She got a container of tuna salad out of the refrigerator, then grabbed a loaf of bread. “I woke up this morning and smelled Sam’s cologne,” she confessed as she made the sandwiches. “I turned over, certain I would find him in bed next to me and that the last four months have really just been a horrible nightmare.” She flashed him a lackluster smile. “Then I came fully awake and realized the months without Sam is the true reality.”