Daddy On The Run

by Carla Cassidy

  “That’s very thoughtful of you,” Sam replied.

  “But when it’s the lemon cookies, I always say yes…’cause those are my favorites,” Emily added, and Julianne and Sam laughed.

  Breakfast was pleasant, with Emily diverting Sam’s attention from his problems. Even Julianne seemed to relax and let down her guard. Her eyes sparkled the way Sam remembered them and her smile seemed less forced when she gazed at him. Hope buoyed his heart, to be immediately squashed as the doorbell rang.

  Sam jumped up from the table as he and Julianne exchanged a panicked gaze. “Emily, why don’t you go upstairs and get dressed and pick up your room?” Julianne said as she whisked Sam’s plate and cup off the table and into the dish-washer.

  “Wanna come and help me, Daddy?” Emily asked.

  “Emily, Daddy has to go now. Somebody is at the door and…”

  “I know, nobody can see my ghost daddy except Mommy and me,” Emily said as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

  “Something like that,” Sam replied.

  “Go,” Julianne said both to her daughter and her husband as the doorbell rang again.

  As Sam raced up to his hiding place in the attic, a renewed sense of urgency filled him as the expression on Julianne’s face burned in his heart.

  For just a few moments they had been a normal family eating breakfast and enjoying each other’s company. With the ring of the doorbell, the truth of their situation had intruded, shattering the normalcy. Julianne’s features had grown taut, her eyes filled with helplessness and an undirected anger. Undirected because she didn’t know who to blame. Neither did Sam.

  He slumped against the Christmas ornament box and covered his face with his hands. Time was running out…sand filtering through an hourglass at a rate he couldn’t stem. He had to clear his name, had to find out who killed his father, and he had to do it as soon as possible. His biggest fear was that if he took too long and the sand ran out, Julianne would be gone.

  Chapter Five

  Julianne’s heart thudded anxiously as she went to answer the door. She was relieved to see Barry instead of a policeman with a search warrant.

  “Julianne, I was at work and heard about the smoke bomb. Are you all right? Is Emily okay?”

  She smiled at Barry’s outburst of concern. “We’re fine. The only damage was a scorch mark on the floor of my utility room.” She hesitated, knowing he would think it odd if she didn’t invite him in for a cup of coffee and yet her mind whirled, wondering if she’d hidden all evidence of Sam’s presence. “Coffee?” she finally asked.

  He shook his head. “No, I’ve got to get back to work, I just wanted to stop by and make sure you and Emily were okay. I completely lost it when I heard about the bomb and that you’d both been taken to the hospital.”

  “It was frightening,” she admitted.

  Barry gave her a quick hug. “Do they have any clues? Do the police have any idea who’s responsible? Why somebody would do something like that? Jeez, a smoke bomb.”

  “No. At least, they haven’t told me anything,” Julianne replied.

  “Thank God, you and Emily are all right, that’s the important thing.” He backed down the porch steps. “I’ll have Miranda give you a call tonight. She’s been wanting to get the two of you over for dinner. Maybe we can do it next week.”

  “That sounds great,” Julianne agreed. “Barry, thanks for stopping by,” she added as he paused at his car door.

  “I worry about you and the munchkin. Besides, Sam’s one of my best friends. If I can’t worry about his wife in his absence, who can?” He gave her a jaunty salute, then turned and got into his car.

  Julianne closed the door and leaned against it for a moment. She knew how upset Barry had been about Sam, and she felt guilty for not telling him that Sam was safe and sound, tucked away beneath the eaves of the house.

  She turned around as Sam came creeping down the stairs. “It was Barry. He’d heard about the smoke bomb and wanted to make sure Emily and I were all right.”

  Sam nodded and sank down on the bottom step of the staircase. “How are he and Miranda doing?”

  “They’re doing terrific. Miranda is pregnant and suffering the dreaded morning sickness,” she answered.

  His jaw dropped in astonishment. “Last I heard they had decided to wait a couple of years before having kids.”

  “You’ve been gone a long time, Sam. Miranda didn’t want to tell anyone until she was three months along. Besides, things change, people change.”

  His gaze held hers, intense and probing, as if he sought to look into her soul, see the changes that had taken place in her.

  She broke the eye contact, instead focusing on Emily who had come down the stairs. “Did you clean your room?” she asked the little girl.

  Emily nodded. “And I even made my bed,” she announced proudly. She looped an arm around Sam’s neck. “Daddy, wanna come and play house with me? We could have a tea party.”

  Sam pulled her close to him and kissed her cheek. “I’ll make a deal with you. I’ve got some work to do this morning, but when I take a break for lunch I’d be delighted to have a tea party with you.”

  “Oh, goody.” Emily clapped her hands together in excitement. “I’m gonna invite all my favorite stuffed animals.” She looked at Julianne. “And you can come, too, Mommy.”

  “It sounds wonderful,” Julianne replied. Oh, what she wouldn’t give to be able to feel the same undiluted joy, the same unadulterated acceptance Emily obviously felt in having Sam back home. What she wouldn’t give to shed the doubts, the uncertainty of the future.

  “I’m gonna go set my table.” Like a miniature tornado, Emily whirled around and bounced back up the stairs toward her room.

  Sam smiled at Julianne. “She’s quite a kid.”

  “Yes, she is,” Julianne agreed. “I’m sorry you’ve missed four months of her growth.”

  He winced. “So am I.” He pushed himself up off the stair step. “I know it’s going to be difficult keeping my presence here a secret. I know how much you hate lying.”

  “Sam, if it assured your safety, I’d lie to my own mother.”

  “Whew, I’m not sure I’d have the guts to lie to your mother.” He shot her a grin, one reminiscent of the happier moments of their life together.

  “Mom loves to think she intimidates you.”

  “She does intimidate me,” Sam insisted, although his eyes sparkled with obvious affection. “She doing okay?”

  Julianne nodded. “She’s fine. She calls once a week to check up on us and see if there’s been any word from you.”

  Sam’s features tightened bleakly. “What a nightmare,” he said softly. “I never realized all the people I’d affected, all the loved ones I’d hurt when I took off. I just knew I had to get away, stay away from you and Emily so nobody would try to get to me through you. I still pray nobody tries to harm you to get to me. I don’t want you to be in danger because of me.”

  He looked so lost, so forlorn, that Julianne’s heart ached for him. She stepped closer and placed a hand on his shoulder. His muscle tensed beneath her touch and she remembered how she loved gripping his broad shoulders when they made love, feeling the play of his muscles beneath the smoothness of his skin. How she had missed making love to Sam. She shoved this memory away, not wanting the months of deprivation to muddle her thoughts.

  Besides, she knew making love with Sam wouldn’t solve anything, wouldn’t make her forget how unhappy she had been with their marriage before he’d disappeared. “We’ll get through this, Sam. Somehow, some way we’ll sort all this out and go on.”

  He seemed to hold his breath, his gaze once again delving into hers. She could almost hear the question in his eyes. Would they be together when this was all straightened out? Would they remain married or would they take up separate lives?

  She dropped her hand and stepped away before he could actually voice his concerns, ask the questions she simply couldn’t answer. “
I need to finish putting away the breakfast dishes,” she said.

  Raking a hand through his hair, he followed her toward the kitchen. “I’ll grab a cup of coffee and the laptop computer and head back up to the attic. I’ve got to get busy trying to crack open that file.”

  “Why don’t you just use the computer in the den?” she asked.

  “If somebody comes to the door, I’ll be trapped in the den. I’d feel better working up in the attic where nobody can surprise me.” He poured a cup of coffee. “What are your plans for the day?”

  “I’m not sure. I’m going to check out the Want Ads in the morning paper, then clean out a couple of closets. The corporation is working on their annual winter charity drive and needs clothing. Emily has so many things she’s outgrown, and I’m sure there are things I don’t wear anymore.”

  “If I get wound up in this work and don’t surface by noon, would you call up to me when Emily is ready for the tea party?” he asked.

  “No problem,” she agreed. When he left the kitchen, Julianne felt a modicum of tension leave her. She poured herself a cup of coffee and sat down at the kitchen table.

  She knew Sam needed her to assure him of her support, that he wanted her to tell him when this was all over and his name was cleared they would still be together as a family. But how could she assure him of something she wasn’t sure of herself?

  There was a part of her heart that would always love Sam. He was the father of her child, the man she had pledged her love to before family and God. However, in the last few years, he had also become the thief of her dreams.

  She sipped her coffee, her heart and mind in turmoil. How could she tell him about her own unhappiness, of her fears of stepping back into the role she’d played in his life before the murder?

  She’d been miserable. She’d tried to tell him before but he’d been unwilling to listen. Had he forgotten the fight they’d had the night before his father’s murder? Or had he ignored her even when she’d cried and tried to talk to him about their problems?

  Still, how could she burden him with all of her own unhappiness now, when he was fighting for his very life in a dangerous game where there were no rules?

  She couldn’t. She couldn’t add to his burden. The only thing she could do was support him as best she could until he figured everything out.

  He needed her now, and she couldn’t turn away from that. Sam needing her was so novel, intensely evocative and a temporary thing. It would be easy to be seduced by it, bewitched into believing herself necessary to his very existence. But she knew better. She knew that Sam had never really needed anything but the Baker corporation. She couldn’t compete with the family business, didn’t know how to compete.

  And the worse thing he could have done was to disappear for all those months and allow her to realize she actually could survive without him.

  Sam rubbed his eyes then massaged the back of his neck. Looking at his watch he realized it was nearly eleven. He’d been working at the computer nonstop for nearly three hours but hated to quit even though he needed to stretch.

  There had to be a way to get into his father’s program. The phoenix file. He grabbed the charm hanging around his neck, fingering the heavy gold image of the mythical bird.

  He’d thought it odd at the time his father had given it to him. Joseph Baker rarely bought gifts for his children, especially something as frivolous as a gold necklace. He should have known it was more than just a necklace…how like his father to conceal the code to an important file on the back of the charms.

  Sam’s hand tightened around the piece of jewelry. If only he’d figured it out sooner. If only he’d been able to get Carolyn’s and Bonnie’s charms before somebody else had stolen them. With only two of the charms, he had half a code and a million possible combinations of numbers before he hit on the correct one.

  He leaned his head back and closed his eyes, for a moment he was overwhelmed by the odds of success. How long would it take him before he eventually hit upon the correct code? A mental vision of himself years from now filled his head. His hair gray, with a Rip Van Winkle beard, he would be a hermit hidden away in the attic still seeking to clear his name.

  Swallowing hard, he shoved such thoughts away. Failure wasn’t in his blood. Nor was giving up. He was a Baker, a fighter, and he wasn’t about to be beaten by a faceless, nameless enemy who was using the company for ill-gain.

  With renewed energy, he went back to work, punching in numbers, seeking the magical combination that would open the file to give him back his life.

  “Sam?”

  Julianne’s voice pulled him from the computer screen. He shut off the computer and went to the stairs where she stood at the bottom. “The tea party is about to begin,” she said.

  He set aside the computer and flew down the stairs, eager to spend some time with his two most favorite women.

  “The simple tea party has transformed into an elegant luncheon,” she said as he reached the bottom of the stairs. “Emily has decorated the room and insisted I fix fancy finger sandwiches and use our best crystal glasses.”

  “Give me ten minutes,” Sam said as he headed toward their bedroom. “I want to wash up a little for this extravaganza.”

  Standing beneath the hot spray of the shower, Sam was looking forward to Emily’s tea party. He frowned, trying to remember the last time he’d spent a fun afternoon with Emily and Julianne.

  He couldn’t remember. Before that fateful night, there had always been too much work, too little time. He intended to change that starting right now.

  Out of the shower, he stood in the walk-in closet, trying to decide what to wear for a special tea party. Decision made, he dressed quickly, then headed for Emily’s room.

  “Oh, Daddy.” Emily clapped her hands together in delight when he walked in. “You look so handsome.”

  Sam grinned, smoothing down his tuxedo jacket. “This seemed like a dress up kind of affair.”

  Emily eyed Julianne in her jeans and sweatshirt. “Mommy, you aren’t right for a ‘fair. You need to put on a pretty party dress.”

  Julianne started to protest, but one look at Emily’s face changed her mind. The little girl positively vibrated with excitement and what could be more exciting than having Mom and Dad play dress up for a special tea party? “Okay, I’ll be right back,” she said as she left the bedroom.

  This is crazy, she thought a few minutes later as she slipped into a pale peach cocktail gown. She was dressing for a tea party where the guest of honor was a man wanted for murder and the other attendees were stuffed animals and imaginary friends belonging to a five-year-old.

  She should be job-hunting. She should be soulsearching. She should be deciding what she wanted for her future. And instead she was preparing for a Mad Hatter kind of tea party.

  Sliding into the matching high heels, she gave herself a cursory glance in the mirror. She’d lost weight since Sam’s disappearance. The months of strain and worry showed in the shadows beneath her eyes, the tiny lines that wrinkled her brow. She thought about putting on some makeup, then dismissed the idea. She smoothed a strand of her hair, then turned and went back into Emily’s bedroom.

  “Now it’s a real tea party,” Emily said, dancing in delight around her mother and father. She grabbed them each by the hand and tugged them over to the miniature table and chairs. “Now, Mommy, you sit here,” she instructed, pointing to one of the little wooden chairs. “And, Daddy, you sit right here next to her.”

  As Julianne and Sam were seated, Emily arranged chairs for Leonard the Lion, Wally Walrus and a remaining chair for the mysterious, invisible Mr. Leprechaun.

  Emily served with perfect hostess manners, filling each miniature plate with little sandwiches, sliced cheese and fruit, and a generous helping of corn chips.

  Julianne kept her gaze averted from Sam, who looked achingly handsome in the tuxedo jacket even without a tie or cummerbund. He’d worn a similar tux for their wedding, a dark blue that emphasized
the color of his eyes. And on that day his blue eyes had adored her, cherished her, made promises he hadn’t kept. With an inward sigh, she focused on Emily’s chatter.

  “I told Ian when we’re twelve we can get married,” Emily said. “How old were you, Mommy?”

  “I was twenty-one.”

  “Golly, you were old!” Emily exclaimed. Sam laughed as Julianne smiled ruefully.

  Sam reached over and covered Julianne’s hand with his. “Yes, your mama was quite an old maid, but I decided she was the only old maid I wanted in my life.”

  “And then you got me,” Emily exclaimed. “And now we’re a family.”

  “Yes, now we’re a family.” Sam’s hand gently squeezed Julianne’s.

  “We’re learning about families in school,” Emily explained as she poured punch for everyone. “My teacher says families are important. No matter what happens to us, we always got our family.”

  Julianne sighed in silent relief as Sam removed his hand from hers. “I’d like to make a toast,” he said, raising his glass of punch in the air. “To us…to our family.” His gaze refocused on Julianne. “No matter what happens, may we always have each other.”

  Emily laughed in delight as Sam clinked his glass to hers, then did the same with Julianne. Julianne breathed a sigh of relief as the conversation shifted to Emily’s favorite cartoons.

  She was beginning to wonder if somehow Sam had orchestrated the whole discussion on the importance of family in an attempt to make her feel guilty.

  “I think somebody needs a nap,” Julianne observed when Emily tried to stifle her third yawn in as many minutes.

  “Mr. Bunny is tired,” Emily agreed. “And he likes it when I take a nap with him.” She turned to Sam. “Daddy, will you tell me a story and sit with me until I’m asleep?”

  Sam nodded. “I can’t think of anything I’d rather do.”

  “And while you’re doing that, I’ll clean up the dishes from the tea party.”

  “It was a fun tea party, wasn’t it?” Emily asked as she crawled up on her bed. “I think it was the bestest one I could ever have.”