Sweet Haven

by Shirlee McCoy

  “Mom?” she said, and Addie met Chase’s eyes. He looked stricken, terrified, and defiant.

  “Who is she?” Addie asked, and he rubbed the back of his neck, scuffed his foot on the throw rug. Looked about as comfortable as a cat in a dog kennel.

  “My sister.”

  “Who are you hiding her from?” Sinclair cut in, tucking the phone into his pocket. “And you may as well be honest. I called the doctor, and he’s on his way over. Whatever you’re hiding, it’s going to come to light.”

  “I’m not hiding anything,” he replied, and Addie knew he was lying.

  Sinclair must have too. He scowled, crossing the space between them in two short steps. “Look, kid. I’m no fool, and neither are you, so how about we treat each other with a little respect?”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Chase puffed up his skinny chest and lifted his chin. “I’ve been more than respectful to you.”

  “It means that I don’t want to be lied to. Whatever you did, it can be dealt with. But only if you tell us the truth.”

  “You want to know the truth?” Chase spat out. “My father is a bastard. He beat the shit out of my mother every day of her life for ten years. When she finally left him, it was the best thing that ever happened to our family. When she died, I figured I’d take care of Larkin. I quit school, got a job, and then he showed up and decided he wanted to be part of my sister’s life.”

  “So you ran with her?” Sinclair asked, taking the Tylenol from Addie’s hand and reading the dosage information.

  “I gave the piece of shit a chance,” he growled, his eyes hot. “I believed every lie he told me about counseling and being a changed man. I thought he was going to step in and help out. I didn’t even complain when he said he was moving Larkin up here. I thought it would be good for her to have a fresh start. Only every time she called me, she was crying. She wouldn’t say why. But, like you said, I’m no fool. I finally quit my job and drove to his house. Larkin was home from school. She had a bruise on her cheek and finger marks on her neck.”

  “You should have called the police,” Sinclair said.

  “I told you,” Chase said, his voice breaking, “I am not a fool. I called the police. I hotlined my dad. I did everything I could think of, and no one would listen. Larkin was too afraid to admit what was happening, and CPS is too overwhelmed and overworked to spend time pursuing every complaint they get.”

  “So you ran with her?”

  “You’re damn right, I did. I was taking her back to Houston when my ’Vette died.” He touched his sister’s forehead and frowned. “She’s why I was staying in the building, and it’s why I took the food. Not for me. For her. I can go without, but she’s just a kid.”

  He was just a kid too.

  That’s what Addie was thinking.

  She didn’t say it. Her heart hurt too much, her mind buzzing with a million questions that needed to be asked. Later. After they got Larkin’s fever under control.

  “Run down and get a glass of water,” she said. “We’ll dissolve a half a Tylenol in it.”

  Chase hesitated, and then ran, his feet pounding on the stairs as he rushed to do what she’d asked.

  * * *

  Years of being in the military had taught Sinclair a lot about how to respond during crises.

  Thank God for that, because the little girl looked just about as sick as a person could be.

  He took out his pocket knife, cut a Tylenol in half. The doctor had promised he’d be there soon, but Sinclair had seen grown men having febrile seizures, and he had no desire to see a child do the same.

  “This is not good,” Adeline muttered as she lifted the girl’s sweatshirt and laid a wet cloth on her stomach.

  “The fact that she’s sick, or the fact that Chase was hiding her in your house?”

  “Both. But mostly the sick part.” She lifted the cloth she’d draped over Larkin’s forehead and touched it. “She’s really burning up.”

  “He should have told you about her sooner.”

  “Maybe, but he’s eighteen.” She replaced the cloth. “Kids that age make stupid mistakes.”

  “Running with your little sister is more than a little mistake. He could get his butt thrown in jail for that one.”

  “If his father had reported the girl missing, Kane would have known about it.”

  Probably. But that didn’t mean Chase wasn’t in trouble.

  The kid bounded back into the room, water sloshing over the rim of the glass he was carrying. His face was pale as paper, his eyes hollow. He was scared out of his mind, and Sinclair didn’t think any of the concern was for the trouble he was in.

  That did something to Sinclair, made him want to help the kid and his sister.

  “Calm down,” he said, taking the glass from Chase’s hand. “Panicking isn’t going to change anything.”

  “I know, but I promised my mother I’d take care of her. I swore that I’d make sure she was okay.” His voice broke, but he didn’t cry, his eyes hot and dry, his gaze focused on his sister.

  “You’ve done the best you could with what you had.” Adeline patted his shoulder, the thick satiny fabric of the dress swishing as she moved.

  “I should never have let my father take her. I should have petitioned the court for custody. It’s what my mom wanted. I was named guardian in her will. But working and taking care of a kid”—he swallowed hard—“it’s hard. Way harder than I thought.”

  “She’ll be okay,” Adeline said. “And once she’s better, we’ll get everything figured out.”

  “If I’m not in jail for kidnapping.”

  Obviously, he knew the ramifications of what he’d done.

  He’d done it anyway, and Sinclair had to have some respect for that. It took guts to take on the responsibility Chase had. If his story checked out, if everything he’d told them was true, Sinclair would do what he could to make sure Chase and his sister had the support they needed.

  “How about we worry about all that after—”

  The doorbell rang, cutting off Adeline’s words.

  She sprinted down the stairs, returned moments later with a man who looked like Santa Claus. Same white beard. Same white hair. Same belly. Doctor Henry Monroe looked exactly the same as he had when Sinclair was a kid.

  “So,” the doctor said, moving toward the bed, a small old-fashioned doctor’s bag in his hand, “this is the patient?”

  “Her name is Larkin,” Chase responded.

  “And she’s how old? Ten? Eleven?”

  “She turned twelve last month. She’s just small for her age.”

  “She’s your sister, son?” Dr. Monroe asked, pulling a wooden chair up beside the bed and taking a seat.

  “Yes.”

  “Does she have any underlying medical conditions?” He pulled an ear thermometer from his bag and checked her temperature.

  “She’s always been healthy.”

  “She’s got a pretty high temperature. 103. She been around anyone who’s sick?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Hmm.” The doctor flashed a light in Larkin’s eyes. “You in there, honey?” he asked, and the girl moaned. “Feeling pretty miserable, huh? How about we look at that throat?”

  The girl dutifully opened her mouth.

  A good sign, Sinclair thought.

  “Hmm,” the doctor said. “Mm-hmm.”

  “What?” Chase moved in close, hovering over his sister and the doctor. “Is she going to be okay?”

  “How long has she been sick, son?” the doctor asked.

  “A few days,” Chase responded, his cheeks flushing.

  “She eat much during that time?”

  “She said it hurt to swallow.”

  “That’s what I thought. Looks like strep. I’ll do a culture, but I’m going to give her a shot of penicillin. I’ll need your parents’ approval to treat her.”

  “I’m her legal guardian,” Chase said without missing a beat.

  �
�You have proof of that?”

  “A letter my mother wrote before she passed away.” He pulled a folded sheet from his pocket. “She had a will, but that’s back in Houston.”

  Dr. Monroe read the letter, then eyed Chase. “That’s where you’re from?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “You’re a long way from home.”

  “Yes.”

  “Seems to me that a kid your age might want a support system around him while he was raising his sister. Friends. Family. You got those in Houston?”

  “I have friends. My church.” Chase shrugged.

  “Then how’d you end up here?”

  “It’s a long story, sir.”

  “Tell you what. How about Addie and Sinclair go downstairs, and you and I stay up here? I’ll give your sister the shot, write up a prescription for an antibiotic, and you tell me how a kid your age ended up eighteen hundred miles from home with no family and no friends and a twelve-year-old sister to take care of.”

  “I’d rather you just give her the shot, sir,” Chase responded, and Sinclair smiled. He liked Chase. There was something about him that reminded Sinclair of himself at the same age.

  “Sometimes, son, we don’t get what we want.” Dr. Monroe tucked the thermometer back in his bag, pulled out a syringe. “You mind if I have a few minutes alone with this young man, folks?”

  That was Sinclair’s cue to leave, and he headed for the stairs, snagging Addie’s wrist as he passed.

  She followed, shuffling along slowly as if reluctant to let the doctor be alone with Chase and his sister.

  “They’ll be fine,” he said as he led her downstairs.

  “I hope so.”

  “What are you worried about?”

  “Chase ending up in jail. A young girl going back to live with a monster. What isn’t there to worry about?” She sighed, running her hand over wild waves of hair.

  She wasn’t going to tame it.

  He could have told her that.

  He could have also told her that she looked beautiful just the way she was. That she didn’t need to smooth her curls or fix her makeup or do anything other than just be herself.

  He thought about that moment in the churchyard, the way he’d felt when they were swaying to the music, the warmth of their bodies mingling.

  And, God! He wanted so much more than that with her.

  “He’s not going to jail if what he’s saying is true. If his mother named him legal guardian, and if his mother had sole custody of her children, then the father has no legal right to Larkin.”

  “That’s too many ifs for my liking,” Adeline said, walking into the kitchen and grabbing a kettle from the old-fashioned stove. She filled it with water, her back to Sinclair, her hips cupped by shiny orange fabric.

  She looked better than any woman wearing a shiny gunnysack should look, her body curvy and muscular.

  “You know we have to call the sheriff, right?”

  “Do we?” She placed the kettle back on the stove, fired up the burner.

  “Adeline, you’re way too smart to pretend that you don’t know the truth.”

  “Sometimes,” she responded, turning so that they were facing each other, “I don’t want to know the truth. Sometimes I just want to live in my own little fantasy world where everything is happy and nice, and no one ever gets hurt.”

  “If that were reality, we’d all be worse off for it.”

  “That’s an odd thing to say.” She frowned, her freckles peeking out from beneath the layers of pancake makeup someone had applied to her face.

  “It’s the truth. We grow from our struggles. The things that hurt us the most, shape us the most.”

  “Not always for the better,” she responded, grabbing mugs from a cupboard and tossing tea bags into them.

  “I guess that depends on us,” he said.

  “And I guess you’re right.” She settled into a chair, kicking off her shoes and rubbing an ankle. “I’m not going to tell Brenna that, though. Not right now.”

  “Her fiancé dumped her?” He guessed, because he hadn’t believed a word Janelle had said about a medical emergency.

  “She dumped him. After she found out he was cheating on her.”

  “Bastard.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Is that what happened with Adam?” He asked because he wanted to know, and because they were together in her kitchen, the kettle just beginning to steam. It felt comforting and comfortable, and all the things he’d been looking for when he’d hooked up with Kendra.

  “Adam fell in love, but not with another woman. He wanted another lifestyle. Big city. Big career.” She limped to the stove, poured hot water over the tea bags, and offered him a mug.

  “That wasn’t what you wanted?”

  “Never. Not even for a second. He knew it, and he pretended that our dreams were the same. It was all a farce, I guess. All a lie.”

  “Or maybe he just grew out of Benevolence, Adeline,” he said gently. “It happens.”

  “Is that why you left?”

  “I left because I needed to be something other than one of those Jeffersons. If I’d stayed here, that’s all I’d have ever been.”

  “And now you’re the Jefferson who made it big? The most successful man in town?” There was no sharpness in her voice, no accusation, but he thought she was getting at something, pointing out some perceived flaw.

  “I’m me, Adeline. That’s either good enough for people in this town or it’s not. It’s either good enough for you or it’s not.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked as if she had no idea. The question pissed him off and the bad mood he’d struggled with all day returned. They’d danced in the churchyard together, they’d kissed as if they’d always had only each other, as if what they had was all that mattered, all that ever would matter, and now she wanted to act like there was a question about where they were heading?

  Didn’t work for him.

  “If you have to ask, then I’m wasting my time.” He headed to the back door, yanked it open. “Call the sheriff and let him know what’s going on. If you don’t, you’re an accessory to any crime Chase committed.”

  He walked outside, closed the door sharply behind him.

  She didn’t follow.

  He hadn’t expected her to.

  But it sure as hell would have been nice.

  Because all the things he’d left Benevolence to find? They’d been there all along, and if he’d had a reason to stay, if he’d had someone to stay for, the town might be just the place he could finally call home.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Four days after the wedding, and Addie still hated making fudge. She also hated crying.

  Somehow, she was doing both, scooping sugar into a bowl while tears ran down her face.

  Thank God her sisters were at her place, saying good-bye to Byron. Both were leaving that morning, heading back to their busy lives. Even Brenna, cheated on and used by her ex, had a life that stretched beyond the confines of her apartment. She had friends who would rally around her. She had a career that people admired; she’d told Addie and Willow that the night before. They’d sat in Willow’s old bedroom, sipping wine and eating cheese, and talking about what an asshole Dan was.

  They’d bonded over that—the three of them a team in a way they hadn’t been in more years than Addie could remember. Willow, the practical one, had made plans for Brenna, helping her organize what needed to be done to get Dan permanently out of her life. Not an easy task since Brenna and Dan had lived together for three years. They had a shared bank account, shared apartment, shared life. Not anymore, though. Brenna had been the tough one, making no bones about the fact that she was going for Dan’s jugular. Whatever feelings she’d had for him, they seemed to be gone. And Adeline? She’d crunched numbers, figured out if Brenna could make it on the money she was bringing in from her clothing boutique. For the first time in way too long, they were the Lamont sisters, an unbreakable unit, the th
ree of them against the world.

  Adeline knew she wasn’t the only one who’d felt it. Last night, the three of them had been just tipsy enough to do a bonding ritual, swearing over a white candle that they’d never again forget how close they were supposed to be.

  God! She hoped it lasted, that those sweet feelings continued for years and years to come. She’d forgotten how much it meant to be part of their exclusive club, how wonderful it was to know that no matter who walked away from her, she always had her sisters. She’d hugged them both good-bye an hour ago, and they’d all sworn that they would never again go a week without talking.

  She’d believed every word that she’d spoken, every word her sisters had uttered.

  But believing couldn’t make it true.

  A hope and a prayer, that’s what Byron would have said if she’d spoken to him about it.

  She hadn’t.

  She’d had work to do, and she’d needed to get away from her little house that was suddenly filled to overflowing. Byron. Two kids. A giant dog who’d chewed up her sneaker in the middle of the night. She’d tripped over the remnants on the way to the shower.

  She’d been reduced to wearing sandals. Not a terrible thing, if it hadn’t been snowing. Which it was. Giant flakes falling from the dark gray sky. The weather fit her mood. Or maybe her mood fit the weather. Not that the snow and the sneakers and her sisters leaving were the reasons for her tears.

  She was crying because the darn fudge refused to taste good, and because her life refused to look as perfect as she’d thought it was before she’d taken over the shop for Byron, before Sinclair had moved in.

  Before he’d left town—just packed his duffle and headed out. He’d been gone since Monday. That’s what Gavin had said. Business to take care of. Things that needed doing. He’d flown a couple of guys in from Seattle to finish his grandfather’s house.

  He might or might not return.

  And it wasn’t any of Addie’s business whether he did or not.

  Hadn’t she let him walk away?

  Hadn’t she pushed him out of her life?

  What does that mean? she’d asked, as if she hadn’t known what he was asking, as if she hadn’t heard the question in his voice.