Summer Reads Box Set, Books 4-6

by Freethy, Barbara

  He knew why he wanted Elisabeth; he just didn't know why she wanted him. And he was afraid to ask.

  Chapter Three

  Normally Lisa could make the trip from Los Angeles to San Diego in about two hours, but on a late Friday afternoon in early April, it took almost three. It was seven by the time she reached the strip of highway that ran alongside the sandy beaches and blue rocking waves of the Pacific Ocean. As she turned off the freeway, the sun dipped past the horizon, making a glorious, fiery descent, reminding her of all the sunsets she'd watched from the beaches of this southern California city.

  She rolled down her window and helplessly inhaled the ocean breeze, the distant scent of jasmine. It smelled like home. She'd grown up here amidst the palm trees, the boats and the beaches, graduating from middle school, high school and finally San Diego State University.

  At one time, she'd thought she'd live here forever, near the sand and the sea and the people she loved. But San Diego had changed over the years, and so had she. It was no longer a sleepy beach town but a busy metropolis, expanding in the south from immigrants pouring out of Mexico and in the north from weary, disillusioned city people escaping L.A.

  Everywhere she looked she saw new buildings, unfamiliar signs. San Diego was a stranger, and so was she.

  She'd been foolish to fear coming down this road. It was not the same road she'd left. Just because she'd come back did not mean she'd come home.

  Maggie's street didn't bring back memories either. The house Maggie lived in now was a recent purchase, bought a few years earlier when Keith had taken a job as a chemist at Bellatrix Labs. The job had brought Keith a hefty increase in salary, and he'd wanted a house to show for it, so he and Maggie and the kids had moved out of their small apartment into this new subdivision of modern two-story houses.

  Lisa had only visited once, shortly after Keith's funeral, almost a year ago.

  Lisa stopped her car in front of Maggie's house. As she stepped on to the sidewalk, she smiled to herself at the homey touches. Maggie's windows boasted planter boxes filled with irises and daisies. A porch swing blew in the breeze. As she made her way to the front door, Lisa noticed the welcome mat on the ground, the brass knocker with the name "Scott" engraved on it.

  Home and family. That's all Maggie had ever wanted. She'd been the anchor in their group, the one who wanted to nest, to savor simple pleasures. For a while Lisa had wanted the same things, until her life had gone in a different direction. She smoothed down the skirt of her navy blue business suit, suddenly worried that she and Maggie would no longer have anything in common.

  Maggie threw open the door before Lisa could ring the bell. "Thank God, you're here," she said, pulling Lisa into a warm hug. "I thought you'd changed your mind."

  "The traffic was bad. Everyone wanted to get out of town, I guess."

  "I know that feeling. Come on in." Maggie led the way into the house. "I have to apologize—the house is a mess."

  The sight of clothes, toys, dishes and general signs of chaos in the living room, dining room and kitchen startled Lisa. Maggie's disclaimer was not the usual polite apology of a hostess caught unawares. The house truly was a mess, which disturbed Lisa even more. Maggie had always been neat. A place for everything and everything in its place.

  Lisa followed Maggie up the stairs and into her bedroom.

  Maggie shoved the pile of laundry from the bed to the floor and sat down. She looked Lisa straight in the eye. "I think I'm losing my mind."

  Lisa tried to smile reassuringly, but Maggie's pale face, her tangled blond hair, her old jeans and sweatshirt didn't indicate a healthy state of mind. "Okay, what's wrong?"

  Maggie took a deep breath. "Two weeks ago Keith got a letter from a woman named Serena Hollingsworth. She wondered why Keith hadn't been in touch."

  Lisa stared at her in bewilderment. "I don't understand...”

  "I had never heard of this woman, Lisa."

  "You don't think Keith was seeing someone on the side?"

  "No, of course not," Maggie said immediately, then her voice faltered. "At least, I don't think so. I don't know. All of a sudden, I don't know."

  Lisa sat down on the other side of the bed, trying to think of what to say. She didn't know what she'd been expecting, but it certainly wasn't this. "Keith adored you and the kids. He wouldn't have cheated on you. He was too honorable."

  Maggie stared at her for a long moment. "He increased his life insurance two months before he died, Lisa. He never told me he was doing that."

  "He was providing for you."

  "Maybe. There's something else. The day before he died, Keith made a huge cash withdrawal from our savings account, eight thousand dollars. We were saving it to buy a new car. I have no idea what he did with the money." Maggie's gaze drifted over to the picture of Keith she still kept on her dresser. "I thought I knew everything about him. Maybe I didn't know anything."

  Lisa plucked at the bedspread with her fingers. She didn't like what she was hearing, a strange woman, insurance money, cash withdrawals. None of it sounded like Keith. He'd been an intellectual, a family man, not a womanizer. "You're probably worrying about nothing," she said finally. "Maybe Keith took the money out to put a down payment on a car to surprise you. He loved to surprise you."

  Maggie didn't smile or look comforted. She flopped onto her back, staring at the ceiling. "I wondered about the money before, but I put it out of my mind. When I got that letter from Serena Hollingsworth, it all came back, and I panicked. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't sleep. I kept wondering about her, about him, the money, the life insurance, the fire. There was nothing left but ashes and some teeth that could have..."

  "That could have what?"

  "Belonged to anyone," she said flatly.

  "They checked Keith's dental records."

  "Right. He had a filling in his third molar. So what? You don't think anyone else has a filling in their third molar?"

  "They found bits and pieces of his clothes, his briefcase. The security guard said he'd seen Keith go inside just minutes before the explosion."

  Maggie sat up and slid off the bed. She began to pace restlessly around the room, "I know. Keith is dead, and I'm just imagining things." Her eyes met Lisa's. "I think I might be having a nervous breakdown."

  "Maybe you should see a doctor."

  "Maybe. I can't let the kids down, Lisa. I have to be here for them, but right now, I just want to get away. I got in my car yesterday to drop the kids off at school, and I almost didn't come back. The urge to leave was incredibly strong, and I can't believe I'm saying that. I'm a mother. What kind of a mother wants to leave her children?"

  Lisa stood up, put her arms around Maggie and hugged her tight. "A mother who is at the end of her rope."

  Maggie stepped back with a sigh. "I love them. You know I do, but--"

  "But you've been on your own for the past year."

  "Yes," Maggie's mouth trembled. "I hate failing."

  "You're not failing. You're just being human. You want to get away, Maggie? Just go. I'm here. I'll watch the kids. Check into a hotel for the next two nights, pamper yourself. You deserve it."

  Maggie's eyes lit up. "Really? I wanted to ask you, but I wasn't sure. Although I have to admit I already packed my bag." She paused. "You would really do this for me, Lisa?"

  "What are friends for?" Lisa looked into Maggie's eyes. "I should have been here for you. I should have taken care of you the way you took care of me. I was incredibly selfish. And I am so sorry. I know it's not enough to say that. I wouldn't blame you if you hated me."

  "I don't hate you," Maggie said softly. "I know why you've stayed away. You're afraid to love people. You always have been."

  "Afraid—don’t be silly."

  "I'm not being silly. We may not have seen each other much the past eight years, but I still know you better than anyone else. I remember all those nights we slept out in my parents' backyard. I'd look up at the stars and dream up a wonderful story about my fu
ture husband and children and house in the suburbs. You wouldn't let yourself dream, not even then."

  "I did dream once. Look where it got me."

  "You could have tried again."

  Lisa shook her head. "I'll never try again, not like that, not with so much of me on the line."

  "You're getting married in a few weeks. Does your fiancé have any idea how much you're holding back?"

  Maggie's words hit too close to the mark. "I thought we were talking about you."

  "I'm worried about you, too, Lisa."

  "I'm fine. Now, do you need some money for a hotel?" Lisa asked.

  "I've got a credit card. I'm just not sure if I should leave the kids."

  "Because of me?" Lisa asked. "I'd understand if..."

  "No, God no. How could you even think that?" Maggie paused, taking Lisa's hands in hers. "You still blame yourself, don't you, even after all these years? Why can't you let it go?"

  "Because it's always there."

  Maggie sighed. "Yes, I guess it is."

  "Speaking of letting something go—you’re not thinking of chasing down this Serena Hollingsworth, are you?"

  "No, of course not," Maggie said quickly.

  "Honey, there's no point."

  "I know that. I do," she added.

  Before Lisa could say anything else, the doorbell interrupted their conversation.

  "Who could that be?" Maggie muttered.

  Lisa's stomach twisted into a knot. Please, God, don't let it be Nick.

  Slowly, she followed Maggie downstairs.

  Maggie opened the front door and gasped. "What on earth?"

  Lisa peered over Maggie's shoulder. On the porch stood a short, stocky older man with a square face and the blackest, bushiest eyebrows she'd ever seen. His right hand was clasped around the neck of Maggie's thirteen-year-old daughter, Roxanne, and his left hand was around the neck of a pimply-faced adolescent boy.

  "I was checking the perimeter of the property, Mrs. Scott, as I do every evening, and I caught these two trespassers at 1900 hours in the back alley," the man said, stating his report as if he were in the military. "I'm sorry to report there was mouth-to-mouth contact."

  "Mouth-to-mouth?" Maggie repeated in a daze, looking at her daughter's guilty face. "You're supposed to be in your room, not in the back alley."

  "I was giving Marc the homework assignment," Roxanne muttered.

  "Since when are you studying mouth-to-mouth resuscitation?"

  "Mom, you're embarrassing me." Roxy slid a sideward glance at the boy, who was staring at the shoelaces on his tennis shoes.

  "I can't begin to tell you what you're doing to me," Maggie declared. "Thank you, Mr., Bickerer. I'll handle this now."

  "As you wish, Mrs. Scott." Mr. Bickerer saluted her, turned on one sharp heel and walked down the path to the sidewalk.

  "You can go home now, Marc," Maggie said, drawing Roxanne into the house.

  Marc ran off as if he'd been released from a cannon.

  Once the front door closed, mother and daughter stared at each other in bewilderment, neither one understanding the other.

  Finally, Maggie threw up her hands. "I'm leaving," she said.

  Roxanne's mouth dropped open. "You're going away?"

  "Yes, for the weekend. Aunt Lisa will stay with you."

  Aunt Lisa. Lisa shivered at the words. She hadn't thought of herself as Aunt Lisa in a very long time.

  Roxanne sent Lisa a skeptical look that reinforced her doubts about her ability to care for three children, especially one intent on kissing boys in the back alley.

  "Why can't Uncle Nick stay with us?" Roxy asked her mother.

  Nick. Lisa couldn't stop the automatic, stomach-twisting knot that came with the mention of his name.

  "Because I don't know where Uncle Nick is. I left him two messages, and he didn't call me back." Maggie took a few steps toward the kitchen and cupped her mouth. "Dylan, Mary Bea, come here."

  Dylan ran in from the kitchen, Mary Bea wandered down the hall, holding her blanket in one hand, her other thumb planted firmly in her mouth.

  "I'm going away for a couple of days," Maggie said. "Your aunt Lisa will watch you."

  "Where are you going?" Dylan asked.

  "I'm not sure. I'll call you tomorrow and tell you where I am." She turned to Maggie. "You met Mr. Bickerer. Harry is his first name. He's a retired marine sergeant and guards this neighborhood as if it were Fort Knox. No one comes on to this property without Harry knowing about it. In fact, he almost shot the gardener once."

  "That's comforting."

  "I've written everything down on a piece of paper." Maggie looked around. "Where did I put that paper? Oh, I know I left it upstairs on my dresser. I wrote down the name of the kids' pediatrician, our insurance plan, my permission in case you need to take them to the doctor. I'm not sure where I'll be, but I'll call and leave you a number. Let's see what else?" Maggie ran a hand through her hair. "I also wrote down the kids' schedule, it's on the refrigerator. Oh, this is so complicated. How can I go?"

  "Just go. We'll be fine."

  "Why are you leaving? Mommy?" Mary Bea asked, her eyes welling with tears.

  "Because Mommy needs time to relax, so she can stop yelling so much." Maggie squatted down and drew her two younger children into her arms. They hugged for a long minute. Then Maggie opened one arm and motioned for Roxy to join them. After an awkward, reluctant moment, Roxy shuffled forward and hugged her mother.

  This time when Maggie drew away there were tears in her eyes. "I love you guys, very, very much. But I have to get away—just for a little while."

  "Are you coming back?" Mary Bea asked.

  Maggie drew in a sharp gasp of breath. "Of course I'm coming back."

  "Daddy didn't."

  "She's not going to die, stupid," Roxy said sharply.

  "I'm not stupid," Mary Bea protested.

  "Yes, you are."

  Maggie sent Lisa a helpless, desperate look. "I—I can't do this. It's too selfish, irresponsible. The kids need me."

  "They need you healthy and happy and strong." Lisa picked up the overnight bag Maggie had set by the front door. "We'll see you on Sunday."

  "Will you be okay, Lisa?" Maggie asked.

  "We'll all be fine. Don't worry about a thing."

  Maggie kissed each one of her children, then fled.

  For one long minute the house was filled with disbelieving silence. The children looked from one to the other, confused, unsure of what had happened.

  Lisa couldn't blame them. She might be Aunt Lisa, but in truth she was a stranger. She hadn't spent any time with these kids. She was Roxanne's godmother, but aside from sending her a Communion gift and cards on birthdays and Christmas, she barely knew the girl. And Mary Bea had been a baby when she'd last seen her. As for Dylan, Lisa remembered when he'd been born, just a month before Robin.

  Robin would have been his age now, his size. Lisa's breath caught at the thought. How could she bear to be around Dylan, Roxy and Mary Bea, to see their joy, to feel their love, when it would only remind her of Robin? She wanted to call Maggie back, but she was long gone, and Lisa was alone.

  "What are we going to do now?" Dylan asked.

  Three pairs of eyes turned to her.

  "I was going to ask you the same question." She tried to sound cheerful and confident. "I'm sure we can have a great time together."

  "Maybe we should call Uncle Nick," Roxy said.

  Lisa put a hand on her arm. "Don't be silly. We'll be fine. There's no need to call your uncle—Nick."

  Mary Bea looked at Lisa and began to sob, her cries growing louder with each passing second. Her little face turned red as she screamed. "I want my mommy."

  Lisa put her arms around the little girl, trying to draw her close, but Mary Bea would have none of that. "I want Uncle Nick," she said this time.

  "It will be okay. I'll play a game with you. We'll tell stories. We'll watch television."

  "Uncle Nick, Uncle Nic
k," Mary Bea yelled.

  "Honey, calm down," Lisa tried again.

  Mary Bea screamed louder.

  "You better call Uncle Nick," Dylan said. "She might never stop screaming."

  Lisa's anxiety level rose with each cry. Mary Bea's face turned blotchy, and she began to cough in between her cries as if she couldn't catch her breath. Lisa felt suddenly terrified. What if something happened to Mary Bea? What if she couldn't get Mary Bea to stop crying? What if she fainted? What if she stopped breathing?

  Lisa drew in a long breath of air, as memories of the past hit her in the face. Robin in her crib, screaming, her tiny face turning a blotchy red as she pounded her little fists against the sheets. Then hours later, Robin, so still, so lifeless, her skin so cold. Oh, God! How could she do this?

  "Aunt Lisa," Roxanne said.

  Her voice sounded far away. Lisa could barely focus on Roxy's face. She kept thinking of Robin. The baby had cried so much at first. In the middle of the night, after two and sometimes three trips to the nursery, Lisa had begged and prayed and pleaded for one long night of sleep. Finally, the silence had come, the horrible, deafening silence.

  Roxanne ran to the phone and dialed a number. Lisa couldn't raise a voice to stop her.

  "Uncle Nick," Roxanne said. "Mom went away and Mary Bea won't stop crying, and I think..." She paused, staring at Lisa in uncertainty. "I think Aunt Lisa needs you."

  No, don't say that, Lisa begged silently. The last thing she wanted was for Nick to think she needed him, but it was too late. Roxanne hung up the phone.

  "He wasn't there," Roxy said. "I'm sure he'll come over when he gets the message." She turned to Mary Bea. "It's okay. Uncle Nick will be here soon. Everything will be all right. You'll see."

  Lisa turned away, feeling as panicked as Maggie. She couldn't handle the memories or the kids, and she certainly couldn't handle Nick. She wanted to run away, but this time there was nowhere to go.

  * * *