Cry Mercy (24 page)

Chloe danced along the side of the pool, excitedly telling the older woman something. Trula threw back her head and laughed out loud at something the little girl said, and the sheer joy on her face tugged tightly at Robert's heart. Trula had never married, had never had a child of her own—though she probably should have, he reflected. She'd have been one hell of a mom. As it was, she'd spent most of her life living under other people's roofs, first his grandmother's—who'd been Trula's best friend since grade school—then his own, where she'd spent the last several years bullying him and Kevin and loving every minute of it. He'd loved it, too.

The scene was almost painful for him to watch. He hadn't seen that much pleasure on the woman's face since she'd held his son in her arms. Ian had brought her—had brought all of them—great joy.

He rested his forehead against the glass and squeezed his eyes shut even as the vise inside squeezed his heart. Lately he'd been trying to convince himself
that he'd need to face the facts sooner or later. In his heart he knew that Beth was gone from this world, but he could not bring himself to speak it aloud. No woman would stay away from her home this long … especially a woman like Beth, who had loved everything about her life, loved being the wife of one of the wealthiest men in the country. He hated thinking of her like that, but there it was. Not that she hadn't loved him—he believed with all his heart that she had, that they'd loved each other. It was just that, well, she loved being the wife of a mogul and all that entitled her to. She'd loved the big house, the magnificent grounds, the cars, the jewelry, the trips, the designer clothes. He couldn't blame her for that. It was just a part of who she is.

Who she had been, he corrected himself. She wasn't anymore. He was pretty sure of that.

Over the past few months, even her memory had become more and more distant, her voice not so clear or so often in his head, her face harder and harder to pull up in the dead of night. Some days he couldn't remember what her laugh had sounded like, and it saddened him. It saddened him, too, to know that one day he might even move on. One day, maybe there'd be someone else.…

But Ian … Robert would never get over losing his son. Not ever. Not if he had ten sons—a hundred sons—would he forget his firstborn. Ian would remain an open wound on his heart for as long as he drew breath.

Funny, he had trouble recalling things about Beth, but he could remember every smile, every baby laugh, every giggle, every one of Ian's firsts. None of that
had dimmed in the least for him. He could even feel the way those tiny fingers had gripped on to his.

He opened his eyes to see Trula emerge from the pool, and smiled in spite of himself at Chloe's rush to bring her a towel. It made him happy to see Trula happy, to see her enjoy this child so, to know that her love for that little girl was so freely, so openly returned. He gave silent thanks to Emme Caldwell for having answered the Mercy Street Foundation's call for investigators as quickly as she had. Without realizing it, she'd brought life back into Robert's world, which Kevin had once referred to as the Dead Zone, and he, Robert, would always be grateful.

W
ell, you hardly look rested.” Trula watched Emme come in through the back door and head for the coffeemaker. “Did you forget that weekends are for taking it easy?”

“I took it easy.” Emme yawned and reached for a red mug that had
Commit Random Acts of Kindness
printed in white letters on one side.

“How did your house-hunt go this weekend?” Susanna blew into the kitchen the way she always did, smiling and light as a summer breeze. “Any luck?”

She looked over the selection of mugs Trula had set out that morning and settled on
Send lawyers, guns, and money
.

“I did see one place I liked, but it didn't have much of a yard,” Emme said. “How ′bout you? How was your weekend?”

“Oh, you know. same old, same old.” She poured her coffee carefully into the tall, narrow mug. “Not nearly as exciting as looking for a new home.”

“We spent all day yesterday going from house to house. Chloe's thinking she might need to have a dog
one of these days, and a swing set. The one place I liked didn't have much room for either.”

“So you're going to keep on looking?” Susanna asked, as she opened the refrigerator looking for the half-and-half.

“Already out,” Trula told her. “Over on the counter.”

“Any closer and it would have bitten me,” Susanna muttered. To Emme she said, “So I'm assuming you find Conroy to your liking and you plan to stick around for a while.”

Before Emme could answer, Trula interjected, “Of course, she's staying in Conroy.”

“I do want to stay here. I thought I'd start looking now for a house because maybe I'll have found a place by the time my probationary period is over, and if I make the cut, I'll be in a position to buy something.” Emme added sweetener to her cup. “I really do like the area, and Chloe is so happy in her new school with her new friends.”

“Mrs. McHugh is an excellent teacher,” Trula agreed. “And there are a lot of really nice families in Kevin's parish.”

“It's a godsend to working mothers like me that the school runs all year round, and I think it's really cool that Mrs. McHugh is teaching the kids Spanish. It's a really useful language.”

“I agree, but Mrs. McHugh isn't teaching the kids Spanish,” Trula said.

Emme frowned. “I thought Chloe said she was learning all those Spanish words and phrases at school.”

“At
school, maybe, but not
in
school.” Trula began
to rinse off her breakfast dishes. “She told me that the lady on the playground has been teaching her.”

“What lady on the playground?” Emme blanched and set her cup unsteadily on the counter. “What lady on the playground?”

Surprised at the alarm in Emme's voice, Trula turned around to face her. “She said there's a woman who talks to her on the playground. I'm thinking it may be one of Kevin's Hispanic parishioners, because Chloe said the woman was dark, like her, and that she comes everyday and that she—”

Emme grabbed her bag and left the kitchen almost at a sprint, her car keys in her hand. Through the window, Trula and Susanna watched as she ran to her car, passing Mallory without greeting. Within seconds, the small sedan was making a squealing turn in the driveway and headed out the gate.

Mallory came through the back door, which Emme had left open, with a puzzled look on her face.

“What was that all about?” she asked. “Emme acted as if she didn't even see me.”

Trula shrugged. “We were talking about Chloe learning some Spanish words and phrases from a woman who shows up at the playground at school, and next thing we know, Emme's out of here on two wheels.”

She went to the wall phone and lifted the receiver. “I think I'd better give Kevin a heads up. I'd bet my last dime she's headed for Our Lady of Angels.”

Her heart pounding, Emme drove to the school in half the time it normally took.

Had she been found out? Had her movements since she left California somehow been traced? The combination of a mother's fear and an overactive imagination had her assuming the worst by the time she pulled up in front of the church and school. She all but ran to the playground—empty of children this time of the morning, but there, there at the fence…

A woman stood gazing into the playground as if waiting for someone.

Emme broke into a run.

She was halfway across the playground when she heard someone calling her name.

“Emme! Emme, wait!”

Without slowing down, she looked back over her shoulder to see Father Kevin running after her.
Thank God
, she thought. He'd help her.…

“Emme, hold up,” he called.

“Kevin, I'm so happy to see you, you have no idea.” She leaned forward slightly, her hands resting on her thighs, her breath coming in gulps. She'd been unaware of how out of shape she was after a few weeks of inactivity.

He took her gently by the arm and led her in the direction of the fence. “There's someone I want you to meet.”

“Kevin, this woman …” Emme grasped his arm. “She's …”

“Maria Clemente. She's been a member of Our Lady of Angels parish for more years than I have.” He continued to walk at an even pace, forcing Emme to slow down as well. “Mrs. Clemente, I'd like you to meet Emme Caldwell. She's the mother of your new
friend, Chloe. I believe she's come to thank you for teaching her daughter and the other children a few words and phrases in Spanish.”

His hand still lightly on Emme's arm, he added, “Mrs. Clemente—
mamacita
to the children—knows every child in the parish. She's sort of our unofficial guardian angel.”

Maria Clemente smiled broadly. “Your daughter is a quick study. She catches on like that.” She snapped her fingers. “Smart as a whip, that one is. And a real charmer.”

Emme was speechless, her brain scrambling for words.

“Mrs. Clemente brings flowers from her garden to church every morning and stays after mass to dust the altar. She noticed Chloe in the playground and asked if perhaps she was of Hispanic origins, thinking perhaps a new family had moved into the neighborhood, that maybe she could assist them in some way to get settled.”

His words swirled around in Emme's brain and she struggled to follow him.

“I told her about you and Chloe.”

“I'd called
hola
to her one day, thinking perhaps she knew the language. She did not, but she asked what the word meant. The next day, when I was coming from the church, she called to me.
‘Hola, mamacita.’
” The woman beamed. “Such a smart cookie. She wanted to learn more, to surprise you, she said.”

“Yes,” Emme found her voice. “Yes, I was surprised.”

The smile began to fade from Maria Clemente's face. “Was that all right? Did I presume—”

“No, no, it's fine.” Relief washed over Emme and with it came a deep sense of embarrassment. “Thank you so much, Mrs. Clemente. I appreciate you taking the time to teach her.”

“It's nothing.” The smile returned to the woman's face. “She's a joy to be around.”

“Thank you.” Emme could have cried. “Thank you so much.”

“I'll see you in the morning, Mrs. Clemente,” Kevin told her.

“You will. And you let me know if the Chastians will need flowers for the altar for the funeral on Thursday,” Mrs. Clemente replied. “I have some dahlias that should be open by midweek that are the size of dinner plates. Maybe we can make some arrangements, save the family some money.”

“You're kind to think of others, as always.”

“Goodbye, Chloe's mother. God bless.”

“Goodbye, Mrs. Clemente. It was nice meeting you.”

After she'd walked away, Emme turned to the priest and said, “She seems so … nice.”

“Pillar of the community.” Father Kevin nodded. “Don't know what I'd do without her.”

“Trula called you, didn't she?” Emme's face burned. If Father Kevin hadn't been around, what might she have said to that good woman?

“She did.”

“She told you—”

He nodded. “Pretty much everything. Everything except why the thought of someone teaching your
daughter a few harmless phrases in Spanish caused such panic.”

“It wasn't the phrases,” Emme said, torn between telling him the truth and fearing the consequences. “It's … it's okay, Kevin. I apologize for …”

She was clearly struggling.

“Emme, I don't know what made you feel so threatened, or what you are afraid of, but I'm here for you if you want to talk about it.”

“Thank you,” she said, wishing she could unburden herself, but knowing she could not.

He walked her to her car in silence. As she slid behind the wheel, he told her, “If you're in some kind of trouble, maybe we can help.”

She shook her head. “Thank you, but it's something I'm going to have to deal with on my own.”

“You know, there's Robert … he'd be there for you, too.” Before she could speak, he added, “We're an odd little group, Emme, at the Mercy Street Foundation. But we're a family, and from what I can see, you and Chloe are ours now. Families stick together, you know, so if you need …” He sighed. “Whatever you need, we'll all be here if you change your mind.”

Too choked up to even say thank you, Emme merely nodded, and then drove off. When she reached the stop sign at the end of the street, she looked in her rearview mirror. Kevin was still standing in front of the church, watching.

You and Chloe are ours now …
His words rang in her ears.
Families stick together …

She turned the corner, pulled the car to the curb, covered her face, and wept.

It took her almost an hour to pull herself together. So much had happened over the past few weeks, and she'd had no outlet. She missed Steffie more at that moment than she had since she'd left California. They'd agreed to keep contact to a minimum for a while, knowing that there was a good chance Navarro's people would be watching Steffie, maybe even tapping into her phones or watching her mail. Emme missed her friend's counsel, missed her levelheaded advice, her sense of humor … hell, she missed having a friend. There was no one she could talk to about the mess her life was in at that moment. Trula, maybe, but her loyalties lay with Robert; Mallory, too. Father Kevin's offer of friendship had been genuine, she knew that, but she knew, too, that he had no idea of the secrets she was keeping from everyone. Of course, he was a priest. He could probably handle the shock of finding out that everything she'd told them about herself was a lie. He must have heard a lot worse than even that over the years.