Her Reason to Stay (8 page)

“Will bounces back.” His mother folded her hands on her lap. “You’re doing a good job with him, but I worry about you.”

“Mom,” he said, glancing pointedly into the rearview.

His mother nodded. “I’ll keep quiet for now, but something’s made you more edgy than usual this morning. A mother knows.”

Startled by her directness, he laughed. “Where is the reserved woman who raised me without addressing a problem head-on?”

“She got wiser. The world is different, and there’s one subject I wish I had addressed with you, over and over.”

After the divorce he’d discovered she’d never been sure of Lisa. “I’m fine,” he said, and he did feel better. He’d chosen wrong again, even letting himself begin to fall for Daphne, but at least he knew that he was capable of caring. That gave him hope.

“As I said, we’ll talk later.” She pointed through the windshield. “Look at the crowd today.”

Draper’s parking had spilled into Emily’s Doll Hospital’s lot next door. Emily had closed for Mother’s Day. Patrick got out and went to help Will, but the back door opened and his son jumped onto the pavement, still involved with his game.

“When did you learn to undo the seatbelt?”

“Dad,” Will said in the same don’t-bug-me tone Patrick had used to ease his mother out of his private thoughts.

“Why don’t you put that away for now?” Patrick touched his mother’s phone.

Gloria stopped at the corner of Emily’s store. “He can hold on to it. Look at this line.”

It wound out of the restaurant’s doorway and stopped at Emily’s row of comfy rockers. Patrick’s stomach growled. He and Will laughed. “You didn’t slip any of your homemade bread into your purse, did you, Mother?”

“My word.”

Her answer indicated that she wasn’t paying attention. Then he saw the two women who’d provoked it. Raina and Daphne, looking identical except for their clothing. Daphne wore jeans and a pale peach T-shirt that glowed against her skin and hugged her breasts before it flared to her hips. Raina had on the usual suit, this time in lime green.

They stood, smiling at each other, shyly, like new friends feeling their way. Resenting his illogical annoyance that Raina—not he—was with Daphne, he maneuvered Will in front of him, resting his hands on his boy’s shoulders. The morning breeze pushed Daphne’s T-shirt against her, outlining her body with loving, invisible fingers.

“Mom, did I tell you Miriam wants her store re-decorated?”

“Does she?”

She sounded so excited he felt guilty. “Sorry, bad joke.” Unsettled, remembering the thrust of Daphne’s sweet, round breasts against his chest, he’d searched for something to say. “I told her you were apprenticing on my house and she said she’d bar her doors if she saw you coming.”

“She’s smarter than that. I’ll drop by and show her what I can do.”

“I was kidding.”

“It’s a good idea, though, and it takes my mind off wanting to grill you about those young girls.”

“Women,” he said, looking away from the glint of a gold medal in the dark vee between Daphne’s breasts. He’d never had the chance to kiss her there. He never would.

She turned her head slightly. Her eyes widened, and then a smile touched her mouth. A slight smile that undid his determination.

He felt himself smile back, breathing around an ache that squeezed his chest. He’d done everything the right way with Lisa. Would finding a different way with Daphne be so wrong? If Will never knew her, he couldn’t be hurt.

Patrick wiped moist palms down the legs of his jeans. What if he hurt Daphne because he was so desperate to be with her?

D
APHNE TRIED
not to bring up the subject of Patrick while she and Raina shared their meal. And she was successful until a lull in conversation made her speak.

“His son looks healthy.” Daphne turned quickly to look without getting caught. The little boy was still playing a game on a cell phone. His blond hair looked almost white against Patrick’s dark blue shirt. He was leaning against his father, and they both seemed intent on the phone’s keyboard.

But Daphne had a feeling Patrick was aware of her, too.

“Why did you smile at him?” Raina asked. “You shouldn’t let him off the hook. He’s my best friend, and
I’d
like to take a swing at him.”

Daphne stopped in midbite. “That’s exactly what I don’t want,” she said. Spinach salad dropped off her fork. “Coming between you two would make me feel worse than having to face him all over again.”

“He’s a defense attorney. He’s seen a lot and he knows people can change. I’m disappointed in him.”

“But this could affect his child.” Daphne shrugged. “He can’t help the way he feels, and I understand why he’s wary. I thought you would be, too.”

“You’re too good to be true.”

“I have a talent for knowing the way people think. You’re not concerned that the people who know you in this town—and that would be everyone—will look at you differently because of me?”

“I don’t want to care.” She said it so low Daphne had to lean forward. “Explain to me.” Raina sipped her soup from her spoon in perfect, delicate silence. “You told me the truth. You care about Patrick and you faced him with all your worst secrets, even though you knew your relationship—”

“It was too new for that.” And she’d destroyed it.

“How do you manage to stop caring what people think of you?”

“So you do care, Raina?”

“Sure. My parents wanted certain things for me, and I don’t want to let their memory down.”

“What if I make things difficult for you? You have to know some people will look down their noses at me, especially when someone else sees me going down those stairs at the church. Did you just pretend it wouldn’t matter?”

Raina shook her head. “You moved here with the stuff in your car and the clothes on your back, and you were willing to leave when I didn’t greet you with open arms. You’ve done everything for yourself, without the help of parents or friends. Even the system that should have protected you put you in danger. You have courage.”

“I understand fear. I didn’t want to be in more danger, so I avoided it. Even when I came here, I planned to depart if you didn’t want a twin. But you marched straight across your kitchen when I needed you most, and you put your arms around a perfect stranger who happened to be your sister.”

“I guess if we take turns being strong, we’ll make a good team.” Raina speared some field greens with an innocent smile on her face. “And Patrick? Did you tell him he already mattered to you?”

“That’s exactly the kind of risk you’d take, but I couldn’t. I gave him the facts, and they were too much for him.”

“Notice I’m not offering to talk to him for you.” Raina’s eyes warmed with a mixture of empathy and affection over her tea glass. “I know you want him to decide, even though I could assure him I believe in you.”

To Daphne’s surprise, Raina’s loyalty brought the sting of tears. “You don’t have any more reason to believe in me than he does.”

“But I won’t change.” Looking over Daphne’s shoulder, Raina got serious. “His mother’s coming over.”

Daphne froze. She feared she might bend her fork.

“Excuse me.” His mother had a slightly less blue version of his icy eyes, but hers were kinder. “Raina, how are you today?”

“Happy Mother’s Day, Gloria.” Raina stood and only allowed the shadow of grief to touch her face as she hugged the older woman. “I’m all right.” She held her hand out toward Daphne. “Have you met my sister?”

“Obviously, you’re Daphne.” Gloria touched Daphne’s shoulder, staring. “I’m pleased to meet you.”

“Hello.” Daphne stood, as well. She felt Patrick’s presence as if he were part of the conversation.

“I won’t keep you, but I thought this day might be a bit difficult for you, Raina. Call if you want to talk, and Daphne, you drop by with Raina.”

“Thanks.” Raina hugged her friend again. “You’re thoughtful to come over.”

“Nonsense.” But her smile held motherly affection. “I’ll hope to run into you both again soon.” Mrs. Gannon looked at her table where Will had gone back to a toy and Patrick was looking cold and intense again.

From across the room, his message was clear: Stay away from me and mine.

Gloria walked away, but not without curiosity.

“Raina, I don’t mean to gossip, but you said Patick’s ex neglected Will. What exactly did she do?”

“She left him in her car one day last winter while she went into a shop, and then she overdosed in the dressing room.”

“Where is she now?”

“I don’t know. She left town after the judge told her she couldn’t see Will until she cleaned up.”

Daphne looked down at her plate. “And Patrick’s afraid I’m like her?”

“She refuses to admit she has a problem, Daphne. You’re taking care of yours.”

“I wonder if Patrick could ever believe that.”

“He looks at you as if he wants to.” Raina stabbed at the lettuce on her plate again.

Daphne turned her head. Gloria and Will had their heads bent over something they were writing together. Patrick’s gaze, hot and hungry, crossed the room and ignited the feelings she was trying to keep under control.

She wanted to be angry, but her body went heavy with need. Her pulse ricocheted as she felt the simple thrill of hope. She wasn’t like his ex-wife, and surely he was intelligent enough to see that.

As if he were reading her mind, he shook his head, just enough for her to see. Then he cradled his son’s head in the palm of his hand. Will turned toward him with a sweet, guileless grin.

“Everything you feel shows on your face,” Raina said. “If Patrick could really see you, he’d know you’d never hurt Will.”

“I see a man who loves his son.” Her voice felt thick as she remembered the pressure of his legs against hers. He’d danced her across his yard, almost to the gate. “He could love a woman that much, too.”

P
ATRICK SPENT A WEEK
of sleepless nights. Every time he closed his eyes, he felt the vibration of Daphne’s pulse against his lips. He dreamed of peeling that peach-colored shirt off her. Then he dreamed of tearing it off. As he ran his hands from her waist to the curves of her breasts, frustration woke him.

Night after night.

He wasn’t sleeping. He wasn’t paying close enough attention to his work. He’d been late to court this morning, and now he was running back to his office for a file he should have had with him.

He’d felt as if he’d had no choice when he’d let Daphne walk away, but wanting her in his sleep wasn’t making things easier.

His cell phone rang as he rushed into the elevator. He flipped the top open.

“Patrick, it’s Mother. I’m picking Will up at school today.”

“What’s wrong?” He pushed his hand between the closing elevator doors and forced them open again so he could get out. “Is he sick?”

“I had a strange call from Lisa and I wonder if she might not be in town. She asked me where Will is.”

“What?” His bark turned the heads of every human in the lobby. He ducked into one of the alcoves. “Did she say she’s in town? Call the cops, Mom. He didn’t shut his eyes for two weeks the last time she tried to grab him.”

“Maybe I’ll take him out of school early.”

“I shouldn’t have sent that flower arrangement to Lisa for him.”

“Your son wanted his mother to have a gift. You had no choice. I’m leaving now to pick him up.”

“And bring him to my office.”

“No, no. You have to work, and we don’t want to alarm Will.” She tapped something against the receiver. “I’ll take him to the park by the courthouse. We’ll have a picnic. He can swing and climb on the fort and run till he’s too tired to breathe. And you can look out and see him whenever you need to.”

He’d rather have him in his office or in the courtroom. “He might get bored after a few hours.”

“Not with my trusty cell phone. Video games are a grandma’s best friend. In my day, Grandma’s best friend was her dress-up trunk, but I don’t really see Will in Victorian cuffs and collars.”

“Thanks, Mother.”

“Think nothing of it. I’m on my way to his school. You might put in a call to warn them I’ll be checking him out.”

“I’ll do it right now.”

“And I’ll call when I have him.”

“Okay, but I’ll be in court for a few more hours this afternoon. We have the plea bargain in place, but Hal has to allocute.”

“If you don’t answer, I’ll leave a message.”

My son.
“If only I’d been smarter with Lisa. I wanted to believe her lies about the drugs and the phony illnesses.”

“You aren’t responsible for Lisa’s crimes.” She took a deep breath. “I’m not saying anything more.”

“I’ll see you in a while.” He started to close his phone but brought it back to his ear. “Mother, if you need me, and I don’t answer, call back right away. I’ll leave the phone on vibrate in my pocket, and I’ll explain in court if I have to. What’s a little contempt?”

“Sounds good. Try not to panic. Your son will be fine.”

He went upstairs and grabbed the file from his office. Back in the courthouse conference room they’d been assigned, Alexis was handling the prep for Hal’s allocution. Hal found a male too challenging in any situation, so Patrick took care of the paperwork, perched against the window. By the time his mother called to let him know she had Will, he’d already seen them.

She hung up her phone, and they both waved from the playground. He waved back and silently blessed his mother for going beyond the call of duty.

She’d stop Lisa if she had to use a tank, and he’d go through that damn window before he’d give his ex-wife access to their innocent child again.

Patrick turned his laptop so that he only had to look over the top of the screen to see his son and mother working their way along the rope netting. Thank God she’d taken up some sort of commando training.

He settled into his paperwork. This was better. Like shoving half the courthouse off his chest.

I
N THE MIDDLE
of loading plants into her car for delivery, Daphne lifted her face to the spring sky. Everything seemed to be blooming. And the sound of the laughter from children in the playground inside the courthouse square added to her sense of well-being.

When laughter turned into a scream, Daphne shuddered as if a memory were forming and exploding out of her soul. But this scream was no memory. She straightened, a heavy crystal vase in her hands.

“Grandma, help me, help!”

Men and women dotted the square and the sidewalk. All stopped, all turned like spectators at a sports arena. A man came, half weaving, half running across the lush grass, clutching a little boy beneath his arm like a football.

Will? That guy had Patrick’s son.

“Will.” Daphne started across the street, vaguely hearing a car’s brakes squealing.

“Grandma,” the boy keened, wriggling, waving his arms at his grandmother, who ran behind them, terror on her face.

Daphne’s heart pounded. The man hadn’t seen her. He didn’t yet understand that no one was going to hurt Patrick’s child in front of her. Ever.

Will’s name swelled in her chest, but she gritted her teeth to keep from saying it again and alerting his captor. She suddenly remembered the vase she was still clutching in her hands, slopping water.

Perfect.

Daphne got in front of the man and Will. The man’s eyes were all pupil, barely focused. He was obviously high. He looked at her like a rat searching for a way out of a cage.

She knew that look. She’d lived on the streets where that look made a person a mark, a victim. She’d protected too many people on the street when they couldn’t save themselves because they were damn near unconscious.

And damn her own soul to hell, she suffered a pang of pity.

The man garbled, not a word, hardly a sound. His hair hung in strands clotted with oil. He lifted his free hand. An open switchblade glinted.

“Oh, for God’s sake.” She hoisted the vase as high as she could. “Don’t make me,” she said, knowing too well he wasn’t going to listen. Unable to stop hating violence even now and reluctant to chance hurting Will, she knew she had to stop the man.

The vase literally jerked out of her hands.

“Don’t dither, girl.” Gloria Gannon swung the thick glass into the attacker’s head. The vase made a thunking sound and then shattered on the ground and the man wobbled.

Too stoned to actually sense pain, he looked as if he might manage to stand and stay conscious.

But then his body began to react.

Daphne grabbed Will as his captor’s legs buckled beneath him. A sense of relief nearly dropped her to her knees. Patrick’s child, the boy who meant more to him than anyone or anything, was safe.

Despite Patrick’s love, this child had already survived a childhood surprisingly like her own. She cradled him, feeling his pulse pounding all through his body.

“Grandma.” He was still clawing his way to her through midair. “Grandma.”

Gloria stepped over the man and the glass and took Will from Daphne’s arms.

“Go into the courthouse,” Daphne said. “I’ll call the cops.”

“Thanks.” Gloria peered at the citizens of Honesty grouped around them, most with phones out and open, also dialing. “People will talk. After you get through to the police, please call my son. Do you know his number?”

“I’ll get in touch with him. He’s at work?”

“He may actually be in the courthouse by now.”

“I’ll find him.” Nausea and adrenaline danced inside her.

She gave the necessary details to the 911 dispatcher. All around her, urgent voices spoke. She kept an eye on the unconscious man, lying in eucalyptus and long-stemmed blossoms and the shards of about a month’s worth of her salary.

She hung up and called information, asking for Patrick’s office number. A detached female voice listed the partners’ names. Daphne asked to be connected to Patrick’s office.