Monday's Child (8 page)

She went into the kitchen and grabbed the bedding Carole had chosen. Taking it upstairs, she made up the bed for him, and then headed into her room to unpack. She hung her things in the wardrobe and placed the rest in the drawers. She sat on the bed and picked up Jamie’s photo again. It was so unfair.

Twenty minutes later, a knock at the door broke her train of thought. “Come in.”

Luke came in. “Hey. You all right?”

Sara shook her head. “No.”

“Do you want to talk?”

“No.”

“I’ve got the computer set up. Want to try out some of the games while I make lunch?”

“Not really.” Sara put the photo down and sighed. “All right, I’ll come down.”

Luke glanced at the picture. “Is that Jamie?”

“Yeah, it was taken after we got engaged.”

“He looks happy.”

“We both were.”

Sara followed Luke downstairs and headed into the dining room. Sitting at the computer, it wasn’t long before she worked out the Internet settings, even though there was no shortcut to it on the desktop. She hit the connect button and was surprised when it started dialing.

Luke stuck his head around the door and glanced at the screen. “What are you doing? The Internet is off limits.”

“Why? There are a couple of sites I used to use. I haven’t chatted with my online friends in a long time.”

“I need the Internet for work, or we wouldn’t even have it. I’ll check out the sites you want to use. If they’re safe, you can use them.”

“Thank you,” she said stiffly, wondering when her prison sentence would end.

“You’re welcome. Lunch is ready.”

She followed him to the kitchen. At least he hadn’t said no outright, although he probably would.

The sooner this was over, the better.

****

After lunch, they spent the afternoon on the Internet.

Sara sat there as Luke checked the sites she wanted to use.

“All right, you can have limited access on the condition you send no e-mail, IM’s, or visit chat rooms.”

“Half the fun is the chatting and emails, but I guess you do have a point.” Sara crossed to the window and pulled the curtains. It was barely three thirty, but it was already dark. She turned back to Luke. “I’ll go make a start on dinner.”

“All right. I’ll work here for a bit. Shout if you need me.” He pulled the USB from his shirt pocket and stuck it into the computer.

“Sure.” Sara went into the kitchen. She put the lights on and pulled the curtains. Opening the drawer, she took out the knife and pulled some veggies from the cupboard. The phone rang, but before she could get there, it stopped. She started dicing the carrots into tiny pieces with hard deliberate movements.

Luke came into the kitchen. “That was Doctor Scott. Your appointment is eleven-fifteen on Monday. Your sonogram—scan is December fifth at ten.”

“All right.” The knife came down hard, and pieces of carrot flew to the floor.

He bent down and picked them up, tossing them into the bin. “What’s the carrot ever done to you?”

“Didn’t like the way it looked at me.”

“Fair enough, so long as you don’t do that to me if I look at you the same way. I’ll take you to the clinic and go in with you.”

“The doting husband?” Sara chopped hard, missing her fingers by a fraction.

Luke grasped her hand, stopping her before she could hurt herself or dice the carrots into oblivion. “Sara, neither of us wants this. You should be with Jamie, having this baby with him. Not stuck here on your own with me.”

His touch burned into her hand. Sara pulled her hand away, ignoring him, and resumed chopping the carrots.

Luke sighed and changed the subject. “Do you go to church?”

No one had allowed her to go for months, now. Was he asking because he’d actually take her? “Yes—when I’m allowed to. I miss it, miss the fellowship. Worshipping at home alone just isn’t the same. Why?”

“I know what you mean. I’ve been a Christian for years, never missed a Sunday unless I was rostered on duty.”

“What denomination?” She chopped harder, her shoulders shaking, tears streaking down her cheeks.

“Baptist. You?” He turned her towards him. “Sara?”

“Baptist.”

“What’s wrong?”

Sara turned away and put down the knife. She covered her face with her hands. “Jamie wanted kids. This is just so unfair.”

Luke held her gently. “You can tell the baby all about Jamie. Make a memory book, a collection of photos, stories about Jamie, how you met, what you did together, his job and his family. Let the baby know how important her dad was—and still is—to you.”

“That sounds lovely. Can you pass the tissues?”

Luke handed Sara the box. “You could do it on the computer, print it off, and put it in a leather album. You could include a wedding photo. Shall I get them sent up?”

“Please. I’ve made you wet again. You should ask for extra pay every time I cry all over you. You’d be rich in no time.”

Luke smiled. “Maybe I will. Do you want to go to church tomorrow?”

“I thought I was grounded.”

“You’re not grounded. I want to keep you safe, but I think we can make the exception for church. The morning service, anyway. I can get Dave to come with us to provide backup, or we’ll go with them to theirs. I’ll ring the station and get the OK first, though.”

“Thank you. I must finish dinner. Otherwise, we won’t eat tonight.”

Sara washed her hands before finishing the dinner preparation. She put the fish in the oven and the veggies on to boil. Luke was on the phone, but she was unable to make out anything he said. She’d known from the outset there was something different about him. Being a Christian explained it. Perhaps that would make this slightly easier, being with someone who shared her beliefs.

Pulling across the bag of art supplies, she spread them out on the table. The colors were lovely and exactly right for a beach scene. It must have cost him a small fortune. She’d have to pay him for them. Eighteen months she’d known Jamie, and he hadn’t bought her as much as a pencil for her art.

She’d known this guy less than a week, and he’d bought virtually the entire art shop. Why would he do something like that? What had she done to deserve it?
And why didn’t Jamie do the same for me?

She ran her hand over the canvas, imagining how it would look with the oils spread over its surface. Slowly pulling the sketchpad towards her, she picked up one of the pencils. She opened the book. A blank page was ready for her to work on.

Closing her eyes, Sara visualized the beach she’d lived beside and walked on for four months. Lost in her thoughts and unaware of her surroundings, she began to draw, finding peace for the first time since Jamie died.

****

Luke came into the kitchen. The pans had almost boiled dry. He smiled at Sara, engrossed in her drawing. He didn’t want to disturb her, so he mashed the potatoes, added salt and pepper, and grated cheese on them before placing it under the grill to brown.

Luke peeped over Sara’s shoulder at her drawing, amazed by what he saw.

Clouds scurried across the sky, waves crashed onto the sand, and the breakers whipped high in the wind. A solitary figure stood at the base of the huge sand dunes, dwarfed by the vast loneliness of the beach.

Sara added seagulls, tossed by the wind.

He could almost hear their cries as they soared and wheeled.

He went back to the stove and drained the carrots and corn. He was loath to interrupt her, but he had to. He dropped a hand onto her shoulder. “Dinner’s ready, Sara.”

Sara raised her head. “It can’t be. I haven’t made it yet.”

“You were busy, so I did it.” He pointed at her picture. “That’s really good.”

“Thank you. I’ll put it away for now.” She stood and started clearing away her things.

Luke dished up the food, carried the plates to the table, and sat down. He smiled at her as she sat opposite him. He said grace then picked up his fork. “I got permission for us to go to church on Sunday mornings.”

Sara smiled. “Cool. It’ll be good.”

His heart flip-flopped at her smile and he tried to control it. “We have to have back up. Dave and Carole go anyway, and two other officers will be there.”

Sara grimaced. “Isn’t that overkill? And won’t Carole wonder why there are so many cops around?”

“DCI Shepherds says it’s the only way, and the cops are regular attendees, so it won’t seem strange.”

Sara shrugged. “All right, then. Walk or drive?”

“Drive. It’s safer. Dave will pick us up in the morning.”

“Can we drive through the town as well? And can we go to the sea?”

“Don’t push your luck. And that’s up to Dave, as he’s driving.”

Sara took a bite of her food. “This is lovely, thank you. You can cook again.”

Luke smiled. “We’ll see. It’s your turn tomorrow.”

8

After dinner, Sara sat at the computer on one of her websites. She checked the message boards and logged onto the chat room.

Luke opened the door. “I brought you coffee. What are you doing?”

“Catching up with some friends.”

“I thought I said no chatting and no emails, Sara.”

“I’m only going to be a minute. I want to let them know I’m still around. That’s all.”

“I don’t want you using that site anymore.”

Sara glared at him. “I don’t really
know
any of these people, and we don’t use our real names.”

Luke’s voice had an angry tinge to it. “That’s exactly my point. You
don’t
know who any of them really are. You have no idea how unsafe that is. They could be axe murderers for all you know. It’s too easy for people to log on to these websites, befriend people, exchange e-mail or I.M. addresses, and harass them, or worst case scenario, meet up and kill them.”

“So, what are you saying? I’m not allowed a life anymore?”

“Not an online one, no.”

Sara stormed from the room and slammed the door behind her. She flew upstairs and slammed her bedroom door shut, too.

The door flung open behind her. “Calm down. Why do you get so angry about all this?”

“I feel like a prisoner.” She ripped the covers of the bed back.

“What are you doing?”

“Going to bed. There’s nothing else to do around here.”

“For crying out loud, Sara. Stop acting like a child.”

“If you’re going to treat me like a child, I’ll act like one. Now get out.”

He did, and she threw herself onto the bed, hurling the pillow at the door as it shut.

Men.

****

Next morning, Sara woke first and went downstairs.

She still couldn’t believe he’d yelled at her like that. She’d not spoken to her online friends for months and she used a pseudonym. No one really knew it was her.

Her conscience pricked her.
He’s only doing his job. Give him a break. You know the rules.

Sara moved over to the phone and recorded the new answer phone message. “Hi, you’ve got through to Luke and Sara. We can’t get to the phone right now, so please leave a message after the beep. Beep. Ha-ha. Sorry, I’ve always wanted to do that. This is the real beep.”

She closed her eyes as a wave of dizziness hit her, and her hand rose to her head. Not again. It’d been months since she had gone to church, and she wanted to go today. The last time had been Jamie’s funeral, and the time before that, their wedding.

She filled the kettle and turned it on as footsteps came down the stairs.

Luke sauntered in as she sat down. He smiled at her. “Good morning. Are you all right? You’re rather pale.”

Sara shook her head. “Just the usual allergy to mornings.”

“Can I make breakfast, or will the smell bother you?”

“Go ahead.” Sara buried her face in her hands and listened to Luke moving around the kitchen. The smell of bacon filled the air. So far, so good. She didn’t feel like throwing up, yet. “I’m sorry about last night. I was rude and I shouldn’t have been.”

“No problem. Most people don’t realize you can be traced via your IP address on the computer. If somehow, Austin got hold of your pseudonym, he could find you. Here you go.”

“No ta.” She pushed the plate back towards him.

“Ta?” Luke asked. He took a bite of his food.

“British slang. Means thank you. What time is the service?”

“Ten thirty. Dave is picking us up at ten.”

“I’m going to have a bath.” She stood. The phone rang. “Leave it. I put a new message on the answer phone.”

Luke let it ring. He listened to the message and closed his eyes. “You’re in hiding, not advertising the fact you’re here.”

Sara sighed. “I thought you wanted me to act like your wife in public. Most married people have messages like that.”

Luke yanked the tape out.

“Fine. You do it then.”

“Sara. We should talk about the Internet.”

She shot him an icy glare. “There’s nothing to talk about, Leftenant. You’ve made the danger perfectly clear. I’m going for a bath. I may be some time.” She flounced from the room, leaving the coffee untouched.

****

Luke sighed. He’d thought he was getting somewhere. She didn’t see or understand the dangers. Pointing that out to her had made his attempt to befriend her promptly vanish out the window. He carried on eating, no longer hungry, but not willing to waste the food. As he ate he prayed hard, needing a way to get through to Sara.

He’d almost finished when a loud thud made the floor above him vibrate and the kitchen light rattle against the ceiling. He ran into the hall. “Sara, are you all right?”

No answer. He took the stairs two at a time, calling her name as he went. He flung open her bedroom door. “Sara?”

A moan came from the bathroom. Luke charged down the narrow landing and knocked at the door. “Sara?”

There was another moan, then a faint answer. He reached up and grabbed the keys, unlocking the door. “Sara, I’m coming in, is that all right?”

“Yes.”

He opened the door. Sara, wrapped in a towel, sat on the floor, a dazed expression covering her flushed face. She cradled her left ankle in both hands. Luke hunkered down next to her. “What happened?”