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“I’ve been telling her that the necklace was Sarah’s to give, not Robert’s.” Luke jumped in again, his voice as clear as her mother’s via their high-tech cellular phone. “From the look on Emily’s face, I don’t think she and Belle agree with Sam about staying away from Adam, either.”
“I’m sure Belle wouldn’t,” Sue said, and then added, “Take the necklace with you back to Florida. Don’t leave it in the lockbox at the bank here.”
For all she knew Sam had a key to the lockbox. “Do you have it now?” she asked, as it occurred to her that it might already be too late.
“We do,” Luke said. “We got it yesterday afternoon.”
The appointment with Stan that they’d asked her to join them for. She’d been accepting delivery of William.
She’d had Michael for two days. He’d settled in nicely. But then, he’d been in another foster home since his birth. He was used to commotion.
William, at three days old, was still just acclimating to the world.
“You have to see it, Sue, honey,” Jenny piped up.
Carrie stuck a finger in Sue’s mouth. Sue kissed the little tip. And had a mental flash of a man’s face—staring with longing at his niece. Why couldn’t she just forget the man? “I’ve seen it, Ma.” She forced herself to clear her mind of the man who’d been haunting her. “Every time Grandma wore it.”
“It would help to look at it again, hon,” Luke said. “Help you accept that your grandma is gone.”
“I don’t need help.” Unless they could find a way to get Grandma back to her.
“Sue, love…” Jenny started.
“We’ll bring it when we come for dinner,” Luke finished for her.
Smiling at the baby in her arms, finding solace in the innocent stare she received back, Sue said, “Just bring yourselves. You’ve got a newborn to bathe, Ma.”
Babies. If life stayed about the stream of infants in and out of her life, she could control it. Mostly.
“I sure wish you’d put in for vacation,” Luke said. “Come back to Florida with us for a few weeks. A change of scenery would do you good. This next little while is going to be really hard for you in particular, sweetie. From the day you were born, Grandma was the one person who seemed to be able to reach you—”
“Okay, you guys, really, I’m fine. Can’t we just enjoy our last night together?”
Her parents’ return flight to Florida left first thing in the morning.
And they were as desperate to take care of her as she was to be left alone.
IT WAS SATURDAY, with still no word regarding an emergency hearing to put a stay on whatever adoption procedures were pending for Carrie. Tempted to take a hike to the judge’s chambers to find out if the guy had even seen the paperwork yet, or signed it, or was going to sign it, Rick got control of himself enough to decide against that particular maneuver. The court-house was closed on Saturdays, anyway. It didn’t help that judges’ chambers were off hallways behind locked doors. Unauthorized people were not allowed back there.
How did a guy take care of a situation when he had no idea what was going on? Rick was going quietly crazy.
Which was why, after another basketball game with a couple of strangers hanging out at the court at the park down the street, followed by a jog and a quick run of the vacuum, he dialed the number he’d been told was reconnected. Again.
It actually connected this time.
She picked up on the second ring.
“Ricky?” The voice was needy as always. And filled with hope. As though he was her answer. He’d spent his youth trying to be that answer. She wasn’t getting the rest of his life, too. “Is that really you?”
“Yes. It’s me. I missed you at Christy’s funeral,” he said, hearing the sarcasm in his voice even as he told himself to cool it. “Nice of you to show.”
“You were there, Ricky? I—I talked to everyone…at the church. How could I have missed you?”
Rick studied the neat rows patterned into his newly vacuumed carpet.
“I was at the cemetery. For the burial.” He’d driven to the wrong community church. He’d assumed his sister would be buried in the neighborhood where he’d grown up. Where his mother still lived. Instead, it was at a church across from the funeral home.
“I was there, too…”
“Not to watch your daughter lowered into the ground, you weren’t.” His words were biting. Filled with things she had no way of knowing about. Things that, in part, had nothing to do with her.
“No…we left. They said we had to. They lower the casket after the family leaves.” Her voice broke and Rick tried not to feel a thing. He should be a master at it by now, at least where she was concerned.
“Nice to know I had a sister, Nancy.” Nancy. What kid called his mother by her first name?
He’d been about eight when he’d first asked the question.
You‘re my friend, aren ‘tyou, Ricky? His mother’s eyes had been slits in her face as she’d tried to focus on him.
Yeah. She’d seemed to need a friend. Though he wondered what being a friend to an adult actually entailed.
You see then, all my friends call me Nancy. She’d smiled. And he’d smiled back. And that was what Rick remembered most about that little interlude.
He’d lost a mother that day. But, hey, he’d gained a friend, right?
“I wanted to tell you, Ricky. I wanted Christy to know you. I really did, but…”
The proverbial “but.” His archenemy.
“But what?” He asked now, telling himself to be kind. Somehow. For himself, if not for her. He wasn’t a mean man. And didn’t want to become one.
“I was afraid…”
“Afraid I’d take her from you?”
Her silence was his answer. Both then and now. She wasn’t going to tell him he had a niece, either. Some things didn’t change.
“I know about Carrie, Nancy.” He wasn’t going to spare her, but managed to soften his tone, at least. “I need to know what your plans are.”
“Oh, Ricky, I was going to tell you. As soon as it’s all official.”
As soon as he couldn’t do anything to stop her?
“I’m going to get her, Ricky. My baby’s little girl—” Her voice broke again.
Rick waited. The woman was grieving over her daughter, for chrissake. No one should have to bear that kind of senseless pain.
“I’ve worked so hard. Ever since we found out a baby was coming.” Nancy listed the steps she’d taken. A list he could have recited for her. “Christy’s going to be watching me. And I’m going to make her proud, Ricky. And maybe you, too?”
“It’s not right, Nancy. You had your chance. Two of them.” He was being harsh. But a baby’s life was at stake.
“It’ll be different this time, Ricky. I promise you.”
I promise, my little man, we’ll stay together this time. I’m going to make it this time. I’m going to make you proud of me…
Rick grabbed his keys. Cell phone in hand, he headed out to the Nitro. He needed air. Sunshine.
“We’ll be a family, Ricky. You, me and Christy’s baby. A real family. Just like we always said we wanted.”
It was the one thing he and this woman had in common, other than a shared gene pool—their desire to be part of a family.
Putting the Nitro in Reverse, Rick unclenched his jaw enough to speak. “Is it for sure, then? You’ve been granted custody? Have you heard something official?”
“It’s not final yet, but Sonia—she’s Carrie’s social worker—said that everything looks good. I’m going to do the visitations and there’ll be another meeting or two, and then the hearing before the judge. Sonia told me that unless something unexpected comes up, Carrie will be mine long before summer.”
“Are you sober?”
“Completely. I haven’t used hard in almost three years. Not even when I heard about Christy. I get tested every week. I’m not going to blow this one, Ricky. I promise. Seeing Carrie’s birth—I don’t know, it did something to me…”
Something birthing her own children hadn’t been able to do? Putting the Nitro in Drive, he stepped on the gas.
“Then losing Christy…This is my chance, Ricky. My last chance. I know it with every bone in my body. I have to give this baby everything I couldn’t give you. Or Christy.”
Like that was ever going to make up for the two lives she’d already harmed? One beyond repair?
“I was at the club last night,” Nancy said, her quiet tone not a familiar one. “James said someone was there, looking for me. A man. From his description, it sounded like you. Was it you, Ricky? Were you looking for me?”
“Probably,” he said into his cell phone, when it appeared the woman was going to wait until he’d given her what she wanted.
“We are going to be a family this time, son,” Nancy said. “I don’t blame you for your doubt. And I’m prepared to spend the rest of my life showing you that I mean what I say. I will succeed this time.”
If he had a dollar for every time he’d heard those words, for every time he’d believed them, he’d be rich. No happier, but rich.
“When’s your court hearing?”
“April tenth.”
Three weeks. That didn’t give him much time. Stopped at a light, Rick signaled a lane change, and as soon as green appeared, he cut over, making a right and then another one, heading south of town.
“Would you go with me, Ricky? You don’t have to vouch for me or anything, but it would mean so much to have you there.”
“What time?”
“Ten o’clock. Can you get off work?”
Get off. He was assistant superintendent. Who would he ask? Himself?
He couldn’t blame her for not knowing that. For knowing nothing about him. He’d carefully guarded his life to ensure that she didn’t.
“I don’t know.” He gave the only answer he could.
“Wait until you meet her, Ricky. I’ve only seen her a couple of times, and in pictures. But she’s special. An angel. Our angel.”
At what cost? Her mother’s life?
“Call me if anything changes,” he said. “Or if you hear anything else. At all.”
“I will.” Then she added, “What I did to you, the way I let you down, that’s the worst part of my life, Ricky. You know that, right?”
Worse than your daughter’s suicide? “It doesn’t matter. I made it through, and have a good life.” Good being relative. He had a decent job he enjoyed. A nice home. Enough money.
“I’m very very glad you called.” He heard the tears in her voice and felt a little sick to his stomach.
“Just keep in touch.” He almost choked on the words.
“I will. I love you.”
She needed him to tell her he loved her, too. He opened his mouth, but just couldn’t say the words.
Chapter Seven
SHE’D BEEN OFF THE PHONE from her parents less than fifteen minutes, not nearly enough time to deep breathe her way back to calm, when someone knocked. With Carrie on her hip, Sue did a visual check of her sleeping young men and pulled open the door.
Rick Kraynick, looking too good in jeans and a button-up denim shirt, stood there.
“Uh-uh.” She shook her head, swinging the door closed again. She was already having enough trouble getting the man out of her thoughts.
“Wait. Please.” The hand administering resistance against the solid wood panel wasn’t violent. Or particularly pushy. But it was firm. “I need to speak with you.”
There was something about him. A sense of vulnerability mixed with toughness that she couldn’t ignore.
And she couldn’t give in to it, either.
“You know my number.”
“In person,” he said. “I need to speak with you in person.” He swallowed, his eyes beseeching her far more than anything he could say. “Please.”
“We’ve been through this, Mr. Kraynick. Talk to social services. Or better yet, get yourself into some kind of counseling. You don’t seem to be able to take no for an answer.”
“I called my mother.”
Christy’s mother. Carrie’s Grandma. Sue didn’t want to care. She repositioned the baby, holding her up against her, with Carrie facing back into the house.
“You have to leave now.” She wished she felt the conviction behind her words.
With a glance behind her, Sue verified that both boys were still sleeping. Chances were that wouldn’t last long. William was eating every two hours.
All night long.
